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satoruhour · 9 months

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geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him.

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡

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a-freak-gasoline-fight-accident · 11 months

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sick of enduring

#mum's pissed also bc i said i wished she hadn't of had me #i've been feeling this way since i was a kid ma. i'm almost 30. i'm most likely gonna spend the rest of my life feeling this way if i don't #end up cutting the shit show short myself #you weren't married. the guy u were with was a prick. u didn't have to have kids just bc ur sisters did. I Just Wanted Kids isn't a good eno #enough reason. WHY did you want them. WHY???#you ended up a single mother of 2 kids. meanwhile that jackass got to fuck off n live his life. you never pursued any dreams. always worked.#took out ur misery on ur kids. fast forward to now ur daughter wants to not be alive #and ur pissed at her for it lmao #i hope i never have kids #like i know i Dissapoint her n that she'd prefer i was more like my brother's fiance (ignorant. happy. wants kids. loves her mum despite any #any BS she endured from her. isn't politically aware. etc.)#loves talking to my brother and his fiance about their work n lives but can go days without talking to me. n then even when we do speak she #soesn't Get what i'm saying the then confuses me with her idea of what i just said. n then i try to explain n she gets frustrated so i just #stop speaking #n go right back to internalizing everything #can't talk to fucking anybody in this house. can't talk to anyone at work #it's just me. alone. burning quietly

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gale-dekarios · 5 days

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can you imagine how wild the whole of gale and tav's romance is from gale's perspective?

you keep secrets. shameful, terrible secrets. youre dying. every step is just a little bit harder than the last. youre a disgrace. if people didnt look at you with disdain, they were looking at you with pity. and youve got nobody to blame but yourself.

every moment, youre expecting the other shoe to drop, for tav to finally say enough -- you wouldn't hold it against them, youre more trouble than youre worth -- but then...?

it doesnt matter what it is. magical item consumption with no reason given. an awkward exit from an imagined kiss shared in the cradle of your ex's palm. revealing you could kill yourself, them, and everybody in a city-wide radius. defending you against one of your most powerful colleagues because he came baring mystra's will. dissauding you at every turn, to stay alive, to ignore a goddess's orders, because they think youre worth the space you take up. loving you ardently, hastily, easily, as though you have anything to offer them back. staying with you as you oscillate between self-destruction and ascension. never once stepping away from your side, even as the stabilised orb burns in your chest, begging to be used, and the crown, almost within reach, taunts you with your wildest dreams.

and that's just it, isnt it? you have the chance to give tav everything they could ever want at last, after so long of being a burden, and they tell you no. they tell you no. i want you.

you, the burden? you, the disgrace?

yes, you.

gale falling in love with tav wasn't like how the great novels describe. there wasnt any one moment that led to a grand realisation. there were no great leaps of faith toward each other.

falling in love with tav was like a warm candlelight and an even warmer hand in an endless void of black.

falling in love with tav was a gentle tug, a smile, and a 'this way.'

how could he not follow?

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 tav #bg3 gale #bg3 gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 gale of waterdeep #gale of waterdeep bg3 #gale dekarios bg3 #gale dekarios/tav #gale of waterdeep/tav #galetav #galemance #bg3 writing #my writing

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tojirights · 3 months

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❛ you taste like heaven. ❜

Alastor with angel!reader omg. I imagine that reader was Alastor's wife back when they were alive, but didn't see eachother again after death because Alastor is in hell and reader is in heaven. I imagine that after Sir Pentious got redeemed, Sera sent reader (because she has experience with demons(? Ur choice) and Sera trusts her a lot) down to hell to investigate this 'hazbin hotel'.

a/n: AHHHH i almost didnt want to write smut into this because it was so precious 😭 ooc alastor again but its so CUTE. i added my "alastor speaks french" agenda to this as well lol.

buy me a coffee? 😇

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, fem! receiving oral

heaven was in shambles after the last extermination, no one knew what would happen next now that souls could be redeemed from hell. it was then that sera approached you in private, all but begging you to go be an "ambassador." you were hesistant at first, not only thinking that this was a lot of responsibility, but also that your... husband had to be down there. he wasn't a "good man" after all, but your heart still fluttered at the thought of seeing him once more. with a sigh, you accept sera's plea and prepare for your trip down to the hazbin hotel.

there to greet you, was charlie morningstar herself, bright eyed and bubbly just like you heard all about. she leads you into the foyer of the hotel before you stop dead in your tracks. charlie is still speaking a mile a minute in your ear, trying to welcome you as best she can, but you're not listening. your eyes meet alastor's, immediately recognizing him even in this new form of his. and when his smile almost fades, you know he recognizes you too.

there's another brief pause before you're running towards him, your wings unfurling on their own as you're quickly wrapped up in his embrace. the other inhabitants of the hotel watch, confused, seeing as alastor hasn't really let anyone but niffty get close enough to touch him, let alone embrace him. your wings fluff up and cover your faces as you lean up to kiss your estranged partner. "oohh, sweetheart.." he sighs against your lips. "its been..."

you smile between kisses, your heart racing in your chest. "too long." you finish his sentence, earning a chuckle from the demon. his lips kiss a trail to your ear, a low growl to his voice as he whispers to you. "you taste like heaven, darling." your cheeks go red, not quite prepared for such a comment, especially in front of company. "alastor!" you hiss, hitting his chest gently but he just pulls you closer in response.

finally, he addresses the group behind you who are all standing with their jaws hanging open. "now, if you're all done gawking, i believe my wife needs to be shown around..."

husk spits out his drink as alastor speaks, covering angel in alcohol. "your WHAT!?" you hide your face as calamity ensues, everyone trying to speak over eachother at the insane news. "your wife... is an angel?" charlie asks gently, trying to get to the bottom of this. "well, i couldn't have known for sure but she was always more a saint than i." alastor hums, running his hand down your back. you shudder when he touches your wings, to which he notes in his head for later.

"o-oh! well then! i guess you should show her around, yeah?" she smiles bashfully, still taken aback by everything happening since your arrival just a few minutes ago. you look up at alastor, your cheeks aching from smiling so wide. "i think i'd like that." you whisper to him, enjoying the way he pulls you closer to him. "hold on tight then, my love."

you're not sure what he means by that until you're slipping into the shadows with him. its an odd feeling, but you don't think much of it until you're reappearing in what you assume is his bedroom. alastor is careful with you, like he's afraid the wrong touch will burn you, but he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his hands more than he can admit. you smile, reaching your hands up to cup his face. "touch me, al. i'm not fragile..."

your words light a spark deep within him, forcing him to restrain himself from ripping your pretty clothes into tatters. he groans inwardly, large hands reaching around to pick you up before fumbling his way to the bed. "corrupting an angel wasn't on my bucket list until seeing you again, my dear." his tone, its not what you're used to hearing, but that gravelly undertone shoots straight through you. "oh please, you can't corrupt me more than you already have." alastor's lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you feel him smirk.

"i hope that's not a challenge." he tests, tugging at the hem of your dress. you all but giggle, lifting up so alastor can free your body of clothes. "and what if is it?" you challenge, knowing full well that alastor wouldn't let your teasing continue without proper punishment. his eyes darken red, and there's a tinge of fear in your gut. because this may still be alastor, but its been quite a while, you don't know how he's changed.

but as he kisses down your stomach, you're reassured that the man you married is still there somewhere, underneath this 'radio demon' persona. "your lips tasted of heaven, mon amour, does this taste so sweet as well?" alastor's words alone are enough are enough to make you whimper, then the feeling of his hot breath against your clothed cunt makes your core pulse.

your hands naturally fall to the top of his head, feeling the softness of his ears and the rough points of his antlers. "c-can i..?" you start, timidly holding onto the horns. alastor's body shudders as he shoves his face into your thigh. "yes, ma chérie. please do." he breathes, tugging on the thin fabric of your panties until they rip in half.

alastor wants to be patient, wants to treat you like the angel you are, but he is a demon after all. and he hasn't gotten such a delicious meal in far too long. after he feels your grip tighten on his antlers, he lets loose his self control. his first taste of your sweet pussy sends him into a frenzy, eating you like a man starving. his tongue swipes up your slit before circling your clit in quick flicks. your legs are shaking already, breathy moans leaving your lips with reckless abandon.

there's a part of you that is concerned to be getting your cunt ate by a demon, but this demon was your husband, after all. sera made you come down here and you might as well enjoy yourself, right?

your hips arch up, craving more and more, and alastor is happy to oblige. "this is heaven, my dear. not some palace in the sky, but here, between your legs." your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed in more ways than one. every pass of his tongue has your release teetering on the edge while his sweet words make your heart flutter. its almost too much, and when alastor sucks on your clit, your walls burst.

"a-alastor i'm..." you mewl, every nerve on your body screaming as your orgasm rolls over you. you're almost sure you're hurting him by how hard you tug at his hair, but alastor doesn't stop. the intensity is something you've not experienced in many, many years, and the tears stream down your cheeks. alastor coaxes you through it, licking slow and soft circles around your sensitive bud until your shaking stops.

he's quick to climb up, wiping the tears from your puffy eyes. "such a good girl, mon amour. there's plenty more where that came from."

#alastor x reader #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin alastor imagines #hazbin alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor imagines

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reflectionsofgalaxies · 1 year

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i love my friends so fucking much it’s bonkers bananas

#also love it when my friends have birthdays #thank you for being born!#ily very much!#also discovered i like Letterkenny #also got to be conspiratorial corvids who blew up my fellow forest creatures #that was also fun #this makes a solid THREE great days this week #and to top it off work hasn’t made me want to burn anyone alive this week which is #almost unheard of #anyway more positive posts for posterity #personal

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ohmygraves · 3 months

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you and simon were fighting.

it was such a dumb argument too, something that you've forgotten already, but of course he didn't. he got irritated at you and yelled, pointing fingers at you calling you stupid and bringing up all the times you've wronged him. he brought up the time when you got the two of you late for a reservation and costed him both time and money, or the time that you almost burned down the house after you fell asleep cooking something.

you were undoubtedly upset, telling him about how he didn't make you feel happy, how you were alone while he was going away for so long on deployments and you're at home with no means to talk to your husband hoping that he's still alive. or that he didn't even appreciate that you'd drag your ass out of bed when he wants some midnight snack because he's a lousy cook and he only likes your food.

the two of you went back and forth for a while, calling eachother out before simon put his foot down, yelling at you.

