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hollybell51 · 9 months

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If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.

“That was fucking insane!” you burst.

“Are you ok?”

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”

“A bullet graze!”

“It’s fine.”

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, though less tense.

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”

“No, (Y/N)–”

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”

No one’s coming.

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”

He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.

“(Y/N).”

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.

“For yelling at me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”

“All that matters. You said.”

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”

The frown deepened. “Hm?”

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.

“Huh?”

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.

“Yeah.”

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”

Again, “Yeah.”

You smiled. “What about me?”

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.

“What else?” you asked.

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”

Oh. Oh.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.

“Can–”

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.

“Hm?”

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah?”

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”

“Insane?”

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”

“Hm?”

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”

“(Y/N)–”

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”

“In me.”

“You sure?”

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”

He nodded.

“I still want to check them.”

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”

“Yeah.”

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”

“Guess I’m just that special.”

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #shameless smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #tom cruise

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 3 months

Text

And they were… in trouble

A/n: To get the full experience of this chapter it’s probably best to read part 3 before reading this 😊

Part 3: And they were…lovers. Wait really??

Part 2: And they were…strangers

Part 1: And they were…roommates

Summary: the arguments continue, will they ever solve them? Probably not because they can’t communicate even with Lokis dream

Words: 2K +

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI angst and sadness, no real reconciliation in this chapter, blood mentions

When Wanda left the house she saw you standing outside the car looking at the ground

“I don’t want to go home yet” Wanda said refusing to get into the car “please Wanda I don’t want to argue let’s just get you home” you got into the car waiting for Wanda but when she just stood there with her arms crossed you rolled your eyes and got back out of the car

“Why are you doing this?”

“You still want me” she said and you rolled your eyes “of course I still want you I mean look at you, even with no sleep, probably a little hungover and the same outfit on as yesterday, I would push you against the wall and bury my head between your thighs and devour you until you tried pushing me away

Wanda gasped “do it then, right now up against the wall between these houses” you approached her holding her waist tight and went to kiss her but pulled away at the last minute “no, now get in the fucking car Wanda, you need to sleep for your classes tomorrow”

Wanda was the one to push you away now “forget it, I’m not getting into the car with you if you’re going to act like this!”

She walked off into the direction she thought was correct, she actually didn’t care she just wanted to leave and you didn’t chase after her, you let your eyes close thinking about everything, fuck-

Loki pushed you to the ground suddenly and you jumped back up throwing him a small dagger hitting him in the neck “what’s your fucking problem?!”

The man discarded the dagger crushing it and throwing it to the ground “I know you saw my dream for you, you saw the exact same thing as Wanda and when she woke up she was thankful, you’re just being an asshole about it!”

“Maybe I don’t appreciate you interrupting my sleep for a stupid teenage fantasy”

Loki scoffed “you loved the dream, I saw you smiling and giggling through certain parts, why are you being so stubborn?”

You eyes darkened to their red colour and you glared at the man “maybe I’ve just realised that being here on earth living with a human in a shitty apartment isn’t what I wanted to do in my death”

Loki laughed pushing you to the ground again “don’t make me laugh, that sappy talk you had with Wanda last night ‘oh I’ve loved you ever since I saw you and when I told you I was a demon and you didn’t run away’ makes me sick, get a fucking grip Y/n either date her and be a happy little demon housewife or finally leave her alone for good”

You were pissed off, who was he to tell you how to live your death and how to be with Wanda, she wasn’t any of his business “go fuck yourself! And don’t you dare mention Wanda again!” You stood up and stormed off into the forest away from Loki

“You need to make up your damn mind!” He shouted to you not that you were paying attention

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

You were deep enough in the forest now knowing no one would be around or if they were they wouldn’t be for long. Letting yourself kneel to the ground and close your eyes you felt it, the snapping of your spine and feeling the wings emerge from your back, blood running down your back, the feeling of your wings stretching and finally being free after so long

You stood up enjoying the feeling of your wings being free and you let out a happy sigh “oh I’ve missed this” your head throbbed and tore open revealing your spiralling horns

“I’ve missed being a real demon” your mind fogged and you felt all the pain and sadness disappear from your body and you’d never felt more alive, you needed to find someone, you needed to find Valkyrie and have the fun that you deserve.

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

“Y/n?” Lucifer eyed you nervously as you entered the club in your demon form, knowing it hadn’t happened in a while “are you feeling some big feelings? Do we need to have a grown up talk and work out some anger?”

You laughed pushing through the devil and going to the other woman at the bar “hi Val”

“Y/n, you’re looking good” she pulled you into her lap “where’s Carol?” You didn’t really care but you thought it would be pleasant to ask “she’s in hell for a few months so I’m all lonely up here, just waiting for a winged demon with a dark desire in her eyes to take care of me”

You laughed “well here I am, come on I want to go hunting before I devour you, nice and blooded for me” your mouths met in a hot kiss and you groaned finally being kissed properly by a demon and not those plain humans you’ve been kissing but your good time was soon interrupted

“As erotic and as sexual as this is what the fuck is going on?”

You turned your head towards the king of hell “I missed being a demon, now are you coming hunting or are you just being a boring bastard?”

He fake gasped “how dare you of course I want to come hunting, nice to have my favourite demon back”

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

Wanda had managed to make it home but she didn’t want to go into the house, Natasha had left a note on the door telling her that she’d cleaned up as best she could and ordered her some hangover pizza.

So she lay on the grass outside the house looking up at the sky letting out a really heavy sigh, filled with so much emotion “maybe I should leave her alone, I’ll give her space”

You were interrupted by a rustling in the trees, a figure appearing, was it an animal? Wanda tried making it out and when she did her eyes widened

“What the-Y/n?!”

Wanda jumped back away from you and looked over your monstrous form, the horns, the wings and the blood dripping like rain droplets from your body, she’d never seen you like this

“Oh what a lovely lady you are, Y/n was right you look delicious” Wanda didn’t have time to react before the woman pinned her back down onto her back and looked at you.

“Go on Y/n I’ve got her pinned down she’s not going anywhere, take a drink like you’ve always wanted” Valkyrie had Wanda’s hands held together and even though Wanda was kicking with her legs all you had to do was straddle her to keep her still, so you did, leaning all your weight on her and smiling as some blood dripped onto her body

“Y-Y/n p-please, please don’t hurt me” she tried searching your eyes for any hesitation or remorse but there was nothing, just an empty sea of darkness

“You’ve hurt me so why shouldn’t I hurt you?” The deep gravely voice scared Wanda, yes you were a demon and yes she’d seen you angry but this was a whole new approach that scared her

“I’m sorry for hurting you Y/n please I do want to be with you! Please let’s just figure things out-

“Stop!” Your had enough, you’d had enough of everything she was saying and doing and you were going to take what you deserved

Leaning down to her face your hand gripped her chin pushing her face to side exposing her gorgeous neck, running your fangs over her pulse point made you vibrate, it was so exciting, so you sunk your fangs into her neck her blood filling your mouth and senses and fuck was it wonderful! She was delicious, she’d stopped thrashing and Valkyrie had let go of her hands coming next to you kissing your neck

“vos vultus calidum amica”

When you finally released the grip you had on Wanda you lifted your head and saw Wanda’s face, her pale weak face, oh god what had you done, the fog covering your mind clearing at the worse possible moment

You glared down at what you’d just done, you’d bitten Wanda, you’d taken her blood and now you were watching her slip into unconsciousness, no no! This wasn’t meant to happen you’d never hurt Wanda, even with everything that had happened you didn’t want to hurt her! Or did you? You were just angry and confused on what was going on you weren’t thinking straight

Quickly jumping off of her body and snatching her hands away from Val you picked her up and cradled her in your arms “Wanda Wanda please forgive I didn’t mean to hurt you I never wanted to hurt you like this I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, wake up please wake up”

The demon had never seen you so vulnerable before, in tears over a human, sure she’d heard the stories of you essentially becoming “soft” for the human but never like this “Y/n? Maybe we should take her to the hospital?”

You shook your head gently as if not to wake Wanda “and say What? Here’s a girl and she was bitten by a demon? Oh no its okay no need to file a report I’m the one that did it here have my teeth pictures, no I need to get her to the club, Dr banner will come and fix her”

“He’s not a human doctor-

“Doesn’t matter! I say he’ll fix her so he will!” You held Wanda close as Valkyrie held you both transporting back to the club

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

“I I don’t know what you want me to do Y/n I can’t fix an human, you’ve bitten her so she’ll probably wake up on her own-

“Leave” you whispered, Bruce, Valkyrie and Lucifer didn’t move

“Leave!” You shouted and the trio quickly left the room, you looked back at Wanda and noticed her shivering “oh my love I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything I’m an idiot I saw the dream that Loki made too and I loved it, I loved the build a bear thing that happened and the stupid little name buddy we gave him I-I can’t think of anything to say to help, just please wake up”

Obviously she didn’t wake up but you stayed with her, you refused to leave her side, it was only a couple of hours later when you woke up to some shuffling proving that she woke up “Wanda!”

You smiled but that smile quickly disappeared seeing Wanda’s scared face “Wanda? It’s me you’re safe”

“You bit me, you forcefully sucked my blood” her speech was slow and uneven but her words still hurt you “I-I’m sorry Wanda I was just so angry and confused my demon form took over and I couldn’t stop it” you tried coming closer to Wanda but she stood up from the bed still disoriented but she refused to let you see that

“I saw the dream too Wanda I saw everything-

“Stop. I heard you while I was unconscious, it doesn’t matter, I’m done, I can’t keep dealing with you, I can’t keep trying to be with you when you’re being so stubborn and unreasonable- just I’m going to my parents for a few weeks, they may not approve of most of my decisions but at least they don’t try and fucking kill me”

She left the room and you didn’t try and follow her knowing full well she wouldn’t want you too

Yep you’d definitely fucked all that up, maybe some time would help Wanda

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

“Wanda you don’t look so good” Natasha had picked Wanda up and per her request was driving her to the train station to go to her parents

Wanda shrugged “I’ve not slept and feeling down, of course I don’t look good

Nat didn’t respond to her angry quip and instead drove in silence finally reaching the station and getting out of the car waiting for Wanda

“Sorry Nat I’m just really stressed0

Nat shrugged “it’s okay you’ve had a bit of a rough time”

Wanda agreed “yeah it’s been terrible, but I hope it’ll get better”

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

“Y/n you look terrible” lucifer casually mention as you flopped down onto his couch “yeah well it’s been a fucking rough week alright? So fuck off”

Your head suddenly started to throb and forced you to sit up and grip your head you heard screaming in your head, was it Wanda? Wanda was shouting for you?

“She’s shouting because you bit her and she’s strayed far from you, she’s bound to you forever now, really fucked up there didn’t you?” Lucifer laughed and you groaned

“She’s in so much pain, I’ve never felt pain like it, even my death wasn’t this bad”

“Go after her then, trust me if you leave it the pain will get worse”

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

“Wanda!” Natasha rushed to her side as she threw up on the ground in front of her “Wanda are you okay?!”

The woman shook her head “I need Y/n”

“What?”

