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shhhsecretsideblog · 19 days

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No Time To Hide

This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics

Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.

Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.

Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.

A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.

The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.

Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.

“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.

When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.

Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.

As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.

Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.

“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”

Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.

However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.

Witch hunter!

The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.

Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.

She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.

Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.

“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.

She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.

The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.

The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.

“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.

“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.

It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.

The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.

“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.

Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.

She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.

A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!

But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.

Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.

“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”

More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.

Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.

An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.

The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.

The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!

Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.

She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.

Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.

“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.

Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.

“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.

Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.

Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.

The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.

“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.

“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.

The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.

“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”

Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!

The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.

Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.

Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.

“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”

She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.

Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.

“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.

Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.

“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.

Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.

“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.

Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.

The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.

Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.

Eva dropped the knife.

Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.

#birth kink #pregnant kink #clothing birth #panty birth #birth denial #public birth #forest birth #giving birth #birth fic #birth fiction #fpreg birth #tw: blood #tw: death #my writing

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uglypastels · 2 years

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Hi there! Maybe tmi but I’ve been daydreaming of a scenario where you and Eddie have been staring at each other for most of senior year but you’re too shy to approach each other and then you bump into him at school after-hours and suddenly you’re slamming each other into the locker room or AV room or whatever other school setting and having crazy panting feral hot sex. I love your fics so I’d pass out if you wrote something along these lines and then spontaneously combust from horniness

ok this immediately got me inspired to write, even though I told myself "no blurbs until you finish the pirate eddie fic" but fuck it. i had to write this.

warnings: SMUT minors dni! unprotected PIV (female!reader). kinda public?? in a school building but no one's around. swearing. i don't think there's anything else, but I'm sorry I'm tired.

masterlist // inbox // add yourself to my taglist

What were you doing? What in the world were you thinking?

Well, the answer to the first question was quite simple. You were standing in front of the janitor’s closet. It was just the beginning of your free period, when you were supposed to be sitting in the library studying for your upcoming chem final, but it turns out you had more important things at hand.

You looked down at the note in your hand again. The one he had dropped right in front of you just a few hours ago. It had been at your locker, it was early, and you were barely awake, putting away your jacket.

At first, you had thought nothing of it, still trying to get over the fact that Eddie Munson had bumped into you. The image of his flashy smile was still developing in your corneas. So when you saw the small piece of paper, you thought it might have just been some trash he dropped, but either way, you decided to pick it up. Out of mere curiosity, really. You had seen the black pen marks bleeding through it and wanted to know what the school’s freak had to say. And what it was… was quite interesting.

5th period. Janitor’s closet, west. Meet me there.

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, but it couldn’t have been meant for you, could it? Either way, you went to the west hall. You found that janitor’s closet and looked around for anyone. What would other students think if you stood around? Could they tell what you were trying to build the courage up for?

Eddie must have already been inside as the clock on the wall ticked loudly away past the first minute of the hour. You wanted to go inside; you did, but you couldn’t push away the feeling that he might have meant the note for someone else. Had he accidentally dropped it in front of you and been waiting for a completely different person?

So, why the hell did you still knock?

Why even knock in the first place? Why not just open the door? It all felt so stupid, and you felt even sillier when the door opened and Eddie popped out.

He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you inside. It was neither light nor dark in the cupboard. The lightbulb above your head barely gave off any light, but the window in the door was a bit of help. That's when you realised that even though you could not see him there, he had seen you pace about in the corridor.

‘I thought you’d never come in.’ He said with a smile, voice airy, his body inching closer to you with each word. His hands were already setting up their place on your hips, hesitant for your reaction. He clearly had a lot of things on his mind that he wanted to express, but he also didn’t want to push any of your boundaries. You could tell just by how his breath hitched in anticipation, how he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip.

‘I– I thought you might have given me the note by accident.’ you placed your hand over his chest. Just that feeling alone, even with the many layers of his clothing between you, it made you melt. Of course, the room was small, with no proper air circulation, so that might have been why you felt so hot, but something in you told you that might not have been entirely it. He chuckled at your confession.

‘Who else would it have been for?’ His nose brushed over your cheek, his words hitting your hot skin as he spoke. He was about to move away, but you mirrored his actions right in sync, crashing your lips to his, breaking the dam of feeling and need that had been building between the two of you for the last few weeks.

It all started with innocent looks across the room—a smile, a wink.

But it all gradually escalated in subtle ways. No matter how much you would have wanted to, you never dared to take it any further than this. And neither could Eddie. He was a person who was very loud and boisterous, but at times he could shut down and close off. At times, for example, when he was struck by you looking directly at him from your cafeteria table. How he had wanted to walk up to you, tell you everything he had wanted to say each time he saw you, but all the words collapsed in his mind as soon as you actually showed up in front of him. And pretty much the same happened to you.

Maybe that is why you felt like you were being pulled together. This invisible string connected the two of you in ways no one could explain but wouldn’t complain about either.

The last week, in particular, something had been set off in both of you. Nothing you did was particularly sexual, but it got him going, and you could say the same thing about Eddie. Just seeing him sit there, laid back in the chair, legs spread out, laughing at whatever his friends were saying– you wanted to sit in that lap and laugh along with him.

You couldn’t be wearing a cuter outfit, could you? Eddie’s heart was doing overtime in trying to keep him alive at the sight of you. He needed to talk to you, say something about how you made him feel.

That is all he had intended with the note. Just so the two of you could talk. Perhaps the tiny enclosed space of the cupboard in an abandoned part of the school was presumptuous of him. Maybe he should have picked a bit more open space, but in all honesty, he was scared that after talking to him for a minute, you would just laugh in his face for how wrong he had been about you. You being interested in him? Now that would make its rounds around the school in no time.

But then you got into that damn little closet with him, and it’s like all his sanity had left him. He couldn’t compose himself any longer. The feeling of you being so close to him made him haywire in the best way possible, and when you kissed him–

‘Fuck,’ he grumbled from between the kiss. Your lips just parted long enough for a catch of air, but nothing longer than that. The idea that you did want, maybe even needed, him as much as he desired you… he couldn’t comprehend it, really. All he could do at the moment was hold you close, hoping that his hands weren’t actually too tight on your body.

But then you let your body free. Your hand clasped at his shoulder as your leg snaked its way around his. Eddie took the opportunity without hesitation to push you against one of the shelving units. It buckled back and forth, but nothing fell off, so neither of you cared. Instead, he pressed you up against it, holding you up by your legs as you crossed your arms around his neck.

Eddie groaned out, to his own surprise, at you tugging his hair. His hips bucked into yours. Was there any way you didn’t feel how hard he was getting? His mind was becoming increasingly clouded with this visceral and nearly animalistic hunger for you. The kisses were getting sloppier by the second when you started pushing the denim vest off his arms.

The untangling clothes of your bodies was a challenge, but you got there in the end, only getting rid of the most necessary parts. So, naturally, Eddie’s vest and jacket had to go so that he could pull his shirt off. You hiked up your shirt, revealing your bra and pulled your skirt up your legs, while Eddie unbuckled his trousers and let them drop to his ankles, together with his underwear. As it continued, neither of you could explain what came over you.

He reached his hand to play with your cunt over your panties, but you scolded him.

‘No time.’ there wasn’t. You weren’t sure how much time there was left before you had to get to your next class. There was no need to waste the little time you had on foreplay, no matter how much you wanted it or both of you wanted it.

‘Wouldn’t have taken you for being so bossy, sweetheart,’ Eddie smirked and kissed you before you could respond. Simultaneously, he thrust his cock deep inside you. You would have screamed out in pleasure if his lips had not been on you. The feeling of him stretching you out– it was almost blissful.

‘Eddie, oh my god,’ you grabbed his hair tighter as he kept going. It was something that seemed to spur him on. Eddie Munson liked it rough. Not an unexpected discovery, but maybe how you found out– or the fact you got to experience it first-hand, was a bit of a surprise.

‘C’mon baby, c’mon,’ his voice got deeper with each thrust and groan, mixing with your moans and gasps of pleasure. The shelf to which he had pinned you also kept making noise, and the two of you constantly had to keep pulling yourselves back before everything would topple over and the entire school would hear what you were up to.

You could feel yourself getting closer, and you tried to clarify that to Eddie, but coherent words, or even noises, were too much for your brain at that moment. How he actually managed to understand that was a miracle. He kissed you deeper. Like the ones before, the kiss was full of heat and passion. It was hungry and filthy. Messy.

Your nails scratched over his back; Eddie hissed at the sensation, bucking his hips deeper into you. You had just enough time to open your mouth, where a nearly pornographic moan would escape from if it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand that quickly caught it. He pressed his palm over your lips.

‘Shh, don’t want to get caught, do we?’ he smiled. It was a tired smile, enhanced by the pearls of sweat on his chest and his hair curling on his forehead as he kept on pulling you closer to your climax. He pulled you into it. Tighter and tighter. So tight until it all snapped, and you unravelled in his arms.

Eddie pulled out of you slowly, carefully. He held you until both of you caught your breath and pulled your shirt back over your chest… but not before lightly kissing your breasts. Something you couldn’t help but giggle at.

You took the time he spent getting dressed to regain some energy. Never had you ever been fucked like that before. You could readily admit that. Eddie Munson was… something else, for sure. It was terrific… and yet, when you looked at Eddie, something seemed to be off. He was chewing at the inside of his cheeks, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

‘Something wrong?’ you asked.

‘No,’ is all he said, but you called bullshit. ‘This isn’t how I had… Sorry, I guess, if that was a bit…’ he drifted off, cheeks tinged in a pink hue as he focused on buckling his belt.

‘It was great Eddie.’ You wanted him to know you enjoyed yourself.

‘I just… I don’t want you to think that this is why I told you to come here. I had just wanted to talk, actually–’

‘What did you want to talk about then,’ you smiled.

‘I– I’m not quite sure anymore,’ he chuckled, scratching at the back of his head. The boy was utterly whipped and fucked out. You noticed a lock of his hair sticking out, and without much thought, you walked up to fix it.

‘Well, I’m really glad I came,’ you kissed his cheek, which was burning up, ‘in all senses of the word.’

‘I’d be more than happy to do it again,’ he kissed the corner of your mouth. ‘If you’d let me, of course.’

‘It’s a deal, Munson,’ you told him as you walked out of the cupboard.

Eddie felt like he was walking on a cloud for the rest of the day. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He just couldn’t…. He couldn’t think a girl like you would just do all of that with a guy like him. At one point, he actually started considering he had dreamed it all up. He had probably accidentally fallen asleep during a class or something, and it had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Easy to say all of those ideas went away the second Eddie opened his locker at the end of the day, and a small piece of paper fell out. Right on the ground between his feet. On it was written:

Tonight, my house.

How about that deal, Munson?

the End

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dirtyvulture · 2 months

Text

Dear Diary

*Set in the Darkest Knight AU*

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4459

Summary: Natasha embraces her new life as an X-Men.

AN: I'm back with a little one shot. :) Enjoy!

December 6, 2023

Dear Diary,

Is that an appropriate way to start one of these? I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before. But Marie gave me this cute little notebook and said writing stuff down helps clear her mind, so I don’t think there’s any harm in giving it a shot. They would never let us have something like this in the Red Room. Too much evidence lying around for someone to stumble upon. Should I put a lock on this? Y/N wouldn’t snoop around to read this, would she? Well, I guess if she is–leave my diary alone, you big dummy!

The professor said the Red Room soldiers and Widows are coming tomorrow. This is all my fault. I’ve put these good people and innocent children in danger. Earlier, we went to help the kids pack their bags and board the buses. I’m not sure if Y/N has any kids of her own (or ever did at all), but I can tell she really cares about them. Although she was not happy with some of the excessive luggage some of them were bringing. No one would tell me where they’re sending the kids, but I overheard Ororo mention something about a private resort they had to buy out.

I still don’t quite understand why these people are willing to sacrifice so much for me. I’m basically a stranger to them. I have nothing to give them in return if they ask. Maybe they’ll finally throw me out when they realize how worthless I am. That’s what I really deserve. Not these warm clothes, the home-cooked meals, and this roof over my head. And I definitely don’t deserve the kindness and care Y/N has shown me. I really like her, but I’m afraid she’ll leave me when she realizes how boring and inexperienced I am.

Oh, I think she’s coming out of the shower now. I’ll continue this later.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 15, 2023

Dear Diary,

It’s weird how life goes back to normal so fast here. The Red Room soldiers and Widows were here not even a week ago, tearing down doors and blasting out windows, and everything is already repaired and the students are back at it like nothing happened.

A lot of them are excited to go back to their homes and families for the holiday. But a lot of them will also be staying at the mansion, because their families won’t accept them or they just don’t have any home to go back to. The professor asked Y/N to help plan some holiday games so the kids staying don’t get too bored or lonely. She’s acting like it’s the dumbest assignment he’s ever given her, but I’ve seen her spending all her free time ordering presents and decorations (with the professor’s credit card, of course), so I know she takes it very seriously and the kids are going to love whatever she comes up with.

I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas here. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to celebrate it with people I love. I feel so welcomed here and no one looks at me like I’m any different, when I come from a past where there’s red all over my ledger. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone even lets me be around these kids alone, but some of them have powers that even make Y/N nervous, and I think they know they can trust me.

It’ll take some more time before I can be fully comfortable here, but it’s really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 25, 2023

Natasha wakes up alone. She looks around the bedroom, in case you might be on the floor doing push-ups or in the bathroom showering, but the room is completely empty. Her heartbeat picks up as she jumps out of bed, afraid that you’ve left her, when she notices a note on the desk.

Downstairs making breakfast. Come join when you’re up - Y/N

She relaxes immediately, touched how you made sure to let her know in advance where you would be. She quickly washes up and puts on a robe, then hurries downstairs to a chaotic mess of torn gift wrapping, screaming children, and flashing new toys. She steps into the kitchen, where you are wearing a flowered apron and are threatening Marie with a spatula.

“Stop, those aren’t ready–Marie!” You swat at her hands as she swipes for a pancake.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Nat!” Marie says, moving your attention away from her as your girlfriend appears.

“Merry Christmas, Marie.” Natasha gives the girl a hug, not missing the folded pancake in her hand.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” you say next, waiting for her to come over. “I made a special plate for you. It’s over here so the kids don’t get into it.” You point to a foil-covered plate off to the side of the stove. Natasha goes to investigate, peeling back the foil to find the plate fully-loaded with two different types of pancakes, one next to a little container of jam and honey, and the other still steaming and garnished with flecks of green onion. There’s even a bowl of grainy buckwheat porridge. Her heart soars at the sight of her favorite native breakfast. With a delighted squeal, she throws herself into your arms.

“Thankyou thankyou thankyou,” she choruses, squeezing you tightly as you rub her back.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

At this point, you shoo everyone out of the kitchen to finish the preparations. Natasha joins Marie in the dining hall, helping set up the plates and silverware. She watches with great curiosity as Kitty tries getting Peter to step under the mistletoe she hung above the doorway, and then is distracted when Jean and Scott come down for breakfast.

“Y/N cooks Christmas breakfast for us every year,” Jean explains to Natasha. “The kids always look forward to it.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott yells into the kitchen. “Keep the walnuts away from my food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Natasha hears you dismissively respond.

“Scott’s allergic,” Jean whispers to her. “Now there’s no proof how, but he ended up with a plateful of them last year and I almost had to take him to the hospital. Needless to say, it was an eventful Christmas.”

Natasha giggles to herself, already having a feeling she knows exactly how those walnuts got on Scott’s plate.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, the empty one next to Natasha reserved for you. You finally emerge from the kitchen, no longer in the flowered apron but one of your classic checkerboard flannels. You’re carrying an impressive tower of pancakes in one hand and a pan filled half and half with bacon and sausage in the other. The students break out in appreciation and applause as Bobby scoots aside some dishes to make room for the last trays.

“Don’t take more than you can finish,” you remind the kids, going around the table to sit next to Natasha and presenting her with her special plate. “And uh, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and all that other stuff.” You raise your apple cider in a toast and everyone follows your lead.

“Thanks for breakfast, Y/N,” Ororo says, clinking her glass to yours. The students erupt with more thanks before they start reaching for the food, passing around the mountainous plate of pancakes, scooping whole fried eggs onto each other’s plates.

“Thanks again, babe,” Natasha says, putting her hand on your thigh as she leans over to kiss you on the cheek.

“You should try it first before thanking me,” you tease, still not used to all the praise. You were just trying to be a good partner, and it was somewhat of a Christmas tradition for you to cook breakfast for all the students who stayed at the mansion over break. You didn’t mind it at all, in fact you really did enjoy spending time in the kitchen and it made you feel good to take care of others.

Natasha leaves her hand on your knee as she eats, and eventually you put your hand on top of hers comfortingly. Neither of you engage much in conversation as you eat and listen, happy with the company. Once all of the food has been finished, Ororo rounds up the students to help clean everything before they can continue opening presents.

Kitty gets you a Johnny Cash vinyl record. Marie and Bobby got you a variety pack of exotic flavors of jerky, including alligator, ostrich, and buffalo. Storm gives you and Natasha tickets to a weekend getaway at a Canadian resort. Jean and Scott also throw in a joint gift of a new set of winter bedsheets. You are very thankful for the presents and pile them neatly by your feet, when Natasha pulls out a box and puts it on your lap. Inside is a familiar-looking flannel shirt.

“It’s a brand new one,” Natasha says. “To replace all the ones I steal from your closet,” Natasha says.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your arm around her to pull her closer so you can kiss her cheek. “This one is from me.” You hand her a very small box.

Natasha opens it delicately and gasps when she sees what you’ve given her. It’s a wooden ring, carved a little roughly around the edges with little turquoise-colored gems pressed into the outside.

“Did you make this?” Natasha asks, running her finger over the gems.

“Uh, yeah.” You’re suddenly nervous that she doesn’t like it. Woodworking was not your finest hobby, despite your decades to fine-tune the skill, but you preferred to build vast structures and furniture. Tiny little pieces of jewelry were extremely difficult to handle, but hopefully it was worth the numerous cuts and splinters you gave yourself.