"i can't bloody stand you, i shouldn't have married you!"

that got you to shut up.

you looked at him in shock, eyes wide as tears slowly fell from your eyes. your lips quivered as you tried to process what he just said, wondering if he was being serious or not. wondering if he knows how much his words basically stabbed you on the chest.

simon, realizing what he just said, snapped out of his anger. knowing that he had fucked up. he tried to say something, but you quickly retreated back to your shared bedroom, locking it. your tears wouldn't stop and you started bawling, your choked sobs can be heard as he approached the door.

you thought that your marriage was over, seeing that he basically regretted his decision in making you his. he yelled at you without hesitation, making you cry and basically was quiet the whole time. you should probably go back to your parents, start separation, and—

your phone pinged, a message from simon. hesitating to open the text, your fingers trembled as you read it, eyes blurry from tears as you try to quiet your sobs.

you cried more, unlocking the door as you fling it open, jumping into simon's arms. he whispered lots of apologies, promising to make it up to you, and to never treat you this way again. you cried in his arms, feeling his tender touches on your hair and your back, hands still trembling. you're sure he's bad at this, that he feels awful for what he did (you could tell he was scared because he saw thay he slowly turned to be like his father and it scares him too).

he promised that he didn't mean what he said earlier, and he didn't regret marrying you. he'll do anything to convince you, he hated hearing your sobs and cries.

#idk what this is honestly i just saw a tiktok and i got inspired???#angst #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanon #cod headcanon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost x reader #ghost

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msgexymunson · 4 months

Text

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it!

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.”

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it.

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap.

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.”

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them.

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!”

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad.

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench.

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend.

“You're wrong you know.”

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused.

“Huh?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation.

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.”

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal.

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out.

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?”

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted.

“You can't- you just- fuck!”

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head.

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?”

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-”

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap.

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.”

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little.

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.”

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you.

Fuck, you need another smoke.

“You want me to roll?”

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.”

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you.

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.”

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes.

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.”

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more.

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear.

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he…

Oh.

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff.

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn.

“Milady.”

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?”

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants.

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?”

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap.

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.”

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly.

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck.

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both.

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?”

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling.

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.”

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship.

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling.

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.”

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it.

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?”

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind.

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything.

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?”

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?”

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing.

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?”

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.”

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base.

“You're a virgin too then.”

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!”

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist.

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers.

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?”

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch.

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?”

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.”

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?”

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!”

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees.

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.”

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense.

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth.

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?”

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering.

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.”

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want.

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.”

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you.

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating.

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!”

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl.

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.”

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek.

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ”

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside.

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you.

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most.

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub.

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure.

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically.

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before.

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?”

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful.

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.”

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin.

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.”

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties.

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater.

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem.

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?”

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body.

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!”

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.”

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.”

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him.

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled.

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat.

“Fuck, you're so warm.”

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear.

“You can feel that, through your jeans?”

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies.

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.”

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded.

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them.

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.”

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away.

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra.

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes.

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally-

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!”

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away.

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head.

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.”

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast.

“Can I take this off, please?”

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath.

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles.

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!”

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps.

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.”

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after.

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them.

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire.

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.”

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound.

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception.

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging.

“I mean, if you want to, sure.”

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.”

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed.

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.”

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is.

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously.

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word.

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him.

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?”

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle.

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.”

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds.

“Fuck me, you're soaked.”

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit.

“Eddie, right there, right there!”

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair.

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!”

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great.

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes.

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?”

“Like this?”

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch.

“Fuuuck.”

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?”

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it.

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over.

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!”

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy.

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you.

“You alright there? What'd you say?”

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink.

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.”

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment.

“Eddie, come here you dope.”

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core.

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.”

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.”

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care.

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face.

“Huh?”

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead.

“I did not say that!”

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.”

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs.

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!”

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back.

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…”

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip.

“We can… go all the way?”

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught.

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.”

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #virgin!eddie #virgin eddie x virgin reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fiction

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bluetimeombre · 3 months

Text

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either part 2

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[thank you for the love on part one, I’m so happy Azriel is getting the love he deserves!!!! This is another long one, another 6k. But I’ve learnt a new love for writing about him and i have so many ideas. This is a continuation and final part, part one here. Enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

The third time Azriel almost lost you, he was pretty sure he lost a part of himself.

They'd all gone into battle, knowing that Hybern had the numbers to match and the advantage. But they'd all gone to fight in spite of that.

It had took some time for you to get the boys to agree to let you fight- you'd trained and grew up with all three of them but this was fighting on another scale. Although, if they were going, there really wasn't much they could say to get you to stay.

You were clad in Illyrian leathers just like them, armed with weapons and power.

The first battle was over quicker than you'd anticipated. Hybern soldiers surrendered, Tarquin drowned them on land. You'd suffered little, only falling on bed exhausted by the end of the day. Sadly, you were sharing a tent with Cassian and Azriel. It was like you were young again, all sleeping in the same room. It was a habit you'd done when you were young- all looking out and protecting each other.

The only difference was that Cassian snored as he got older.

But the next battle was worse.

It was bigger than last. Hybern's forces had doubled, seemingly at of nowhere, cutting their forces apart.

It was chaos, everywhere. Every corner there was fighting and bleeding and dying. There was pain all around you. Pain you felt like it was your own.

You used all your power, as much as you could to kill and protect. From the corner of your eyes you could see Azriel fight. Your Azriel, weaving in and out of people. Your mate. He was alive. And that was all you cared about.

But you didn't realise how much you'd been pushing herself and draining your power. Every time you stopped, you swayed on your feet, stumbling.

One of Hyberns men came for you as you were crouched and you barley blocked with your sword, rolling onto your back and slashing his arm off.

Not before he landed a sword in your thigh.

It had been deep burning and you yelled, yanking it out. Even with the wound, you kept fighting and fighting your way through until you saw a blaze of red and a familiar cry.

Cassian.

He'd been run through.

It was easy to push past exhaustion and winnow to his side, killing the man who'd been near him and any others that had been close enough. You fall to your knees next to him. 'Cassian, you prick.'

'You kiss your mate with that mouth,' he gasped. He was the only one who knew about Az and the bond. The only one you'd allow to make jokes.

You look down to his wound and gaged. Mother above, his guts were hanging out. 'No, no, no, come on, big guy, you have to stand.'

He groaned. 'Yea, don't think I can do that, sweetheart,' his eyes, lulled back.

You slap him in the face. Perhaps you wouldn't have felt guilt if it weren't for the way his eyes widened. 'You know I hate being called that.'

He laughed as his stomach and all its contents heaved out. Ignoring the pain in you, you hold his stomach, keeping him together. 'I promised Nesta i'd look after her,' he said. 'Please look after her.'

'Do it yourself,' you groaned.

Finally, Azriel came to your side and picked Cassian up like it was nothing, flying him to the tents. If only you still had your wings, you could have done it, saved him quicker.

Then, you were thrown back into the battle. Covered in his blood and yours, you fought through them all, slashing and killing like it was nothing. Like you had no reason to bat an eyelash at anything happening.

Eventually, it ended, but you couldn't even concentrate on who won or how much you'd lost. Your head ached, your leg was tied up in a bloody bandage ripped from your clothes. But none of that mattered.

Cassian was in bed, healing slowly. But he would live, everyone could tell. Especially with the way he picked fights. He argued with Rhys about throwing himself into danger, him and Nesta appeared to be having words with their eyes. Even Mor and Feyre argued. You were the only one silent with Azriel in the back. Too exhausted to even open your mouth.

That night, you tied up your wounds and fell asleep without changing.

It only got worse.

Elain- Feyre's sister and the most precious- was stolen from Hybern. You had only agreed to go and save her with a few selected others because your mate was in that few selective others.

It hadn't escaped your notice how he looked at her, was watchful over her like he once was with you. You saw the tick in his jaw at the news she was gone. You knew that this was the reason you hadn't told him. Knowing that he deserved someone like her, better than you. Kind and hopeful. You weren't. So the only thing you could do was watch your mate find love in someone else.

And you'd do it grudgingly but happy for him.

Azriel had took of with her. You and your high lady fought, fought through ash arrows and everything.

'You should get out of her, y/n,' said Feyre.

You groaned as an arrow skimmed your shoulder. Another had already got your hip. 'If you try to order me out of here, i'll be really pissed off at you.'

'I don't care if it gets you out!' she snapped, arguing like a real sister would.

'Yea, well- I was never one to listen to Rhys either.'

And Azriel was gone. Everything was fine.

You and Feyre ran, ran even as Tamlin defended you, ran until-

An arrow hit you in the back, straight to one of your old wing scars.

You tumbled, rolling on the ground as it broke and imbedded in your back. You screamed, in spite of yourself.

'You have to fly,' someone was telling you. Or saying it in general, frankly you had no idea what was going on. 'You have to take her.'

You rolled onto your stomach, groaning and trying to get yourself up. There was blood running down your arm, how did that get there?

'Y'n.'

You groaned, 'Azriel. I can't fly.'

'I know, I know- i've got you.' He picked you up, arm under your legs and around your shoulders.

'Elian, Azriel-'

'Feyre has her,' he told you. He sounded angry. Or afraid. Somehow his emotions were very easy to mix up.

'Feyre isn't strong enough.'

'She'll have to be.'

'You should take them, Elian-'

'I don't give a fuck about Elian right now, y'n.'

Just like that, he took off with you in his arms and your blood raining down on the camp of Hybern. You could barley hear anything over the wind... but you could feel it.

Something had tugged painfully at the bond, throwing you into a scream. Something had happened to Azriel. You twisted in his arms, finding gashing claw marks in his back from one of the hounds that had chased them down. His face was bleached white in pain, his hold on you tight.

Glancing around, you could just see Feyre in a blur of people.

'Azriel-' you gasped. He was in pain, so much pain.

He didn't say anything, just squeezed you tighter and looking ahead, barking orders as Feyre flew for the first time in need, in desperation. You remembered what that was like, trusting your life in them. But Azriel's wings, they were bleeding out. You remembered the pain. You'd go through it every day to spare him a minute of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You and Azriel landed back in the camp in a blur of pain.

Even with him leaving a trail of blood, he managed to set you down like you were porcelain. You didn't cry out. You didn't yell for help. You threw his arm over your shoulder and supported him.

Nesta and Rhys rushed to Feyre.

You hated your brother for a long moment.

Elain wondered over, chained but whole.

Azriel moved from you, checking on Elian. You only managed to watch them as she kissed his cheek.

The pain came to you then. Your head, shoulder, back. You turned from the crowd of family. Elain moved to hug her sister, Rhys stayed at Feyre's side.

Thesan, someone you barley knew as more than a healer, came to you first but you pushed him away, pushed him to Azriel. 'His wings. Heal him, or i'll rip you to pieces.'