“I need Y/n! Fuck it’s hurts so much” her throat was on fire, she didn’t know why she wanted you but in her mind only you could fix her problems, only you could save her, at least that’s what her brain was telling her

Nat looked around in the nearly empty space and spotted a few people trying to hide from helping but then her eyes landed on you, you were here?? How? Did you know she was in pain?

“Nat give me Wanda” the girl shook her head “she said she didn’t want you”

You looked at Wanda who when she finally looked up at you nearly kept out of Nat’s arms “Y/n! Please I need you I don’t know what’s going on but I need to be with you”

“Nat please I don’t want to make a scene, give me Wanda before she collapses okay?”

Nat nodded and handed Wanda to you who wrapped herself around you like a spider monkey finally stopping crying and began falling asleep

“Nat go home, I promise to take care of her, drive safe”

You didn’t wait for an answer and just left with Wanda kissing her forehead “I’m so sorry again Wanda and I’m really sorry for what’s going to happen when you wake up”

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel au #marvel imagine #and they were…#demon!y/n x wanda maximoff #demon!Y/n #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Valkyrie mention #Valkyrie

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blueywrites · 1 year

Text

turtle dove and the crow, part two

A 1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

story tags: 18+ (minors dni). smut; true love; unexpected pregnancy; angst, angst, angst; parental issues; corporal punishment; scheming, plotting, and betrayal; hurt/comfort; period-typical stigma regarding unwed pregnancy; angst with a happy ending.

chapter tags: 18+. p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, threats of animal violence (there will be no animal violence in this fic).

PART TWO: REAL LOVE, BABY (9.9k)

I’m a flower, you’re my bee

It’s much older than you and me

I’m in love, I’m alive

I belong to the stars and sky

Let’s forget who we are for one night

We’re not animals, baby

It’s the people who lie to themselves

Real Love Baby— Father John Misty

Somehow, the knock on the front door the next day comes as a surprise.

Maybe it shouldn't have; maybe you should've risen expecting Eddie to call on you first thing in the morning before you'd even brushed all the tangles from your hair. You hear those three sharp knocks while sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, slowly nibbling on a piece of toast slathered with butter and homemade apple jam and still rubbing the crust from your eye with the other hand. You frown towards the front door, suspicious, at first, that the sound may have been a hallucination borne of your sleep-heavy mind. But when you hear it again, you rush forward in your flimsy nightgown, grabbing your Mama's housecoat from where she'd left it hanging over the stair railing and wrapping it around yourself as you hasten to answer the door. The thought of a visitor seeing you in such a state brings a little self-conscious heat to your cheeks, though the coat protects your modesty; still, there's no alternative. Pa's already out working, and Mama's started on the weekly washing, which typically takes her nearly the whole day and can easily put her in a gruff mood. The last thing you need is to start the day off on the wrong foot by making her answer the door.

You reveal your visitor. And though the sight on the other side of the screen still separating you might be a surprise, the way Eddie's face brightens so eagerly when he sees you - his features all lit with handsome delight like he's seen the thing he desires most in this world - tells you the whole story.

You can't help the sappy smile that plucks at your cheeks when he pulls the screen door open, letting it thump to prop against his hip as he removes the final barrier between you. Eddie looks a dream haloed by bright summer sunlight, dew darkening his loafers as he stands on the mat at the threshold of your door. Your eyes trail from his shoes upward, skating over bony ankles which lead to long pale legs and ruddy knees exposed beneath the hem of smart beige shorts. His button-up shirt sports a checkered pattern and is practically wrinkle-free, and there isn't a smudge of dirt on him— not on his pale forearms, nor his neck, nor his rosy cheeks. And what's more: his hair looks freshly washed, curls bouncy as if the water from his bath has just finished evaporating off them, leaving his bangs soft-looking and slightly frizzy as they ruffle in the early morning breeze.

"Hi." Eddie's voice isn't at all sleep-hoarse when he greets you— in fact, it's downright chipper to match the sparkle in his umber eyes.

"Hi," you echo, still sleep-hoarse yourself but sweet all the same. Eddie's curls rustle again with another gust of light wind, and your fingers itch to reach out and feel that softness for yourself.

Before you can, you feel Mama's presence looming as quick-shuffling steps halt right behind you. Eddie's spine snaps a little straighter as he sees her over your shoulder; he tucks his hands behind his back like he's standing in a military line.

"Good mornin', ma'am." His broad smile is oozing with charm, and you have half a mind to peek behind you to see if it put a chink in your mother's stony expression, considering the way it makes your own heart squeeze in your chest.

"Good morning, Edward," she says, not quite stiff but with a hint of wry amusement.

Clearly, his charm doesn't work as well on her as it does on you, but Eddie perseveres nonetheless, asking politely, "I was wonderin', given it's Saturday and all, if maybe y/n would be available for a while this morning? I was hopin' to read to 'er from this book—"

He pulls the hardcover from behind his back, presenting it to your mother with a flourish. She cranes forward to peer at the cover— a knight on horseback firmly gripping a lance, with the words Don Quixote embossed overtop— but she merely leans back, resting on her heels rather than taking it from him. Eddie finishes his sentence hastily. "—if that's all right with you, ma'am."

You do turn to face her then, eyes wide and pleading. "Oh, Mama, can I? I really wanna know what happens next." Your face flashes with hopefulness as a sudden idea occurs to you. "And I can practice my embroidery, too, to get ready for the showin' at the fair."

Caught between your hopefulness and Eddie's earnestness, your mother relents quickly in the interest of hurrying this business along. "Go'n get yourself dressed, now," she instructs you. "I'll not have you sittin' on my porch in your bedclothes for the neighbors to gawk at."

With a bright beam directed toward the boy before you, you spin and hurry up the stairs before your Mama can change her mind.

When you emerge onto the front porch— dress thrown on, hair hastily brushed, embroidery basket in hand, cheeks rouged from being pinched between your fingers as you rushed down the stairs so as not to keep Eddie waiting— it's to a symphony of late summer in the early morning. The squeaky creak of the weathervane and the trill of birdsong punctuate the light air, which is scented by the heady perfume of the hydrangea bushes framing the base of the porch. You take a moment to breathe them in, letting the air rush into your lungs— dry, not quite crisp, but not as heavy with humidity as yesterday. This August morning is sunny and bright but mostly still and quiet; it's early yet for the dirt road beyond your front yard to be anything but empty, save for the occasional motorcar mosying in the direction of town.

You glance automatically toward where you assume Eddie will be, but the two rocking chairs to your right are empty; you glance to the left and see that Eddie has chosen to sit on the wicker couch instead, nestled into the corner against the floral cushions. Your expression shows your curiosity about his choice, and an easy, lopsided grin accompanies his explanation.

"Well, I thought about sittin' in the rockin' chairs like we normally do," Eddie tells you, one arm slung across the back of the couch and the other dangling the hardcover from loose fingertips, "but I changed my mind on account of my voice."

He pauses, eyes twinkling with mirth as your nose scrunches with predictable puzzlement. "Your voice?" you question, and his smile widens.

"Tha's right," Eddie declares, leaning forward and crinkling his brow in an exaggeration of earnestness. "M'voice is just so tired from that story you made me tell you yesterday. Y'know, you really twisted my arm with that one, turtle dove. Really took a lot out of me, weavin' you that yarn."

The rasp of Eddie's voice sounds just the same as usual— no more throaty or hoarse than normal, like he's claiming. You cock your hip and plant your unoccupied hand there as you raise a skeptical brow, but he ignores you. And that voice of his is still warm with brashness as Eddie falls into a cadence somewhere between smug and teasing. "So you got to sit close to me, y/n, if you want me to read to you from this here book. You don't wanna wear me out by makin' me speak too loud, now, do you?"

Eddie raises his arms, the book dangling shakily now in his grip as he wiggles all his fingers, beckoning you over. You twist your lips against a pleased smile, an affectionate tingle stirring behind your sternum as you sigh theatrically. "Holy moly, Ed, you really are such a wuss," you pretend to grouse. "The things I do for you."

Eddie's face brightens as you pad over, bare feet skimming the porch floorboards worn soft with age. You hesitate for a moment near the leftmost cushion before choosing the middle. As you sit down, Eddie shifts his body so that, in the position he's facing, you have no choice but to lean back half against his chest and half against the cushion, your embroidery basket in your lap. The floral cushions are scratchy, but Eddie's shirt is so smooth, as is his hot skin where his arm is thrown along the back of the couch behind your shoulder as if encouraging you to nestle into his side. You give into the temptation, relaxing into his chest, which is firm and yet soft. You and Eddie shift and shimmy a bit until you're both comfortable and ready to take up your activities; as you pull out your embroidery needle and choose your threads, Eddie props the book against his knee, his loafer braced on the wicker edge of the couch seat.

And with that, Eddie begins to read to you from the book he'd forgotten yesterday. Yesterday, you'd been disappointed by that fact, but now, you couldn't be any more grateful.

It's still hot, but as the minutes tick on and the sun rises higher in the sky, the day remains not as hot as yesterday. The breeze keeps you comfortable as it plays with the pages of Don Quixote and the edge of the fabric peeking from the embroidery hoop in your hand. You move the needle in and out, in and out, and it weaves like the cadence of Eddie's voice as he reads to you, lulling you into contentment. That contentment stretches like a cat when he runs his calloused thumb lightly against your upper arm, the rough pad catching the skin there. Its path is stuttering, slightly uneven because of it, but you just lean into him more, humming as it relaxes you. And Eddie smells so unbelievably good— clean like laundry powder and hay but musky like tobacco and the salt of his skin. His voice rumbles in his throat and chest, smooth and even and practiced as he lets the words dance from his lips to create pictures in your mind as your fingers twist and pull the needle without much conscious thought.

And every once in a while, Eddie's words will fade into silence like the light of a firefly. He'll turn his head to let his dry lips skim your temple before returning to his book, his voice picking up again as if he'd never interrupted himself. Each time is abrupt, as if a sudden impulse has caught him; sometimes, he even stops speaking right in the middle of a sentence to whisper his lips against your smooth skin. It's a light touch, gentle as the beat of a bird's wings— reverent and sweet, a graze that has your heart turning in your chest with the utter rightness of it.

After some time, the deep grumbling of an engine draws your gaze to an approaching truck, faded blue and familiar. As it rambles up the drive and rolls to a stop before the red house next door, you can see the curve of Eddie's uncle's shoulder and the plaid of his gray shirt just barely visible through the smudged side window. The puttering engine silences, and you smile and wave as he pulls himself from the driver's seat like he's made entirely of creaking joints before slamming the door shut behind him in a rattle of steel. "Mornin', Mr. Wayne!" you call, wagging your arm high in the air until he spots you. He crosses around the front bumper to trudge up the steps toward the front door, throwing you a brief wave before pulling the straw hat from his head and rubbing the sparse hair that encircles the bald spot on his crown. Once the door has thumped closed behind him, Eddie lets the arm slung across the back of the wicker couch fall heavily upon your shoulder, and you giggle as he wraps it around your clavicle to pull you tighter against his chest. "What're you makin' there?" he asks, peering over your shoulder.