Natasha slips it on her right ring finger–a perfect fit. Maybe you needed to give yourself more credit for your handiwork.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding her hand up to admire the ring. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Natasha snuggles closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder while you sit back and watch everyone else finish opening their gifts.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day is busy but productive. Natasha has never felt happier watching the students competitively decorate gingerbread houses, then go outside and play in the snow. You don’t join in anymore, preferring to watch from the side. You’re already wearing the flannel Natasha got for you and Natasha gazes at you adoringly from afar. Despite the differences the two of you had from time to time, she hasn’t loved another person the way she loves you. But sometimes she worries that you don’t feel the same way.

You still don’t talk very much, hardly opening up about your past the way Natasha has spilled about hers. Although you seem mostly content at the mansion, Natasha can tell you’re still adjusting to being around so many people. The life of solitude in the cabin in the woods had clearly been more your style, and she feels guilty for dragging you away from that. But as much as she would love to spend all day with you cozied up in a cabin you built with your own hands, it wasn’t a realistic option. Not with all the threats and dangers that could come her way.

Which is why it was so important to Natasha that the Red Room be dealt with, as soon as possible.

She didn’t like how dismissive you got every time she brought it up, but she understood why. You had found your domestic bliss and didn’t want to let it go anytime soon. She wasn’t going to blame you. But she wished you would actually listen to her instead of shutting her down all the time. She would figure out how to broach the topic with you eventually, but today was not that day.

After a quiet dinner, which is basically just warmed up leftovers from breakfast, Natasha finds you sitting by yourself on the couch in front of a dying fire. Most of the students had retired to their rooms, exhausted by the day’s festivities. Natasha sits next to you, leaning her shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.” You offer her your hand and she clasps onto it, threading her fingers with yours. You smile when you see the wooden ring on her finger. It looks perfect on her. “Did you have fun today?” you ask.

“It was the best Christmas I ever had,” she replies. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

Natasha is tired, but there’s still one more thing she wants to do with you. She rests her hand on your thigh, subtly at first, then she slowly starts to stroke your leg, her fingers barely perceptible through your jeans. You ignore her and her movements become bolder, creeping towards the inside of your thigh now and squeezing it lightly.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally ask. Natasha has always been a little more shy when it comes to asking for intimacy with you. But you were patient with her and never pressured her, and that encouraged her to have the confidence to ask if you were in the mood–even if she didn’t always do it with words.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she says, leaning forward until her lips almost touch yours. “I still have one more present to give you.”

“Oh, do you now?” you ask, trying to kiss her but she pulls away.

“You have to come upstairs,” she repeats, offering you her hand as she stands up.

“All right, all right.” Your knees creak as you push off the couch, taking Natasha’s hand and following her upstairs. You can hear her heartbeat pounding with excitement or maybe that’s…yours? You hope everyone else has gone to sleep by now, otherwise they wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, you let Natasha lead you to the bed and you sit down on the edge with her climbing onto your lap.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hands locking around the back of your neck.

“Of course,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. Your arms circle her waist to hold her securely in place. Her breath fans over your face and her heartbeat pumps at an almost alarmingly quick rate.

“I want you,” she says, rocking her hips against your thighs. “I want you to take me.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, before she presses her lips roughly to yours, her fingers digging into your neck. Her arousal spikes and so does yours. You open your mouth when she licks your lips to deepen the kiss. She tastes like vanilla and cookies and you instinctively pull her closer to you, wanting to devour her until the morning.

Natasha grabs the collar of your flannel, pulling apart the top buttons and running her hands down your chest and abs. Your skin burns where she touches you and you nip lightly on her bottom lip when she rests her hands on the buckle of your belt.

“I want to taste you,” you pant, hoping your request doesn’t come across as too greedy. Natasha has to fight down her thrill of excitement at your suggestion, wondering how you knew exactly what she wanted. She doesn’t even take the time to agree with you, instead hurriedly stripping off her clothes to show you how eager she is. You take off the flannel, setting it aside with reverence, then removing your undershirt and jeans. Natasha tackles you back on the bed, your thigh fitting between her legs and you feel the heat from her center rubbing against you.

“You’re so wet for me,” you say, holding her hips again and guiding her up until she’s hovering over your chest. “My good girl.”

“Your good girl,” Natasha reiterates, grabbing onto the headboard for support before she positions herself over your face. The scent of her arousal is almost overwhelming to you, and you waste no time bringing your arms over her thighs to pull her down. Natasha whines when your mouth makes contact with her slick center, your tongue slipping into her and coating with her juices.

Natasha moans, grinding down so you can enter her deeper. Your arms tighten to prevent her from moving too much; you want to do things at your own pace. Her taste is so intoxicating and addictive, you could lie here forever eating her out. Natasha grips the headboard tighter, struggling to rock against your face for more friction, but you won’t let her. She whines in desperation, the noises music to your ears. Your tongue dips into her again before tracing up to her clit, flicking against it and Natasha grinds down harder on your chin, gasping and moaning.

“Y/N,” she begs. “Y/N, please.”

You stop, pulling away from her far enough to say, “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

“I know, baby. I got you.” As much as you love teasing her, this is not the time. You knew Natasha could sometimes be insecure about your relationship with her. But you had no regrets in choosing to be with her and loved her so much. You would never miss an opportunity to show her, either.

You loosen your arms around her so she has some freedom to move and Natasha quickly adjusts herself until she’s comfortable. When she settles back down on your face again, you find her clit and wrap your lips around it, rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan. Natasha rolls her hips to help you find a good rhythm. You feel her thighs tremble and more of her slick spills onto your tongue.

“Oh, god. Oh fuck, Y/N,” she whimpers, the headboard flexing dangerously from how hard she’s holding onto it.

Your stomach practically burns from how aroused you are with Natasha riding your face, and you’re hoping she’ll help you relieve some of the tension once you make her finish. You’ve held out as long as you could, and you can tell Natasha is ready to fall over the edge. Your tongue rests on her clit again, swiping upwards in a straight line, then dragging down at a diagonal angle, then going back up.

Your tongue moves in an inverted V next, drawing an imaginary bar between them.

You lick down her clit once more, then swipe perpendicular.

Natasha is panting and shaking, completely unaware that you’re trying to spell her name on her with your tongue. One of her hands has left the headboard and is holding tightly onto your hair in an attempt to guide you, but your own plan is already in action.

She doesn’t make it the next A, her back arching and thighs clamping around your head as she finally cums. You don’t let a drop of it go to waste, lapping at her sensitive folds until she’s whimpering and trying to pull your head away. Natasha lifts herself off your face with a contented sigh, turning herself away from the headboard now, but you’re not quite done with her yet.

You pull her back down on your face and she falls forward with her hands on your chest.

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” you grumble playfully.

“Y/N,” Natasha giggles.

“Can I have one more, darling?” you ask, and she responds by sitting back on your face. But now Natasha is the one with other ideas, as she eyes the veins on your flexing abdomen that disappear behind the band of your underwear. You feel her hands run across your stomach and your breath hitches when she tugs down your underwear.

“Nat, what are you–oh, shit.” Now it’s your turn to gasp and moan when Natasha leans over and places her mouth on your dripping center. You completely lose focus of what you were doing, instinctively spreading your legs open further to give her better access. “Fuck baby, oh fuck,” you whine, your head dropping back on the pillow.

“Did I say you could stop?” Natasha teases, turning your own words back against you. It takes a monumental effort, but you calm yourself enough to put your mouth to work again. Natasha almost soaks herself when she realizes how turned on you’ve gotten just from eating her out. Now she has only one mission in mind: make you cum before she does a second time. But you’re refusing to make it easy for her, and Natasha is already dangerously close despite having finished mere minutes ago. She knows she has to hurry, but judging from the tremble in your thighs, you’re closer than you’re letting on.

Natasha’s tongue circles your clit and she can feel you panting against her, your own efforts faltering in their rhythm. She pushes back against your face to remind you of what you promised her. Your fingers dig into the curve of her ass and you feel her breasts rubbing against your abs. Her mouth is so hot and wet and perfect on you, making you lose your breath every time her tongue touches you.

“Fuck, Nat,” you whimper, feeling like you’re losing control of yourself. You’re not even sure if what you’re doing to her anymore is working because all you can think about is the throbbing in your lower stomach that begs to be released. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue lashes at your clit and she struggles and fails to push down on your thighs to keep you grounded. “Nat, I can’t,” you warn, a little embarrassed at how fast you’re ready to release.

“It’s okay,” you hear Natasha say, “Cum for me, baby.”

White floods your vision and all the muscles in your body tighten as you spill into her mouth, a moan catching in your throat. Your head spins in a rush of endorphins and you’re practically convulsing underneath Natasha when you finally come down from your high. She purrs in delight at her success, gently squeezing at your thighs. And as much as you want to flip her around and press her head against your chest, you still do owe her.

Natasha’s second orgasm is a little more subdued but just as pleasurable. She bites the inside of your thigh to quiet the noise of her moan and you almost cum again. But once she finds the strength to move, Natasha crawls back up to you, nuzzling the side of your head and kissing you. Normally, you could go several rounds without even stopping for a break, but you’re unusually exhausted today. Maybe it was from waking up at four o’clock to work on breakfast for everyone or making sure that the Christmas activities throughout the day ran smoothly.

Natasha rests her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and you rub her shoulder, tilting your head down to breathe in the faded scent of her shampoo.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***********************************************************************

January 2, 2024

Dear Diary,

Professor Xavier called me personally to his office today. I was really nervous that I was in trouble for something. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mind-reading thing. I try to keep my thoughts in check when he’s around, but I think that makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But other than that, he’s only ever been polite and respectful to me, and I can tell Y/N really looks up to him as a mentor and father figure.

He told me he has a lead on where the Red Room could be and asked if I still want to pursue them. Of course I do, but I know Y/N isn’t happy about it. I thought she would understand more. I know she’s got her own past that she hasn’t told me the entirety of yet (not that she’s required to), but she’s told a few stories so I know her situation is similar enough to mine. I wish she was more supportive instead of trying to talk me out of it, but I know she’s worried too. She doesn’t want me rushing back into danger and I totally get that. But I just…I can’t stay here and be cared for and protected and loved when there are so many of my sisters still being held against their will and forced into doing horrible things.

Luckily, the professor seems more understanding of things. But I don’t want him or anyone else here risking their lives for me. If I have to go alone, I will. I don’t know if I can do it alone, though. I’m sure Y/N will insist on tagging along no matter what. I just hope she doesn’t get too grumpy about the whole thing.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

January 4, 2024

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t told Y/N what the professor told me 2 days ago (assuming she hasn’t already gone through my diary and read about it here). I tried to mention it after dinner, but I could tell as soon as I let the “R” word slip she was not paying attention to the conversation anymore. I don’t want my frustration to build up, so I’ll probably have to be straightforward about it, which isn’t easy.

I know the professor can hear all of my thoughts, so I wonder if he’s going to get tired of them and just talk to Y/N himself. But probably not. This is my problem to handle. I’ll find the courage somehow to deal with it.

I just hope it doesn’t cause Y/N to look down on me for this. I’m already nervous that I’m constantly annoying her, and if she gets fed up enough and kicks me out I will literally have nowhere to go and at that point, I’d welcome back the Red Room with open arms. That probably seems a little dramatic, but I really don’t want to risk losing the best person that ever came into my life. I have Y/N to thank for everything I have here, and I think most people in my position would call me crazy for trying to make any changes to my situation.

But I’m not like most people. And I have to do what I think is right, even if others try to stop me.

I’ll bring it up to Y/N later again. Maybe if I catch her in a good mood she’ll be more receptive to the idea. Wishing luck to my future self.

Love,

Nat

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

Multipart sequel in the works!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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mountsmase · 7 months

Text

a/n: hi 🤭 I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all of the love on my last fic, I was so nervous to post it and it means the world that you all enjoyed it 🩷 this fic is just a little something that came to my mind after all the golf content we got last weekend and it ended up being so much longer than I thought 👀 I loved writing this but it is still only the second piece of smut I’ve ever written, so it’s not perfect but I really do hope you guys enjoy it 🩷

word count: 5k

genre: Smut/Fluff

———————

Patience - MM7

You watch as Mason approaches the tee box, failing to follow the path of the ball when he eventually hits it.

The flexing of his muscles and the black ink of his tattoos a much more appealing sight to you, which you find yourself struggling to pull your gaze away from.

You’re currently sat on the cold, faux leather seat of a golf buggy, playing spectator whilst Mason plays a round of golf with a few of his friends.

It’s a rare week where neither of you have any obligations. International break has given him some free time after a busy month of matches and you finally have some time off work.

You knew he’d be playing golf with the boys today, and when he initially invited you to join them a couple of days ago you’d been hesitant and had ultimately said no. Letting him know that you wanted him to spend some uninterrupted quality time with his friends, which is something he’s not been able to do in a while.

He’d been pouty, arguing that he’d not been able to spend time with you in a while either, but you managed to convince him to go without you, really not wanting to infringe on his time with his friends. After all, you had the whole rest of the week to spend together, you could last one more day being without each other.

Or so you thought.

When he rolled out of bed early this morning, placing a quick kiss onto your forehead before asking you one more time if you wanted to join him, you caved.

Suddenly not so keen on the idea of being without him all day when you watched him change in to a simple black shirt with trousers that hug his body perfectly.

So here you are.

Woody steps up to take his shot and Mase makes his way back over to the cart. He puts his club away before settling into the seat next to you and takes the moment where the boys are distracted to pull you closer to him. Your body practically on top of his on the little leather bench.

You can’t help but sink into him as he peppers kisses on your shoulder, the light scratch of his beard sending shivers along your body as he continues his way up your neck, your hand landing on his thigh out of instinct.

When he sucks lightly on your soft spot, you slide you hand up a little higher, fingers grasping gently at his skin when you feel the hem of his boxers through the material of his trousers. Two can play at this game.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Masey” you whisper close to his ear.

“Who said anything about stopping?” He replies casually, a little too casually for your liking and when you catch that mischievous glint in his eye you know you’re not going to like whatever he says next.

“Just need to learn a little patience baby, I’m all yours once we’re home, promise” he murmurs close to your ear, placing one last kiss to your shoulder and your whole body heats up at the thought of being alone with him later.

You’re pulled out of your bubble when the rest of the boys climb into their respective carts, pulling away to go and find their balls.

Mason sends you a cheeky wink, hand settling high on your thigh as he follows them down towards the fairway and it’s then that you realise you’re in for a long afternoon.

The rest of the day goes by way too slowly, the time dragging as Mason does everything in his power to rile you up.

He’s always doing something, resting his hand a little too high up your thigh, his head falling into your neck and leaving barely there kisses to your skin when the others aren’t looking, brushing his fingers over you skin or resting against the side of the golf buggy, arms on full display whilst he acts completely innocent. It’s all driving you crazy.

His incessant teasing makes the minuets feel like hours and your patience is wearing thin.

Your busy schedules have meant you’ve not really had time to be intimate together recently, with one of you always being too tired or just generally not having the time.

You miss him loads, and that - combined with his endless teasing and the promises he made earlier - has your mind spiralling every time he so much as looks in your direction.

And you know you’re done for when he messes up his shot at a later hole, letting out a ‘fuck’ as he throws his head back.

All the boys laugh with him, but you find your mind in a completely different place. The sound of the groan leaving his lips and the stretch of his neck as he tilts it back sending a rush of heat straight to your core.

You know in that moment that you need to get him home soon, the urge to touch him becoming harder to resist by the second.

—————

“Finally,” you mutter, speaking under your breath when he pulls his car into the driveway of your shared home many hours later.

You can’t deny that you had a great day, enjoying the time you got to spend with him and his friends, but, after watching him play a full 18 holes, and then having to sit through a long meal at the club house, you’re glad to finally be alone with him - not to mention how incredibly worked up you are after all of his teasing.

You enter the house in front of him, kicking off your shoes before rushing upstairs, leaving him to lock up behind you.

You make your way into your bedroom and plug your phone into charge before heading over to your full length mirror to begin removing your jewellery.

Mase isn’t far behind you and you can see him entering the bedroom in the reflection of the mirror, closing the door softly behind him before making a beeline for you.

He stands behind you, meeting your gaze in the mirror and you almost melt when he reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he unclips your necklace.

He leans over, placing it into your little jewellery box that sits on the cabinet beside the mirror, and you feel goosebumps spread all over when his chest brushes against your back.

His hands gravitate to your hips, wordlessly turning you around so that you’re facing him and he barely gives you time to prepare before he’s crashing his lips into yours.

His plush lips move against yours in perfect sync, and he’s tightening his grip on your waist to pull you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together and your hands find his shoulders frantically. Needing something to hold onto when you feel his bulge press into you through the layers of clothing that separate you.

He coaxes your lips open, slipping his tongue into your mouth and the way he brushes it against yours in slow, languid strokes has all over thoughts leaving your mind until all that’s left is him. Him and his lips and his hands that are roaming all over your body.

“Been waiting for this all day” he says between kisses, chuckling against your mouth and you can’t help but roll your eyes. The two of you knowing full well that he was the one making you do the waiting.

His lips disappear from yours, head burying into your neck, carefully nipping at your delicate skin and if it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would’ve melted to the floor then and there.

“Mase” you sigh when he sucks against your sensitive skin, the feeling of his warm lips and the scratch of his beard against your skin sending pleasure shooting down your spine.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders, his own roaming over your back and you arch up into him when he finds your sweet spot, teeth grazing the skin before sucking harshly.

“Mason, please” you whimper,

He smirks up at you, “Please what, bubs?”

“You know what”

“I don’t think I do,” he teases, “tell me what you want, baby girl”

“You, your mouth, your fingers, anything, please”

The heat of his body leaves yours and he wordlessly guides you over to the bed, pushing you down gently to sit on the mattress.

“Arms up” he instructs, and you do as he asks, lifting your arms in the air so that he can pull your t-shirt over your head and a groan rumbles in his throat when he notices the bra you’re wearing, the white lacy fabric leaving little to the imagination.

“Lie back for me, baby” he murmurs, and when your back hits the mattress, his lips are quick in finding your collar bone.

He scatters sloppy, open mouth kisses along your chest, stopping every now and then to pay extra attention to the spots where he knows you’re most sensitive.

The little noises leaving your lips spur him on as he makes his way further down your body, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched by his lips.