He didn't have to be told twice.

You stumbled your way to camp, to your little tent. You didn't share it with Cassian anymore as he was still healing and Azriel would be a while- needing healing of your own.

You collapsed on the bed, promising to look after yourself- just after your nap.

You were so fast asleep you didn’t even hear Azriel come in and sigh at the sight of you…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was fighting when it happened. Specifically, when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No, he wasn't completely healed. But he had to fight. He wouldn't push himself, he knew that would be stupid. But he wouldn't watch as everyone fought. As you fought. He'd hardly seen you. He knew your back would be in pain. He knew you'd be in pain and you were still fighting, so far from him and out of reach.

He was thinking of you when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

His soul sang it, his heart rose with it.

His shadows whispered it.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

y/n.

And the first thing he felt over the bond wasn't happiness or love. It was pain. It was death.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

In spite of the pain in his wings, how he'd been told not to fly, he did. He jumped into the skies, soaring over armies and dead to find you. He followed that pain, he followed the bond until he found you.

You, lying in your own blood. Again.

He fell next to you, his power eradicating anywhere near you. They dissovled, the ground cracked under him and his syphons shone in raw power.

'y/n?' he held your body, shaking you. Blood, so much. A sword had torn through your gut. 'Don't do this to me.'

Mate. Mate. Mate.

You cough, a thin stream of blood rolling from your lips. 'Azriel?'

'You're mine,' it was the first thing he could bring himself to say. 'You're my mate. Y/n. You have to hold on, ok? I'm gonna-gonna get you to safety.'

Something like a laugh escaped you, your body wracking with it. 'Of course, finally snaps for you as i'm dying.'

Snaps for you. Mate. Mate.

She knows, his shadows sung. She's known.

Azriel called out to Rhys in every way he could. 'We're gonna be fine. We're gonna be mates, y/n. You have to live, you understand?'

'Not really.' your eyes flutter shut.

'No!' he yelled, shaking you again.

'What's happened?' Rhysand landed next to him, blanking when he saw you in Azriel's arms, bleeding to death. How many times did this have to happen? How many times would you throw yourself into danger?

'She's my mate,' Azriel repeated. He tested it out loud, speaking it to the mother. How cruel was she? to give him this then try to take her away. Well, the mother wouldn't get that chance. Azriel would fight her if she tried to lay a hand on your life.

'What?' said Rhys.

'My mate,' he all but growled as Rhys got closer.

He put a hand on the back of Azriels neck, a hand on your head. 'We have to save her, Az.' he knew all about mating of course, knew that Azriel wanted nobody around her. But this was too save her. 'She's my sister too, the last sister I have. I care about her to.'

Azriel wanted to throw a thousand insults his way but refrained. If not because he was high lord, but also because you were dying.

They got you to safety, Azriel carrying you through to a tent.

'Y/n?!' Cassian rushed over, seeing you in his brothers arms, bleeding out and unresponsive.

Azriel pushed past him, setting you down on the bed. 'Get everyone, every healer now.' He had no idea who he was trying to demand, but he couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see you in.

You were still in your bed. Behind him, Feyre rushed to her mate, wrapping her arms around his torso as your brother stared at you in muted horror.

Azriel was leaning over you, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘She’s my mate.'

'What?' Said Cassian, ‘She told you?'

Azriel felt the world stop around him. Not did you know about the bond and hadn’t told him, you’d told someone else? Cassian? His hand stilled in brushing your hair back, his shadows coaxing you instead.

Rhysand spoke what Azriel wanted to scream. 'You knew?'

'She-She told me,'

Azriel had always had an iron fist control on his emotions, as relied on to be spy master, he had to. But his patience was hanging on by a thread. You were still bleeding out and nobody had come and Cassian knew. Cassian knew about his mate before he did.

His shadows caressed you and, leaving you in the coolness of their touch, he leapt up, marching around the bed toward him.

Rhys was quicker, a hand on Azriels chest to stop him. 'Calm, brother.'

'Calm?' He seethed. 'When-how long have you known?' He shouted.

Cassian breathed out, pushing his hair back . His wings were tucked in behind him. 'She told me, before she went under the mountain.'

Even Rhysand let him go, blowing out air and throwing his arms over his head as Feyre gasped.

Azriel stumbled, a hand to his chest. His shadows were divided between him and caring for you. 'Fifty years,' he gasped.

You’d known for fifty years- possibly longer and hadn’t said a word.

He was panicking, his breath escaping him. His shadows settled uneasy around him. And the only person who was capable of calming him was laying unconscious.

Thesan burst in, knowing the injured already and working on you quickly.

Azriel almost launched at him, just for touching you. The reasonable part of him knew he needed to touch to heal, but the part that was your mate wanted him dead.

Cassian held him back, physically.

Azriel glowered at him. 'I wouldn’t touch me if i were you, brother,' he practically spat the words.

Rhysand left Feyre with a kiss on her cheek, coming to Azriel who was looking over you on the other side. 'Az, you need to rest-you’re hurt, too, remember?'

He shook his head, staring down at you. Mother above you were pale, so pale. 'I-I can’t feel anything Rhys, I can’t feel her through the bond.'

'My sister is a fighter, she’ll make it through.'

Azriel scoffed. His shadows were caressing up and down your arm. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared about her like a brother.'

Rhysand inhaled sharply. This was just fear, he told himself. 'Azriel.'

'No,' he said, his finger brushing back your hair. 'You only care about her when she’s dying and all y/n does is worship you- ever since you were children.'

Cassian tried to advance, 'Azriel, you wouldn’t be saying any of this if y/n wasn’t hurt.'

He laughed, bitterly. 'No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have to. I’d bite my tongue. But your sister is dying and the last time you cared was the last time she almost died- it killed her to lose her wings and you were never there! And you teach your mate to fly right in front of her!'

Rhys growled. ‘Don’t bring my mate into this!'

‘You’ve brought mine into this!' He yelled. 'Everything she does is for you. Working for you. My mate followed you down to the mountain even when you didn’t care.'

'Of course I cared.'

'Then why did she feel so alone down there!'

‘How would you know, Azriel? You weren’t there!'

'Because I know her, bond or not. And you’ve been otherwise occupied.'

Cassian moved between the two, holding them apart. 'None of this matters to y/n does it.'

Azriel blankes them all, settling next to you. He vaguely heard Cassian send Rhysand and Feyre away. He felt him longer before he felt him leave.

And then all Azriel could feel, was you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You felt pain first. The steady thumping of it through your body. It started in your leg, numbing it. Then, her back ached- a familiar pain you'd felt before. It sent panic through you before you realised they can't take your wings twice.

Then, it was in your gut, stinging. Just the thought of moving was hurting- aching.

There was a coldness around you, draped over like shadows. Shadows...

That's when you felt the tug that you'd neglected to feel for more than half a century.

The bond. There was finally something tied to the other end.

The shadows around you must've known you were awake as they grew frantic around you.

You opened your eyes, slowly, afraid to what you may see. Afraid to the eyes you'll have to meet.

Azriel was sat on a chair next to you, bare chested with only bandages around him. Immediately, you were at a disadvantage. He was looking at you, dark eyes pouring into yours as his hands curled around shadows.

'What happened?' you asked.

'You were run through,' he said, voice wavering.

'Oh.'

'You're my mate.'

Your eyes flickered away, staring at your tent. 'Oh.'

'That's it?' he whispered. There was some heart-break tainting his voice. 'You're not gonna say something?'

You pulled the blanket over you, daring to move to sit up. He shifted, but his shadows helped you. 'What do you want me to say, Az?'

'Why did you tell Cassian and not me?' he asked. 'Why didn't you tell me, for fifty years?'

'It's-it's not a big deal.'

'Not a big deal?' he all but seethed. 'I'd say finding your mate is a pretty big thing, y/n. It's the person to spend the rest of your life with.'

'Can we not, do this now?' you winced, as the words left your mouth.

'You're right, maybe we should wait another fifty years to bring it up when you're dying.' you've never heard him be so cruel, you'd never even argued with him before this.

'I wasn't dying,' you mumbled.

He scoffed. 'You had an infected wound in your leg that you didn't tell anyone about. An ash arrow was imbedded in your back. Imbedded! You didn't see anyone about it and then- you run into battle and get yourself stabbed.'

'I didn't get myself stabbed!' you argued, your temper rising above all other judgment. 'I didn't rush out in there, wanting to die!'

'I held you as you bled out!' he yelled, standing up from his seat. You were swinging your legs over the bed, ignoring every twinge in your body. 'Do you have any idea what that's like? Not even to hold you as you die in my arms the first time but the second. And to know this time, I was holding my mate?'

You bit down on your lip. He had to use the word with such care and love even when angry. You could feel it. For once, guessing his emotions wasn't needed as you felt it all. The taunt anger in him, the pull of anxiety and above all else, the weight of his love.

Azriel walked around you. 'Please, you have to tell me. Why didn't you say something to me? Why wouldn't you tell me you're my mate? Am I that repulsive to you?'

'What?'

He gulped.

You shook your head as he knelt in front of you, shadows pooled around the two of you, as if they were trying to hold the two of you together. You took his hands, holding them and let something like love flow down the bond. 'You are the most beautiful thing in this world. Something better than me. I wouldn't burden you with that.'

He rose his gaze to you. 'Burden me?'

'Do you think i've enjoyed lying to you?' you ask, finally finding your words. 'Do you think I've liked being your mate and never being with you? That I left you for fifty years and thought of you every moment of every day, all day long. That when I come back I wonder if you or Mor had grown closer? Or if Elian would finally tell you how much she loves you? It's been eating me alive. But it's a small price to pay.'

Azriel grasped at his words, chocking on them. 'Elian is nothing to me, nothing.'

You pushed yourself up, using his shoulder to steady yourself before you move around him. 'Why? Have you only just decided that because I’m your mate? That’s not how it should go, Azriel.'

He was following you around your tent as you slipped on armour and leathers over your night dress. ‘I want you, only you.'

'Because of the bond?'

'Because I’ve always only wanted you!'

You laugh. 'No, you haven’t.'

'If we’d talked about this maybe fifty years ago you’d know that!'

You shook your head. Perhaps a part of you didn't want to believe him and all those wasted years at your fault, but you didn't want to believe his words either. Because what did that mean? That he loved you and wanted you. But that seemed just as impossible to you. How could he want someone so wrecked who'd done nothing but run away from her feelings and does nothing to make anyone happy?