You hold it up to show him the thread dangling from the N of the completed 'MUN' stitched in the left half of the hoop's center. There's the suggestion of a flower below it— a large deep brown circle with a smattering of butter-yellow petals beginning to surround it, along with a few deep green leaves. "I'm makin' it for you," you say, and when Eddie lets his chin drop gently against your shoulder, your cheeks heat despite yourself. "You n' your uncle. See? It's gonna say 'Munson' in the middle. And I'm puttin' sunflowers on account of the ones growin' on your side of the fence." You turn your face toward him but can't see much more besides the curve of his cheek and the pink of his lips, which look, unfortunately, very kissable right now. You glance away and lean your temple against his instead to avoid temptation. "What's your favorite flower, Ed?"

You can feel the stretch of Eddie's smile in the subtle shifting of the skin at his temple before he turns his head to face you. "How are you just the sweetest girl I ever known?" Eddie murmurs against your cheek, kissing you there before leaning back against the wicker couch again, pulling you with him. You sigh, melting into his side. "I dunno," he says offhandedly, his thumb back to trailing along your arm, and you shiver as goosebumps pimple under the scratch of his warm skin. "Always kinda favored chicory flowers. They're like the color of the sky on a clear day. No clouds make the sun brutal while you're workin', but y'can't deny it looks nice like that."

It's quite sentimental coming from your wild best friend, and you stifle a sudden giddy giggle as you pull your bare feet up onto the cushion, tucking your knees beneath your skirt, which brushes low on your ankles as you fold up. "What?" Eddie snaps playfully. "Y'ask me what flower I like the best and then y'laugh at my answer?" His breath huffs indignantly against your shoulder. "I take it back. You're the yuckiest girl I ever known."

Your giggles spike at that, growing in intensity, which is clearly the opposite of what Eddie wanted because the warmth of his arm withdraws abruptly from around you. "The yuckiest?" you question through your laughter, nose wrinkled skeptically. "What're you, twelve?"

You twist to face him, and as you do, Eddie's fingers ghost loosely along your shoulder, brushing to remove some invisible dust as the sour pucker of his lips draws into a smirk. His brown eyes glint with a sudden spark. "I think you know quite well I'm not no twelve-year-old anymore, turtle dove," he murmurs, and the sensual timbre of his voice conjures a spark of heat that makes your thighs press together beneath your dress.

"I don't hear no readin' out there. What are you two schemin' up now?" Your Mama's voice calling from beyond the window screen right behind the couch, harsh from shrillness and warning but not outright angry, has you immediately springing apart and scrambling to take your activities back up— Eddie, the neglected book discarded against the wicker arm, and you, the neglected needle dangling from your embroidery hoop.

You hear the creak of the front door not long after, which Mama pushes open with one ample hip, searching with her foot for the step down she knows is there but can't see due to the heavy load of laundry in her arms. It's mounded in a large wire basket, and an occasional drop of water splatters to the wooden porch as she finds her footing and steps down.

Eddie is suddenly a flurry of activity beside you— the book thumps discarded onto your thigh as he clambers up off the couch with an offer spilling eagerly from his lips. "Here, let me—"

He takes the loaded basket from your mother's arms, ignoring her hems and haws of polite protest. He bounds down off the porch, leaving her with a faint smile of gratitude as he strides briskly toward the laundry line to the side of the porch.

Your Mama's voice draws your attention from his lanky form as she addresses you, saying, "I need you to go to the store for me this afternoon; fetch me a few things."

You're nodding before she's even finished speaking. "Of course, mama," you reply dutifully. "I'd be happy to. Just tell me what you need."

Her approval, clear in the softening of the crows' feet beside her eyes, brings you sweet nourishment. "Thank you, dear. I'll make you up a list—"

"Oh!" Eddie's quick interjection draws both your eyes— hers hawkish, yours doe-like. He plops the wire basket of laundry in the grass beside the clothesline and toddles over, ducking his shoulders to the side, brows tugged up innocently as he looks at your Mama. "You know," he says, "my uncle's been needing a few things from the general store, too." He glances from her to you and then back. "Maybe y/n and I could go together? Use his handcart for the flour sack?"

Eddie shoots your Mama another one of his award-winning smiles, and while she doesn't quite melt like butter— not in the way you do— you soon find yourself mosying down that dirt path, dragging the handcart behind you, paper list clutched in your fingers as Eddie whistles your way into town.

A scant few hours later, you're walking back down that path in the opposite direction, handcart filled with the spoils of your bounty, your apron pockets newly laden too. In town, you'd checked down Mama's list one by one: purchased some meats from the butcher, then canned vegetables, a sack of flour and a smaller sack of sugar at the general store, plus some laundry soap to replenish what had been used up today and some chewing tobacco for Wayne. Eddie had, in fact, stretched the truth in saying that Wayne had been aiming to go to the general store too, but you couldn't begrudge him the fib.

It wasn't the only thing he'd fibbed about, too. Rather than using the handcart to tow the heavy bag of flour, Eddie had very adamantly insisted on loading all the smaller purchases in there so you didn't have to carry them, hefting the heavy sack onto one shoulder with ease. You can't deny that the display of strength— his bicep flexed, one ruddy hand holding it in place, but his expression showing no sign of strain as he lopes easily in stride with you— sent a stirring straight to the deepest parts of your belly. And your best friend seems to know it, too; when you cast him a glance laden with the honey of your want, he smirks back at you, preening at the sight of your appreciation, though a bashful blush also dusts his nose.

Soon enough, your familiar blue and red houses loom back into view, and the rusty metal frame of the handcart squeaks its way along as it trails behind you. As you tromp up the path to your home, dropping the handle of the handcart and snatching up the perishable paper sachets of meat as you mount the stairs, Eddie follows you with the flour bag. He's still whistling like he had when you'd first left, none the worse for wear after walking and shopping and hauling that heavy sack all the way back home for you.

You meet your Mama in the dining room where she's polishing the silver— spoons, knives, and forks are all laid out in orderly rows on the tablecloth, and her eyes widen with brief surprise when she sees how Eddie has the flour bag slung over his shoulder. "Where d'you want this, ma'am?" he asks politely.

"In the pantry— just through here. The door's on your left."

Eddie disappears through the archway, and your Mama rises from the dining room table to assess the meats you'd bought, nodding in approval as she takes them from you to put in the icebox. You bring in the other items, depositing them into their rightful places to another approving nod from your mother.

"You did good," she says. "Both of you."

Before she can return to cleaning the silver, you dig in your apron pocket for the purchase that you're most excited to show her. You smile as your fingertips skim silk, but you reach past it, seeking the three round disks instead and pulling them out to spread in your palm and show her.

Your last stop in town had been to the tailor's, where you searched for a button to repair the one missing on Mama's favorite house dress. You'd been disappointed not to find a perfect match for the original buttons, but since they were just a few cents each, you'd decided to buy enough to replace all of Mama's buttons. You pull them out and show them to her, face bright with innocent pleasure.

"I got you these, Mama. They were just a few cents each from my allowance," you tell her. "I know you were real sad when you lost the button off your dress, so I was thinkin' I could sew them on for you. And I got enough to make 'em all match, too."

You can feel Eddie's heavy footsteps stop right beside you, but you only have eyes for Mama— your Mama, whose face has crumpled in a rare show of sentimentality. "Why, y/n!" Your name comes out in a hush of awed breath, soft as the silk in your apron pocket. "That's very sweet of you, honey. You din't have to do that."

"I wanted to," you assure her genuinely, and the brush of Eddie's hot elbow against your arm, which lingers long enough to let you know it wasn't accidental, pleases you just as much as the affection on your Mama's face.

"Ma'am?"

Mama glances from the buttons on your open palm toward Eddie, her face smooth and unburdened as he continues somewhat hesitantly, "I'm not presumin' to know what you have planned for the afternoon, but I was wonderin' if it would be possible for y/n to come with me on a quick ride?"

When she merely stares at him without replying— not shutting him down, but not encouraging him either— Eddie stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels as he continues quickly. "Jonathan Byers told me there's a field bloomin' full of wildflowers still this late in the season. Said he happened upon it just this week. And I was thinkin' maybe she'd like to see it, considerin' how she really likes flowers."

You blink at Eddie, noting the cautious optimism on his face. You wonder if he knows it's a bold request— asking you to go out after reading with you all morning, not to mention alone and unaccompanied. And you think, judging by the way his eyes crinkle just slightly in a subtle wince, maybe he does, though you aren't sure that wince would be noticeable to anyone but you, who has gazed at your best friend's face more often than anyone in the world, except perhaps Wayne.

It's a bold request— bordering on too bold if you had to make a supposition. Yet, now that the question has been asked, it cannot be swallowed back up again.

Mama's face hasn't quite soured, though it has lost some of that warmth from a moment ago as her discerning eyes scan first Eddie's face and then yours. And as her words echo in your head— 'Y'aren't to go off with the Munson boy anymore; it's not proper at your grown age'— you anticipate the same sentiment to fall from her thin lips.

Your Mama offers the second surprise of the day.

"One hour," she says, brows raised nearly to her hairline as she levels you with a loaded look. "Go'n visit the flower field and come straight back. No dawdlin’, no galavantin’. You hear?"

The shock that races through you is rivaled only by a sharp welling-up of giddiness that you fight valiantly to keep from showing on your face. "Yes, Mama," you reply obediently, managing to keep that quivering excitement from leaking into your voice. "I promise. I won't even take Guinnie so's to save time. I'll just grab my bloomers." You glance at Eddie, and it's much harder not to react when you see the eager sparkle in his eye, the one he can't quite stifle even in your mother's presence. Your suggestion comes out in a rush of words, bending up at the end like a question. "Go'n get Merlin ready, 'n I'll meet you by the truck?"

You want to run, to race up the stairs to your room, rip on your bloomers, and fling yourself from the window in your impatience to reach the ground. You're able to contain the impulse long enough to see Eddie jerk his chin in a nod before you turn away, lifting each foot and setting it down deliberately, walking with measured steps toward the staircase. But once they're out of sight— once you've let Mama and Eddie slip from view behind the wall and placed the first foot upon the bottom step— you can't quite keep a giggle of utter delight from slipping out as you abandon the pretense of calm and rush up to your room.

Merlin's hooves thump softly as he treads over grass and dirt, and your hips sway in time with his haunches as you lean against the broad, strong back of your best friend, cheek pressed to the linen of his shirt. It's warmer now than it had been on the walk back from the general store, and that heat is sinking into your muscles as the sun glows upon the top of your head, turning your eyes heavy and your body languid aside from the grip you have on Eddie. Your arms are wrapped snugly around his middle, your hands locked around your forearms, and his arm is tangled up between. Eddie's skin is a little rougher than yours, his arm hairier, and his hand calloused and dry and practically burning hot, but it's a welcome contrast. There's something about the way Eddie has wedged it between yours as if to ensure you won't let go of him, something that makes a certain feeling stretch and curl around your ribs and sternum, nuzzling the same way your cheek does against the plane of his shoulder— affectionate, appreciative. Content.

You're content to hold Eddie and let him guide you, eyes closed as Merlin continues at a gentle trot until a potent aroma hits you. It's the soothing comfort of honeysuckle and the untamed spirit of milkweed, mingling like a melody of sweet and earthy notes that dance in the air.

You've arrived.