When he finally meets the waist band of your jeans he taps your hips in a silent request, and you lift them off the bed so that he can pull the denim down and over your legs.

Your panties follow close behind and you’re left bare in front of him.

“So pretty, baby, all of you” he says softly, breath fanning across your hip and his dark eyes meet your shy ones, your whole body flushing at his praise.

Your hands cover your face as he takes in your body beneath his, suddenly feeling insecure under his intense gaze.

“Hey, none of that, no hiding” he climbs up your body, moving your hands away from your face before brushing his lips over yours, “Please don’t ever hide from me, gorgeous”

He entwines his fingers with yours, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles before settling them beside you. Once he’s satisfied you won’t try and shy away from him again, he slides back down your body, kneeling on the carpet and settling in between your legs.

“Can I?” He hums against your thigh, and when he hears you let out a breathy ‘yes’ he leans forward, pressing a barely there kiss to your clit before licking up your entrance.

He works you up slowly, tongue moving skilfully through your folds and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue, the vibrations travelling all over your body. Your head falls back and eyes flutter closed in bliss as he continues to lap at you.

His hand reaches up and takes one of yours, tangling your fingers and letting you squeeze and hold onto him as your body becomes overrun with pleasure.

“Fuck, Mase, feels so good. Don’t stop” you plead and his tongue dips into your entrance, nose nudging against your clit as he begins to eat you out like you’re his last meal.

Your free hand sinks into his hair, needing something else to hold onto as pleasure strikes up your spine, and a satisfied groan rumbles in his throat at the feeling of your hand in his hair.

You begin to squirm against him, struggling to stay still as he continues to suck and lap against you and he hooks his arm under your thigh, hand finding your hip in an attempt to keep you still.

“Shit - Mase - gonna make me cum” you whine and hold on to his hand a little harder.

“Come on, let go for me bubba, I’ve got you” his voice is so soft, so opposite to his actions as he suctions his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nub and that’s all it takes to have you crashing over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body thrashing against the mattress as Mason works you through it.

He soothes his tongue over you, working you through it until your whimpering in sensitivity, your hand weakly pushing at his head.

He removes his mouth from you, leaning back so that he can look up at you properly and he swears he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. You, sprawled out on the mattress, hair spread around you like halo, flush covering your cheeks as you smile down at him lazily.

You reach down, hand cupping his cheek and you use your thumb to swipe away a small drop of your cum from his chin before holding it against his lips.

“Taste incredible, baby” he hums around your thumb when he sucks it into his mouth, licking the drop from your fingertip.

He climbs back over you, lips finding yours in a soft kiss and you thread your fingers through his hair, revelling in the weight of his body against yours.

You allow yourself to bask in the brief moment of bliss, letting yourself regain composure after your orgasm.

But it’s not long until you get fidgety again, overcome with the need to touch him.

Your hand makes its way over his clothed shoulder, pushing slightly and you use all of your strength to roll him over, straddling his thighs as he relaxes back into the sheets.

“You’ve got way too many clothes on” you mumble and he chuckles against your lips, sitting up slightly to allow you to pull his shirt over his head.

His trousers are next to go, your fingers finding the button and you’re quick in undoing it, sliding the fabric down his legs with his boxers.

“Much better” you drawl and he lets out a whimper when you lightly scratch your nails across his stomach.

Your lips follow their path, paying special attention to all of his little moles and freckles as you kiss your way down his body, ignoring the area he wants you most to continue your trail down his thighs.

He sucks in a breath and you feel the muscles in his thighs clench when you graze his sensitive skin with your teeth, one of his hands tangling into your hair and tugging gently in an attempt to direct you towards where he needs you.

“Relax, bubba” you whisper against his skin, thumbs rubbing soothing circles and you feel him settle beneath you.

“Y/N, please. I need your mouth baby” he begs when he notices that mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Patience is a virtue Mase. You made me wait and I’m simply returning the favour. Now, hands off.” You smirk up at him and he groans in response, throwing his head back into the pillows.

His arms lays limp beside him, and he throws one over his face when you mumble a quick “good boy”, the praise going straight to his cock and you feel a sense of pride when you see it twitch out the corner of your eye.

Then he’s groaning out in frustration when your hands leave him completely so that you can get a little more comfortable between his legs.

One of your hands returns to his thigh, walking your fingers up his skin slowly and he jolts when you finally touch him, length twitching when you run your fingertip along the underside. Not using enough pressure for him to really feel it, but enough to drive him mad.

Your other hand joins and wraps around his base when you reach his tip, smearing the pre cum that’s collected and he lets out a desperate whimper when he feels your thumb rubbing over his slit.

He feels thick and heavy in your palms when you stack your hand on top of the other and twist them slowly, applying a little more pressure and watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, both of his hands clutching the bed sheets in an attempt to not touch you.

“Feel good, Masey?” you coo and he nods his head quickly, unable to form a coherent sentence as his eyes pop open again, just in time to see you lowering your head.

You wrap your lips around his head, your tongue flicking over his slit and you pull your hands away, bracing them on his thighs as you move your mouth further down his length.

You go as far down as you can, and he hisses at the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat before you’re pulling back up.

The moan that leaves his lips has butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Fuck Angel, feels so good, you’re so - oh fucking hell” he moans and you flutter your eyes open, finding his already on you, blown out pupils staring down at you.

You continue to bob your head, hand coming up to work what you can’t fit inside of your mouth and your fingers and lips work in perfect sync.

When your other hand begins fondling with his balls he can’t help it anymore and his hand goes flying to the back of your head.

You let it slide, gazing up at him through your lashes and by the look on his face and the noises leaving his lips, you can tell he’s in heaven.

“I-I’m close,” he moans, fingers tangling into your hair “gonna cum y/n, oh my god” he pants out as you relax your jaw, taking as much of him as you can until your gagging around him.

“Come for me, Mase” you breath out and with a final twist of your hand, he’s cuming into your mouth.

You swallow all of him, working him through his high and when his hips start bucking up out of sensitivity, you leave one final kiss to his tip before pulling off of him.

“Holy shit, y/n, you’re so good at that” he laughs, scrubbing a hand over his flushed face before reaching out for you.

You settle on top of him, feeling his heart beating where your chest presses against his and you leave a series of kisses up his collar bones, making your way up his neck and to his lips.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth and when he tastes himself on your own, he lets out a content sigh.

You stay like that for a few minuets, enjoying the calmness of the moment before you feel him hardening again against your thigh.

You giggle as he hides his face in your neck in embarrassment.

“You okay there?”

“Need to be inside you, angel” he speaks into your neck, neediness evident in his voice.

“I’m all yours, love” you send him a cheeky smile, rolling onto your back when he nudges your shoulder and he crawls on top of you.

His fingers fiddle with your bra, pulling the strap back before letting it snap back into place.

“Let’s get this off” he mumbles and you sit up slightly, allowing him to reach around and unhook your bra.

He pulls the straps down your arm, throwing it somewhere behind him and you watch as his pupils dilate at the sight of you completely bare in front of him.

His lips make their way down your chest, and he speaks between kisses.

“So” kiss, “fucking” kiss, “gorgeous” kiss.

The last kiss lands right next to your left nipple and he doesn’t hesitate to shift slightly, lips leaving an open mouthed kiss to the hardened nub.

He brings his hand up, thumb stroking over the neglected nipple and you arch your back in desperation.

“Mason, need you, please baby” you moan breathlessly, and you here him chuckle against your skin.

“You’ve got me baby,” he whispers right next to your ear, leaving a kiss to your cheek as he spreads your legs a little wider and settles between them.

“You ready, bub?” he asks softly and your lips tug up into a smile.

You cup his cheek and lock your eyes onto his, “Yeah, baby. Want to feel you.”

He nods, nudging his nose against yours as he braces one hand beside your head, the other guiding himself between your folds.

Your hand lands on the back of his neck when you feel him sliding into you slowly, wincing at the slight stretch you feel after not being with him like this for a while.

“You okay?” He asks, voice full of concern when he sees the slight look of discomfort on your face.

You meet his worried eyes, nodding in reassurance. “Yeah bub, just go slow please”

“Of course,” he pushes his hips forward, making sure to be gentle whilst he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“Let me know when I’m okay to move” his thumb brushes in tender motions over your hip, attempting to sooth any discomfort you may be feeling.

You stay like that for a few moments, his head hidden away in your neck, brushing gentle kisses against your skin whilst he gives you all the time you need to adjust to him.

You slide your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly to get him to look at you.

“You can move, Mase” you whisper when his eyes meet yours.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, forehead resting against yours and you moan out in unison when he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in.

He keeps his pace slow, swearing under his breath and digging his teeth into his bottom lip at the feeling of your plush walls surrounding him.

“Missed this so much Angel” his raspy voice is barely audible when he speaks against your lips.

All you can do is nod, unable to find your voice when he picks up his pace but wanting him to know you missed it too.

His warm palms slide up the back of your thighs, finding the curve of your bum before hooking your legs around his waist.

The new angle allows him to to reach much deeper and you feel a bolt of pleasure shoot up your spine when he brushes that special spot inside of you.

“Fuck, Mase. So good” you whimper out, hand finding his shoulder and your holding on so hard that your sure you’ll find little crescent shaped marks there later.

His face finds home in your neck, thrusts faltering slightly when he feels your silky walls clench around him.

“Oh my god, Angel. Going to make me cum already” he stutters, slightly embarrassed at how quickly he’s approaching his second orgasm of the night.

Little does he know, you’re just as close. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“I’m there with you, bub” you move your hips up in time with his, cupping his cheek to move his face from your neck.

You meet his eyes and the sight of him on top of you is almost too much. His hair tousled from your fingers, cheeks flushed and lips swollen as he continues thrusting into you at a brisk pace.

His hand grips at your hip a little tighter and the other grabs your free hand, fingers tangling with yours as he brings them up to rest next to your head.

“Fucking hell, y/n. So tight” he grunts and you let out a string of curse words when you feel your orgasm barrelling towards you.

“Gonna cum, Mase” you sob, eyes squeezing closed as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“I’ve got you, bubba, let go for me” he rasps close to your ear.

And that’s exactly what you do. Moaning out as he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him as your orgasm hits you like a wave.

Your high is overwhelming, the sound of his voice and moans the only thing you can focus on as your body is overcome with pleasure, the feeling rippling through you leaving you breathless.

Your walls constricting around him is what sends him over the edge, his whimpers are muffled in your neck, his body collapsing on top of yours as he hits his own orgasm.

He keeps himself buried inside of you as you both come down from your highs. Your fingers scratching over his neck and back as he slumps on top of you, completely spent.

Neither of you make the effort to move for a while, and he stays buried inside of you whilst you bask in the serenity of the moment. Your heart rates and breathing slowly returning to normal.

He groans when he eventually pulls out of you, head dropping to your shoulder and you brush a series of kisses over his temple.

“You feel up for showering bubba?” He asks softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as he looks down at you lovingly.

You send him a soft smile, nodding lazily and you let him scoop you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you through to the en-suit bathroom.

He switches the bathroom light on, immediately dimming it when you wince from the brightness before he sets you down on the counter.

A kiss is brushed against your temple and then he’s turning around, turning the shower on and making sure it’s the right temperature.

You catch his eyes widening slightly when he turns back to you. “What? Is something wrong?” you ask, slightly alarmed by his expression but his face softens as soon as he hears your voice.

“No Angel, nothing wrong. Let’s just say, it’s a good job we’ve got no plans tomorrow” he chuckles, thumb brushing over your neck and all of your confusion goes away when you turn and look into the mirror.

There’s a dark bruise standing out against your skin, a few lighter ones littered across your chest.

“You really went for it, huh?”

“Sorry” he shrugs, not really looking sorry at all.

“No you’re not”

“Nope, not one bit”

You turn back to him, slapping his chest with the back of your hand playfully before he’s helping you down from the counter and guiding you into the shower.

Your body slumps into his when he comes up in front of you. His arms wrap around your waist in a hug and his head finds home in your neck as the water cascades over you.

“love you” his voice is muffled against your skin but you hear him loud and clear, your heart fluttering at the simple phrase.

“Love you too, Masey”

You bring your hand up to the back of his head, fingers running through his damp hair and scratching over his scalp and you feel his chest vibrating against yours when he hums in content.

He steps back and takes your body wash from the little shelf, the familiar citrusy scent engulfing you as he squirts some into his palm, lathering it up before massaging it into your skin.

He pays extra attention to your hips and thighs, helping to sooth the aching skin with his thumbs before shuffling so that you’re both under the water again.

He helps you rinse off, letting you clean him up as well before stepping out of the shower in front of you.

He wraps his own towel around his waist and then takes yours from the heated towel rack, holding it out for you to step into.

When you step out of the shower, his arms are immediately circling you again, wrapping you up in the warm towel as pulls you against his chest.

“Someone’s clingy” you utter, looking up at him through your lashes and if he blushes, you can’t tell. The heat from the shower already leaving his cheeks a little flushed.

“Can’t help it, just want to hold my girl” his confession makes your heart warm and you smile up at him softly.

“How about you go and get into bed, I won’t be long and then you can hold me all night” you suggest, the idea sounding more than appealing.

“I’ll get some pj’s ready for you” he says, pressing his lips to your temple before leaving the bathroom so you can finish getting ready for bed.

Your quick in finishing up your skin care routine, not bothering with any extra serums tonight, the thought of him waiting in bed for you being way more appealing than the idea of standing in this bathroom for even a minute longer.

You switch the bathroom light off and enter the much softer atmosphere of the bedroom. Mase is already tucked up in bed waiting for you, looking all cozy and snug under the duvet.

Some fresh panties and one of his shirts sit a neat pile at the end of the bed and you quickly pull them on, throwing your towel into the laundry basket before climbing into bed next to him.

“Feeling okay, bubba?”

“I need to watch you play golf more often” you giggle, settling into bed next to him.

“Oh, definitely” he sighs, hooking an arm over your waist and sliding you closer to him.

“Seriously though, thank you for coming with me today, I know we’ve technically still seen each other everyday but I really have missed you the last couple of weeks” he speaks shyly, and you can just about make out the blush littering his cheeks in the warm light.

“I missed you too,” you lean up and meet his eyes, “so much”

His hand goes to the back of your neck when you lean in to kiss him. It’s slow, calm and loving as he works his lips against yours carefully.

You rest your head again his bare chest when you pull away, snuggling into him and relaxing completely against his body as he reaches over and switches the lamp off.

The room is engulfed in darkness as he shuffles around a little, getting comfy before settling his arms around you.

“Good night, my love” is the last thing he says to you, and you just about manage a quiet ‘good night’ back before you’re drifting off to sleep, Mase not far behind as you both fall into the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

———————

Hope you enjoyed 😚 feedback appreciated as always 🩷🫶🏻

#mason mount imagine #mason mount concepts #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount fic

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kingdumkum · 1 year

Text

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. ��

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up.

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?”

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms.

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you.

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely.

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.”

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours.

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm.

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you.

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.”

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—”

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills.

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you.

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real.

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago.

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement.

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.”

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes.

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—”

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that?

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face.

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth.

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth.

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face.

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.”

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold.

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?”

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist.

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name.

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up.

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt.

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?”

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you.

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.”

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along.

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.”

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it.

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?”

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can.

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot.

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped.

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all.

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you.

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

#baji #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #baji smut #keisuke baji smut #baji x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #keisuke baji x reader smut #tokyo rev smut

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murciafire · 5 months

Text

Anatomy of a Hug

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Summary: Sometimes, all you need is a hug

Warnings: none

Words: >500

Notes: now that finals are over, I finally had some time to squeeze this short little fic out. Cranked this out in like 30 mins because I just needed to write something and I’ve been dying to.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*

In the cages of our ribs, the fluttering of our hearts beats wildly against its prison in the hopes that one day it will be free. But it is a bird with a clipped wing, bound to our bodies but every so often, we give it freedom in the form of love in which it can soar and fly and fall. For a body without a heart would mean that vulnerability would cease to exist and all that we know of what makes us human. Strangely enough, no matter how much we believe we give our hearts to someone, it still remains within us, tucked away under the surface of our skin and bones and viscera. However, the form of love we all seek is to not give our heart away, but to find someone who will accompany it. For someone to see that bird in your chest and give it a neighbor.

Because when we hug and our hearts are pressed so tightly together, they sing and realize that they are not so alone in their cage. And Jason, who was so deeply in love with you believed that he wasn’t alone anymore, and his heart finally had found someone it could sing to. For no matter what the world had given him that day, whether it be pain, loneliness, betrayal, or love, happiness, comfort—his heart had yours next to it, pressed together like flowers between the pages of a book.

“Hey, hey, shh . . .” he said softly rubbing your back as he held you in his lap. You had been crying for the last fifteen minutes or so, but the weight you carried had started since the sun struck the sky. But that was what life was sometimes, and in seeing Jason coming home, what else were you to be other than be vulnerable? So of course, you cried, because sometimes—no, all the time—it was better to share the burden. You weren’t alone, not with your heart pressed against his.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I promise,” he whispered, rocking you slightly. He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead as you cried against into the crook of his neck, hiding yourself away from the world. But Jason wouldn’t have that, not right now. You could never hide from him because he never wanted you to face it alone. So, when your breathing slowed, and the tension slipped away from your body, he pulled back to look you in the eyes. He loved your eyes. Always will. He saw his future in them.

“There you are,” he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face. “There you are.”

Jason would always see you, in whatever form you were. Whether you were at your best or your worse. Because that was what being vulnerable was—a body with a heart. With your heart against his. It was just the anatomy of a hug.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood x gn!reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd fanfiction #batman #dc batman #dc comics #batboys #batfamily #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 6 months

Note

Hi!!! How’s it going?

I have a brain cleansing idea 😂

So Hunter is always alert and worried about everyone. How about the reader trying to sooth his worries late at night? Kissing his hands, stroking his hair. With him laying his head in the crook of your neck or trying to hear the steady rhythm of a heartbeat 😭😭. Whatever floats your boat.