'I don't want you to feel like that,' said Azriel, approaching her. She thought she'd spoken aloud before she realised he could feel everything that was hers. She'd only ever had to shield her thoughts from her brother- and he rarely sort her thoughts. 'Please, please-' he took your shoulders, turning you around and gently resting his head on yours.

You could feel his warm breath over your lips. You almost lost all resolve, with him that close. You'd never been so close to him, close enough to touch. To kiss. To know finally what it mean to have that deep connection that everyone was meant for.

One person in the whole world to belong to.

And he was stuck with her.

'Azriel-'

'Whatever you're thinking about yourself, i've thought about me a thousand times. And ever since we were kids you've always stopped me from thinking that. You've always told me what I was worth,' he whispered. His hands were wondering down your arms, sending shivers down you. He could've been doing it on purpose, distracting you. 'Why won't you accept it for yourself?'

You gulped down every uneasy thought. 'Because you're good, Az and i'm-'

'You're everything.'

'I'm not,' you look up at him, his own face blurry from your tears unwilling to fall. 'I'm not a fighter, i'm afraid of pain. And I could never be a leader, because i'm scared of losing people. I'm terrified about it half the time. Why do you think I followed Rhys down to that stupid party that I knew I wouldn't come back from? Because he'd do the same for me? We both know he wouldn't. But what would losing him mean for you? or Cass, or Mor? I was a coward and I wanted to hide from all the pain his leaving would have caused.'

Azriel shook his head, words sinking in. You were comparing yourself, to warriors like him and Cass, to the high lord- your own brother. 'It was unbearable without you. Maybe if it was just Rhysand i'd have still been able to be spymaster, because that's what he needed. But when I realised you'd gone to, it ruined me,' he admitted. 'I didn't care what you would've wanted, because you weren't here to tell me.'

You rub at your forehead, the tension creating a pain in your already aching body.

'And to anyone who made you feel inferior or worthless, i'll kill them,' he said. It was a shine of the real Azriel. The one who made a promise and never broke it.

You smirk. 'Can't kill the high lord.'

'No,' huffed Azriel, like it was a mild inconvenience. 'But I sure can punch him in the face.'

You laughed at that and Azriel smiled. He'd cracked you.

But your amusement dropped quickly, he felt it like a penny dropping. He let go of you as you turned away, wiping at your eyes. He didn't want to see you cry, didn't want to be the one to make you upset. He only wanted to make you feel loved.

'This isn't how I wanted this to go.'

Azriel suddenly felt conscious of himself. Maybe this wasn't so much about what you felt, maybe it was more about what you felt toward him. 'You really hate the mating bond that much?'

You look over to him. 'Being your mate is my greatest honour. But I don't want you to love me just because you have to.'

'It's not that-'

'And I know you're gonna keep saying that.'

'Until you believe me,' he assured her. 'Even if I have to tell you every day until I die.'

'I can't ask you to do that.'

He smiled at you, a heart-breaking smile of love. 'You haven't.'

You open your mouth to say something, but you're interrupted by Cassain poking his head through the tent flaps. The rest of his whole body was hidden, only showing his bronze face and hair framing him. There was a sheepish smile on his lips.

Azriel huffed. 'Cassian.'

'What? It didn't sound like much love making going on.'

'Mother above,' you sighed.

'What?' whined Cassian. 'I'm just saying, didn't sound like I was interrupting anything.'

'Personally I didn't know he was capable of saying that many words,' said another voice, familiar and dull. Nesta.

You frown. 'I'm sorry, is the whole camp out there.' You storm out, without Azriel to stop you.

He let you get away, again, and now there was no way he'd get you to accept the bond until the battle was done.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time you and Azriel spoke, the war was over.

Elian had stabbed Hybern, Nesta had delivered the killing blow, to the head. And your brother had died.

For those few minutes of his death you wanted Feyre weep for him as you stood paralyzed, unable to move. This was the brother you worshiped, the one you’d follow to the end of the world. Did he know that when he went where you could not follow?

Feyre had done everything she could, she begged for his life back. And when her wish was granted, you were collapsing on his other side. Tears of joy in your eyes that Rhys wiped away.

Your family, safe.

Everyone seemed happy to return to Velaris. Home. Scars were left over everyone, fears and pains. Some wore them better than others.

You'd thrown yourself into life. And avoiding Azriel. Suddenly there were many friends you'd neglected that you needed to take dinner with, or so many spontaneous Rita nights with Nesta.

And none of it escaped his notice. The steady thump of the bond still thrived inside of you, his shadows followed everywhere you went, even loitering in your room.

If he was doing it in an attempt to annoy you, then you weren't gonna break first.

After a particularly harrowing Rita's night, the only thing you wanted to do was sleep in for the rest of the day, hide away from everyone and everything. Call it your coping mechanism.

Alas, there was no peace as your curtains were thrown open, light spilling in and burning through your eyelids.

'Knock it off!' the shadows had never bothered with waking you up before- it seemed they'd picked the worst time to start.

'We need to talk,' said a voice that certainly wasn't a shadow.

Rhysand.

You groan, rolling over. 'Can't you talk to me when i'm not hungover.'

'And when would that be, sister? you're getting as bad as Nesta.'

You throw your pillow off and at him, but he dodged it easily and with a smug smile. 'I hate it when you call me that.'

'What? When I compare you to Nesta? Clean up your act then.' He stood over your bed, his arms folded over his chest.

You glare at him. 'I meant sister.' You shuffled up, brushing your hair back.

Rhysand frowned and perched himself on the edge of your bed. There was something he wasn't saying, and you watched it weight heavy on his shoulders. 'You know the last time I was in your room you were throwing glasses at me and yelling at me to get out.'

'Well, don't give me ideas.'

His lips curled into a smile of amusement before he turned solemn again. 'Do you love me, y/n?'

You hadn't expected that. Your hangover could only get worse, your head swimming with possibilities as to why he was asking. And nervous, you were nervous. Maybe you'd never said you loved him out loud but surely your actions were enough of a tell. 'You're my high lord and my brother, of course.' you shrug it off, as if it was nothing.

The shadows trailed up the bed, as if sensing your anxiety.

Rhysand glanced over at you. 'Do you think I don't love you?'

You hesitate, chewing at the skin of your gum.

'Because I do. I do love you. You're my little sister, how can I not?' he muttered. 'And I didn't know you felt like that.'

'It was just sort of... obvious,' you said. 'I was never your sister, not really. I always knew that. You'd never see me like that so, I gave up thinking you would. But you're the only family I have.'

'No, I'm not,' he denied. 'Y/n, everyone in this house loves you. They're your family. And i'm sorry- i'm so sorry if my actions have ever made you think different.'

'Why now?' you ask, eyes screwed up looking at him. 'Why are you saying all this now, what's changed?'

He shook his head, strands of his hair- the same as yours- falling over his eyes. 'You almost died, died on that battlefield and I-I wasn't the first one there. Granted, it was your mate that reached you first but I, I wasn't there quick enough.'

You meet his gaze, his purple eyes sad in a way you'd only ever seen under the mountain. 'You died.'

'And as I was dying one of my deepest regrets was not calling you sister enough,' he shifted closer, taking your head in his hands as if you were a little kid. 'You are my sister. Full flesh and blood. Full love of mine. You are my family. After everything you've done for me. You were right, I needed you under there, when there was nothing good to keep me grounded, but you. My little sister.'

You were sure you were tearing up in front of him.

'You'll always be my sister.'

You laugh. 'Maybe I should get stabbed more often.'

'No,' he said seriously. 'I don't think Azriel would like that very much.'

The mention of him changed the tone in conversation, changed the very beating of your heart.

'What's going on with you two?'

'Oh, I see,' you tease, 'talk to me above sister and brotherly relations just to get in my love life. Not a good look on you high lord.'

He laughed. 'No, it's not that. I just care about the two of you, a lot. And you both deserve to be happy. And I think you'd be happiest with each other.'

You look down, twirling the rings on your fingers.

'Would it be so bad to try to love him?'

You shake your head, smiling as a tear rolls down your cheek. 'I don't even have to try. Feels like i've loved him forever.' his shadows climbed up your arm, leaving Rhysand to smile at the affection.

'You'll work it out,' said Rhys, leaning over and kissing the crown of your head.

Your door was thrown open, startling the two of you.

Azriel stood there. For his entrance, he didn't at all seem that confident when he stood in front of the two of you. His hands didn't know how to hold themselves in front of him.

Your brows rose. 'Were you listening at the door?'

'Azriel,' scolded Rhysand with a stupid grin.

'Get dressed,' he said simply to you. 'There's something you need to see.'

Without much room for argument, you kicked them both out and dressed.

You'd grudgingly let Azriel hold your hand as he led you through the woods. You'd winnowed in at an illyrian camp before he took you through it and into the woods close by.

It was the same camp you'd first met Azriel in. The oldest where you'd all become friends. You'd asked what you were doing there, but he was quiet as he led you through, helping you over roots or breaking twigs from the trees so they didn't hit you.

'Azriel, to any other girl, you leading her silently through a woods without saying anything would be a bit suspicious,' you tell him. His shadows trailed behind the two of you and his hand was secure in yours. You knew not to be scared, but you were still cautious.

'I wouldn't show any girl this,' he said.

After another half hour of walking, the two of you stumbled across a small hut. It was a tiny thing really, made out of twigs and sticks, hay and mud. It looked like something a child was capable of making.

Azriel paused in front of it. He let go of you hand and reached for the door. He was as tall as it and his wings had to tuck in tightly behind him.

Hesitantly, you followed in.

It was just as small as it looked and dirty, like it hadn't been touched in years. Cobwebs hung low (his shadows quickly tried to bat them all away for you) there was dirt and hay all over the floor. Glasses were dust filled and left around with a hundred other things. Some looked new, others old.

And yet, strangely familiar.

'I made this place,' said Azriel.

You looked back at him. He was hunched over a large box that was overflowing with things. 'You?'

'The first time my brothers picked on me, I came to these woods, working on this for days. Every time things got too much back then, i'd come here. I've been coming back for years.' he glanced at you, a sheepish look on his face. 'I've never showed anyone this before.'

You look around the place in new perspectives. The shadows settled around the place. You pictured a little Az, running here and hiding from his brothers. Did he feel alone? Did he feel un-loved? You were so enamoured by it you didn't realise he'd settled on the ground, pulling out things from his box.

'This is your glove, the one's you were wearing when we first met. You took them off to beat up some kid who was being mean to me. You didn't go back for them, you didn't even care.'

He said, pulling out a pair of red wool gloves. In spite of the hut, they were in perfect condition. Pristine. You remembered first meeting him, remembered the little soldier who'd been horrible. Those gloves wouldn't go anywhere near your hand now.