It's as your eyes pop eagerly open that Eddie pulls back on Merlin's reigns, and the muscles of his back roll against your breasts, flexing in a way that is unintentionally erotic. You feel a pulse of heat low in your belly, but Eddie remains ignorant of your reaction. As Merlin slows to a halt, he swings himself down without hesitation, looking up to offer you a hand, unaware of how the sudden loss of his warm strength leaves you almost bereft. Still, you let him help you down, and momentarily, the allure of his closeness is superseded by the allure of the place he's brought you to. Your breath catches in your chest at the sight of the field, which is somehow more stunning than you had expected it to be.

The gold of black-eyed susans and the pale sun of yellow coneflowers mix with the purples and blues of wild indigo and ironweed; soft white milkweed floats like clouds among the tall grasses and ferns, and cardinal flowers dot amongst them like tiny spots of flame. The air is thick with the gentle hum of bees and the chirping of crickets nestled within the foliage, and the field is surrounded by a thick copse of shadowy elm and hickory trees. All of the landscape is bathed in the deepening orange of the setting sun, casting the landscape in a warm glow that seems to both deepen and enervate its wild beauty.

As the wind picks up, the sea of wildflowers ripples like a living, breathing organism, swaying as one, beckoning you and Eddie with its dance. And you accept its offer; you cast a smile overflowing with joy toward Eddie, and without any further fuss, you plunge into that living sea.

As you make your way through, the gentle swaying of the plants brushes against your bare ankles, rustling and catching on the fabric of your skirt and apron. You let your fingertips trail along velvety petals and ticklish grass, feet sinking into the soft earth still warm from the heat of the day as you trail a meandering path through the foliage. You are aimless in your destination, drawn by the beauty of the field you're bathing in, until, on a whim, you stop, spinning on your heel to find Eddie only a few steps behind you. The grasses of the field part like water to make room for him beside you.

Your earlier excitement has simmered to deep affection, sticky and thick like honey as the setting sun glints in Eddie's umber eyes, lightening his curls to deep caramel. "Ed," you murmur softly, "thank you for bringing me here." You suck your bottom lip into your mouth as he draws closer until his scent mixes with the sweetness of the sea surrounding you both: the warm smoke of tobacco, the brightness of laundry powder, the musk of a summer storm.

"'Course, turtle dove," he murmurs, and it's curious that you're both speaking quietly despite being the only ones here, as if afraid the sudden sharp sound of your voices will wake you from a pleasant dream. Eddie ducks his chin, peering at you from behind the curls that slip past his ear to drape near his cheek. "I'd hoped you'd like it."

"Of course I like it," you reply, half-exasperated but still soft. "This is… well, this is the prettiest thing I've ever seen, I think."

Eddie doesn't reply; instead, he drifts closer until you can feel the heat of his body against the peaks of your breasts and the brush of his linen shirt against your apron. He reaches out, and you think those long fingers will wrap around your hip or sink into the curve of your waist, caressing you softly. But they don't. Instead, they dip into the pocket of your apron, seeking the item still left inside— the one the tips of your fingers grazed when you searched for the new buttons you'd purchased for your Mama. And you watch Eddie pull out a line of silk, which unravels to spill open from its roll.

While you'd perused the buttons at the tailor's shop, Eddie had drawn his calloused fingers through the display of hair ribbons near the counter. He'd skipped over waxy pinks and cloying yellows, lingering longer while considering deep amethysts and verdant greens. In the end, though, he'd chosen white— shiny white like a dove's feather. "So you can wear it anytime you want," he reasoned when he presented it to you, "'n you don't have to fuss over whether it matches your dress or whatever silly nonsense you women worry about." He'd grinned wide when you smacked him lightly for that remark before rolling the ribbon carefully up and slipping it into your apron pocket to join your own purchase.

Eddie's fingers are long and ruddy, cracked and calloused; his palms are dry, broad, and strong, accustomed to brutish work and the roughness required of a man of his trade. Yet when he reaches behind your neck, fitting the cool silk of the ribbon against the nape before drawing the sides carefully forward to wrap around your throat, his touch is as gentle as the brush of fuzzy down against your delicate skin. His tongue peeks pink between his lips as he slowly and carefully ties the ribbon into a bow, tightening it just enough to keep it snug without it pinching you too tightly. You hold your breath as he adjusts the loops, eyes locked on your neck until his hands drop and that umber darts up to meet yours.

A corner of Eddie's lips crooks in a lopsided smile, and one of his dimples comes out to greet you. "You're pretty," he tells you, and you flood with more of that sticky-sweet honey as you brush your thumbs against his jaw, fingers splaying over his cheekbones to pull him into a gentle kiss.

When you break from his lips, what happens next becomes an inevitability.

Eddie avoids the spiky petals of black-eyed susans as he draws you down to the grass, his lanky limbs nestling into the colorful sea. He settles you on top of him, and your knees press into the warm earth as he gathers your long skirt in his hands and you pull his shirt hem from his shorts, pushing it up his belly to reveal the divet of his belly button and the dark hair that trails downward to lead below his waistband. You work the button open unhurriedly as he searches for your skin beneath your dress, grunting as he encounters your bloomers. You breathe a chuckle as he pulls them down sloppily, releasing his pants to help him; he helps you in turn until your undergarments are finally discarded in the tall grass beside you, and his are pushed down far enough to reveal the semi-hardness of his thick length, which lazes comfortably against his abdomen. As you finally settle down on him, hot skin against hot skin, Eddie cups your face to pull you into a kiss.

Eddie's kisses are deep, warm, and wet, drawing you into him until between your legs beats in time with your heart. Your hips begin to shift against him, seeking friction to relieve the ache, and as your arousal increases, so do your kisses grow more frantic— sloppier, less careful, more needful. He bucks up into you, swallowing your slight whimper as his hands snake beneath your skirt that has fanned to cover your lower halves, skimming up your thighs to take firm hold of your hips. He maneuvers you slightly until his hardness slots right into the slippery heat of your lips, his erection pressed flat against his belly as he grinds you down onto himself.

A haze of desire blankets you as you move atop Eddie in the grass; your mind creeps with it, fogging until there's nothing but the feeling of his body, solid and warm beneath you, and his lips, firm and soft against your mouth. You move by instinct, rolling your hips until you're moving yourself equally as much as he's moving you. Your hands seek his curls, burying just above his ears as you grind down on his cock until you're writhing, whimpering, leaking, cream easing that slide and dripping down to coat his balls.

The ache inside you that was sated by the feeling of Eddie's hardness against your heated flesh returns, insisting that you be filled. You drop staccato kisses to Eddie's lips before leveraging against his ribs to kneel up straight, gathering your skirt and apron in hasty hands to reveal the place where you will soon be joined. You lift your ass as Eddie grasps himself, fitting the fat head of his cock between your sticky lips; you shift until it stops bumping against you and instead nudges slightly inside where it belongs.

When you sink down onto him, and Eddie stretches you open this second time, it doesn't hurt as much as the first, whether because you've already experienced this or because you're distracted by how his face contorts with the pleasure of feeling you engulf him. There's still a pinch, but it's expected now; and as you fall flush with his pelvis, you only pause briefly before you begin to move again with him now inside you.

You don't move expertly, far from it, but you allow instinct to continue guiding you. Your thighs cradle Eddie's hips as you begin to rock gently together, the mutual sounds of pleasure mingling to join the chorus of nature around you. You're enjoying the sight of him below you when he wraps his arms around your back, drawing you down flat against his chest as he takes over moving for you, pumping his hips up into you. Due to the angle, his movements are slight but still pleasant, and you enjoy the way he can now lavish you with kisses— brief tender pecks that land on your nose, your cheeks, the corners of your lips, your chin. Eddie kisses anywhere he can reach, picking up speed until you're giggling, and then he smiles, eyes crinkling with the force of his delight at your happiness. You return the gesture, pressing your hands against his ears to keep him still so you can pepper him with affection until he's giggling too.

"Don't eat me up," he teases you, gently pulling your hands from his ears and weaving your fingers with his.

"You're the one eatin' me up, Ed!" you return playfully, and he hums as he draws your hands toward his face. He kisses each finger, umber eyes locked unwaveringly on yours, and your chest stirs with tenderness at the gesture; he presses his hands into the grass near his ears, shifting you with him to lean forward.

"Use me," he murmurs, his voice a sensual hum. "Press down on my hands."

You follow his direction, using the leverage to lift yourself so you can move more boldly on top of him. As you do, you watch the pleasure begin to grow on Eddie's face— the crease of his brow, the haziness of his eyes, the flush spreading on his cheeks and throat, the plush pink of his lips that pucker around white teeth as he bites the bottom one, earnest and wanting as he stares at your face. The signs of his pleasure increase yours, as does the rocking of his hard cock snug inside your tight heat, a combination that soon has you panting, your head lolling loosely as you look down at him. Eddie's abundant curls are splayed across grass and flowers, dark tendrils that paint the yellows and blues and purples with a spillage of beautiful ink. The skin of his face and neck is pale as it always is but sun-kissed in the late summer, freckled from days spent working the fields. The sight of your best friend beneath you increases that tingling and throbbing between your hips, and with it, the movement you can manage in this position is soon no longer enough to satisfy you.

You pull your fingers from Eddie's grip so you can brace your hands on his chest instead, leveraging a new angle that has your hips rolling snugger against his. An eager groan rumbles in his throat and pushes through those plump lips, and Eddie's fingers plunge beneath your skirt to take hold of your thighs, squeezing restlessly as you rock on him. "That feel good, Ed?" you ask, voice quiet and high but hoarsened with need.

"Yeah, baby," Eddie rasps, "feels— feels so good—"

Your pussy flutters at the praise, and Eddie grunts, eyes widening in surprise as he blurts, "Oh, fuck me, you're— shit—"

"Mmm—" The filthiness of Eddie's mouth makes you moan, whiny and pathetic, and you try to stifle the sound behind a bitten lip.

Immediately, his hand leaves your thigh to find your mouth as he hisses, "No, sweetheart, let me hear you— wanna hear you."

His thumb presses insistently on the plump of your bottom lip until you release it, and he rewards you by caressing that rough pad sensually across its softness. You whimper again, and the sound passes high and sweet through the open seam of your lips as he drags the bottom one down, his index finger pressing under your chin to keep you where he wants you. You rock your hips a little faster as you watch him stare at your mouth, his eyes hazy and deep, almost hypnotized, as he plays with your lip. The movement of his thumb remains languid, slow and meandering. That is, until it wanders almost incidentally past your teeth to press lightly against your tongue.

Whether it's the unexpectedness of the action or the fact that you can feel him inside you in two places now instead of one, the feeling of Eddie's calloused thumb against your tongue makes you moan and shiver with an acute burst of pleasure. Almost instinctively, your lips close around it, cheeks hollowing slightly as you suck; you watch Eddie's eyes widen, pupils visibly blowing as you wrap a hand around his wrist, holding him there so you can suck on his thumb as you ride him. He moans, voice higher and hoarser than before, more breathy and uncontrolled; the sound spurs you on until you're rocking harder, mindlessly obeying your body, behaving the way it wants to behave. And your body wants you to suck on Eddie's thumb, to move until you're bouncing slightly on his cock, ass slapping rhythmically against his thighs as he gasps and stutters, "Holy— that's it, please— please d-don't stop, sweetheart, don't stop—"

And you've only lain with a man once, but the way Eddie's fingers are digging into your hip; the way his hand pinches your chin as you suck and lave his thumb; the way the tendons stand stark from the flushed, mottled skin of his throat, the way the rapid rise and fall of his chest has begun to deepen— they tell you what all women know as their men's pleasure begins to tip toward inevitability. You whimper, your own pleasure flaring at the knowledge of what's approaching, and the sound is muffled around Eddie's skin; you pull Eddie's thumb from your mouth, nuzzling against his knuckles and ignoring the fatigue in your thighs and hips as you say his name. "Eddie," you call, sweet and needy, your yearning evident in the honey that drips from your tongue. "Eddie, please, I want you."