Feel free to change things up to your liking (if you like my idea). It can be an established relationship or a friends to lovers thing, whatever you prefer,

Don’t forget to take breaks and to prioritise your health

♡

Hi anon! Thanks for the request. I loved this idea, so I ran with it and tweaked it ever so slightly. Thank you for the little reminder to take breaks - I've been a bit burned out with work, but writing this brought me joy 💕

For a while, I’ve wanted to do a HC’s piece on the Batch looking after reader who has chronic migraines (super self-indulgent), but giving Hunter the migraine worked in this story, so poor bby suffers a little. But it’s okay; he also gets cuddles and love 😂

A Moment of Stillness

Worrying and caring about his brothers all the time weighs heavy on Hunter. So, it’s a good job you’re there to worry and care about him.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, sweetness, comfort, mutual pining, use of strong prescription medicine for migraine, very light scent kink/Hunter finds readers scent comforting, pet names, cuddles, confessions of love, friends to lovers, first kiss.

Another storm had rolled in, the crack of lightning throwing flashes of bright light across your room and the rumble of thunder creating white noise as you worked late into the evening. Several mission reports had already been completed and submitted, but there was still a small stack. That was the downside of sending the boys on back-to-back missions.

Twirling your stylus in one hand, your chin rested in the other, elbow perched on the edge of your desk as you stared off through the window, watching the rain lash against the transparasteel. When you had signed up to assist the GAR, you’d anticipated adventure and thrills, near-death experiences and seeing more of the galaxy. Instead, you had politics to play with Command, bad news to break to your boys when the next mission would see them needed on a skughole of a planet, and an endless supply of paperwork. But you were doing your bit – playing your part and keeping the wheels of the GAR turning. And, ultimately, that was what you’d wanted.

A light rap at your door captured your attention between the rumbles of thunder. Abandoning your desk, stylus discarded next to your datapad, you moved across the small room you’d been given in Tipoca City. It wasn’t much, but within these four walls, you could escape. The door slid open quietly, and a soft smile crossed your lips at the sight that greeted you.

“Hey, cyar’ika.” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice felt like a warm blanket on a winter’s day. Eight months, you’d been working with him and his brothers, feeding them missions, directing them to the nearest outposts for supplies, and cheating the system occasionally to get them any extras they needed. They were the closest thing you had to family out here, and the longer you spent with them, the more you grew attached to them – especially to Hunter.

As you moved aside to let Hunter in, the dark circles under his eyes looked worse than before, and every step he took was slower than usual, like the weight of the galaxy rested on his broad shoulders. It wasn’t uncommon for them to swing by when they were back on Kamino, usually to drag you to their barracks for a catch-up, but something about this visit felt different.

“Hey, H.” You answer gently, sliding effortlessly into the small nickname you’d adopted for him, the door shutting once he was inside. “It’s good to see you.”

With a weary sigh, Hunter lifted a hand and rubbed at his forehead. He was exhausted, still in pain from a few injuries he’d sustained at the start of their recent back-to-back missions, and the storm had been the final straw, frazzling his senses and dragging in a migraine. While he loved his brothers dearly, they’d started their usual rounds of bickering and chatter the moment they’d stepped foot in their barracks and, in need of peace, Hunter’s feet had guided him to you.

“Here…” You kept your voice low, pulling out the chair at your desk for Hunter to sit. As he lowered himself gingerly into the seat, you rooted around in the fresher for your medkit. As you turned back to the room, your heart ached. Hunter was propping his head up with one hand, not too dissimilar to the way you’d been earlier, but his eyes were closed, brows furrowed in pain. While you appreciated that his senses were a benefit out on the frontlines, you wanted to shoot whichever Kaminoan had decided having the ability to sense electromagnetic fields would be fantastic for someone whose home was on a stormy planet.

Quietly, you approached, pulling a small blue box from the medkit. Prying it open, you popped one of the pills from its packet. “Take this.” You murmured, waiting for Hunter’s eyes to open.

Hunter had heard your approach and slowly opened his eyes at your words. He had mixed feelings about the pill you offered up – one of your personal ones, prescribed for your own migraines. The side effects you experienced were intense; he’d witnessed it firsthand while looking after you a few times. He’d only used them once before, and the side effects, thanks to his mutations, were even worse. However, he knew that come morning, should he take the tablet, his migraine would be gone. He could regroup and refocus on the next mission.

It was worth the side effects for sweet relief.

Reaching out with one hand, he took the tablet from you, placing it onto his tongue. The medicinal tang as it fizzled made him grimace, a film coating his mouth as it dissolved. Before it kicked in, he’d have ten minutes to return to his barracks. Summoning his little energy, Hunter pushed himself up to stand, using your desk to keep his balance.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You insisted, a firmness to your voice that brokered no argument. “You won’t make it back there before collapsing from exhaustion. Take my bunk.” You gestured to the bed pressed up against the far wall. The standard issue linens had been replaced long ago with softer sheets. Extra pillows had been procured, and Lula sat nestled against them. Wrecker often handed her to you before they left, asking you to look after her until he returned. You weren’t sure if the gentle giant was doing it to try and comfort you – to reassure you they’d be back – or whether he did it because he didn’t want to risk her being misplaced. Either way, she kept you company. And the smile on Wrecker’s face whenever you returned her was brighter than Tatooine’s two suns.

“Don’t want to get in your way.” Hunter mumbled, wincing at the pounding in his head and the slight bout of nausea that rolled through him.

“I wasn’t asking, I was telling.” You double-down, taking matters into your own hands as you guided him the few steps across the room to your bed. Easing him down onto the edge of the mattress, you started to unfasten his armour. Working quickly, you unlatched each piece and set it down neatly beside your bed until he was left in nothing but his blacks. It bothered you a little that they were dirty, and he was about to get into your nice clean bed, having spent Maker knows how long wearing them, but you pushed that aside as you pulled back the sheets for him.

A tattooed hand wrapped around your wrist, and you paused in your actions, head tilting to look up into Hunter’s tired eyes. “I know you.” His voice was whisper soft, words blending a little as the medication started to kick in. You watched as he let go of you, hands slowly dragging the top half of his blacks off, depositing it onto the floor. His pants came next, kicked off haphazardly before he slumped into the bed and closed his eyes.

Most of the time, you saw the boys in their armour, sometimes just in their blacks, and on one occasion, you’d accidentally walked into their barracks just as Crosshair had been coming out of the fresher, copping a load of the man with just a towel around his waist. You’d been mortified, cheeks warming as you turned around quickly to offer privacy. He’d found it hilarious, smirk tugging at his lips as he’d made a risqué comment.

Now, you had a near-naked Hunter in your bed.

Mild panic laced through you, along with appreciation and a coil of heat. Hunter was a good-looking man who you cared for deeply, and you were a red-blooded woman. And those abs of his…

With a shake of your head, you composed yourself and lifted the sheets to cover him.

Hunter couldn’t help the slight hum of appreciation he let out as you placed the sheets over him. Your bed was much comfier than the thin mattresses he and his brothers had in their barracks, and the extra pillows felt like clouds. Not to mention, everything around him smelt like you - a soft, floral scent he’d grown to adore. Another noise slid past his lips as he felt your fingers in his hair, gently undoing the knot of his bandana. The fabric slipped away, and while he felt naked without it, he knew it would otherwise bother him while he slept.

Confident Hunter wouldn’t go anywhere, you laid his bandana on your nightstand. Turning to finish some more reports while he rested, the low rasp of his voice stopped you. “Stay with me?”

“I’m right here.” You countered gently, brows drawing downwards. You weren’t about to leave him in the room to fend for himself.

Reaching out blindly, Hunter patted the vacant spot in the bed. “You’re not.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “H…” You whispered, wanting nothing more than to comfort him but at the same time not wanting to make things weird.

“Please.” Hunter persisted.

You really couldn’t deny him anything, especially when he was unwell and vulnerable. “Alright.” You conceded, returning to the bed. Hand sliding under the sheets in the vacant spot, you found your sleep shirt. Turning your back, you quickly changed and slid into the bed. Reaching up to the panel in the wall, you adjusted the lights – turning them off entirely and plunging the room into darkness would force Hunter’s other senses to overcompensate, so instead, you settled on a dim glow.

As you settled beside Hunter, the room became a cocoon of warmth and soft shadows. The storm outside continued, but it was tranquil within the small confines of your room. Silence lingered for a moment, broken only by the rhythmic patter of rain on the window. Hunter moved slightly onto his side, trying to find a more comfortable position. He was restless, his breathing uneven, and you could tell that the pain and exhaustion were still sitting heavily with him. Without a word, you shifted closer to try and offer some comfort, and Hunter took the invitation.

Although his mind was starting to go blissfully foggy as the medication worked its magic, Hunter’s heart felt as if it were racing. For months, he’d played his cards close to his chest, quietly admiring you, enduring the teasing from his brothers whenever they noticed his gaze lingering on you, and yet now he was sharing a bed with you.

As you shifted towards him, laying on your back, he scooted in and closed the gap between you. Carefully, he slid an arm around your middle, fingers finding your waist as he pressed against you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Nose pressed to your throat, he inhaled deeply, his overworked senses relaxing as he was surrounded by nothing but you – your scent, your heartbeat, the rise and fall of your torso with every breath you took.

Your hand found its way to his hair, fingers smoothing through the brown curls, nails dragging lightly over his scalp. The tension in his muscles gradually gave way to relaxation, and, in the darkness, the worries that had weighed on Hunter’s shoulders dissipated, replaced by the comforting warmth of your presence.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet. Hunter’s breathing evened out, signalling that the pain and stress were finally loosening their grip on him. “Need anything?” You whispered, breaking the silence.

A low, almost content hum vibrated against your neck as Hunter nuzzled closer. “No, ’m good.” He admitted, the words muffled against your skin. “Thanks to you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Anytime, H.” As the storm outside began to calm down, you found yourself lost in thought again. The war raged on, and the future remained uncertain. “I worry about you.” You confessed, your fingers still moving through his hair. “The constant missions, the danger you face, the weight on your shoulders. It’s a lot.”

Hunter lifted his head slightly to meet your gaze in the dim light. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, were hazy and soft. “Worry about you too. But we’ve got each other.” Hunter’s words were slower than usual as he struggled to piece them together through the brain fog.

You could only nod in response as Hunter dipped his head back down, pressing his face back to where it had been before. “Smell good.” He mumbled, uncaring in the moment to censor himself.

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever received that compliment before. But thank you.” Amusement curled through your words.

“Appreciate you. Can rely on you.” Hunter continued, unable to stop the honest words from coming out, his voice a mere murmur against your skin. He shifted, his arm tightening around you. The medication was working in full force, but he fought against it a little longer. “Need to say something.” He whispered.

Tilting your head to look at him, the dim glow revealed the faint outline of his face as he pressed his nose to your pulse point. “What is it?” You asked, curiosity lacing your words.

Hunter didn’t want to make things awkward or weird, but at the same time, he didn’t want to keep hiding things from you. And now felt as good a time as any to come clean. “I care about you. A lot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and that earlier warmth in your body grew hotter. Hunter’s admission hung in the air.

Hunter shifted again, focusing on your delicate scent and the slightly quickened thud of your heart. His fingers on your waist started to rub soft, clumsy circles. “Think I’m in love with you.” Nervousness rolled through him. “Didn’t plan on sayin’ it like this, but I can’t keep pretendin'.” Pushing the words out took monumental effort, but he wouldn’t let sleep pull him under until he’d said his piece.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, and a sense of rightness filtered through you. “You mean you didn't plan on saying it while heavily medicated?” You couldn’t help but tease, your voice soft but steady. Hunter’s low grunt of agreement, his warm breath fanning across your skin, drew a smile from you. “You should know you’re not alone in feeling that way.” You confessed quietly, figuring it only fair that you also laid your cards on the table.

Delight bloomed in Hunter’s chest, and he inhaled deeply, his grip on you tightening. “You mean...?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed as your hand moved, fingers trailing across the darkened half of his face.

Contentment washed over him, his earlier nervousness chased away by your words and soft actions. “Wanna kiss you.” He admitted.

You felt a smile play on your lips, matching the warmth in your chest. “That can be arranged.” You whispered, leaning in as you closed the small gap between you.

Hunter’s lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. His hand slid from your waist, sweeping up your body to cup your face as he deepened the kiss, lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. In that moment, nothing else mattered - no worries or fears, no past or future. There was only the two of you.

Hunter’s eyes met yours in the dim light as you both pulled away. “Get some rest.” You murmured, concerned by the fatigue you could see on his face. While it was sweet that he’d fought against it to share his feelings, he needed to rest. “We can figure everything out tomorrow.”

Hunter nodded, finally giving in to the tiredness as he settled against you. The pain that had etched lines on his face had begun to fade, his shoulders dropping as tension eased. With a sense of newfound comfort, he closed his eyes, safe and content with you, and allowed the soft rhythm of the rain and the steady beating of your heart to lull him into a much-needed sleep.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #bad batch x reader #tbb x you #tbb x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #sergeant hunter #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars

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rainydaymiscellaneous · 2 months

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Until the End, My Love (Astarion x Reader)

Warning: this literally might be the saddest piece of fiction I’ve written and it includes death and grief.

The battle of Ketheric would change everyone’s life. You had given so much for this group of misfits. Loved them all deeply as a dysfunctional family. But Astarion.

Gods you loved that man to the stars and back. You knew the day before, what was going to happen. You sat on your favorite spot near the lake as Withers approached.

“Withers. I know you cannot tell me my death. But can you answer if I’ll die tomorrow?” You asked the creature. Withers hadn’t seen much good in humanity. However he saw the good in you. How pure and unconditional your love was.

“I cannot speak of death.” He said.

You looked at the creature. You could see it in his eyes. “Then do what humans do. Answer without words.” You said softly. He paused, knowing this wouldn’t make a difference.

He nodded yes to your question. You seemed strangely at peace with his answer. “Does anyone else?” You asked.

“Only the one you target.” He admitted.

You nodded. Your life and Ketheric would be taken. You got up, thanking Withers for his honesty and sat at a desk in the ruined home at camp and began writing. To everyone. One for Gale, one for Astarion, one for Wyll, one for Karlach, one for Lae’zel, one for Shadowheart, one for Halsin, and even one for Jaheira.

Astarion walked over as you slid the letters in the desk. “Writing?” He asked. You nodded. “We’re doing this. Aren’t we?” He asked.

“Yes..” You said.

“Well whatever happens, I’m by your side my love. Until the end,” he said. You wanted to tell him that the end would be sooner than he thought. But to break his heart like that would be too cruel, especially since the wound of Cazador’s intent behind his scars was too fresh.

“Astarion?” You asked softly.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do you fear death?” You asked.

Such an odd question that you asked so sincerely.

“Uhm. Well, no. I know what death is like. When you turn into a vampire, you’re dead. It’s like a warm blanket. Of course when you become a vampire though, you do feel like the warm blanket is suddenly yanked off of you.” He explained.

“So it’s comforting to you?” You asked.

“In a way, I guess.” He shrugged. “Why? Have another philosophical conversation with Withers?” He joked. You let out a small smile but it seemed like you weren’t there all the way.

“In a way.” Was the small answer given to him.

“Why are you worried about that, don’t you regenerate?” He asked. You nodded.

“I mean, I do. But it takes years.” You said. Astarion kissed your forehead.

“Gods forbid something happens to you, I’d wait a million if it meant I’d see you again.” He said softly.

You hugged him close to you that night, listening to his murmuring in his sleep. The next morning before everyone was up, you put the letters into everyone’s bags carefully.

Swords clashed, body after body fell until everyone stood in the area just before Ketheric. Everyone seemed so tired so you offered a brief rest. The black shadows of the land felt so heavy as you looked around at your companions. You pulled Wyll aside, asking for your final favor.

“When it seems like everything is about to crash down, take Astarion and run.” You told your friend. He looked confused.

“What about you?” He asked.

“I will be fine.” You said. He frowned feeling as if he hadn’t been told everything. “Y/n-“

“Please. Promise me.” You begged. Wyll could tell this was important.

So he simply nodded and whispered “okay. Okay I promise.” you hugged him. It felt more than a friend hug. More like a “something bad is about to happen and I am scared” hug. So he hugged back.

As the battle raged and the illithid colony was revealed you kept Wyll uneasy. You trekked deep into the depths of the colony, freeing people of their pods and allowing them to escape.

“One last act of kindness.” You thought. “One more before death.”

As the skeleton of death looked you in the eyes, you drew your sword. You felt the chill of death and gave Wyll that look. Instantly he understood everything. You knew this was the end. He shook as he yanked Astarion back, grabbing Karlach’s arm.

They thrashed, Karlach not understanding until she saw the tears on your face and a mouthing of “Thank you” to Wyll. Astarion dropped his blades screaming for Wyll to stop.

“What the fuck soldier!?” Karlach yelled. Then she saw you. The power they’d knew would be lethal. He dragged them through the strange fleshy door and shoved them through it, landing next to them. You seemed so adamant about making sure it stayed open before you entered. Now Wyll knew why.

“What the hell are you doing Y/N IS STILL IN THERE!” Astarion yelled.

“I promised her.” Wyll said with a defeated expression. Astarion looked at the man upset and then as the door as he constantly smacked it, trying to get it to open.

Halsin, Jaheira and Gale came running over. “What’s going on?” Gale asked.

“It’s Y/n- she’s fucking in there with Ketheric!” Astarion said.

“What!? Why are you all out here?!” Jaheira asked.

“We were in there and Wyll dragged us out!” Karlach said.

“Why the hells would you do that?!” Gale asked. Wyll looked at him with the most mentally exhausted look he had ever seen.

“She made me promise.” Wyll said, his lips trembling as he spoke. Halsin looked at the door with a solemn expression.

“She is going to use her power.” Halsin said. Everyone knew that your powers bordered the strength of Gale’s when unleashed. They had seen only a fraction of it when they unleashed hell on the goblin camp. You went comatose for days, nearly dying if it weren’t for Halsin.

Lae’zel, Shadowheart and a few Harpers came down.

“Where’s Y/n?” Shadowheart asked.

“In there with Ketheric.” Gale breathed out.

“Gods damn this bloody door!” Astarion screamed, punching it repeatedly.

A loud bang emitted, the earth shaking under everyone’s feet as they felt the aftershocks of what you done. The door finally opened, everyone sprinting inside. Aylin stood bloodied over you, her hands shaking.