Azriel went in again. 'This is the empty glass jar of the cream you used to help my burns. Here's a book you read to me when I couldn't flip the pages myself. The notes you'd leave when you had to go back to camp. The flowers you picked for me and gave me for my birthday. Dried and stamped from every time you gave them to me.'

You stood, in shock as he kept taking things out.

'A terrible drawing I did of you when I was young. A locket of yours that broke and you never wore again. Stamps from our first theatre trip. Empty bottles from our first night together in Rita's- and Cassian's too. A letter you wrote to me when I was on a mission. A black ribbon from your hair, you used to always wear it with these things. Honestly, the amount I have in here,' and he pulled out several, of varying shades. Black, white, grey, red, dark green. All yours.

Azriel wasn't done. 'A page of annotations you did in one of Rhysand's books. A copy of your favourite poems. A coaster from the first time just you and I went to dinner. Here's some stones from when I first taught you to skim them. A quill that I used to use to write you letters. An old ring of yours is here too. Here's the first dagger you got me. It's too precious to me to be used to kill.'

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you watched him pull them all out and explain them in depth. There was more but the sight of it all was becoming blurred through your tears. The bond felt heavy and beautiful in you.

Azriel finally put the box down and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands came around the back of your thighs, holding you there as his eyes looked up into yours. 'Don't you ever think I don't love you, when I have loved you since we were eleven years old.'

You stutter on you breath. 'H-how?'

He rests his head on your stomach, looking utterly at your will and completely in love. 'How could I not?'

Slowly, as you could not move too fast, you settled down on your knees across from him. His hands moved up to your arms as yours went to his cheeks, brushing back his hair.

'It was always going to be you, wasn't it?' you mumbled. 'How could it be anyone else?'

Azriel kissed you then, finally. His lips were as soft as they'd looked, as you'd always imagined. His hands drifted to your waist, finger tips digging into to hold you close. His hands were strong, but his lips were gentle. He pulled away, only to groan in need before reaching for your lips again, harder, desperate.

His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, tongue sliding in to feel every corner of your mouth as his hands wondered around you, trying to grip onto any bit of you he could. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer. Close enough to consume, to breath in.

You pulled back enough to catch your breath, arms still around his shoulders. 'Mother above, am I gonna make you the best meal of your life.'

But that could wait. For now, you'd settle for a dusty floor in the little house in the woods.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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theemporium · 3 months

Text

[3.5k] married life has perks that you hadn't ever imagined. and it came with duties you never considered to exist in a totally fake, accidental marriage with a three time world champion who was not what he seemed.

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As stupid as it sounded considering he had messaged his confirmation, you hadn’t actually expected Max to show up. At most, you expected the question for your address was just going to be him sending the McDonald’s to you with a note saying ‘just this once’.

So when someone knocked on the door a little past ten o’clock, you really weren’t expecting to find Max standing on the other side with a bright smile on his face and two bags full of groceries in his hands.

You stood there, dumbfounded and blinking at the world champion in front of you. “You were serious.”

His brows furrowed together slightly like you were the one being out of character. “Yeah, I was,” he said, waiting a few moments before he continued. “So, are you going to let me in or—”

“Oh, yeah!” You flashed him a shy smile as you stepped to the side, pulling the door open a little wider as he stepped into your apartment. You made a brief, noncommittal noise and muttered something about a kitchen in the direction you waved your hand, but Max walked in the right direction almost like he owned the place.

Like he knew his way around your apartment with ease.

The thought shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did.

You glanced down at your attire with a frown, your cheeks burning at your chosen outfit but, in your defence, you really hadn’t expected Max—or anyone—to come over tonight. The shirt was an old one of your father’s you had stolen from his closet many years ago, the pyjama bottoms were from a Christmas set your family had got a couple of years ago and your hair was pushed back from your face in some messy hair-do that probably wasn’t the most flattering.

And definitely not the outfit you would have chosen if you knew Max was coming over.

But you pushed down the urge to grab a hoodie or a blanket or anything else to cover yourself up, and instead made your way towards the kitchen.

There was something oddly domestic about the sight: Max standing by the counters, emptying the contents of the bags as he murmured away to himself like he was accounting for what he actually bought. He was dressed in just a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie (a Red Bull one, unsurprisingly). His hair was messy, dishevelled even, like he hadn’t bothered to put any product in it today.

You decided you preferred it much better like that.

“Are you okay with quesadillas?”

You blinked, looking at Max with raised brows. “You can make quesadillas?”

Max glanced at you over his shoulder, something quite like amusement shining in his eyes. “You say that like it’s a hard dish to make.”

“I still burn toast,” you admitted with a shrug. “So anything that isn’t charred is impressive to me.”

Max snorted, almost like he thought you were joking. It was embarrassing that you weren’t, and almost impressive itself that you had managed to stay alive this long by yourself after you moved out of your mother’s house.

“Yes, I can make quesadillas,” he said, finally answering your question as he began to move through the kitchen like he belonged. “It won’t take long, maybe thirty minutes at most.”

“I may starve to death by then,” you whined, a playful tint to your words as you pulled yourself to sit up on the empty counter space on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. “McDonald’s would have been faster. And I would have eaten by now.”

Max turned to glare at you, his eyes narrowed. “You hadn’t eaten all day. I wasn’t going to let your first proper meal be McDonald’s.”

“And you said you wanted to be husband of the year,” you murmured, returning the glare and you could see his lips twitching upwards. “Plus, I was too busy to even attempt to cook for myself!”

“Too busy to eat?” He questioned, not quite convinced.

“I got wrapped up in my work,” you admitted, feeling your face burn as he watched you closely. You waited for him to get the same look on his face—the one your brothers’ or your mother always gave you—that screamed ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’. But it never came.

Much to your surprise—something Max had been doing consistently over the last few weeks—he looked intrigued, interested, fascinated.

“What work was it?”

You told yourself it was a throwaway comment. That he was just being polite.

“Are you trying to stall the fact you don’t actually know how to make quesadillas?” You teased, head tilted slightly to the side as Max smirked in response.

“I can multitask,” he assured you. “I can listen and cook.”

“Max Verstappen? Being the listener instead of having people listen to him?” You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Now, that is just unheard of.”

Max rolled his eyes, though you didn’t see the fond action.

“Maybe everyone else just isn’t interesting enough to listen to,” he stated simply as he began to work, collecting the vegetables he had chosen and taking them to sink to wash.

You watched him closely. “And I am?”

“Always,” he said, flashing you a smile over his shoulder before his focus returned to the food.

Despite his offer, you changed the conversation to something that was…well, more of a two way conversation rather than you talking about yourself and your work uninterrupted. Though, you pushed down that kernel of something warm and fuzzy and kept it hidden safe, even if his words were just a polite offer covered in sweet words.

Around forty minutes later, you sat beside the boy on the counter as you both happily ate your quesadillas, a bright smile on your face as he began to retell some old story about him and Charles back in the karting days. Once you had both finished, you took his empty plate and waved away his offer to wash the dishes as you assured him you had a dishwasher that did the job just fine.

Your back was turned to him as you loaded all the dishes into the dishwasher, not seeing the way his eyes drifted to some papers hidden under a pile of magazines.

“Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“These drawings.”

You froze for a moment before you turned around, finding Max spreading a few sheets across the counter. Your body burned in realisation when you noted they were some of your more recent designs, the ones that didn’t fit the pretty box your professors and teachers wanted, the ones that you liked to just draw for yourself in between projects.

“Those are nothing,” you waved him off, resisting the urge to rush over and snatch them from his hands like a mad woman. “Just silly, little—”

“They are amazing,” Max interrupted, the sincerity in his voice knocking the rest of the words from your throat. “Like, insanely good.”

You put your focus back on cleaning up, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted—almost pleasantly—at his words. You felt like you were moving in a trance as you cleaned down the counters and turned the dishwasher on before you made your way towards Max.

His focus was still on the sketches, his eyes scanning every little detail like it was important for him to memorise it all. You don’t think anyone outside of your teachers had ever looked at your work with such…focus.

“They really are nothing,” you said to Max as you stood beside him, fingers tracing over the drawings like they were gentle strokes of a pencil. “Just some fun on the side.”

“Charles mentioned you went to school for this. Fashion, no?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together like he tried to remember the sliver of information he learnt about you years ago.

“Fashion designing and business management,” you said, letting out a sigh. “I love it, I do. It’s just…”

His attention focused fully on you. “Just what?”

“Constricting, I guess,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. You turned to look at him, expecting judgement but there was nothing but understanding in his eyes. “I know in the long run these classes will help be but sometimes I just…”

“Want to do what you want?” Max finished, a small smile gracing his lips and it looked so pretty with his flushed cheeks. “I get the feeling.”

“One too many team orders ignored?” You questioned, your voice light and teasing and you were glad when he laughed in response.

“Something like that.”

A few moments passed with neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t silent, it never was in Monaco. There was still plenty of noise outside: cars revving, people laughing and cheering, the distant sound of music playing from some party who knows how many streets away. It was never quiet in Monaco, but there was something comforting about the blanket of outside noise when you were in your apartment with Max.

“Come with me.”

He had blurted the words out so suddenly that it took you a few seconds to realise what he said, what he was asking. You blinked once, then twice and still your brain was confused.

“Come with you where?”

He paused before his cheeks burned a light pink colour, like he realised he hadn’t given much explanation or context before he blurted the words out. He cleared his throat, his shoulders looking a little tense as he tried again.

“Come with me to the FIA ceremony,” he said and, if you didn’t know better, you would have sworn he was nervous. Max Verstappen—three time world champion—looked nervous. “I mean, you’re my wife and…stuff.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And I want you there.”

Your lips parted in surprise, taking a few moments before the shock washed away and the questions started. “I—don’t you already have someone as your plus one?”

He looked a little embarrassed when he shook his head. “I honestly planned to go alone.”

Your heart lurched a little at the idea. “Don’t you have to tell them in advance?”

“I’d say a few days is enough,” he replied, a small smirk on his lips once again as realisation dawned on you.

“Oh my god.”

Max frowned a little. “What—”

“I only have a few days to find something to wear!” You hissed, your eyes widening as Max let out a loud, boisterous laugh. You slapped his arm, a wave of panic washing over you. “Max, this is serious! I have nothing!”

Max tried to fight his laughter. “It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to wear—”

“Yes, it is a big deal! It’s the official ceremony! I am the world champion’s date!” You said, looking at him like he had grown another head. “Oh my god, I am going to have to go shopping tomorrow.”

Max’s nose wrinkled. “Please tell me husband duties end at quesadillas and don’t extend to shopping trips.”