It's a vague request borne of shyness, but Eddie knows what you mean. "You want my seed again, y/n?" he husks, voice hoarsened with desire for you, for what you request of him. "You want me to empty inside you?"

"Yes, yes—" your reply is a rapturous sigh of deep wanting; when he hears it, Eddie huffs harshly, rutting up into you in time with your bouncing once, twice, and then again—

And the inevitability comes to pass.

Eddie pulls his fingers from your grasp to squeeze your hips with both hands; he presses you down hard onto his cock as it jumps and pulses inside you. You hear him moan, the sound hoarse and high, and you sing along with him, sweet sounds of satisfaction that only subside once the warm flood of his cum has coated you entirely inside and the tensing of his muscles has relaxed to leave him a boneless heap beneath you. You lean forward hastily, hands dragging up his shirt to fist in the collar; instantly, as if he is of the same mind, Eddie's broad palms drag from your hips up your back to tangle in your hair.

And then you're kissing him desperately.

His still-hard cock slips out slightly as he hauls you against him, and you feel the leakage of his seed as it spills from your pussy to coat his balls, but neither of you care. You kiss Eddie, and he kisses you, hungry for the intimacy felt in the caress of one another's lips, the drag of one another's tongues, the sweetness of one another's breaths that slip into your lungs.

You and Eddie kiss until the fervency of your shared desire dips like the waning sun into gentle affection again. You notice that the light around you is dim as you calm; the sky has sunk past orange and blue to deep violet and pink, the oaks and hickories now nothing but shadows, signaling that it's time to return home.

Now that you're both sated, Eddie presses a chapped kiss to your forehead before releasing you from the welcome cage of his arms. And when you finally rise together, looking down at the place you'd chosen to express your devotion, the imprint in the crushed flowers forms the shape of a single body— as if you and Eddie have become one person, forever connected, eternally entwined.

Eddie Munson never does anything by half.

Now that he'd discovered what acts of service would afford him with your parents, for the next week, he makes himself quite abundant. You begin to predict the sight of those dark curls bobbing towards you from next door in the late morning or afternoon, brown eyes alert and hands ready to assist. When he's finished with the tasks around his own farm, like aiding Wayne in irrigating and fertilizing the corn fields or mucking out the stalls for Merlin and his uncle's horse Sally, he'll toe off his loafers on the front door mat and poke his soft nose around the corner of the foyer wall, seeking for somewhere he might be needed. In the past four days, Eddie has repaired the bottom step of the staircase, the one that always creaked so loud no matter how gently you stepped on it; tightened the joists on the banister to stop it from wobbling; patched and painted the wall where Pa'd cracked the plaster slamming the back door open too hard; and hung the mirror that had been propped in the corner of your bedroom since you'd brought it home since Pa'd gotten too busy to do it for you. Mama hovers in the doorway, watching like a hawk as Eddie works in your bedroom, her body half-shielding yours behind her, though the gesture feels less like protection and more like a boundary you cannot cross. But Eddie just measures, carefully hammers in the nail, and grunts when he lifts the heavy iron frame; he steps back, squaring his fingers and squinting as his tongue pokes between his lips. After a brief perusal, he drops his hands and expression, seemingly satisfied, as he turns towards you two to gauge your assessment.

You beam brightly at him from behind your mother's shoulder, and it doesn't take too long for Mama to nod. "Looks good there," she says, warmer than you've ever heard her when speaking to or about your best friend. "Thank you, Edward."

"It's no trouble, ma'am," he replies, and the look of pride— the gentle pleasure that blooms across his face to hear your mother's approval— just makes you sink that much farther into the depth of your feeling for him.

If Mama suspects or questions why Eddie has been so helpful the past week, she doesn't share her concerns with you; and once she's voiced her thanks so explicitly, Eddie turns his attention toward slaying his next dragon.

It's about a week after you'd read together on the porch that he finds his chance. You're in the goat pen, refilling the metal trough with water from the well while your father works in the field beyond. "I know," you murmur consolingly to the gray-furred kid hiding behind your legs. He's cowering, eyes rolling, his small mouth open in a near-continuous bleat drowned by the growl of the tractor. "I know you don't like the sound. I'm sorry."

Your words do little to quell his distress; as you finish pouring the water from your bucket into the trough, he doesn't move to join the others, standing with his legs splayed wide and his back arched. He bleats and cries incessantly, staggering after you a few steps when you begin to drift toward the gate. "Okay, okay," you say, your sympathy for the animal winning out against your desire to keep busy lest you face your Mama's reprimand for idling.

Abruptly, the aggressive growl of the tractor subsides to a puttering hum and then, shortly, to silence. You glance toward the expansive field to find it all shorn now, the hay cut to flat and dry before it can be rolled into bales next week. You watch your father hop down from the tractor, his face contorted in a wince as the smallest goat in the pen continues bleating despite the lack of noise from the tractor. Where your Mama is short and ample, your Pa towers tall and narrow, stretched out like a beanstalk, with wiry limbs and a tightness about his manner that manifests in severe lines around his mouth and across his brow.

"That damn bleating's drivin' me up the wall," your Pa grouses. "Kid's 'bout to get tossed in the crik if it doesn't stop that infernal noise-making."

Your voice bends up imploringly, distress clenching in your chest at the idea. "He's just scared o'the tractor, Pa. He can't help it." He scowls, but his rebuttal is interrupted when Eddie appears from alongside your house, heading straight for you both. You and your father look at him, and your eyes rove over his form— he's dressed in overalls, his pale skin shiny with sweat and ruddy from the heat, though it hasn't dulled the warm umber of his eyes.

"Hi, Ed," you greet him, the cloud of your worry broken up by the brightness of his sudden appearance.

"Afternoon," he greets you both, flicking his sodden bangs out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. "Been fixin' up my uncle's fence on the far side opposite your property," he explains, gaze locked on your Pa, "and I've got some leftover planks. Was thinkin' maybe you'd like me to replace some o'your oldest ones. It wouldn't be any trouble."

Your father pulls off his cap and rubs the sweat roughly from his weathered forehead. His brows flash as he fits it back on smartly, and his voice is much less gruff than before as he replies, "Well, if you're inclined to spend your afternoon workin' on my fence, Edward, I certainly wouldn't stop you."

Eddie nods, sweaty curls bobbing as he stuffs his hands into his overall pockets. You can tell he's trying not to look too chuffed, but the dimple at the corner of his mouth betrays how much he's pleased with your father's answer. "Happy to hear that, sir," he says, and his gaze quickly flashes to you and back. "I'll grab the boards and such. Be back over in a jiff."

Your Pa nods and watches him leave; once he's gone, both pairs of eyes, father and daughter, turn back to the kid, who has wedged himself between the wooden shelter and the wire fence of the pen, disinterested in food or drink. He's still bleating, though not quite as loudly now, but the way your father's eyes narrow at the sound of his pitiful cries has that anxiousness crawling up your throat again. "Pa," you say cautiously, chewing your bottom lip as a vein twitches in his narrow forehead. "I'm sure he'll quiet down soo—"

Before you can even finish the sentence, your father has stalked forward, snatching up the struggling kid in a splay of kicking legs. "No, Pa," you whimper, earnest in your protest but half-hearted in your delivery as that anxiety condenses to a thick lump at the base of your throat. "Please don't throw him in the crik; he's just a baby."

Pa rounds on you, eyes steely, brow furrowed deeply with consternation and stress. "I told you, y/n. It's been days of this now, and I can't abide it no more."

Your lip wobbles as you stand there, watching helplessly as he maneuvers around the other goats in the enclosure, heading towards the fence.

It's when he's almost reached the gate that Eddie turns the corner of the house again, carrying a few boards under one arm and jingling with each step as the nails in his overall pocket sing to announce his arrival. Pa halts just at the edge of the goat pen as Eddie looks up, his face instantly creasing with confusion and concern as he takes in the sight before him: your father, holding a struggling, bleating kid, scowling down at the gate that he can't open with his hands occupied as they are, and you, wringing your hands behind him, shoulders drawn up and eyes big and wet, very clearly distressed.

"Boy—" Pa jerks his chin at Eddie, motioning toward the gate with his elbow. "Help me get this open so I can be rid of this infernal racket once and for all."

Eddie lowers the boards to the grass, and while he doesn't dare disobey your father's command, you can see from how his eyes dart that he's thinking quickly. "He been cryin' long?" Eddie asks casually.

"Been days now, ever since I started up with the tractor to prepare for harvest," your father grunts. Eddie nods slowly, eyes tracking the kid's knobby legs as they swing wildly. You watch with bated breath as his brow furrows; slowly, so as not to spook the animal further, Eddie reaches out and gently wraps his ruddy fingers around the kid's front left leg. Impatience leaks in a growl from your father's mouth. "What're y'doin', Edward? Open the damn gate."

He says Eddie's name like a warning, and your heart leaps in your chest, but Eddie merely peers closely at the hoof for the briefest moment before letting the animal quickly go. And had it not been for the earnest seriousness in his voice as he meets Pa's eye calmly, the question Eddie asks next would have made you faint.

"If I can make him quiet, sir, would you still wanna throw him in that creek?"

The goat is still struggling in your father's hold as he squints at Eddie for a moment, his expression half-contorted as if he's undecided about whether to tell him off. Your heart thumps hard, your sweaty fingers wringing as the two men face one another— your father is nearly a head taller than your best friend, but Eddie doesn't cow to the intensity of his stare. Instead, he stands tall, shoulders solid and proud but brow unfurrowed. Not defiant. Just not acquiescent, either.

Rather than replying, your father merely steps back and drops the kid to its feet, not altogether kindly. He wrenches the gate open himself, stalking through and slamming it behind him; it bounces back open, and you rush forward to block the exit as he heads straight for the house.

His shout carries back to you, crisp on the wind. "If it ain't quiet by the time I'm back, I won't bother with the crik. I'll just wring its scrawny neck."

And with that, he disappears into the house, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

Now alone, you and Eddie meet eyes, but there is no secret smoldering or shy smiles now. Instead, Eddie slips into the pen, brown eyes wide and solemn as he crouches to his knees in the dirt. "It's okay, little fella," he murmurs, one calloused finger stroking lightly between the kid's horns. "We're gonna help you feel better."

"What's wrong with him, Ed?" you ask, shaky with adrenaline and distress as you see Eddie pull a small penknife from his overall pocket.

"Don't worry, turtle dove." Eddie's voice is just as gentle as he looks up at you, and the soft kindness there makes you want to snatch up his face and press kiss after kiss to his lips. "He's just got a rock stuck in his hoof. That's all."