“She-she freed me right before-“ was all she could get out. You laid on the ground, your eyes glazed over as Astarion sprinted over, holding you.

“No. No- no- Don’t do this to me- don’t you dare do this-“ he said shaking you. Not a stir. Not a response.

Time felt frozen. Still in itself as Astarion shook you. He let out a haunting screaming sob, clutching you close to his body as Wyll dropped to his knees.

If he had just ignored you, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe you’d be savoring the taste of victory with your friends.

Shadowheart couldn’t stop thinking about your respect. Granted you followed Selûne, you always admired Shadowheart for being so devout to Shar. You even went as far as to stop and make camp once you realized you unintentionally stumbled into the Gauntlet of Shar so Shadowheart could see it herself.

Lae’zel thought back to your kindness to her. The unwavering kindness she experienced when you didn’t judge her for being Githyanki. You made her this ridiculous friendship bracelet that she hated to her very core. Yet still kept it wrapped around the hilt of her blade.

Wyll’s mind kept replaying on repeat the lengths you went through just to keep him safe. Not once did you judge him for making a deal with a devil. Not once did you call him a foolish child for making that choice.

Gale kept reminding himself how much you loved to learn. The ticking time bombs, you called yourself and Gale when referring to the magic you both held. You always kept your curiosity and your wit about you, making you adored like a little sister to him.

Karlach. Gods. The pain she was feeling was unfathomable. The way you went to great and dangerous lengths to fix her engine without hesitation. The friendship, the best friend she had made from drinking together late into the night, the best friend she made from joking on the road together, the woman she loved like family was on the ground.

Jaheira hadn’t known you long. But from the look on everyone’s faces she could tell your death was like a meteor hitting earth, causing the worst catastrophic damage she had seen. She remembered the loyalty. The way you didn’t hesitate downing that stupid wine she dosed with the truth telling herb once you found out what it was, just so she’d trust you.

Halsin kept thinking if he had just found a way to block those fucking powers, maybe just maybe you’d still be standing. He was never one for anger, never one to waste emotion in such a way. And yet he felt it. Towards Ketheric who was dead across from you. And towards himself, for not blocking your power when he had the chance.

But Astarion. Gods. Astarion.

He had suffered so much. He couldn’t remember spaces of his life due to his long life. But he remembered every moment with you. The moment he held a blade to your neck and you didn’t even flinch, to the moment he admitted that he loved you more than life itself, he remembered it all.

This should’ve been a victory. This should have been everyone screaming and laughing about how they beat the immortal idiot Ketheric into the ground. Instead heads were bowed, tears were falling and his throat was hoarse from screaming.

“You stupid stubborn girl” he kept thinking. “Come back to me my stupid idiot. Come back.”

As they dragged your body through the portal, Isobel rushed over with a smile that quickly faltered when she saw the body in her arms. A hand flew to her mouth and Zelvor’s eyes went wide. Your final act of kindness was letting him live after being captured. After the selfish sacrifice he made.

Everyone stood at camp, Isobel stepping forward as she read pages from a hymn of Selûne. Halsin laid you in a canoe, your sword in your arms as the tiefling children laid flowers next to you. Not one eye had no tears that day. Astarion pressed one last kiss to your cold skin.

They pushed the canoe off the shore, firing an arrow of flame. The canoe slowly lit, the smoke hanging over the shadowy lake. Astarion seemed so numb now. So tired. So done with it all. He wanted to be in the canoe with you, going into eternal rest by your side.

Lae’zel drew her blade, raising it in respect. Wyll followed, along with Karlach. The mages and clerics took knees, Astarion kneeling where the canoe left shore with his head bowed. Everyone was quiet, even Aylin the daughter of Selûne, the goddess of light had nothing to say.

Then… the sunlight came.

It emerged over the mountains slowly, almost going unnoticed until Gale felt the heat of a summer’s day on his skin and opened his eyes. He dropped his staff, shocked as he looked up. The sound of his staff made others look up seeing the sunrise.

“She brought us light.” Aylin whispered in shock. Astarion looked up at the sun, closing his eyes as tears flooded down his cheeks.

Everyone gathered around camp, sitting at their packs and it was so quiet. Silence was once desired by many of them because of the annoying chatter and laughter late into the night. But this was something they craved more than anything.

“Guys!” Karlach said. Everyone looked at her as she held up an envelope. “Y/n wrote a letter!” She said. Astarion was confused as Wyll looked at his pack.

“I’ve got one too.” He realized.

“So do I!” Shadowheart gasped.

Everyone dug around their packs before reading each of their own. As each one finished, they moved closer to one another, hugging their friends.

Astarion sat still reading his quietly in his tent.

“Astarion, my love

I know you hate cliches but I will say, the ‘if you’re reading this, I’m dead trope’ is rather interesting.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes but continued.

“I love you so much my love. You mean everything to me. It’s funny really. How I spent most of my life focused on other things I didn’t even realize when I fell in love.

I enjoyed our late night talks of poetry (though even as your lover I will say some of your opinions are pretentious)” again, he scoffed. “I enjoyed your banter, I enjoyed being held by you. Even in these wretched shadows, I found safety in your arms.

Take care of Scratch for me. I know you might not like him but he’s a good boy. And make sure he has playdates with Wallace, he sees Scratch as his big brother.

I don’t want you to fret over this. I’m not gone forever. Just for now. I promise in my next life, I will find you. I love you so much, I would walk to the edges of the earth to find your love once again.

Until the end, my love.

-Y/n.”

All of the companions stood together at the campfire, pouring one out for their fallen friend. Even as the battle of the Absolute came, everyone had justice on their minds for the one they lost.

It was expected for everyone to go their separate ways, especially after the whole tadpole conundrum was finally solved. Instead, all of them stuck together. Even Halsin, who craved nature stayed. Astarion didn’t Ascend, instead, with the help of his friends they killed Cazador and freed his brothers and sisters.

They moved only in the night now, seeing as the tadpole was the only thing granting him the ability to walk in the sun. Truth be told, he couldn’t see the sun anymore without being reminded of his love.

Years passed, everyone sat in a tavern, discussing the next bounty on their list to cross off. They were all talking when suddenly and without warning, Astarion stood up, knocking over a mug of ale.

“Aye! Watch it-“

Wyll’s gaze followed Astarion’s and he stood up as well. Everyone followed their gaze to the woman who seemed almost ethereal in beauty as she smiled.

“Miss me?”

#astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion #angst

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roostersgirlfriendlovesf1 · 1 month

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you're losing me | charles leclerc

prompt: charles has been off the past couple of weeks and all y/n wants to do is help him, but what can she do when he won't open up? it's tiring feeling alone, but it's hard to speak up. will charles finally let her in or will it be the end?

warnings: angst and sadness, but it ends up ok lol

a/n: hey guys! this is just a one part story, but i would really love some prompts. please feel free to request anything! i write for bradley bradshaw, lando norris, charles leclerc, mason mount, jake sersein, and christian pulisic. i also love using songs as inspo so pls feel free to use a song as a prompt! thanks for the support!

The past couple of weeks had been a game of if Charles would speak when he got home or not. The endless amounts of sympathy y/n gave him didn’t seem to open him up. She thought that perhaps he would let himself enjoy life over the summer break, but she doesn’t think he has even said four words to her. The past few days he had left early for runs, climbing out of bed and getting back into it without so much as a squeak of a floorboard. Nightly rituals between them had been forgotten. This was only their third month… She thought. There were so many things left unsaid between them, things that she felt unimportant to tell him. Things she thought could be seen as coming off “too strong.” But she was extremely tired of feeling alone. She missed his arm around her as they watched the Monaco skies, she missed the smell of his hair after he showered, and she just missed the sound of his voice. Her clothes in his drawers dedicated to her started to feel misplaced. She felt like her presence started to feel like an intrusion. She was practically living with him, but it started to feel like she should be paying rent.

y/n sat on a barstool, waiting for Charles to come back from running whatever errand he hadn’t told her about. Her head was in her hands as she stared lazily out the window, dark clouds were forming. Click. The door opened. She looked at him, urging him to speak. He looked at her, a quick glance before walking into their room. She heard the water start running in the shower. A tight feeling formed in her throat. How can he not see there’s a problem? She placed her head in her hands and allowed herself to shed a few tears. A few minutes went by before the sound of footsteps interrupted her silence. She picked her head up. “Charlie?” She tries to get his attention. No answer. Nothing new. She’s not sure she even remembers what it sounds like when he says her name. A sigh leaves his mouth.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?” She asked, just a simple question.

“Out to dinner.” He tied his shoes.

Please just look at me. Please just see that there is something wrong. A brief moment of silence. “Somethings not working.” She bit her nails.

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head, dismissing her statement.

“I know you don’t.” Her brows furrowed. This can still be fixed. Everything we built can still stand. “Charles, you haven’t said four words to me since you’ve gotten home. Hell, you’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I don’t know what to do!”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“You haven’t even touched me.” The room once filled with light felt cold and empty.

“Didn’t know you needed that validation.” He mumbled.

“A hug is seen as validation? A fucking hug from someone I haven’t seen or spoken to because he won’t respond whether it’s in person or over the phone!” Just pull me into a hug now, all will be forgotten. Please just hold me.

“I don’t have time for this right now.” Disappointment.

“It's now or never. I’ve given you the best I have.” Tell me what to give after that. Her voice caught. She stood, feeling vulnerable in his sweatshirt and his sweatpants. Silence again. Silence that he was not willing to break. “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll be out of here by the time you get home. I just-” She ran a hand through her hair, “I just need a bit to gather my things.” Guilt panged in her chest, the feeling of being an intruder tearing through her. She held her head high as she walked into their room, grabbing an empty box from beside the trash.

“Y/n.” He stood in the doorframe. She willed herself to continue packing, despite her longing for his voice. “Y/n.”

“Enough!” She slammed the shirt she had started folding into the box. “Just go to dinner.”

“I didn’t fucking ask you to stay through anything!” He snapped. “I don’t need to see you or feel your embrace every time I come home from a shitty race weekend.”

“Good because it's never happening again! You won’t ever have to see me again after tonight.” The sound of thunder caused her to flinch. Charles’ face softened as he glanced out the window.

“You can’t leave tonight.” He shook his head.

“I’ll do whatever I want.” She seethed. She kept her head down, making no eye contact. “You’ll do whatever you want tomorrow when the storm clears.” He stated. Y/n held her breath until she felt his presence dissolve. The sound of his footsteps led her to believe he went to his sim room. She shut the door quietly before breaking down. Her face felt burning hot as she rapidly shoved clothes into a random backpack. She frantically tried to collect herself before stepping back into the living room. She held a box in her arms as she struggled to open the apartment door. Rain poured as she sheltered under the overhang of the building. Her heart pounded, all she wanted to do was get out of his way. Y/n made a run for her car and quickly opened the trunk, shoving the box inside before slamming it closed and heading back inside. The lighting of the apartment was dark as the natural lighting was miniscule. Charles had moved to the couch, a solemn look in his eyes as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up to see y/n drenched in rain. “Mon coeur…” He watched her as she ignored him and kept walking back to their room. He followed her, attempting to talk, but was quickly denied as she reached their bathroom and quickly locked the door.

Y/n peeled off the wet clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror. A quick rush of feeling came back to her as she let out a sob, steadying herself on the sink counter. The coldness of the rain washed off of her as she bathed in the warmth of the shower, although the tears never ceased to flow. How does she pick up her life after this? The relationship was so public, that doesn’t just fizzle out.

She walked into the bedroom, towel wrapped around her. Charles was sitting at the foot of the bed, feet planted, head in hands. She quietly grabbed her undergarments, a shirt, and a pair of sleep shorts from the bag she had packed earlier and retreated back into the bathroom. She never did that. Charles thought. She never hid herself away instead of doing something so intimate as changing her clothes in front of him. She changed in the bathroom and washed her face. Y/n opened the bathroom door slowly and noticed Charles in the same position. “I’m so embarrassed.” He spoke.

“Now you talk…” She whispered.

“I’m so fucking emberassed with myself I can’t stand it.” He held the end of the sleeves of his sweater in his hands. “I know I don’t deserve you and I know I’ve treated you horribly. There’s no excuse.” He kept his composure. “My team is just so-so aggravating and for a while I viewed you as my escape from all that, but the more interested in me you got and the more you wanted to know the more I grew embarrassed. I’m embarrassed with my performance in the car and I’m embarrassed for you to see that I’m undeserving of you. I never wanted to tear you down with me though.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her body moved first. She sat down next to him and pulled him into a hug.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Me too.” She kissed the side of his face.

“I love you.” He brushed the wet hair off of her face. “And I really don’t want you to leave.”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

Text

Learning About the Perks of Feminism

Photo from @fromjjwithlove blog

Summary: Y/N wants Soldier Boy badly. But she wants him on her terms. Can he handle her modern ways?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Pretty much all smut. Some tiny bit of plot. Soldier Boy being a grumpy asshole, Unprotected PinV sex, pull-out method of BC used, coming on tits, oral, m/f receiving, face riding. Fluff if you squint.

Pairings: Soldier Boy x Y/N

Word Count: 2,620

A/N: So, I’ve decided to do all 30 of these writing prompts. I may miss a day here and there, but I’m going to try to do one a day, and I will be completing all 30 no matter what. They won’t always be in order. This fic will be for the prompt: Write about your MC nicknames. I took some liberty with this prompt, but they do talk about what he want's Y/N to call him.

I will be putting together a Masterlist for all 30 prompts and adding it to my main Masterlist.

A/N 2: This post is the inspiration for this fic. The amazing @deanswaywardgirl deserves so much credit for spurring on my horny brain with an amazing smutty scenario. And @candy-coated-misery0731 deserves all the credit for encouraging the writing of this fic. So, you owe any smutty happiness this fic brings you, to those two lovelies! 😄😄

Both beautiful text dividers, both below and at the bottom, were created by @firefly-graphics

"We'll be back in just a few hours, love."

Butcher patted Y/N on the shoulder and then whispered in her ear. "Try to watch him, make sure he doesn't go nuclear, but if he looks ready to do some damage, you get your sweet ass the fuck outta here, yeah?"

Soldier Boy pressed a button on the remote before speaking in the driest of tones.

"You know, my hearing is super too, you limey fuck." He leveled a look at Butcher and Billy straightened to his full height.

"Fine, I'll say it plain then. Hurt one hair on her head and Supe or not, deal or not, I'll rip your fuckin' heart out."

Y/N rolled her eyes. Since the moment the Boys took her on as part of the team, Butcher had tucked her under his wing like a mama bird. He refused to accept that she'd been surviving on the streets and working within the underground network of criminals since she was thirteen years old, and more than a dozen years on, she could certainly take care of herself.

She looked over at Soldier Boy and saw a spark of humor in his eyes as he looked up at Butcher, no doubt contemplating how quickly he could crush him if he wanted to, especially given that Butcher was currently V-free.

But he merely gave Butcher a smirk and went back to the TV, frowning at a commercial for men's exfoliating body scrub.

"Jesus fuck," he mumbled, "whatever happened to a fuckin bar of soap?"

Y/N turned back to Butcher and patted his arm. "I'll be fine. You guys be careful." When he still hesitated she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Go on, Hughie's waiting."

He flushed slightly and left the room.

Y/N sat back down on the couch, and as Soldier Boy engrossed himself in the wide and varied choices offered by the modern television landscape, she took the opportunity to finally really look at him.

Hughie and Butcher had shown up at her motel room door a couple hours earlier with a nuclear superhero in tow. Y/N had been surprised to say the least, but after her first glimpse of him, she’d been avoiding looking directly at the Supe for too long at once. It felt a little like looking into the sun. From what little she knew about Soldier Boy, he seemed like an old school asshole, but god damn the devil came in a beautiful package.

Hughie had run to a Walmart nearby and grabbed him clothes he thought would fit, a plain white tank top, grey sweats, and a short-sleeved, NY Giants jersey.

They were plain, simple, clothes, but on Soldier Boy they were the hottest things Y/N had ever seen. The way the jersey pulled tight across his broad, powerful shoulders and wide, muscled chest, made Y/N feel like she might start drooling at any moment. Also, the way the round, open collar exposed the long column of his throat and his bold, defined clavicle bones, gave Y/N the desire to lick and bite at his tanned, lightly freckled skin.

The lightweight grey sweats were loose and baggy, and she was almost positive he wasn't wearing underwear. When he'd been walking around earlier, the thin material had clung to his round, plump ass like a second skin and there had been something that hung long and low in the front that made her mouth water, imagining just what it could be. Maybe it had simply been a trick of the light, but she seriously doubted that.

His body was powerful, radiating a kind of strength that was simply entrancing. But she still thought his face might be even more attractive. His hair was longish and soft, and had a tendency to fall into his eyes, which gave him a boyish air that suited his superhero name. His beard was trimmed close, soft-looking, making Y/N's fingers itch to touch it.

His eyes were usually a mossy green, but sometimes, depending on the light, they seemed to shine like emeralds. They were absolutely stunning and, Y/N felt as though it would be easy to be pulled in by them, and lose yourself.

If his eyes were angelic, his mouth was all sin. It screamed of carnal delights and promised hours of bliss. Staring at him now, she had no trouble imagining his mouth swollen and wet from licking and sucking pleasure into her skin. Her body tensed and her pussy clenched.

She was so lost in her imaginings that she jumped when Soldier Boy's deep voice pulled her back to reality. He continued to stare at the TV as he spoke.

"You know one of my other abilities is a super keen sense of my surroundings. Which means that I'm hyper aware when someone is watching me."

He finally turned to face her, pinning her down with his gaze. After a minute he gave her a smirk. "Like what you see, pretty thing?"

Y/N scoffed even as her stomach flipped. "Do lines like that usually work?"

For a second he looked like he was going to get mad, but then he just shrugged. "Yeah, they do.” He frowned. “Or they used to. Women have changed a lot from what I can tell.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, we’ve decided we like our independence. And we don’t like chauvinist assholes telling us what to do.”

Soldier Boy’s frown turned darker, and Y/N wondered if she was being incredibly stupid.