...

“When you said to come visit you in Monaco before heading home for the holidays, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

The curtain pulled back enough for you to poke your head out and glare at the blond sitting on the purple velvet futon. However, Logan just stared back at you with an absolutely bored expression on his face.

“You said you didn’t mind what we did,” you argued back.

“That was before we knew we would be sucked into dress shopping,” Oscar muttered under his breath, his focus on his phone screen. However, Logan quickly nudged his ribs with the point of his elbow and the Aussie let out a hiss as he snapped his head up. “What? We are, like, the two worst people you could have brought with you.”

“And it’s not fair Arthur got out of it,” Logan added with a pout.

“Who else could I have asked?” You retorted, looking between both boys with an expectant look. “Plus, I want to spend some time with my best friends before Christmas.”

“I know you are only saying best friends to butter us up but I have to say it’s working for me,” Logan admitted with a sigh, ignoring the way Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Charles likes his fashion,” Oscar supplied lamely before frowning. “But not…good fashion.”

“Understatement of the century,” you snorted before pulling the curtain shut again and surveying the pile of dresses you had dragged into the dressing room less than an hour ago. This had been your fourth shop of the day and you still hadn’t found anything to wear for the FIA ceremony. “I don’t think he would have taken so kindly to me asking him which dress he thinks Max would think I look the hottest in.”

“And we would?” Oscar grumbled.

“Is he still pissed?” Logan asked, ignoring the Aussie before you poked your head out and took even longer to get through the dresses. “I thought he was playing nice at the dinner with Pascale.”

“He did,” you confirmed with a nod, even though they couldn’t see you as you frowned at the orange dress you had just slipped on. Definitely not the right shade. “But he has also been forwarding me divorce lawyers and articles on American Marriage Laws.”

“Yikes,” the blond muttered. “He really hates the idea of you being married to Max.”

“He is an overprotective brother, he always has been.” You sighed as you glanced at yourself before shaking your head, moving onto the next dress which was an odd shade of moss green. “I think a part of him just blames himself for not stopping everything back in Vegas, so he feels the need to fix the mess now.”

“Do you wish someone had stopped you?” Oscar asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

You paused, unsure how to answer.

“It’s not like you could have stopped her, grandpa, you were in bed before the sun had even set,” Logan snorted, breaking the few seconds of silence as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“And where were you?” Oscar retorted. “If you were up, why did you not stop her?”

“I was busy myself.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business, Piastri.”

“Out making your own mistakes?”

“Excuse you—”

“God, maybe it was a mistake to bring the two of you,” you commented as the curtain was pulled open again, and you stood in the entryway of the dressing room. You looked at them, your hands on your hips and a grin on your face. “If I had to guess, I would have said the two of you got married in Vegas with the way you bicker.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “As if I would marry him.”

“Uh, people would love to marry me,” Logan frowned before his attention shifted to your dress, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Yeah no, puke green looks good on no one. Next!”

...

“Holy shit.”

With the FIA Ceremony being held in Baku, it meant that you and Max had to fly his jet out to Azerbaijan the day before. You hadn’t even thought about the logistics of the trip until after you had bought the dress and Max had sent you confirmation that Christian had managed to book an extra room at the hotel so you didn’t have to share with him.

It was incredibly stupid for you to be so nervous about the whole event when it wasn’t even about you. Yet, Max looked the splitting image of calmness as he sat across from you in the plane, tapping away on his phone as he played some stupid game Lando had got him addicted to.

His nerves remained calm once you landed, his hand on the small of your back as he led you towards the car that was designated with taking you to the hotel. He was a gentleman all throughout dinner as he kept one arm around the back of your chair as he indulged in small talk with Christian and Checo. He even walked you to your hotel room door—though it was next door to his—and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and walked towards his room before you could even say anything.

Max Verstappen, three-time world champion, was completely unfazed by the fact he was about to step in front of hundreds of cameras with his new wife.

You, however, were two steps away from shitting yourself.

You had practically clung onto Oscar the next day, needing a sense of normalcy before you had to start getting ready. Though, in an annoyingly predictable turn of events, even Oscar wasn’t fazed by the upcoming ceremony and the award he was about to collect himself. If anything, he found your freakout to be highly entertaining before the boring trophy ceremony began.

You had paced up and down the hotel room more times than you could count as you rushed around, desperately trying to look as put together and elegant as a last minute invite could. Your heart had been in your throat in the minutes leading up to Max knocking on the door.

And for the first time, he didn’t look so sure of himself.

Max stood on the other side of the door—a sight that made your heartbeat pathetically fast as the memory of him showing up the other night at your apartment came to mind—with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He was dressed in a suit, his hair styled to perfection, and yet there was a flush on his cheeks as he took in your appearance.

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit’?” You teased, though you tried to cover up your own doubt as you glanced down at the floor-length red dress you had finally picked after dragging Oscar and Logan to seven different stores around Monaco.

“Good,” he breathed out, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance as he took you in. “Definitely good.”

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “You aren’t mad that it’s Ferrari red?”

“You could have chosen any colour and I’d still consider myself lucky that you’re standing next to me,” Max admitted, something sounding in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before you could ponder for too long, the boy cleared his throat and quickly offered the bouquet to you. “I know a boring awards ceremony isn’t exactly an ideal first date but….here.”

You took the bouquet with a wide smile, leaning down to smell the flowers appreciatively before stepping back into the room to place them on your bedside table. “Thank you, Max, they are beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said it so quietly that you almost swore you made it up.

You turned back to him, mouth open and ready to say something before you paused as you took him in, blinking in surprise.

Max frowned. “What?”

“Is that the same suit you wore last year?”

Max glanced down at himself before shrugging. “Yeah, and the year before that. And the year before that. And—”

You blanched. “You wear the same suit every year?”

“I don’t see why I need to get a new one every year,” Max argued back, clearing his throat a little.

“Max, you’re a three-time world champion. You are going to collect your third world championship,” you continued as you walked back towards where he was standing. “You should be wearing something special to commemorate the day.”

“I won the championship weeks ago though,” he said, his brows furrowed together like he didn’t understand your point. “What’s the big deal about collecting a trophy?”

“You made history this season,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as though you were trying to size him up, trying to understand him. “You should be wearing something more special than a suit you’ve worn years in a row.”

Max nodded like he understood what you meant but his lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Next championship, you can design my suit then.”

You blinked once. And then again.

“You would wear something I designed?” You asked, almost wincing at how soft your voice sounded when you spoke.

“Of course I would,” he said before he offered his arm for you to take. “You have a year, so you’ll have plenty of time to work on a good suit. One appropriate for a four-time world champion.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “And you’re so sure you’ll win next season?”

“Oh, I know it, baby,” Max grinned back at you, and something about the way he smiled made him look so young and mischievous. “Maybe you can make one of your own designs for yourself as well. We could be matching.”

“Maybe,” you said with a smile, letting the hotel door close behind you as you tried to pretend like your heart wasn’t thundering in your chest at his implication of doing this again.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 372,947 others

yourusername 3x world champion and great personal carrier. would 10/10 recommend this verstappen guy

view all 21,930 comments

maxverstappen1 the stairs were steep, you would have decked it

oscarpiastri you would have

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landonorris you told me you picked the papaya dress

yourusername i said that so you would shut up

landonorris your wife is bullying me maxverstappen1

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user i can't believe this is real

user THE FACT SHE POSTED HIM WITH THE TROPHY TOO

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arthur_leclerc he is currently breathing into a paper bag

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incognit0slut · 4 months

Text

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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essenteez · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 || yunho

"falling in love with your best friend feels like eighth deadly sin."

"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You made a tough decision that left you absolutely devastated. Falling in love with your best friend was unacceptable. You got to leave. The method was slowly vanishing from Yunho's life until he would get used to your abstance. Deep down, a voice kept telling you it was the right choice. However, Yunho never meant to let you go as he stood in your door on one rainy spring evening, demanding an explanation.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Yunho × (f)reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Angst, smut

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receiving), tongue fuck, anal fingering, ass smacking, missionary, deep penetration, pet names

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 6k

Is it possible to feel like your decision, at the same time, is the best and the worst? As if you’re attempting to go both ways, feeling like your body is ripping apart.

You asked some of your friends about it, desperate for a helpful answer.

"Depends.'' they always shrugged, which only meant they had the same idea about it as you did. Read as none.

In the beginning, you thought your approach to the problem would be the best solution for both him and yourself. However, the more time had passed, the more it all felt like the most fanciful of tortures.

Nothing had happened between you two, nothing deep enough that you could hold on to. So why, why did you keep failing to convince yourself that everything you went through was for the best. Was it because of guilt that was eating you alive whenever he looked hurt by the distance you had been widening for the past four months? Or because that was a normal reaction after sacrificing something important for a better cause? You were doing that for both of you, especially for him. Your intentions were good. Why wasn't it working?

And now there you were, completely frozen, face to face with him in the late spring evening as he suddenly banged on your door, ten minutes after you ignored his text once more.

You were now staring at the upset man in front of you. Due to shock, you couldn't look away. You allowed his eyes to burn into you.

He was drenched from the pouring rain outside, standing at your door that you should've never opened. His expression and posture reminded you of a wild animal that was about to attack you.

Your hand trembled on the knob as you contemplated slamming the door in his stoic but serious face. All you wanted to do was crawl under your bedsheets to hide for the rest of your miserable life.

You were wrong from the very beginning. You didn't put on any sacrifice. You've been running away like a coward, and at that very moment, you were about to receive your punishment.

"We need to talk, don't you think?" The jaw muscles tensing up under his skin as he almost hissed the words out.

You had to get away from him, as far as possible. Far away, so it was easier for you to breathe again. It was time to dig through the long list of excuses that, to be honest, you were running out of.

"I was actually getting ready to leave for a night out with girls, so can we…"

His index finger pointed in your face, which stopped you from continuing the poor act.

"This is the only chance I'm giving you to explain what's happening, (y/n). If you close this fucking door on me…" he hesitated but the power in his voice didn't weakened, "you'll never see me again."

The breath abruptly left your lungs. You swore your heart stopped for a second just to restart its beating with double the speed. You heard your blood pumping in your veins as the inner panic unleashed from his words that were like a magic spell.

There was no bluff in his words. He didn't mean to scare you, despite him knowing you were vulnerable for empty threats like that. The warning was absolutely backed up. You could see it by the way he stood there before you, how he clenched his fists, the way he looked at you with devouring anger in his brown eyes.

No doubt, you crossed all possible lines. And you had no idea how to handle the consequences. You knew one thing, you'd rather die than never see him again.