Your breath shudders out shakily as you watch Eddie take hold of the goat's leg, moving slowly and surely so as not to startle him. It squeaks out another sharp sound as he lifts its hoof; the kid's leg bends at the knee as it wavers slightly while trying to balance on its other hooves.

But when it comes down to it, the whole affair is really quite quick work. Eddie works the penknife carefully between the stone and the horn of the goat's hoof, jimmying it slightly until the object comes loose and falls to the dirt near his knee. He drops the kid's leg, and immediately it backs up, scuffing its other hoof against the ground in agitation.

Eddie is unbothered by its display of hostility. "There ya go." He picks up the small rock, tossing it out of the pen to land softly in the grass beyond. "Now you'll feel much better."

A potent mixture of relief, guilt, and gratefulness fills you as the kid falls finally silent. Relief that he'd be okay now. Guilt that you hadn't thought to check for another explanation for his bleating. But strongest of all is gratefulness— gratefulness that Eddie was able to stand up to your father when you cowered away.

"Thank you," you say, soft and sweet as you gaze into Eddie's umber eyes.

"No trouble, y/n," Eddie replies, his lips tilting with a lopsided smile, one cheek dimpling with the fondness of it.

For a moment, you gaze at that familiar pale face framed by dark, sweaty curls. The face of your best friend, the person you adore most in this world, whose wild restlessness— the fervency of it— is rivaled only by the depth of his care for you and the kindness that leaks obstinately through despite the world's attempt to stifle it.

You gaze at Eddie, at the face you've known for ten years. And in that moment, you realize that you love him.

In your backyard, standing in the goat pen, you swallow thick, welling with love for Eddie Munson. But you are unsafe from prying eyes that may be peering through the kitchen curtain; your voice is silenced by the threat of that screen door swinging open unexpectedly. So you do the only thing you can think of to show Eddie that you've realized you love him.

You brush the dirt off his knees, swiping the dark earth away with patience and diligence until the soft denim is clear blue again.

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crushofdoves · 11 months

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speaking of devouring fics where sirius' gender has been trans-ed, do you have any recs?? i know some people don't like to recommend fics so feel free to ignore if that's your vibe!

yes, i do have recs for this! here are a few off the top of my head, in no particular order:

honey sweet by @vajazzly

explicit - ft. city boy sirus who is down bad for the beekeeper with horrible fashion sense (but he’s good with this hands)

gathering home by @quietlemonhush

explicit - sirius raising regulus & harry after literally burning down his family home, remus is reg’s teacher. heavy themes but overall very funny & sweet & tender.

suffer for the people - orphan account

remus is regulus’s camp counselor, has lil bit of a meltdown and asks for his brother who comes to visit to calm him down. feelings occur. sooo cute & comforting, very fluffy.

our destiny in the stars - orphan account

explicit - remus is insecure about his (plus size, disabled) body and decides to try online dating where matches can’t see what the other person looks like. he meets sirius (trans, a teacher) and they uh - hit it off. this fic makes me smile so damn big. it’s just - it’s a classic, i’ve read it a million times.

whatever words i say - orphan account

sirius can’t stop acting out and it’s stressing out the rest of his band, so lily hires remus to keep an eye on him. obviously, they fall in love. a sweet lil band au.

a fool and his money - orphan account

explicit - chronically ill remus is roommates with regulus, meets his rich older brother and agrees to an arrangement: pretend to date sirius, show up with him to events - in exchange for money. y’all can guess where this is going and it’s so good. love a good sugar daddy/fake dating fic.

abyss by @titstraction

explicit - highschool au, remus & sirius are both on the track team and can’t seem to the same page. this fic is - so good. it’s very much a comfort read for me, but there are some heavy themes and transphobic jokes. this fic will hurt your feelings but it will also make you giggle and kick your feet and scream into your pillow.

have time to grow by queer_and_trashy

explicit - queer professor & amateur poet remus meets trans professional poet sirius - they try to get their shit together. hot & sweet and just, deeply deeply gay.

the entire rock n’ pole verse by @jennandblitz and fivepips

explicit - ace rock climber remus meets genderfluid dancer (mainly pole) sirius. this ‘verse is huge, there’s literally millions of words of it and y’all - i’ve read all of it. incredible ace representation, and overall just very sweet and sappy. mild angst, but everyone is in love & has a happy ending so don’t worry!

living like we’re renegades - orphan account

explicit - cheerleader sirius + journalist remus = everything i’ve ever wanted. i loooove this sirius so much they’re so gender.

the prettiest star ‘verse by raging_queer

tattoo artist sirius meets single dad remus - actually, sirius meets his child, teddy. sweet bonding with teddy looking up to Elder Queer sirius. very fluffy and comforting.

staying strangers by 3amandcounting

the texting fic, my fave of all-time. genderfluid sirius & demisexual remus. if there is one fic out there that will just make you want to open a window and yell about it to the other townsfolk - it’s this one. idek how to explain it, it’s just - it’s perfect.

also most of my fic features trans sirius, my masterlist is pinned!

disclaimer: this list is non-exhaustive, i know i’ve forgotten some, and i will be updating this tomorrow when i’m not half-asleep. and y’all, please reply with your fave trans sirius fics bc i want to read them all!!

#gonna reblog this tomorrow and add all my fave trans remus fics too!#@mutuals if i forgot ur fic i’m so sorry i’m on my phone and don’t have my full bookmark list i LOVE u #please add ur own recs!#trans sirius black #fic recs #wolfstar #ALSO i’m sure some of these authors do have tumblrs i just don’t know their urls or whatever so lemme know if i need to update my tags

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redr0sewrites · 16 hours

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Loki x reader General Hcs

this was... spontaneous! but i said i'd write for marvel and theres no better time than the present. PLEASE send in marvel requests🙏

🥀Cw: fluff, smut, switch!loki, little teensy bit of angst if u squint

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

loki is a naturally guarded person, and is very intelligent and clever. he's not one to let his guard down easily and isn't used to dealing with true romantic feelings, so you are obviously very special to him

loki is incredibly intelligent and good at reading people, along with being very charismatic. he's used to charming people to get his way, and he very, very rarely shows his true feelings unless he trusts you. he cares a lot about your opinion, and a part of him really, really wants to please you

at first, it's hard for even loki to tell whether his feelings for you are genuine, and he gets completely tongue tied around you. he wants to be around you all the time, and he admires you a lot

when it comes to actually dating loki, please be patient!!! he will only truly begin to let his guard down around you over time, and he believes that you'll only find him irritating. he definitely has a big "hurt them and push them away before they hurt you", type of mentality, and when he first realizes how much he cares for you he will probably avoid you for a little

everyone knows loki loves attention, and that is no different in a relationship. he is both touch starved and touch disgusted as he doesn't want to appear vulnerable, but craves any sort of intimacy that you offer

very thoughtful, and he remembers every little detail about you. you mention how much you like a certain candy? you miraculously find those candies in your room. you tell him about an important event coming up that you're stressing about? he reminds you about it the day before. you tell him your favorite gemstone? well, you better believe that every piece of jewelry he gives you includes that gem. loki knows your favorite song, your favorite book, your favorite movie, and any and everything else about you that he deems important. you live rent free in his mind 24/7

loki loves matching with you, and he loves when you wear his signature colors. he's always complimenting you and your style, and his heart flutters a little when you ask him what he's wearing for an important event coming up so that you two can coordinate

i don't even think i can pick a love language for him, he loves giving and receiving any form of affection and you two are probably attached at the hip

HE WOULD PASS THE ORANGE PEEL TEST. loki is absolutely the type to lace up your shoes for you, making a corny joke about how he "doesn't want you falling for anyone else". he uses magic to help you a lot, and especially loves your guys' night routines

loki is nooot a morning person, and loves snuggling with you. whenever you both have to get up in the morning he's always pulling you back into bed, nuzzling into your neck and begging for "five more minutes". he's also always very groggy in the morning and won't remember most of what he does when half asleep. he's very honest as well, and says lots of sappy things whenever he's sleepy. on the rare occasion that you sleep in later than him, he loves kissing you awake and pressing kisses all over your fave!

loki naturally runs very cold, but doesn't feel cold if that makes sense. to you his skin is absolutely FREEZING, but he just feels normal. however there are times where he runs insanely hot and there is absolutely no in between. he's either freezing or burning up, and it's both a little sad and a little amusing. there are times where the cold gets to him and loki will be more clingy than usual, claiming that he needs you to warm him up. other times he will practically walk around naked, too overstimulated and hot to even touch you

loki is a lot more anxious then he seems, and will sometimes just freak out over little things when in reality its a bunch of big things piling up one after another. he never ever means to take it out on you, and even when he's reached his limit he would never hurt you, but it can still be frustrating when he gets mad at you for a simple mistake. he always apologizes and takes accountability tho, and is very careful not to hurt your feelings bc he's very afraid you'll leave him. PLEAAASEEE REASSURE HIM :((((

loki is very chatty and loves talking to you about anything and everything. from in depth psychological conversations to simple "how was your day" conversations, he just cherishes getting to be able to talk to you

nsfw

look me in the eyes and tell me he's not a switch. i definitely see him as being capable of both being a dom and a sub, and i think it really depends on your guys' moods

when he's a dom, i think loki can fluctuate on how mean or rough he is. i do see him being a more degrading or rough dom but i also think he can be a lot softer as well, and more of a pleasure dom. again, i think it all comes down to your preferences

when he's a sub, loki is definitely bratty. he loves being put in his place and getting a little roughed up, but there are also times where he just wants to relax and be taken care of. when he gets in his own head too much and is irritated after a long day he'll be a lot more pliant and willing to just let you take care of him. PLEEEASSSE praise him and pamper him when he's like this, he'll melt like putty in your hands

PRAISE + DEGRADATION!!! BOTH WAYS!!!! he absolutely has a huge praise kink and definitely praises you a looot during sex, but i also see him being a bit mean with his praise and mixing in some degrading words as well. either way he's a wonderful dirty talker and he probably has a voice kink too, considering how often he whispers in your ear (and enjoys it when you do the same).

i also think loki would be into bondage, again, both ways. theres something so delicious about seeing you tied up and squirming from just his gentle touches, but it's equally intoxicating for him to be the one tied up and denied any sort of pleasure. he gets really whiny when you don't let him touch you, and will probably start pouting and begging. tying him up is defff one of the easiest ways to break him

guys hear me out but a candle wax kink. loki is very respectful and will always ask your permission before trying something new, but he loves seeing you whimper and moan while he slowly lets a few drops of wax spill onto your smooth skin. he also will let you return the favor, and the wax often hisses and steams a bit when it hits his skin because he's so cold.

marking you is definitely very appealing to him, and it's pretty self explanatory. loki just loves marking you and being marked up by you. it satisfies his slightly possessive and jealous side, and you two always look like you've been in a fight after having sex from the number of bruises, scratches, and hickies littering your body.