Deciding that fortune favored the bold, she got up and strode over to where he was sitting on the side of the bed, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other braced on the floor.

She quickly straddled his lap and relished the look of shock on his face. She ground her cunt down against the hard bulge that confirmed her suspicions of a huge dick and no underwear.

Soldier Boy groaned loudly and his breathing came fast and harsh. He clamped his hands hard on her hips, keeping her immobile.

"Jesus Christ! Are all women this horny and aggressive nowadays?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, not all of us. But like I said, we like our independence, and we go after what we want. And I definitely want you. In spite of the cheesy lines and the knowledge that you could crush me like a bug if you wanted to, I still want you. We've only got a couple hours on our own and who knows when this chance will be in front of me again. So," she thrust her hands into his hair and pulled his head back slightly. "Like what you see, pretty thing?" She echoed back to him.

His eyes had become hooded with desire, as he looked deep into her eyes. "I don't know, I usually like to be in charge." He said, in a voice that made a shiver run through her as she imagined letting him take over. She suspected he would be very good at being in charge.

But her defiant streak was strong and she wanted to keep in control.

"Trust me baby, Feminism has given us lots of rights and freedoms we deserve, but it's also helped us," she grabbed his cock through his thin sweats, "express our sexual freedoms."

She squeezed him gently and he threw his head back with a groan. She took the opportunity to lick up the length of his throat, and then nibble at the hinge of his jaw.

She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered to him. "Tell me, what name do you want me to scream out when I come? Soldier Boy or Ben? Or would you prefer, "Ooh, fuck me Big Daddy!"

He yanked her back from his ear so he could look at her closely. He studied her a minute and Y/N let a mischievous smile curl her lips so he'd know she was having fun. He shook his head, still a little upended by her boldness.

But eventually, he smiled too. "Just Ben, baby."

He pulled her mouth down to his in a wild and searing kiss. Just as she suspected, that wicked mouth was pure sin masquerading as paradise. His tongue was hard as it thrust into her mouth. He swallowed down her moans and wordless pleas as he ravaged her, lips sucking and biting.

Wanting some of the power back, she bit into his succulent bottom lip, dragging a ragged moan from his throat. She pulled back from the kiss and shoved his open jersey off his shoulders, leaving him in only his tank top.

She ran her hands over the thick, round, curve of his shoulders, and then pushed his undershirt up so she had access to all the smooth, flat muscles of his torso.

She tugged at his shirt. "Take this off." She ordered. Looking as though he was participating in an experiment he wasn't too sure about, he reluctantly followed her demand.

But as soon as the shirt was gone she began kissing her way down his body. She paused when she reached his nipples, twirling her finger around the left one and teasing the right one with the tip of her tongue.

"Uhn, fuck!" Ben growled, and Y/N looked up to see him with his eyes closed, biting into his bottom lip. The sight made her moan and purr against his skin.

Fuck he was hot.

She felt his cock growing harder against her stomach and she couldn't wait any longer to feel it on her tongue. Her kisses reached his waistband and she grabbed hold of it.

He lifted his hips automatically and Y/N gasped as his cock popped free and fell against his stomach. Settling herself between his legs, she licked all the way up the underside of his dick, before dragging her tongue across his slit, lapping up the pre-cum that had gathered there.

She hollowed her cheeks and sucked the sensitive head of his cock into her mouth. She bobbed slightly on the very top, sucking and flicking her tongue back and forth. Ben jerked his hips and sank one of his hands into her hair.

"Jesus! Yes, good girl. Fuck your mouth is perfect!"

Y/N moaned at his praise, letting the vibrations travel down his dick as she sank all the way to the base. She relaxed her throat so that she could fit his whole cock into her mouth. Ben gathered her hair into a ponytail in his hand. "Look at me, pretty one. I wanna see your face while you're stuffed full of my cock."

Y/N looked up at him, pulling off and letting the spit and cum dribble down her chin before she sank back down on him. After another minute or so Ben pulled her off his cock with a deep moan. Quickly he ripped off her t-shirt and bra, yanking down her jeans and underwear and tossing them to the side of the bed.

Then with complete ease, he picked her up and spun her around, so that she was facing away from him. He laid down flat beneath her and pushed her forward so that her ass was higher. Then, spreading her pussy wide with his thumbs, he licked a stripe up through her folds with his wide, hot tongue and Y/N screamed out her pleasure.

He spoke against her dripping wet heat. "This way we can both get what we need. After all what kind of man would I be if I let you do all the heavy lifting?"

Before she could respond to that, his mouth sank into her cunt, and Y/N grabbed hold of his dick, bobbing up and down on it while she writhed and shook against his face.

His beard was soft, but as he fucked her thoroughly with his mouth, even the soft hair began to leave a pleasant burn behind on the inside of her thighs. She was grateful she'd have a souvenir from him.

As she neared her climax, Ben slipped his hands around her ribcage and lifted her from a reclining position to sitting one, positioning her to sit more fully on his jaw. He licked up into her, pushing his hard tongue past her entrance before undulating it against her incredibly sensitive skin. He sucked her clit into his mouth and then nibbled on it, sending Y/N tumbling, shaking and moaning over the edge.

But he didn't stop there. He was perfectly capable of holding her in that position, over his mouth, for as long as he wanted, and he kept her there, drinking up every drop she gave him through two more orgasms.

Finally he turned her to face him, and sat her on his lower abdomen, her drenched pussy leaving a wet spot. She reached behind her to stroke his long, thick cock that was running along the crack of her ass.

"Fuck me, Ben, please fuck me."

He chuckled slightly as he moved his fingers to rub against her clit.

"This position is all you, beautiful. You started this, you finish it."

Y/N refused to back down from the challenge he was giving her even though her limbs were wobbly and tired. She climbed onto his cock and slowly slid down onto it. She rode him hard and fierce, taking energy from every one of his guttural curses.

He raised his hands to her tits, squeezing them and rolling her nipples between his fingers. Before letting them fall back into place so he could watch them bounce as she rode him.

As she began to wane, not sure how much longer she could keep up the pace, Ben rolled her onto her back and began to piston his hips into her, shaking the entire bed frame and smashing the headboard into the wall.

He pulled out abruptly. His voice was harsh and ragged. "I don't have a rubber, so where do you want me to come?" He asked.

"Come on my tits." She said breathlessly, reaching out to pump his cock that was covered with her slick.

Ben reached down and slid two thick fingers deep into her cunt, curling them just right so that she came almost immediately. Ben took over, pumping his cock fast and watching Y/N's face as she cried out, pleasure cascading across her features. Her beautiful face, lips swollen and still wet with his cum was just the image he needed to push him into the abyss.

Bucking into his hand, he shot ropes of cum across Y/N's tits, milking his cock, as he listened to the satisfied moans and sighs that were coming from her lips. He fell forward on top of her, too spent to care about the mess he was creating on both their bodies.

The two of them dozed off for the better part of half an hour before Ben woke up and immediately scooped Y/N up. Still half asleep in his arms, she let out a shout of surprise as he turned on the shower and stepped them both into the warm spray.

He cleaned them both up quickly and then again carried Y/N out of the bathroom.

She rolled her eyes. "You know, I have legs. I can just walk."

Ben looked down at her seriously. "But your muscles are tired. Mine aren't, even a little, so why wouldn't you let me carry you?"

Y/N shrugged. "Part of that whole modern, doing things for ourselves, independence thing I was mentioning earlier."

It was Ben's turn to roll his eyes, but he set her on the ground. "Well, I don't know if I'll ever understand the whole women's lib thing."

He grinned and nodded towards the messy bed.

"But it sure has its perks!"

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@siospins2

@impalaslytherin

@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

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@hopefuldreamers-world

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@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

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@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

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@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

#30 days writing challenge #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy smut #the boys s3 #the boys s3 spoilers #soldier boy #ben #soldier boy fan fiction #the boys fan fiction

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blacksmokehorizons · 2 years

Text

Taken

Summary: It was just meant to be a quick trip into the waking world, just to locate a certain nightmare for your husband. But instead of going home when you found the nightmare, you were trapped in a mortals basement. - Dream x Reader

Warnings: Brief description of Jessamy dying, some swearing, and general sadness for the first lil chunk. I believe that’s it?? Don’t come at me for the lame title I’m bad at making those up I’ll get better I promise. Rip to the possible grammar and spacing errors I missed.

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for a hot minute, and i’ve re-read it so much it’s annoying. This was not meant to be over 2k but here we are. I really need to find cute little dividers to put in my fics lmao II Gif not mine credit to the creator - I do not consent to my work being reposted to other sites, I only post my writing here, but likes and reblogs are appreciated!

“He is my creation, I insist-”

“You have better things to do than chase around a rogue nightmare my love.”

Morpheus sighed, you could see he was having an internal conflict. You knew the dangers of the waking world just as well as he did. But you liked to think you could handle said dangers without your husband lurking behind you. You climbed up the steps to his throne stopping just before you bumped into his knees.

“Let me go track Corinthian down, then I’ll pop back here and fill you in. Might even be able to sweet talk him into coming back, I’ve been told I have quite the charm.” ending your plea with a smile.

You could see the slight eye roll you were given, didn’t change the fact Morpheus smirked the tiniest bit. “Please don’t try to confront him, I like to keep him far from you.” he mumbled, standing up from his throne.

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Morpheus, he copied your actions immediately. Moving his head down to speak into your ear, “Promise me you’ll be safe my love.”

You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, “I promise, if it makes you feel better send Jessamy to keep an eye on me.”

That was the last time you saw Morpheus, and that moment played over and over in your head.

~ ~ ~ ~

“So which one have I got then?”

“You my friend have the King of Dreams wife locked up in your basement”

“What will she get me?”

“Not much I’m afraid, but do yourself a favor and make sure the sigils on the floor keep her powerless. The last thing you want is for her to zap back home and send her husband rampaging into your home.” Corinthian stopped pacing the room. Adjusting his glasses before continuing, “Do yourself a favor and take that wedding ring of hers, that’s the closest you’ll get to any of Dreams power.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Soon your captor was stalking around you like a lion watching his prey. You felt sick, exposed, whatever other word fits that bill, you felt it. Listening to this man, who introduced himself as Roderick, rambles about how if you give him what he wants you can go free. Your eyes simply follow him around the room not saying a single word. As he left he thanked you for the gift, holding out your beloved wedding ring that now hung from a chain.

And so the rather uncomfortable days went on, as you sat contorted into a position that protected a bit of your modesty, feeling the anguish settle in your chest. Only being able to imagine what Morpheus was feeling. You did find a bit of solace when you had the women guards watching you. Their eyes stayed on their books, and when they looked at you the looks were filled with confusion.. and occasionally sadness.

Roderick came back to visit you again, but this time he got a reaction from you. Not that it mattered much to him, he just wanted you to cooperate.

“All you have to do is summon your Morpheus-”

“Don’t you dare speak his name,” you snapped startling him. The first words you’d spoken to him dripped with venom.

Tears welled in your eyes at the thought of Morpheus. Eventually left alone again you let the tears flow, choking back sobs. You could have wept forever if you wanted, but you collected yourself and returned to the stoic state you had adopted since being captured.

~ ~ ~ ~

Hearing the flap of bird wings had your head snapping up towards the door, you watched Jessamy slip between the bars and flutter about your prison. You shifted to sit up more as she pecked at the glass, you smiled for the first time in years. Hope ignited in your chest, because if she sees you, Dream sees you.

“Jessamy, oh sweet bird look at you.” your voice broke, from being overwhelmed and not being used for years. Her pecking became more frantic as your hand reached up to touch the glass.

Then a loud boom had you staring at blood, your eyes slowly moving down to the corpse of you and your husband's beloved raven. The anger in your eyes was enough to send a brief look of terror across Alex’s, while Roderick stood by the door with no reaction. As they left you be, you would have given anything to be able to grieve without people watching you. To scream, cry, wail, anything would have done. Instead you just wept silently, making yourself as small as you possibly could inside your cage.

~ ~ ~ ~

You had seen Roderick die, and his son grow old. Yet he still begged for what he had no business, trying to bargain with you. He sat in his wheelchair damning you to hell when you glared and uttered a soft, “I owe you nothing.”

Maybe you would decay here. Eventually turn to dust and be forgotten by time, any fate is better than sitting in silence for the rest of this universe's existence. Your eyes closed, even if you slept you never dreamed, thanks to whatever chalk markings kept you here and hidden from The Dreaming. You made peace with the silence long ago, it was more comforting than suffocating now.

Your ongoing silence was disrupted by someone approaching the basement, not having the energy to deal with another berating you kept your eyes closed. As you listened to the guards approach the door and utter sounds of confusion you were intrigued. Opening your eyes as you heard two loud thuds, and for a moment you didn't believe your eyes. Morpheus was standing right in front of you, looking down at the chalk markings before wiping them away with his foot. He stepped forward putting his hand on the glass separating you. The sob that slipped out sounded like it should’ve come from a wounded animal, not the queen of The Dreaming.

Soon the glass was shattered and you were collapsing into his arms, broken sobs leaving your lips as you clung to him. The first thing out of your mouth nearly broke Morpheus, “I-I’m so sorry oh I’m an idiot, it’s all my fault. They shot her right in front of me and I knew you were watching it too and- oh god-.”

He hugged you impossibly close, shushing you gently, “Let me take you home my love.”

Sand whipped around you and when you opened your eyes you were back in your shared bedroom. You were home. Silently thanking Morpheus for ensuring you were clothed when you both appeared. So many things you wanted to say but nothing but choked sobs were coming out of your mouth. But it seemed like Morpheus understood everything you were trying to say as he held onto you.

Your sobs seemed never ending, their severity had gone down and now you just held onto Morpheus as if he himself would turn into sand and blow away. He made no effort to try and stop your tears, as he silently wept on his own. You pulled away gently, moving to cup his face in your hands, which he welcomed. Wiping his tears and taking a shaky breath, “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

This time it was Morpheus’s turn to move his hands to your face, his face holding a look of disbelief. “You are apologizing for being taken against your will? When it is I who should be sorry, begging on my knees for your forgiveness.” You attempted to shake your head, but he continued before you could protest.

“I should have found you sooner, it never occurred to me that someone could steal you away from me. I will never let that happen again.”

You leaned forward into him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck. He held onto you in silence for as long as you wanted. Your tears had stopped and when you leaned back, just enough to look around your shared bedroom, head turning in all directions. Not a single thing had changed in over a century, it was just as the day you left it.

“I could not bear the thought of changing much throughout the palace,” Morpheus murmured as if he read your mind, “To change anything would have been erasing your presence here.. That and I knew you would scold me the day you came back had anything been changed without your consent.” At that you let a soft laugh out accompanied by a smile. A smile Morpheus had missed so much, his fingers gently tilted your head towards him as he leaned towards you. Stopping only inches from your lips, giving you a moment to say no should you not want to go any further.

You closed the small gap connecting your lips to his, a pathetic whimper escaping into his mouth. Had you not been so enamored by feeling his lips for the first time in over a century, you’d have felt embarrassed by that sound. Even with all that time apart your bodies still knew each other just the same. Mouths moving slowly and gently against one another, as if one of you would shatter with too rough of movement. Your hands had made their way up the back of Morpheus’s neck, ever so gently winding your fingers through his hair. As gentle as that motion was, it was still enough to pull a soft moan from the back of his throat. The kiss became more intense, pulling yourself impossibly closer to your lover, as if trying to fuse your bodies together for the rest of eternity.

It was Morpheus who pulled away first, a slight smile gracing his lips as you both caught your breath. “As much as I would love to spend the next several hours with you in this room, you have a realm that has missed you so.” Knowing he was right you copied his small smile planting a final soft kiss on his lips before asking, “Do I look presentable? Minus the dark circles around my eyes.”

To which he responded, “You look perfect my love.”

His hand slid down and laced his fingers with yours, “Before I forget,” he mumbled as something slipped onto your finger, “I believe this belongs to you, my queen.”

Looking down at your hand you saw your wedding ring back where it’s meant to be. A feeling of contentment washed over you being reunited with it.

~ ~ ~ ~

Morpheus held out his arm as you both descended down the stairs, you took it gladly needing all the support you could get. Turns out being sat in a glass prison for a century makes you feel like a baby deer in terms of walking. “Shall we stop by the library first?” he proposed, to which you agreed immediately. The thought of seeing Lucienne and Mervyn made your heart soar, which was clear in your footsteps as they sped up. Taking in the palace, still the exact same as Morpheus said, although it seemed a bit unwelcoming.

“I will be the first to admit,” your husband began hesitantly, “When it was evident you were missing… the palace grew colder. Which may have been the result of my demeanor.”

Your heart ached for him then, simply squeezing his arm as you rounded the corner and got into the library. As you both walked through some shelves you heard the loud booming of laughter, clearly from Mervyn. Finally making it into the main area, you saw the table he was sitting at, with a raven you’d never seen before.

“Perfect timing my lord, there’s a few books I’d-” Lucienne’s voice died in her throat as she emerged from a corner of the library. Dropping the book in her hand, speaking in a whisper, “My Lady?”

You nodded and darted towards her, yanking her into a hug, which she welcomed. Occupied by the reunion with her you missed Mervyn’s head snapping in your direction with a gasp. You separated and it was apparent you were both fighting back tears.

“I-It’s been-”

“Too long?”

“Too long indeed my lady, oh how we’ve missed you” sniffling as she spoke, you could feel the urge to ask questions radiate off her. But she knew you’d explain everything to her in time.

Soon you were being pulled into another hug by the beloved pumpkin head, to which you let out a giggle. “Good to have you back ma’am, I missed my gossip buddy.” This was the most you had smiled in a long time. “I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on.” “Boy do we! The minute you’re free I'll start the catch up!”

Finally your eyes landed on the raven who was awkwardly hopping from foot to foot on the table beside you. You bent down slightly, just enough to not absolutely tower over the poor bird. “And who is this little bird?” You queried softly, feeling the apprehension in the room. Morpheus didn’t intend for you to meet him right away. After what you witnessed with Jessamy, he was going to put this off for as long as possible.

The raven cleared his throat before speaking, “M-My name is um, Matthew, caw! It’s Matthew ma’am.” he avoided eye contact like it would anger you. Hearing Lucienne validate his existence for your husband's safety made you you smile, holding out your hand for Matthew. He hesitantly hopped into your palm as you stood up, gently running a finger over his head.