"What do you mean?" You still tried, wishfully thinking he spoke about something else.

No answer came your way. He simply passed you by and stormed inside your apartment. You were too scared to protest, not after the eyes he gave you before walking in.

You slowly closed the door, in need of every second to gather all the shreds of courage you had in you. There wasn't much.

Somewhat ready to get eaten alive by the unbearable remorse, you finally turned around. However, he disappeared from your eyes' reach.

"Yunho…"

"You still have some of those spare clothes I left once after a party?" He yelled from what you realized was your bedroom. "I'm totally soaked."

The last thing you cared about now was wet stains on your wooden floor, spreading from the door through the living room up to your bedroom and glistening in the weak lamp light.

You couldn't form a word, every sound was caged in your throat. The anxiety began its biggest harvest inside you. You felt all the strength leaving your body. All you could muster up was standing on your two feet in the middle of your living room, and that alone was impressive in your current state.

You were registering his steps in the other room. Yunho walked into the bathroom to get rid of the wet clothes. He spoke to himself about how nice that the dryer was there. Then he reentered the bedroom and next you heard nothing but his loud sighs.

"Come here." His voice had little volume to it, but the depth of its tone resonated in your ears and echoed in your whole being. The command was crystal clear and sent a set of sharp shivers down your spine.

You let your feet lead you to the doorframe of your room. However, you stopped them there.

He was sitting on your bed, aggressively rubbing the towel on his wet hair. He wore his plain black T–shirt and pair of gray sweatpants you stored in your drawer after he forgot it months ago. He looked like he had just walked out of the shower.

"Do you hate me?" He asked suddenly, still not looking at you. "Maybe I scared you with something I said or did?"

You wanted to refuse, feeling your heart cracking even more, but no sound left your dry mouth.

He, on the other hand, had a lot to say.

"Did I do something wrong, hmm? Cause I've spent three months going back and forth to all our meetings, and I genuinely don't know what that would be." He laughed bitterly, still drying his thick black hair.

You felt like shrinking while the guilt that kept growing towered over you unforgivably. You had seen Yunho angry before but never at you. Why were you so stupid to think it would never reach you after all you had done?

A tint of sadness invaded his chords, "You suddenly started to avoid me, mumble something under your nose instead of answering me, or you have been straight up ignoring me. You don't pick up my calls or respond to my texts and if you do it's always the same shit 'I'm busy, will call you later' which is bullshit cause you never do, (y/n)."

The tears showed up in your eyes, and you bit your lip to stop them from pouring out like a tidal wave.

He noticed it. The hand with a towel dropped on his legs.

"I don't know, did someone tell you we can't be friends or make you feel bad about it?"

Yes. Me. You cried inside your jumbled mind.

"No." You uttered, swallowing your tears.

"Then what?" He urged, aggressively tossing the towel aside after he turned it into a damp ball. Now, all his attention was paid to you, and you felt bare under his eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you." You whispered, the lump in your throat only grew.

"The truth, (y/n)." He begged. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, then fine, I can't force you. But after all this time and memories we've made, I think I deserve to hear a reason behind your decision. Not to mention everything was fine 'till Hongjoong's birthday."

Him, now linking the dots, made you feel as icy needles ruched in your blood, tearing your veins.

Something did happen at your friend's birthday party. One innocent game, alcohol untying people's mouths, and you ended up begging God to help you erase that night from your head.

You thought you kept your composure after drunk Bona spilled her crush on your best friend. This one sentence that she sang toward him smashed the glass of denial and released all the spirits of truth. The realization hit you like thunder, and the effects never left with time.

After that, you slowly, nor drastically, began walking away. Your behavior should not have been seen as related to that party's events.

If it was so clear to Yunho, was it obvious to everybody else?

Although he was right.

What were you thinking? It is Yunho, we're talking about. He would never leave a problem untouched when he saw one. There was nowhere to run and hide now, and it never had been.

You reached your hand to the light switch and let the room get embraced by darkness. There was no option for him to see the shame on your face when you would be telling him the issue that tormented both of you.

He didn't say anything, handing you the mic.

You walked inside the room and slid to the wall, calling on it for support. You were placed in front of him but at a safe but far distance.

"I love you." You confessed, shaking like a leaf. "I don't know what is happening, but I know I want you so much. Every inch of me craves for you, and I lost all control over my own self when it comes to you to the point I can't sleep at night, eat, or think straight. I've never felt like this before, about anyone. And we're best friends. I have no right…" The guilt caged your voice.

The silence on his side was crushing. That was the end. You had nothing to lose.

You took a deep breath, "That's why I've avoided you and purposely ignored you. I have to stay away, Yunho. For both of our sakes."

You heard him taking a few deep breaths.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Somehow, his voice bore the accusation.

"I was scared of rejection." You chuckled at your miserable position. "The girls laughed that I sounded absolutely obsessed when I told them about this. They said they were only joking, but I started wondering and got scared. What if I am? You asked if you scared me with something. You didn't. I'm scared of myself. Because…no one sane acts like that. No one sane falls in love with their friend."

As you finished the confession, you dared to look his way. Your eyes got used to the dark, and you managed to see his darkened features.

The left side of his face was slightly illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room. You were watched intensively as he was eyeing you up.

His upper body was leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread knees. He looked…disappointed? Angry? You couldn't really tell. However, his deep breathing betrayed that the chaos you let out in indeed affected him.

The question was how would he accept what you brought upon him.

"I'm sorry." You breathed out on the edge of crying. You felt awful by ruining your amazing friendship. "Truly."

He submerged his finger in his damp fuzzy hair and then proceeded to wipe his face. He seemed deep in thought. You watched how he stroked his thighs a few times before standing up.

"Yunho…" you gulped, seeing him closing the distance between you.

He was getting dangerously close.

"Please, stop."

The man listened to your command. Still, he halted only half a meter from you. Yunho gave you a second to calm down, let your guard down, therefore you had no time for reaction as his arm suddenly reached out for your hand, grabbing your wrist firmly, and began pulling you close to him.

You quietly whimpered, trying to twist your hand out of his grasp, but there was no use. He mercilessly dragged you until your bodies met.

You couldn't look up, not with all the panic thriving inside you. However, he did not mean to stop. You felt his finger underneath your chin, and suddenly, you found yourself looking in his eyes that shone with a new light in the dark room.

"I would never reject you." He let out a firm but gentle whisper. "What do you think that I came here for? To fight for you."

The bangs of his wet hair tickled your forehead. He stood so close to you like he only ever did in your intrusive thoughts and uncontrolled fantasies. You had no choice but to let his scent of cologne and rain embrace you from all sides.

The touch of his lips was more than you imagined. You whimpered into his mouth, at which he responded with a smile. You fought not to push him away from the intensity of your surprise. Everything was happening too fast and not how you had seen it in your head for uncountable times when thinking about the face-off.

Yunho kissed you slowly as if he was giving you time to get used to his touch and his taste. He let go of your wrist, and after gently putting your arm around his neck, he carefully wrapped your waist. His other hand moved from your chin on the side of your head. The embrace tightened.

You couldn't say you just allowed him to pull you close to him. You were like a ragdoll. The rollercoaster of severe emotions took away your will to move. He could’ve done anything he wanted to do to you, placed you anywhere he needed you to be. You were completely frozen.

Yunho was considerate of your state and didn’t want to push you. He broke the kiss and pulled his head back to look at you with a slight smile that showed understanding.

"Do you want me to leave you alone? If you need time and talk about it once you’re ready, I’ll wait." He assured you, the gentleness in his tone making your heart flutter. "I’ll wait as long as you need me to."

"I– I don’t know." You stuttered, no volume to your weak voice. "W– what would you want?:

"Can I be indecently honest?"

You nodded, the hope sparking in your heart.

"I want to stay. I missed you so much. For the past months, whenever we met, I felt like you were light years away despite you standing right beside me. So I want to kiss all your doubts and fears away so we both never feel that way again. I want to hold you close, taste you. I want to relearn my name as you moan it all night long. I want you. I've wanted you for so long." He flooded you with the confession that held much more fire and confidence than yours from a minute ago.

You trembled in his arms, grabbing more onto his shirt at his back as he wiped away a single tear that managed to escape and roll on your redden cheek. It felt like a dream, and you felt the familiar anxiety of the moment you would have to wake up as it happened all the time before.

After all these months of pain from keeping yourself away from the man you've been falling in love with, feeling like he was slipping through your hands with your own help, you were a shadow of a woman. You were a ruin.

"What’s your decision?"

But the will to fix everything that was broken smoldered inside you, and you felt that with the right blow of wind, it would turn into impressive flames.

"Stay."

He quickly groaned at your allowance, and your faces got close again. Both his arms now embraced your waist and back.

"Of all the things I just said, which one do you want me to do the most?" He asked, his lips brushing yours.

"Everything." You breathed out without hesitation. Experiencing the long yearning, you needed to feel everything, from innocence to obscene.

Your lips interlocked again, but this time, nothing tamed you for kissing him back as you had always desired.

With every breath between, the kiss was getting hotter, wetter. Your tongues twirled in a wild dance, teeth hooking on each other's lips. With quiet whimpers and moans, you drove each other crazy.

His damp hair was tangled in your inpatient fingers that massaged the back of his head and neck. He moaned in your lips from the affection. The sweet adlip instantly woke up the aching between your legs.

You felt the wall behind your back again. One of his arms left your waist and was placed above your head.

He broke the kiss, "You really thought that Bona's confession meant anything to me?" He panted, his half closed eyes never leaving your lips.

So he found the answer. He did mention he studied all three months of your random change.

"I didn't know what it meant to you. I was too scared to think about it. It just made me realize my feelings for you, and I feared for our friendship."

"And your solution to save our friendship was to stay away?"

"I'm sorry."

He clenched his jaw, and that alone was enough to double your already crazy heart rate. His eyes were pitch black, his brows frowned.

"It makes me really angry." He groaned. "To think your first thought was that I would reject you. That you asked yourself that tough question and saw no hope. That you went for the wrong answer. As if I ever gave you a reason to doubt."

"I'm sorry."

"It's me who's sorry, (y/n)."

You moaned at the speed he attacked your lips again. He didn't graced them for long with his unsatisfied affection as he moved onto your jaw, then sensitive neck.

You felt how his body pinned you to the wall. With the power he pushed into you, he picked you up. You were gasping for air from the waves of pleasure shaking your body as his hungry mouth kissed, licked, and bit on your skin.

"You always smell so fucking good." He cooed sultry, placing his hands under your ass, forcing you to put your legs onto his hips.

He pushed himself with you in his arm off the wall and began walking you two to your bed.