another relatively self explanatory kink, but, hair pulling. he looooves it when you pull his hair while he gives you head

loki is a major tease, and he loves teasing you in public settings where you can't do much about it. it will go from subtle things like placing a hand on your lower back or caressing your thigh to whispering absolute filth in your ears and making out with you in the bathroom. he is always trying to rile you up bc he knows damn well that it will lead to a night of rough sex

we all know loki's a shapeshifter and genderfluid, so i absolutely hc that he can change his physical body to match his gender. if he's feeling more feminine, he LOVES when uou eat him out. facesitting is def something he enjoys and he loooves riding your face SOO MUCH.

loki is very vocal, he def whines and moans a lot. he isn't shy about letting you know how good he's feeling. he knows how much his voice affects you and will whisper the filthiest things in your ear between moans as you fuck him senseless

aftercare is v important to him, and whether or not he's subbing really affects how exhausted he is afterwards. if he dommed he knows he can be pretty rough and he'll run a bath for you both before getting a towel to wipe you clean and then carrying you to the tub. i also think he'd prioritize keeping you well hydrated and would get you some water and food after the bath. loki is very clingy after sex and would want you as close as possible.

when he subbed tho, it's a totally different story. loki will be a clingy mess from the moment you finish, just whining and cuddling against you the whole time. depending on how deep into subspace he is and how groggy he is, he might even cry if you try to get up (even if you're just going to get water or a towel or sum) bc he thinks you're leaving him :(. he's pretty vulnerable after subbing and will probably just lay with you for a while before coming down from his high. once he's mostly calm and cognizant, he'll def want to clean up pretty quickly. he doesn't like feeling sticky and gross and also loves bathing with you!! overall he's a lot softer after sex and generally just wants to be near to you

RAHHHH I LOVE HIM SMMM!!!! he's so silly lmao this post got sooo long 💀 i also lowkey feel like im shadowbanned or something cuz like all of my posts have been majorly flopping recently :/ maybe im just not in a lot of active fandoms idk but!!!! anyways!!!!! hope u enjoyed!!!!!!! PLEEEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS FOR MARVEL, ATSV, OR ANH OTHER FANDOM I WRITE FOR!!!

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macaroonff · 1 month

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This Autumn, - Shin Ryujin

Genre: Roommates x lovers, College +Domestic Au, Autumn feels Pairing: Shin Ryujin x fem! Reader ↪Content warnings: Mentions of a dysfunctional families, slight angst, mentions of homophobia, mention of insecurities Word Count: 7k+ words Suggested Songs: We found Love in October- Girl In Red I wanna be your girlfriend- Girl in Red Bubble gum- Clairo Duvet- Bôa October Passed Me By- Girl in Red Girls-Girl in Red Softly- Clairo You know where this playlist is heading- feel free to recommend more ↪not proofread

Sometimes fall meant that the clarity of summer had ended, and that the dryness wasn't accompanied by sweat, but by the heaviness of hoodies and the bareness of barks. A bore compared to the freedom and excitement that summer offered; a dispirited time when you look back to the last three months.

Of course autumn wasn't all bad. The colours took on a warmer palette as the trees bared themselves devoid of its warmth: warmth which could be found in campfires and cosy sheets; in people's hugs and weighted blankets; in hot lattes, crunchy leaves and early sunsets.

But when assignments piled up from the start of the season, finding opportunities to revel in such warmth seemed unsuccessful. You hurriedly tried composing yourself from last month's activities; internships, staycations and pool parties, returning from a whirlwind of adrenaline. It was exhausting, and you were burnt out before the semester even started.

But a student you were, a decent one you tried to be, as you file your assignments, albeit slowly due to sleep deprivation. The first week of autumn went by with professors dumping assignments immediately as you try to ease the pace at which you deal with it. Clearly, autumn had you drained from day one.

Autumn hated you more than you hated it.

Autumn, two weeks in wasn't too bad. You took time to catch up on deadlines, you made plans with friends, went on walks and you got especially close to your new roommate. Her name was Ryujin, a dark haired divinity with prominent features that meshed gently. Someone who never forgot to get you your daily dose of iced latte and her favourite mocha bread from the café opposite your dorm.

It started when she came back from her evening lectures on a Thursday, holding one mug in her hand, a woolly scarf tucked into her shirt. She came in to see you with hands knitted in your hair, frustrated at the work you had, feet bobbing in concentration.

A small 'hi' was all that you returned when you noticed her presence.

"Another stressful assignment?," she asks, concerned. Her low timbre is soothing and takes you out of your sums for a brief moment, a sigh escaping your chapped lips.

"It’s calculus." You make eye contact for the first time since she entered, a polite smile greeting her, though the frown almost tilted the other way.

She waved her hands in a light motion acknowledging your concern, the room key in her palm dangling in it to make a soft clack.

"Understandable, it's a real headache, especially since you're in Mr Lee’s course. Anything I could help you with?"

"I just need a break," you reply dejectedly, hoping to get away from your monotonous, monstrous tasks.

"Wanna watch a movie?" she asks, a soft grin hiding on her face. She watches your ears perk up and your eyes shine at the suggestion, to which a chuckle remains stuck in her throat.

"Why don't you choose something and I'll join you after I'm done freshening up." she hands you the remote before walking into her room, grabbing her white towel from the laundry rack.

You sit in silence and wallow in contemplation. Choosing a movie, should be easy.

Would a sappy rom-com distracting you from your lamentable, gapingly non-existent love life suffice? Or did you need another of those poorly directed and filmed action ones, which would, undoubtedly help you fix your sleep schedule. But then again, would Ryujin watch it? What’s a movie she’d like? Slice of life? Coming of age? Horror?

A change in the lighting of the room, and Ryujin’s tap on your shoulder was what eventually brought you out of your dilemma, and you take your vacant stare off of the blank tv screen towards your roommate instead.

The warm lights had blurred everything in the background in a way that it brought Ryujin’s face into focus, a soft glow emanating from her cheeks. Her hair was wet, the towel lazily wrapped around her supple hair, doing a measly job at keeping it from seeping into her t-shirt. Her oversized black t-shirt had patches of darker spots that clinged to her because of it, making you worried she might catch a cold. You rush to hand her a new towel, one that would actually help.

“Don’t catch a cold, not the best time of the year to fall sick.” you whisper.

She smiles in appreciation and holds your arm, accepting the fabric for you. "You're cold too y/n. It'd probably be best for us to grab some blankets."

After ten minutes of rummaging through your creaky cabinets and five minutes of popping corn, you were ready to distance yourself from your headaches, with new-found warmth in your newly washed duvets.

Snug and pressed against the cushions of the sofa, with your head on her shoulder. Snug as she pats your back until the television's whisper no longer has your attention and you find your heavy eyelids closing on their own.

Snug as you embrace sleep after months of running away from it.

Snug, however, wasn't what you felt when you woke up in the morning, blankets tangled between your legs, and an annoying ache in your ribs, due to the crushing weight of your favourite cushion.

Snugness was replaced by the bitterness of another new day, and your long forgotten assignments weighed heavier than they did before.

All of a sudden last night's peace was something you regretted. And you regret having been swayed by someone you considered an acquaintance.

If Shin Ryujin hadn’t offered, you'd never have taken a break. You'd never have given yourself the opportunity to be wasteful with time. You shouldn't have been tempted by the thought of a moment's freedom.

Freedom that remained a mirage. A mirage that showed you a time of comfort. Comfort that would last one evening until you'd have to revisit everything you ran away from.

What's the point in having comfort if it's given by someone you interact with for three hours a day? What was the point in comfort if it was momentary?

Shin Ryujin was a roommate you'd have for only two more months until her grandparent's apartment was done with renovations.

Shin Ryujin was temporary.

Autumn three weeks in, was no different. Except that your backlog had increased, your sleep schedule got worse and all that you cared about was getting over with your to-do lists. How you had energy to do everything one by one remained a mystery, but you soon realised that it wasn’t energy that drove you to finish work, but the fear of running out of it sooner or later. As if it wasn’t already obvious, you were on the brink of burnout.

Not that you hated burnout. For some reason being burnt out meant that you'd be forced to take time out for mental health sooner or later. You would be forced to slow down like you did last week.

Sitting down and finally looking back, last week felt like a distant memory so far away from your reality. It was a privilege you gave yourself, and it was so worth it, contrary to what you felt immediately. She was right, the movie did help, the movie did get you back into a safe space from your anxiety; and you never cared to thank her for it.

You’d do it today. Thanking her. You absolutely had to.

You spent the next ninety minutes planning the best way to return the favour. Essentially, you spent the next ninety minutes going back on all the little things Ryujin did for you. Which led to the realisation that her love language was a careful amalgamation of acts of service, quality time and physical touch.

“Maybe I’ll just bake mocha bread. I couldn’t go wrong with that,” you contemplate. You weren’t the best baker on earth, however you had enough experience to go ahead with it.

All you needed was milk, eggs, flour, yeast, sugar and coffee. Everything you had at home, really not much could go wrong.

Until it did. There was no way the universe would let you have anything good before your semester tests. Of course it had to sabotage you when you tried to do one thing with actual love behind it.

The microwave oven she brought in with her beeped once before a loud pop stopped you in your tracks. It was overheated, and nothing you did brought the irksome device back to life. No matter how many buttons you pushed vigorously, or hit the back of it tiresomely, the empty black box on the door showed no sign of the tiny numbers signalling time left.

Time left. You look at the Ikea clock hung on the wall. Ten minutes more for the bread to be baked until completion, and thirty minutes until she’d come back and discover this mess and the damage to her microwave.

And boy does she love that microwave.

Shin Ryujin knew something was wrong when she entered later at night, almost too late for you to be up right now, just a little before midnight, the smell of sweet coffee greeting her. She’d gone to visit the apartment her grandparents had bought for her, a half hour from here. She was so caught up in finalising the layout that she forgot to mention that she’d be late home. What’s worse was that she had got caught in heavy traffic, and her phone lost charge in the middle of dialling you.

And when she got up here, completely spent from the work, it took very little for her to be consumed by frustration. Not particularly because of you. None of it had to do with you. She knew that the tedious microwave was ancient and that her parents only gave it to her to get rid of it. She also knew that she should’ve told you about it sooner, before it actually became a problem. So no, in no way was this your fault.

She looked at your head buried under your arm on the dining table with a mitten on one hand and a post-it under your elbow. The post-it didn’t say much, just scribbled and crossed out words that all seemed to resemble different “I’m sorrys" and “microwaves". You had multiple other post-its crumpled nearby and she picked all of them up and carefully opened them one by one. Between the creases, one said, “I’m so sorry for the microwave Ryujin, ik you treasure it because your parents lent it to you. I just wanted to thank you for last week and I thought I’d bake your favourite but -” it stopped there at which point you must’ve crumpled it.

Ryujin let her sight wander across the baking utensils washed and stacked neatly on the drying rack and a box of half baked, burnt dough nearby. She smiles, both grateful and apologetic, an urge to caress your head settling in. She takes a closer look at you, trying to figure how she could deposit you to your bed.

She slowly lifts your head up, wiping excess dough from near your frowning mouth, and her eyes wander up, to your slightly fluttering eyelids facing the yellow lights. It was then under the warm lights that she noticed semi-dried tears under your lashes. Another surge of guilt ran through her, thinking of how worried you must’ve been.

In the cold kitchen, she lifts you off the chair as carefully as she can and gently drags you across the living room. It was when she’d propped you against the headboard that you stir awake.