“Welcome to the family Matthew, I owe you a lot for keeping my husband in one piece for part of my absence,” your tone warm and soft, causing a visible relaxation in the raven and the room, “After all, I know how stubborn he can be.” Laughter echoed through the library as you finished that sentence. He dipped his head as you let him hop back onto the table, and soon you were on Morpheus’s arm again walking around the realm, feeling the joy slip back into every crevice in your presence.

#morpheus x you #morpheus imagines #morpheus x reader #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless

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creative-heart · 1 month

Text

"Make a wish my darling" Enzo Vogrincic x (fem!) reader

A/N: Hi my lovelies! So, given today's my birthday, Happy bday to me! I wanted to post a little fanfic with the oh so handsome Enzo, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it 💜💜🥰🥰🤞🤞 I also apologize if bff's name is the same as yours, feel free to change it 😊

TW: Just a lot of Fluff, Enzo being the best bf ever, a little hint at smut, mostly some talk and thoughts, 3p POV.

Word Count: 1.4kish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N half wakes up keeping her eyes closed as she rolls on the bed, arms trying to find the handsome man she shares a bed with to lace around his waist, but Enzo is nowhere to be found, she whines and opens one eye to look around the room sitting up on the bed, “En, babe?” she calls out softly, voice still raspy with sleep. She huffs at the lack of response from the dark haired man and lets herself fall back on the bed covering her eyes with one arm for a short minute.

She hasn’t even realized what day it is, her birthday has had no special meaning to her for years, just another regular day. Enzo hated the relationship his girlfriend had with her birthday, to him, it was the most important day of the year, seeing as how that was the date perfection made person had entered this earth, so he was set on making it the most special day ever for Y/N.

Enzo moves around the kitchen swiftly, humming softly to himself as he makes the gorgeous sleeping woman upstairs her favourite breakfast - brown cinnamon sugar french toast, a mocha and some orange juice-. He woke up early today, went out to the florist to get Y/N the most gorgeous tulip bouquet- it was always tulips, she loved how colorful they were- he then made his way to the cake shop, to make sure they would be delivering the birthday cake he had ordered for her, later on that day to Pipe’s house, they had decided to throw her a surprise party at his place as it was the one with the biggest garden. When he got home he had made sure she was still sleeping, and started making her breakfast to take to bed.

The dark haired guy wants to make this tradition, breakfast in bed with flowers, a showering of gifts, from whatever she’s got in her Amazon cart and or whislist, to anything he’s seen her looking at a second too long through the window of any shop and a book, always a book. Y/N loves reading and is always in need of something new to graze her brain with. He’s so far in his own world, dancing around the kitchen lightly that he doesn’t even hear Y/N coming down the stairs, she sees him and rests her body against the kitchen island “didn’t know you were a dancer on top of being an actor my love” she chuckles lightly. He jolts slightly and turns around surprised, seeing her.

“Noo, you’re supposed to still be asleep princess” he whines coming over to place a quick kiss on her lips, before making her turn around and go back upstairs.

“Wha-why? I’m hungry and I can smell the french toast” she whines giving him her best puppy dog eyes- god those eyes, he’d do anything for those pretty hazel eyes- but turns her back around.

“No, today it’s breakfast in bed for the birthday girl” he leans over her and whispers in her ear “Happy Birthday my love”.

Y/N frowns and crosses her arms definitely not liking this attention “no, I WILL NOT be having breakfast in bed, come on En, you know I hate my birthday, can’t we make it a normal day?” she sighs as his boyfriend shakes his head, the most boyish, devilish, loveliest grin on his face.

“I know you do, and I’ve made it my life’s mission to make you love this day once again, but I can give into breakfast down here”, he hugs her tightly bringing her into his chest and kissing the top of her head long as he feels the blonde woman wrap her arms around his waist nodding softly.

As the day goes on, he makes sure to repeat to Y/N happy birthday every 5 minutes, giving her a present for each year of life. They’ve been sitting on the couch for a while now, as she opens the last of the presents, a weirdly wrapped box, Y/N gives Enzo a confused look as she tears the paper open revealing a container with several little holes on it and looks back at it “what is this love?” she asks confusion evident in her tone as she opens it with a gasp and teary eyes, seeing the tiny calico kitten and picking it up out of the cardboard carrier “are you serious Enzo? oh god, I can’t believe it, she’s absolutely adorable, look at that little face” she coos in a soft tone as to not scare the kitten a few happy tears rolling down her face.

“Of course I’m serious honey, I know how badly, and for how long you’ve wanted a cat, and she just looked perfect at the shelter, I couldn’t resist, you should give her a name” his smile brighter than ever looking at the love of his life beam like a 5 year old on christmas morning.