You were released from his tight embrace and let him push you on the sheets. With aw, you watched him remove his shirt, putting his beautifully shaped torso and abs on display.

"Now's your turn." He snarled.

His hands went down to your cotton, loose shirt, and ripped it apart with one pull. Your bare breasts bounced free. You only now remembered you had no bra on.

"Yunho–"

But he didn't care about your surprise. He just gently laid on your side, supporting his weight on his elbow. His chest rubbed on your right breast in a slow massage that had you wave underneath him.

"Goddamn it, (y/n)."

His hand embraced your neck, giving it a little squeeze. You watched it going down to your chest, between your naked breasts, and then lower on your stomach where his wrist twisted to go south. Now, you had his long fingers getting dangerously close to your throbbing folds.

You grabbed the sheets at the touch of his fingertip.

"Ahh.."

"I'm not the one who's getting soaked tonight." He smirked watching how your wetness spread underneath your leggings as his middle finger circled on your clit.

He wanted more, your loud moans too accompanying your flooding nectar. Two fingers decisively entered your pussy as the thumb worked on your pearl.

"Oh my…" you whined, arching your back.

To make your torture more difficult, he leaned his lips to your ear and began feeding your mind with the obscene.

"You're always so wet when I'm on your mind, kitten? Do your fingers fuck this dripping cunt like mine are now when your all alone?" He whispered, his breaths tickling your neck, "I can assure you, I walk hard all day because of you."

The image of him stroking himself fast, rough while moaning your name was a perfect way to bring you closer to the edge as his fingers now fucked you with a full speed.

"Yes." He grunted, satisfied with your whimpers and trembling pelvis. "Cum for me."

Yunho drank the sweetest sounds of euphoria from your lips. Your cute moans were like ambrosis for his ears. He craved for more, his soul, heart, and ego demanded more.

He sucked on the skin of your neck as his hand massaged the last ounces of orgasm from you.

"I dreamed of this so many times (y/n) – my fingers, all sticky and wet from your juices."

"Yunho…" you begged. "Please."

The yearning for him or his words along with skillful touch; you couldn't tell, but something was making you lose your sanity way too fast.

Yunho smug eyes began reading your needs. He just licked his lips before walking away to let the room bask in light again.

With the cover of the dark, you felt more secure. Now you laid there, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes watching you, even though the only person in the room with you was Yunho, who just nonchalantly stood there; one hand on the light switch, and the other, that just were inside you, on his sticked out tongue.

Unconsciously, you began closing your legs, putting hands over your chest, but he was quick to stop you.

He agility climbed on to you. Now you had his weight pinning you down, his slim pelvis between your thighs and his hands holding your hands about your head.

"Don't you even hide from me again." He warned you, looking you deep in the eyes.

His arm found its way under you, and with one pull, he moved you further up the bed before he raised himself and sat on his hills.

"I forgot to ask before ripping off your shirt," he smiled adorably, "but do you cherish your leggings?"

Knowing what was coming and feeling more than just excited about it, you shook your head.

Your soaked leggings and underwear shared the same fate as your shirt. With no hesitation, Yunho grabbed them in his fingers and ripped them apart.

You felt the cold licking your dripping slit, wishing it was that man's tongue.

"I had to turn the light back on." He grinned while studying your quivering folds. "I had to see it in detail."

His brow raised, and his eyes became absent as if they recalled something, a thought he cherished.

"I'm genuinely unable to count how many nights I imagined your taste." He voiced it. "How would you feel on my tongue. So soft and warm."

You shivered at those words. The way he said it, the way he watched you with almost worship… Yunho finally found himself on the spot he longed to be for many months.

"It's all yours." You whimpered.

He looked in your eyes again, searching for a bluff, but he was visibly relieved to see your genuine, needy expression.

"Put your pretty ass up for me, please."

You did what you were told, getting rid of the shirt, well now its shreds. Arching your back as your upper body stretched on the bed, you stuck your slightly circling butt towards him.

A gasp left your mouth as the smack landed on your plump cheek. It was sudden but more than welcomed.

"Somehow, I've always known you're filthy." He snickered, clearly glad of your reaction.

"There are a lot of things you have not found out about me yet." You uttered, biting your lip with a smile.

You flinched from another hit that left a stingy feeling and added another flood of your juices between your thighs. There was no option to not let the moan escape your chords.

"I can say the same about you." He growled as if you were about to learn something forbidden.

You felt how he grabbed your ripped leggings and slid it off your hips, down to your knees.

The warmth of his tongue almost made you cry. You grabbed the sheet between your teeth. Slow, but firm licks were meant to have you beg in a second. However, your taste was too much for Yunho to play the game of teasing any further.

He spread your cheeks and dived in deeper.

The man put his whole spirit to savor you with the way his tongue lapped on your folds, latched on your quivering core. He fed on your uninhibited wails that Yunho could swear were a balm to his heart that almost got broken today if you had not opened the door.

He now knew you were his, the same way he belonged to you. Completely. Equal in this healthy obsession.

The essence on his lips worked like the best aphrodisiac for his nature. He wanted to have you loud in pleasure, trembling in ecstasy. For a moment, he craved to control all over your being. Just so you could feel loved, desired, and perfect. So you could see yourself through his eyes.

His tongue found its way inside you. It was sudden, unexpected but more than appreciated.

"Ahh, yes." You hissed, the sheet ripping in your fists.

Yunho shifted his position to have better access to you. Your eyes rolled back at the depth he was penetrating you with. Long, skillfully muscle waved and curled within your walls.

His thumb began drawing circles around your upper hole. Gently, hesitant at first, but your appreciation for his tease made him brave enough to go inside.

With his tongue and thumb sunk inside, Yunho was at the finish of shaping a devastating orgasm for you.

Your face twisted with unbearable pleasure. Moans sent his way were full of gratitude and admiration for his mastery. For a few moments this man managed to make you feel like flying, see the stars above.

He abandoned your holes when he felt the last shreds of bliss left you. You fell flat on your bed, trying to bring yourself down on earth.

Yunho took his time to climb up your spine with juicy kisses, at the same time getting rid of his pants and underwear.

"Yunho." You called him between deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"Yes, beautiful?' He planted a kiss on your shoulder.

You touched his arm.

"Claim me."

He froze above you. You only felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Somehow, it had you alerted.

You slowly turned on your back, still caged between his arms. His eyes were dark, full of unknown, to you, thoughts. Maybe what you needed from him sounded too much of a commitment. You confessed your feelings. You made him aware of your love. Yet…he didn't say anything back. Only that he wanted you.

"Will you?" You asked quietly, too scared to put any volume to not scare him away or worse, make him realize it was a mistake.

Still with this mysterious expression, he laid onto you, skin to skin. Your faces so close, you could see your reflection in his eyes.

"Like my life depends on it." He said into your lips, tone heavy with sweet threat. "In fact, it does."

You interlocked in a kiss that felt like a seal to what just occurred rather than simple affection. He kissed you deeply, desperately, but most of all you sensed a gratitude.

His velvet hardness began grinding on your sensitive spot with subtle yet decisive moves, lubricating his length with your wetness in the process.

You broke the kiss from all the air leaving your lungs. He was hard, hot against your skin, begging to enter you. And your pussy cramped at the pleas, more violently each second.

"Please."

He put his forehead to yours. Took a few deep breaths before he finally said:

"I love you."

Only then he allowed himself to push inside.

The words you had wanted to hear for so long and the soul easing fullness have tears falling from your eyes. He groaned at your tightness that engulfed him and spasmed around him. The warmth and your nectars embraced him whole.

You gasped loudly as he moved further, concurring more inches of your inferior. Yunho was exactly how you imagined him to be. Long and thick, with popping veins that rubbed on your walls. You moaned, whined, and squirmed with every push and pull.

"Can I go faster?" He wiped your tears of joy away.

"Yes." You panted. "You can now."

After a slow pull, he pinned into you with power, having you gasp in sudden pleasure.

He leaned on the side, now nuzzling your ear.

"You're taking me so well. I knew you would." He whispered, and if all your nerves weren't already awakened, now they were.

The pace fastened. He was taking you, fully almost possessive. He went deep, attacking your sweet spot with even but strong hits. The sound you made bordered with sobbing.

He raised up on his knees, now straddling your leg. The other one ended up over his shoulder. Only when he re‐entered you, you realized why he chose such a position. He reached depths you didn't know anyone could.

"Fuck." You cried out.

Yunho fucked you however he felt fit, placing kissing on your inner thighs as he hugged your leg while doing it. He winded and whirled his hips as he thrusted inside your defenseless cunt.

The release was approaching with no mercy.

"I'm so close." You grabbed his muscular thigh with both hands.

"I know, baby. I know." He moaned as your walls' texture rubbed onto him even more now that you were almost orgasming. You cramped around him, sucking his width unforgivably.

"Fill me in, please. I need your cum inside me." You couldn’t help but beg when the speed and force he was obliterating you with was too overwhelming. You had to have him burst inside. It was what you mean by claiming you, owning you.

He cursed loudly and leaned over, shifting his weight on his arms.

"You have no idea what you've just started."

The new position allowed the man to put on even more speed and power, pushing you off the cliff, straight to the void of the most heavenly bliss.

The euphoria embraced you from all sides. A flow of your juices flooded his cock, making it harder, too hard to not to explode.

"Oh fuck, yes." He whined and soon joined you in ecstasy. He pumped inside with low grunts leaving his throat, and you melted over the feeling of hot load, every last drop nourishing every corner of you.

He slid out after a few soothing pushes, followed by his semen. Yunho didn't have to watch this physical proof he claimed you. He knew you all his. He just lowered down and caught your weak frame in a tight, warm embrace.

Both calmed yourselves down by inhaling your scents, so familiar yet so new.

His eyes when he finally landed at you were smiling, all dreamy. You knew what Yunho's happy face looked like, and it was all plastered on his features right now.

You felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest at the sight. He was happy because of you. You made him this joyful.

"You love me." You slipped. The excitement and emotion didn't allow you to keep quiet.

He kissed you and kept smiling.

"You have no idea."

You didn't hide this time when Yunho watched you as if he learned your details by heart. You wanted him to see the woman and all her love she got for him.

"Come." He said and got off the bed. "We both need a long and hot shower."

"Soaking again?" You giggled lazily, admiring this Adonis of a man that now stood in front of you in all his glory. You bit your lips at the view of his glistening pride, knowing it all was for you to love and pleasure.

Seeing your eyes wandering all over him, Yunho couldn't help but smirk at your bluntness. He then leaned over to kiss your forehead.

"Better get used to it."

You realized how stupid you were to think you could live without his melodic laugh.

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