“She’s Harlow, little Harley” she wipes the tears from her cheeks and kisses the top of the cat’s head “mama loves you little Harley” Y/N leans back against her boyfriend’s chest as Harlow makes herself at home on her lap.

~~~~~

Y/N looks at, well she more like stares at Enzo through the reflection in her vanity mirror while he gets ready for wherever he’s taking her this evening, of course he has said nothing about the place, or event.- I could very well not go anywhere right now and just bring him over here and..Make up, focus Y/N- “baby…” she says in the most seductive way she can master right now “where are we going?” she bats her lashes at her boyfriend, and for a moment she almost had him, before he chuckles shaking his head.

“Already told you it’s a surprise, and as much as I would want to stay here, and take that sexy fucking dress off you…we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry my love, so please, don’t try this” he places a long kiss on her cheek and walks downstairs still buttoning his shirt. He laughs as he hears Y/N huff loudly at his response.

Not long after Y/N finally walks downstairs, while getting her earrings on, black satin mini dress on, matching high heels and her hair in the most exquisite high pony tail. Enzo looks up from his phone as he was arranging the last details for the party and looks over at his girlfriend, eyes immediately darkening at the sight biting his lower lip, taking an extra moment to scan the gorgeous woman in front of him- those goddamn legs are gonna be the end of me- he thinks to himself. Y/N catches him staring and smirks “changed your mind Vogrincic?” she states in a low teasing tone and laughs at the growl she gets in response. Grabbing her bag she holds his hand making their way to the car.

Y/N looks out the window as they drive, Enzo’s hand on its natural place on her inner thigh. She frowns in confusion as they park outside Pipe’s house “what are we doing here?” she looks at Enzo.

“I just need to pick something up babe, come on, let’s go and we can be on our way” he smiles innocently and gets out wrapping his arm around his girlfriend’s waist making their way in.

“SURPRISEEE!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N” a chorus comprised of the whole cast, plus Y/N’s friends comes at her like a million waves as soon as they step into the house and she freezes in her step looking around before looking up at Enzo with teary eyes.

“Did you-Did you know?”she whispers and sheds a tear at his nod and proud smile “you planned this” she keeps whispering and looks over as her best friend Bella walks over with the most gorgeous birthday cake- decorated with pastel buttercream tulips all over-, candles lit as everyone singing happy birthday to her. Y/N stands there hand over her mouth trying not to keep crying so that she won’t ruin her makeup and looks around before looking at the cake.

Enzo keeps his firm arm wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist and leans in whispering in her ear “make a wish my darling”. She closes her eyes, trying to think of what to wish for, taking some time to finally realize, everything she could have ever wished for is right there, in front of her, the most loving boyfriend, a huge group of friends who would do anything to see her smile, and the first birthday that she’s truly enjoyed, for this time, it wasn’t spent alone on a huge solitairy house, but surrounded by love and laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Oh What I'd give to spend my bday with that man loving on me 🥰😍

@madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight

#enzo vogrincic fic #loving my mutuals <3 #lsdln cast #lsdln x reader #fluff #female reader #enzo vogrincic x reader #fic request #writing #creative writing #creative heart #luciasphere

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ggidolsmuts · 1 year

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A Christmas Mystery - Red Velvet Irene, Seulgi, ????

*Hey, I have a question*

*Hi Seulgi. Yes, sure, what's up?*

*No it's Joohyun, Irene, whatever, you know who I am. When are you going to write for me again? You've written Seulgi and Wendy, and then you've written Seulgi again! When is it my turn*

*Nice to meet you. Umm I dunno, I had no plans for that. And you're fine with me lewding you and all that?* Your hands are shaking slightly as you text Irene back.

*Can't be worse than some of the thirsty comments we get, at least you last long enough to write that much*

*Thanks, I guess? But sorry, no real ideas*

*What, am I not hot enough?*

*No, of course not. It's like a song, you know? Not every song suits the group. Not every idea fits you just because you're hot, even if you are hot*

*Fine, but if I come up with an idea, would you listen to it?*

*Sure, no promises though*

*Oh I'll make sure you'll want to write it, you just wait*

You gulp at her threat, and simply reply "OK". Irene doesn't follow up with an idea though, so you forget about it until Seulgi pings you once more weeks later.

*Hi, are you free Friday night?*

*Yeah, should be*

*Okay, can you come over? Irene unnie wants to tell you about her idea*

*Sure, I'll bring my laptop*

*I would also bring a change of clothes, just saying ;)*

*Great*

You're thrilled about what Irene had in store, and slightly fearful, given her adamant order to write, but there was nothing to do except to wait for Friday to arrive.

It is well worth the wait.

Seulgi and Irene have you arrive at a mansion, and you feel conspicuously underdressed as you approach the ornate door.

"Welcome, my dear writer." Irene almost fawns over you in a high-pitched voice. She's dressed in a little Christmas-themed red dress, white fur lining the top of it. Her hairstyle was simple, but simple is all that's needed when you look like Bae Joohyun. She produces a piece of black cloth and approaches you. "Nuh uh, don't move." Irene pulls it around your eyes, blinding you. You grunt as she ties it extra tight around your head before loosening it just a little. As a parting gift she draws sharp nail along your neck—Irene not only dressed to kill, she came to kill.

"Come on, follow me." You stumble closely behind as you hear Irene's heels click and doors swinging open.

"I've been reading your stuff, while mine was good, it's old, I want a new one."

"T-Thanks for reading them, and sure, but I can't really write while I'm blindfolded."

"Shut up. You have some interesting ideas, and I want my story to have all the interesting ideas. But no writing tonight, you'll just have to remember enough to write it later." Irene emphasizes this by taking your laptop out of your hands. Sit." You find yourself pushed onto a couch. Her hands are on your shoulders, and you reflexively reach out for her.

"Stop. Are you going to be a good boy and behave, or do I have to tie your hands up?"

"I'll behave." You stay still as Irene merely puts her weight on you and leans in.

"So you have stories about being blindfolded, stories about being tied up, a fucking gacha story, and so, so many breeding stories, so here's what's going to happen, this story? This story is going to combine everything!"

"O-Okay?"

"So, you'll say a number, let's say 1 to 9. One of us will come to you, and we'll do whatever we want with you. Maybe you'll be tied up, maybe you'll tie us up. Maybe you'll cum on us, maybe you'll cum in us, who knows what will happen, it'll be up to us. You'll call 4 numbers across two nights, and you'll be blindfolded during sex, so at the end, you have to guess who did you have sex with and in what order correctly."

"Sure, what happens if I guess wrong?"

"Then you have to write a story about this, remember every detail."

"And if I guess right?" She pulls on your ear harshly, making you wince.

"You just got to fuck four K-Pop idols, what more do you want?" Fair enough. "Do you agree?"

"I can still disagree?"

"Of course, then I kick you out of the mansion and we have our own orgy, you can have fun imagining that. So, yes or no?"

"Yes, I guess."

"Hah, I guess?" She reaches down to grab you through your pants. "I'll take this as a yes. Come in!" Irene calls out in the room, and soon you hear multiple heels clicking on the floor, getting louder, and to your surprise, it sounded way more than then 4 other members of Red Velvet.

"This is our guest for the weekend. I gave each of you a number earlier, if he calls your number, you get to have fun with him. Make sure he keeps the blindfold on, don't reveal your identity to him. Other than that, do what you want." You hear hushed whispers, but little else. A long finger is on your chin.

"Now then, what number do you choose?"

"Uh... 2?" Your selection is immediately met by a chorus of sighs and boos.

"Again?" You hear someone ask.

"Tch, okay 2, take him to your room." Irene's heels click and clack away from you, until the room falls silent. A hand grabs you by the wrist, and you follow closely behind number 2. A door is opened, then closed as you walk through it. You're spun around and pushed back, and you land on a bed.

"Hi oppa." You recognized her voice quickly.

"Seulgi?"

"W-What? How did you know?"

"You do know that voice is a thing right? It's only impossible to tell in writing."

"Oh, oops, I don't think Irene unnie realized that." Seulgi giggles. You breathe a sigh of relief—maybe this will be easier than you thought.

"Can I take off the blindfold then? I know who you are already."

"No, I have something in mind, keep it on, but the rest can come off." Seulgi's hands work on your jeans, and you take off your t-shirt. She pulls your jeans and boxers off, leaving you naked on the bed. "I'm going to paint a picture in your head oppa, I want you to imagine it just like how I imagine things when I read your stuff." Wordlessly you nod, and you hear Seulgi's heels stop in front of you.

"Can you guess what I'm wearing?" You shake your head.

"Remember our Beautiful Christmas MV?"

"Of course."

"Good, I'm wearing that little red dress, and nothing underneath." Seulgi's voice drops to a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. Her hands grab yours, and you smell her perfume as she pulls it around to her back. The coldness of the zipper contrasts the heat between the two of you harshly.

"Go ahead." The sound of the zipper is deafening, like a lightning bolt crackling down Seulgi's back. "Thank you dear." Relucantly you let her go, your hand trailing over her warm body as she backs up.

"It's going to drop to the floor... now." On her word the fabric rustles to the ground. You're leaking precum everywhere already, imagining her naked, that she's wearing nothing but her accessories and her heels. Those same heels approach you.

"Seulgi?" You feel velvet on your thighs, and as your hand moves around on it, you realize you're holding Seulgi's dress in your lap.

"I want you to touch yourself, touch yourself like I did while reading Haul-lelujah. Do you want to know how I did it?"

"Y-Yes," you croak, throat suddenly dry. As you feel more than hear Seulgi sit opposite you.

"When I read it, I had to go grab the tightest leggings I had and wear them, do you know what I did next?" Your hand starts stroking up and down, a visible "yes" to Seulgi. "I pushed it— Ah! Pushed it into myself, I fucked my leggings, they got so soaked." You hear the soft wet sounds of Seulgi starting to finger herself, the rustle of the sheets telling you exactly how quickly or slowly she is going—instinctively you match her pace with your hand.

"And then I did what you said you'd do, rip my top off and slowly peel the leggings off. Then I shtuffed it in my mouf—" Seulgi's voice is suddenly muffled, but the bouncing of the bed leaves you no room for imagination—Seulgi's right next to you, fucking her own fingers as she bites into the sheets.

"Fuck Seul!" She's wetter than ever, and you're harder than ever. Initially you can still hear her movements clearly, her fingers exiting and entering her pussy in time with noisy slickness. But as she speeds up, it begins to all blend together, as does Seulgi's moans as she drives herself into a frenzy. Soon you're in a frenzy too, the blood pounding in your head as you stroke faster and faster, fucking your hand like you would be fucking Seulgi.

"Nnngh oppa!" You hear a loud squelch, and suddenly your shaft is drenched in her juices! You cum immediately, feeling the soft fabric on your thighs as you jerk forward—you forgot that it was Seulgi's dress, and in the moment it may well have been just the most expensive tissue in your lap. Blindfolded and too far gone to care, you fire freely, stroking yourself to completion until you're leaking on your fingers, at which point you wipe it on the soft fur fabric.

"Mmm Seulgi—" Your mouth is suddenly filled with a soaked fabric as you are pushed back on the bed. The same scent fills your nose as Seulgi sits herself on you, rocking her hips on your face. She's fucking your face just as you described, except her panties are in your mouth! Her fingers dig into your hair, and she's pulling on you, rubbing her pussy all over your lips and nose.

"Oh, oh yes, ohh..." Seulgi climaxes a second time, coating your face in her juices. She slides down a little, now sitting on your abdomen to give you room to breathe. Or so you thought, as Seulgi kisses you and bites on her own underwear, pulling it out of your mouth before spitting it out. She comes back in for another kiss—any more of this, and she's going to kill you by asphyxiation. "Thanks for a fun time, what number do you want next?"

You're still gasping for air. "W-We're not having sex?"

"Not tonight, sorry."

"Damn, uhhh number 7?"

"Who was number 7 again... Okay, I'll bring you to her." You hear Seulgi zip up her cum-stained dress, and you fumble for your clothes before she grabs you by the wrist.

"Wait, my clothes!"

"You'll have them afterwards, you won't need it for tonight anyways." She pulls you out and along some corridor, making a few turns before almost letting you crash into her. "Stop, stop, we're here!"

"Sorry, you need to tell me beforehand."

"Right right, anyways, the handle is right here," she places your hand on it. "Enjoy."

"Thanks Seulgi." You hear her walk away as you let yourself in.

"H-Hello?"

"Hi, please take off your blindfold."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm, don't worry, my identity is still hidden." You shrug and take it off. There is a wall in front of you, and a pretty big hole in the wall—through it you can make out milky thighs and a short red dress. "Please put your cock through the hole."

Oh, it's like a glory hole. You stand close to the wall and put yourself through the hole. The ensuing silence is explained immediately as her lips part around your shaft, and her tongue starts wrapping around you. You look up at the ceiling, the slurping and sucking sounds of your partner all that you need to paint yourself a vivid image. She sucks you furiously, and her hair is tickly on your thighs. Your legs go weak, and your partner takes the opportunity to grab your legs, pulling you closer to devour your cock.

"Oh fuck, wait, I'm going to cum already!" The warm wetness of her mouth immediately subsides, and you get the briefest glimpse of white going down her legs before she replaces her mouth by another set of wet lips. Your moans clash as mystery number 7 pushes herself back on to you.

"Mmm that's deep! Just stay right there." She starts pulling herself off you slightly before backing her ass into you again. She grinds herself deep on your shaft, and while the hole prevents you from thrusting back, you're glad that you're able to last longer because of it.

"Fuck I need more, back up a little, keep your eyes closed!" You back away from the wall and do as she says. When she has you open them again you see that she has stepped backwards through the hole, her slim waist filling most of the opening. You still can't see her face, but you are able to see what you needed—the bottom half of someone, their red dress barely covering their ass. She's wearing boots, but the black lacy stockings just make her legs look even longer.

"Go ahead, fuck me, give it to me good." You immediately lift the dress and push back in. Your hands naturally go around her wide hips as you settle inside her. You lift her hips slightly so you're better aligned with her, and it gets you an extra inch deeper.

"Oh god, that's it!" You set a quick pace, your thighs slapping into her ass with solid claps of flesh—she's tight, and her toned body tenses in your hands every time. Through the small gaps in the hole you watch her hair fly up and down, her head snapping back every time you push through her now creamy and sopping wet entrance. You raise a hand and bring it down on her ass with a snap.

"Ahhh!" She screams from behind the wall, but her pussy tightens around you even more. So you slap her ass again—it ripples just like her wails around the room. It rises in pitch, turning into a piercing shriek as you grab her by the hips and lift her—with a firm grip on her tight body, any complaint about you would be groundless as Miss #7 dangles in the air. Held up almost like a wheelbarrow, the hole serves as a fulcrum, and she is the lever of pleasure as you pound her, making her legs flail with each thrust.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" With a final shout she goes breathless, and your partner's legs go rigid, toes splayed out, reaching for a floor she wouldn't touch—not until you were done with her. Her back is tense, and her muscles flex and twitch in rhythm with her pussy, desperate to milk you. But you hold on, to both her and your orgasm as a few drops of slick leak from your connection.

"Hey, I'm close, where—"

"In me," comes the tired reply from the other side of the wall. A few rough thrusts into her limp body and you almost pull her out of the hole as you yank her on to you. You let go with a groan, and her toes curl in response, hands gripping the edge of the hole tightly as you fill her own hole with cum. You let her down and she flops to the ground in front of you, her legs weak like custard. A puddle of white is already growing underneath her.

"Thanks, you should go." Her long hair covers her face, so you don't get a good look at her before she turns away from you.

"Do I call the next number now?"

"No, that's for tomorrow, just wait outside and someone will bring you to your room." Dumbly you wait outside naked, until a masked lady comes for you.

"Here, please put this on." She hands you the clothes you brought and shows you to your room, and you bow gratefully before collapsing in bed. It wouldn't do to wake up smelling of sex though, so you take a shower before burrowing into the sheets and falling asleep.

Sex is inevitable though, and you jolt awake feeling a warm, nude body by your side.

"Oppa?" You recognized the voice.

"I-Irene?"

"Joohyun please."

"Umm sure Joohyun, what are you doing?"

"Being selfish." She captures your lips passionately, and you're immediately hard even at the middle of the night. "I never told you, I really liked your sweeter stories too."

"Oh, thanks for reading I guess?"

"Please do that to me." Needily she rolls you on top of her. "I'm yours." Your lips make sure of that, sucking on her neck, leaving a bruise that the shadows can't hide.

"Oh god, say you love me, please!" Joohyun whispers hurriedly.

"I love you," you mutter, and Joohyun coos in delight—this was not the Irene you were expecting. Not the Irene that demanded you here to write a story, the Irene that always gets what she wants. This is the Joohyun who wanted to feel wanted, from you of all people. She's going to get what she wants, you suppose, but on your terms.

"So pretty, so nice..." you murmur, and Joohyun whimpers as you move a hand down her nude figure. You grab her butt lecherously, and all she does is twist towards you, to offer you more room to roam her thigh and leg. "Even though you have many fans, I love you the most out of all of them, you know?"

"Yes, please, please!" You pull her in for another kiss, and you hand waves small circles over her cheek, admiring at her juiciness. Closer and closer you get to touching Joohyun between her legs, and when you brush against her lips she squeaks and you gasp—she was soaked.

"Please oppa, please I need you!" Your fingers play with her slit, running them along one fold, then the other. You rub your fingers against her entrance, preparing her, but Joohyun pauses your advances. "Please, I want more than that."

"No, you want me to love you right?" Joohyun nods, and she moans in surprise as you slide a finger into her. "Then I'm going to love you my way." The protesting hand on yours melts away, and you begin firmly fingering the leader of Red Velvet, pushing into her clenching warmth.

"You're so tight Irene..."

"Joohyun!"

"Sorry, Joohyun, forgive me?" She blushes at your sweetness, and she tightens further with a nod. You kiss her cheek, her neck, her ear. Each kiss you push a little deeper into her, rubbing her a little harder. Joohyun's already on edge, so when you capture her lips and curl your finger, you draw her over the line.

"Mmmm!" She moans into the kiss, her upper body keeling towards you as her thighs close around your arm. You keep rubbing at her g-spot, and her legs thrash and kick about until Joohyun's utterly drained and her orgasm finally spent.

"I'm going to fuck you now." You withdraw your slick fingers from her, undress what little you have on, and get between her legs properly. As soon as you are in position you feel her heels on the back of your thighs—she's already wrapping her limbs around you.

"S-Slow, please?" Joohyun looked more vulnerable than ever, and you can't tell if she has you wrapped around her finger, doing whatever she wants you to do. Or do you have her wrapped around yours with how submissive a lover she's being. What you do know is that you have her wrapped around your cock as you take her slow, just as she asked.

"You're so tight Joohyun!"

"Y-You're too big oppa!" she groans delicately, relaxing herself to allow you in. The feeling of being inside her is nothing like you've imagined, and you take deep breaths against her neck as you eventually bury yourself inside her.

"You feel incredible, I mean it." Joohyun responds by wrapping herself tighter around you.

"I'm happy, keep going, make love to me, fuck me, whatever you want." Your fingers run through her hair, brushing them to the side to get a look at her. Joohyun really is gorgeous, and her lips part beautifully as you start drawing your length in and out of her. She shouts in pleasure as you lean down to tease a nipple, swirling around the stiff nub—with a gentle nip you also leave light teeth marks on her breast.

You go back to watching Joohyun, her expressions varied, morphing in bliss as you hit different spots inside her—her lips would purse as you hit really deep inside her, then open in a loud moan as you pull back. They then stay parted in a small "O" when you slide back in at the right angle, rubbing the g-spot you found earlier. Her eyes wander your face, but also flutter shut, especially when it got a bit too much.

"Don't hold back," you order. Your fingers through her hair suddenly pull on it harshly, yanking her head back and opening her windpipe. At the same time you start a demanding rhythm, a strong pace that is determined to drive Joohyun into a screaming climax.

"Ah, w-wait! Oppa! Ahhh!" Joohyun wails uncontrollably, crying out into the bedroom as the sudden fierceness sends her hurtling to another peak. She screams as you put one powerful thrust after another into her during the orgasm, forcing her leaking slick back into her before it is pushed out by the next wave of slick. There is a small wetspot between her legs by the time you stop moving, and Joohyun's face is glowing in sweat and pleasure. It is also glowering in determination as she starts bucking up against you, urging you to move again.

“M-More, I want more!”

Your own orgasm nips at your heels, and you respond in kind, starting up slow before quickly picking up the pace again. Your harsh breaths are right in her ear, and she turns to kiss you, swallowing your exhaustion.

"You're going to cum?" Treating it as a demand in your frenzied state you move faster. Joohyun yelps and begs into your ear. "Oh, oh fuck! Just cum in me, just make me pregnant!"

Roleplay or otherwise, that's too much from her, and you kiss Joohyun fiercely—the taste of blood is on your tongue as you erupt in her, unleashing a white flood on her womb. She quivers and shakes underneath you, whispering how hot your cum feels inside her. It makes you wonder if you've actually done the unthinkable. As you finish seeding her, your kiss turns gentle, light pecks in apology for drawing blood. Even bleeding from one side of her lip she still looked beautiful, and you lean in for another kiss as you collapse on top of her.

"Thanks," Joohyun whispers. "I really wanted that, even if you might not write about it later." You're too drained to speak, and simply smile and nod.

She cuddles up against you, pulling your arm over her—for the moment, the two of you are lovers, and you raise a hand to brush the blood from her lip.

"S-Sorry about that, got carried away."

"It's okay, I don't mind if it's you doing it." She pulls your hand to her tummy, and now you're really not sure how much of it was roleplaying. You're too tired to think, maybe you'll clarify with her tomorrow, for now you needed sleep.

You wake up the next morning smelling of sex, but the bed is unfortunately lonely—Joohyun had left sometime in the early morning. In the room there is a brunch spread and a note. You read the note as you go through the delicious brunch.

*Please rest for now and stay in your room, you will next call a number at 3 pm*

That left you plenty of time to refresh and rejuvenate, and you head for another shower before simply relaxing on the bed, flipping through TV channels and your phone. On the dot at 3 pm there is a knock on your door, and a masked lady pokes her head through.

"What number would you like to call?"

"Umm, 6 then?"

"Aww okay, please follow me." You follow her out the door, and she looks around before whispering in your ear.

"If I were you, I'd pick 8 next, okay? It's a lucky number, trust me." You nod confusedly, and she continues showing you the way. When you arrive she blindfolds you before guiding you through the door. "Don't forget!" is her final whisper. You're left waiting for Ms. 6, and she approaches you confidently going by her footsteps.

"Welcome, this way please. You may leave your clothes on the floor." Once she's satisfied with your nudity she guides you to the bed and has you lie down. "I hear from Seulgi unnie you're good with your mouth?"

"Umm—" You freeze as her weight is on your chest—she's already sitting on you! "Yes."

"Good, please go ahead. Let's see how long you last."

"Wha— Ohhh..." Her hot mouth is suddenly wrapped around your shaft, and realizing what she wants your arms reach up for her hips, pulling her up slightly so you can eat her. You lean your head forward slightly, and as soon as you are able to locate her properly you start licking her slit, drawing light vibrations from her mouth around your shaft. Her entire body rocks on top of yours, alternating between bobbing her head on your cock and grinding her pussy all over your mouth. You hiss into her thighs as she gently grabs your sack, massaging it and pushing you close. You respond by spreading her juicy cheeks, a stray finger playing dangerously with the hole above her slit.

"Damn, that's—" The sudden pause in her rocking allows you to double down, and you slip a bit of your finger into her ass. "Ahh!" Gently you push your fingertip in and out, pushing against her resistance just enough for her to feel it. At the same time you keep the pressure up on her slit, licking it up and down. She doubles down on sucking your cock, determined to get you off first. It becomes a race, the suction of her cheeks almost unbearable. But what is really unbearable is your focus on her clit, ruthlessly flicking it with your tongue. When you slip your finger deeper into her ass, it's like you've run a rod through her.

"So fucking dirty, oh god!" She orgasms first, her hands going to your thighs, grabbing on to them for support. Mindlessly she bucks on you, riding out her climax, rhythmically pushing her ass back on your finger—you can feel her shiver and clench around you when you go deep.

"You did not write about that, ah..." She gets off you, pulling you to the edge of the bed. "But you didn't write about this either." Propped up on the bed, you moan as you feel your cock sandwiched by her soft pillows. Her tongue is suddenly only on your tip rather than wrapped around your cock, and as she strokes it with her tits, the race restarts, except you're the only one racing, and like Father Time, Pleasure is unbeaten. Your partner feels it too, and she licks the underside of your head deliberately.

"Fuck, that's it!" You groan loudly as you release, the feeling of her tits moving along your shaft exquisite. It is then replaced by a stroking hand, and your balls are gently squeezed by the other. "Ah..." She coaxes even more out of you, and you're almost falling off the bed when you finish.

"Wow, hah you can take off the blindfold, you've covered me completely." You see that it is true when you pull the fabric off. There is white goo all over her face, and some is on her well-endowed chest too. She really is unrecognizable, save for one open eye and a bit of her forehead. "Now put it back on, I'm going to go clean up."

"S-Sorry about that."

"Don't be, you were blindfolded." Her laugh is unrestrained. "You should wash your hands before you call the next number, none of us expected that."

"Right." She leads you to the bathroom and helps you wash your hands. She applies impromptu lip balm in the form of saliva on your lips, courtesy of her tongue pushing into your mouth. You're tempted to pull her against you for a similarly impromptu fucking, but she eventually pushes you away.

"I would have loved to have you for the night, but perhaps next time." You settle for a hand on her ass, squeezing it as she leads you to the door. Immediately you hear the masked lady again—has she been waiting for you the whole time?

"So, who are you calling next?"

"I'll call 8." You manage to remember the masked lady's request, and she squeals in delight.

"Yay, that's me!"

"Wait, really?"

"Mmhmm, come on, let's go!" She drags you stumbling through the halls and into her room.

"W-Wait, why are you leading me around, I thought you would be waiting in your room."

"I got the short stick to drag you around to the other girls, so might as well make the most of it." She spins you around and pushes you on the bed. "Now, how do I want to do this?"

You take the time to try and process the new information—she may have had the mask on, but you had seen her. She's petite, small in size and with short hair, who has that haircut? Before you can think further, Number 8 is in your lap, removing your clothes.

"I know about you and Irene unnie." A chill runs down your spine, how?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tch please, I was going to sneak in myself, but then I heard her screaming her head off. You'll do the same for me right? You'll breed my flat little tummy?"

"I-I don't even know who you are." You hiss as she sucks your collarbone.

"You'll find out in 9 months, and you can write about it then, call it 'How I bred—'" She pauses and laughs to herself. "Woops, almost revealed myself, are you ready yet?" She jerks a groan from you in response. "That's a yes."

When she gets in your lap, you realize she is smaller than she looked in the Christmas dress. She is also much tighter than the Christmas dress when she sinks down on your cock, how is she so wet already?

As it turns out, Miss #8 might be a mind reader when she whispers in your ear. "I've been listening to everything, it all sounds so hot, I was so hoping you would call my number." You feel something hard and phallic thrust into your hand. "If you didn't call my number, I was going to fuck myself silly on that, but I'm glad I don't have to now." You're glad too, there's no way it would have fit in her, given how tight she is right now. From the fugue of her tightness you realize one thing.

"You listened to everything?"

"Mmhmm, fuck yes, this is so much better than just listening though." She's already riding you slowly.

"So, can you tell me who was which number then?"

"Of course silly, we all know who was what number, how else would I lead you to the right rooms? You want me to tell you who was who?"

"Yeah, please?"

"That depends, can you stand up right now?"

"What?"

"Do as I say." Your hands wrap around her waist tightly, and you grunt as you manage to push yourself off the bed. You can hear the smile in her whisper, "Good, now fuck me just like this, make me forget I'm not supposed to tell you who's who, and I just might."

You bend your knees and straighten them again, lightly bouncing her as she clings to your neck and cock. You support her best you can, grabbing her thighs as you work your own, half-squatting and driving up into her each time.

"Yes, just like that, I'm dropping so deep on your cock! Ah fuck!" She squeals and gets even tighter, already rolling over an orgasm. Everything about her is small, even her orgasm, and she's already moaning and whispering in your neck to keep going. "That's only one, keep fucking me, keep fucking— nngh!" You shut her foul mouth up with a second peak. Despite her brazenness, she's easy to please, and like Santa’s sleigh in turbulent air you bump and bounce her through multiple small peaks.

As you move your hands to a more fuck-friendly position, you realize just how petite she is—you could lift her on and off your cock if you wanted to, and now that you have that knowledge, you definitely wanted to. You stop the ride and hold her still, ignoring her whines as you adjust your hands to clasp her waist. She squeaks cutely when you apply firm pressure, but as you start manhandling her up and down your shaft, low sexy moans begin to escape her lips.

"Oh, oh no! How dare you treat an idol like this! Like you own little fuck toy, what will my fans think— Ahh!" Said idol apparently loves it, and she releases a small wave of juices over you shaft. You get more into it, thrusting your hips in time with pulling her down on your cock, fucking her like a cocksleeve. She hangs on to you by the neck, her legs barely able to stay wrapped around your hips as she groans at the delicious friction.

The pressure around your shaft grows with every passing orgasm from her, like she's slowly crushing you between her legs, and the pressure in your core grows too. In her present state she probably is less mind reader and more just feeling your cock throb inside her, but she manages to pull herself closer to you, whimpering into your ear.

"Cum in me, I need to feel it, give it to me!" A few a more strong tugs of her on to your cock, and you find yourself sitting back down on the bed. With the help of gravity you jam the pleading idol on your cock and unload into her. Her shout of surprise immediately dies away into soft grunts as you spew thick cum into her, each burst unbearably hot and gooey in her womb. She does the riding for you now, grinding on you slowly to extract all of your load, cooing as you fill her stocking with heat.

"You still came so much, good boy." She peppers your neck with love bites, her hair tickling your chest as she does so. As the two of you calm down from the session, you decide to catch her off-guard.

"So, why don't you tell me who I've been with?"

"I hope you enjoyed this weekend, hmm?" Irene jokes as you are brought in front of everyone once more.

"Yes, definitely, and I won't even have to write about it," you proudly say.

"That confident? Go ahead then, let's see who you guessed." You take a deep breath and remember what you were told.

"Seulgi—" Irene cuts you off with a jubilant shout.

"Hah! Wrong! I look forward to your story then!"

"What? How is it wrong? The first number is Seulgi! I even recognized her voice!"

"Did you have sex with her?" She fires back.

"S-She rode me and everything!"

"Doesn't count! She rode your face, not your dick! So you're wrong, and have fun writing about this weekend!" Irene cackles and laughs.

"Fine, including you sneaking into my room then?!" you fire back, to a chorus of scandalized shouts.

"Unnie!" "How could you!" "You should have invited me!"

"Shut up! I don't care, include it if you want, but you are going to write it."

"I haven't even mentioned who the others were, how do I know if I'm right?"

"Just leave it up to your readers then, we'll know who’s who of course, but no one else will."

So, who do you think you fucked?

A/N: Those Beautiful Christmas images are too hot not to write about, so I blended it in with that ask about continuing “Reader Feedback” in some form. Hope this is not too confusing, anyways I think I’m being very obvious about who’s who lol, but if you feel like pretending it’s someone else, by all means. Thanks for reading and happy holidays!

#smut #red velvet #irene #seulgi

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