Through half-lidded eyes, you take in whatever you can. Ryujin was holding on to your hand gasping slightly.

“Ryujin?” you whisper.

“Shit I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she looks at you a little surprised.

“I’m so sorry-” you mumble in desperation.

“Shh," she places a palm over your eyes, "don’t worry about it love. Go to bed, we’ll talk in the morning”

You aren’t convinced but you also realise that now isn’t the best time to talk. Ryujin’s eyebags seemed deeper in the warm light and you knew both of you needed a decent rest. It had been a hectic time for the two of you, and all you needed was sleep.

Ryujin still had the benevolence to pull the blanket over you and stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

It was the second time you fell asleep in her arms.

The following weekend you were on a shopping trip.

At a semi-large Ikea warehouse about forty minutes away from the campus. It was Ryujin's idea to come out here despite you convincing her to find a shop closer, but she insisted.

"Trust me, it'll be fun. We can look at furniture too."

Of course, she needed new furniture. It slowly dawns on you that you have very little time to spend with her in your home. Home.

You don't remember the last time you called your dorm a home. For all that you knew, it was a messy damp space that you couldn't wait to escape from, an absolute nightmare with it's cramped furniture. But it was cosy, something you couldn't deny now.

Maybe because you were with her. All her little habits that grew on you, her impeccable daily routine that had become a source of stability in your life, even her lesser known quirks such as keeping a picture of her two cats at home framed on her desk and kissing the before going to her classes in the morning.

You admired all of it, and it wouldn't have been the same if it were someone else. You never felt like this with your previous room mates. They were just people who lived in their own solitary spaces. But with Ryujin, somehow you were involved in most housework together. You felt involved, and somewhere more loved than in your own home.

Your family wasn't bad, at least on the surface. They never compromised when it came to your education or your standard of living. But somewhere between those lines were impossible expectations they wouldn't hold themselves to either. And you got tired of them easily. They hid toxicity behind "criticism", where criticism only meant negatives beyond your control. Your last year of high school, particularly faced extreme criticism, and you felt your confidence dipping. You managed though. You're not entirely sure how you coped, but with support from school, you managed a scholarship, a meagre one but still enough to get away from your family.

You hadn't seen them in three years.

Ryujin, on the other hand, had a lovely family, and you were, at times jealous of how perfect she seemed; how perfect everything around her seemed.

She seemed to have every aspect of her life in order. Whether it be top of the class majoring in Business, or being captain of the girl's football team, or the fact that she could spare three hours to stay with her paint brushes and that they would come out having the entire beauty of the universe encompassed in them. She could manage being both a homebody, while still being popular in school, she could be assertive when she needed to be without actually disturbing the fragile ego of most in her class.

She surpassed every definition of balance mentioned in the dictionary. She was living it, breathing it. Stability.

You admired her, a lot, but you couldn't stop this ridiculously miniscule base of malevolence in your heart. And every day you were scared it would become worse.

Especially now, when all she wanted was to spend precious time with you, constantly putting effort into your friendship whereas you were held back by bitter thoughts. And you hated yourself for it.

You force back your envy, distracting yourself by browsing through the shelves of cutlery displayed. You notice the absence of Ryujin's presence, and slowly find yourself lost in this maze of a shop. Maybe it was better that she wasn't in this aisle now, or else you wouldn't be able to face her with the guilt of having thought of her so poorly.

You find yourself interested in the array of pretty pink melamine plates stacked in front of you, in the stainless steel spoons with animal handles, and little napkin holders shaped like boats. You pick up different pans, weighing how heavy each is, looking to keep your brain unnecessarily busy. If you spend a second more comparing yourself with Ryujin, you knew you wouldn't be able to think of anything else for the entire day, or week.

You remember what your therapist told you, all the comfort and validation that you needed pouring in through words. You open up your notes, all the affirmations typed out one by one. You repeat them in your mind, with a new goal in sight.

You wouldn't let your insecurity ruin another good relationship. Especially not with Ryujin.

She emerges after some time, holding in her hand, a grey device, and a grin painted on her face. "I think this is the one. It's a cool toaster cum oven sort of thing, and it's cheap," she winks at you.

How was she so decisive? you think again. It had only taken her fifteen minutes. If it were you, you'd have taken forty minutes more.

"I trust your decision," you reply, giving her a soft smile. You notice her eyebrows raise a little. "You sure?," she asks. "You usually don't agree this fast. You have this terrible habit of sitting on decisions for ages." she rambles on.

You take a moment to process this. You knew it was true, and she probably didn't mean malice, but it was not something you'd accept easily.

Ryujin never had to think twice about what she wanted. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she always got it. Whereas every decision you seemed to make bore consequences you didn't want. And often, the times you didn't heavily weight them out was when things backfired. The last time being with the microwave oven.

It was the only way you knew to trust yourself.

So it irks you greatly when Ryujin calls it a "terrible habit". Because for you, it was a habit that gave you security. Certainty wasn't achievable, but you'd try as fucking close as you could get, and Shin Ryujin won't tell you otherwise.

She'd never understand how imperfect you were. She'd never understand the little complexities that hold you back. For the most part, she had life easy. What would she ever understand?

You ignore her comment, instead picking up a ceramic mug from the shelf, thumbing on the floral patterns glazed onto it.

Ryujin barely senses your predicament, instead grabbing onto the mug placed besides the one you hold onto. "These are pretty, it's like a cute matching set. We should get them," she winks.

The rest of the day follows with more furniture in your cart, and mostly unnecessary plushies plaguing your living room. New pillows, potted plants, wardrobe organisers, a work desk and the biggest Djungelskog bear lying near the couch.

It dawns on you the next morning, after waking up to the chaos, that she was shifting out in two weeks.

On the first of October.

All of a sudden she was busy, very busy, and the two of you barely met, with bigger gaps in your schedule. Part of it was because of Ryujin arranging her main furniture in her new house, and part of it was because you were busy with academics, only that it was voluntary this time. It just so happened that you needed a few more credits to retain your scholarship, the only thing weighing your new found freedom. Along with that, you busied yourself so that you didn't have to face Ryujin later at night.

You were scared. Other than the obvious rent that you'd have to pay by yourself, you also avoided other parts of this change that bothered you. Which was spending time with her. You were scared you'd miss her a bit too much.

Sure, you were friends who were only half an hour away, but now that her colourful room started fading into a bleak white, the emptiness of it reminded you of why you hated autumn. The fall orange left you feeling lonely, and like the very leaves that craved pigmentation, you craved more life. Regardless of the minimal time you spent with her in the evenings, she slowly integrated herself into your life in the smaller ways.

Now they weigh too much in your life for you to be able to cope without it. You ended up distancing yourself from her, in a pathetic attempt to cope with the anticipation of absence. Maybe you just needed more friends, the thought crossing your mind a lot more these days. But you had plenty of them at uni, most of who you loved. But none of them were Ryujin.

None of them cared for you as much as she did. None of them taught you how to care for yourself like she did. None of them held you in their arms throughout the night, until you felt rested and loved. Nobody inspired you as much as Ryujin did.

Maybe Ryujin wasn't just a friend, something you were scared to consider in the past few weeks. It was a feeling completely new. Other than a failed situation-ship in high school, you never considered the possibility of a relationship, much less exploring your sexuality.

It was an intimidating prospect that you hadn't considered. Something that initiated urgency more than curiosity. Unlike the diverse spectrum that your feelings for Shin Ryujin belonged to, your thoughts focused on just one. She was important in more ways than platonic, and the distance that was to be would be extremely difficult to cope with. The distance that you had created seemed silly, but at the same time there was nothing you could think to resolve the conflict. You were going against this wall you'd built for yourself, and the facade of distance only grew day by day. So much so that at one point, Ryujin stopped approaching you first.

In a way, you deserved it. For someone who had been so unreceptive to her life as a coping method, this is the least you deserved for being a little jerk. Why would someone pursue any relationship, even platonic if you'd put yourself back into the mega cage you thought you'd escaped from. Something you'd escaped from only temporarily in her presence. Something you're going back to by the next week when she's gone.

You suffer multiple sleepless nights, the mid terms only a catalyst to your loneliness, when all you remember is Ryujin and her quirks.

You do accept another roommate later on, a mutual contact in your friend group, someone who was introduced to you by Ryujin herself. She'd dropped in a small text at 8 in the morning, on the way to class, you'd assumed. All it did was talk about how a common friend, Yeji needed a room to stay.

You accepted it of course, because you didn't have to foot the entire month's bill but also because you thought having someone else would curb your loneliness. And this loneliness was stupid. Ryujin wasn't the only thing you had in your entire life, and she should've been inconsequential, the same way the daylight hours gradually decreased. But it isn't too hard to notice once the sun's gone down.

The new roommate was like a transition from summer to winter, but unlike Ryujin , who helped ease the transition between the seasons, this one only reminded you that it would be cold. She wasn't a bad roommate, no she was perfect, did the laundry on Wednesdays, did the evening dishes at 6 in the evening and gave you a lot of personal space. She was nice, but not like Ryujin.

You hated how you compared her to Ryujin, how you compared everything to her. "She isn't your entire world," you remind yourself. "Shin Ryujin was only temporary."

You'd decided that your feelings for her were only a means for you to be validated. That was all you'd craved from her, validation. That was all she'd given you, validation.

October 15th, you felt relieved. Your mid terms were over with and you had a little bit of free time. Were you going to spend it wisely? No. You were going to sit in bed all day, scrolling through Youtube, a luxury you'd afford yourself rarely in the last month. You went home early, to a somewhat excitable Yeji, another rare sight.

"What's up?" you ask her, noticing her vibrant demeanour.

"Nothing much, just excited because Ryujin's coming over today."

You're surprised to hear this, and a little disappointed that Ryujin never told you herself. Or maybe there was no reason to, it's not like you kept in touch with her.

"That's cool, are you guys ordering something? Or should I make food for you two?" you offer, realising the amount of free time you had.

"We'll just order pizza," she replies. She hesitates for sometime, as if she has something to say. "Y/n?" she calls out slowly.

"Hmm?" "...you're nothing like what Ryujin described you as."

You still in your spot.

"It's just that you're really kind you know. I thought you'd be more distant, and cold."

"Ryujin said that? About me?"

She nods her head.

Is that really how she saw you? Distant and cold? Sure you were closed off towards the end, but is that really who you were to her? After all the good memories? You weren't sure anymore, insecurity creeping inside you.

It hurt. Was it this easy for people to be unforgiving? But then again, you never apologised, so in a weird way what Yeji relayed sounded justified.

You offer her a stiff smile.

"I'll be in my room then, tell me if you need anything."

Dejected, you go back to your blank room, where even the orange of autumn feels comforting, something you hated previously. You stay inside the entire evening, occasional sounds of muffled laughter behind your walls being all that you focus on for the duration. Every time you heard her laugh loudly from behind the door, you wondered if she ever laughed like that in front of you. Did you ever make her feel happy? The same way she did to you?

You want to go out and say hi, but after what Yeji said, you stop yourself. She must hate you now, there was no other way.

It isn't later at night, after you're sure the laughter was no more, and only when the silence of the room becomes comforting, you step out to see a dim blue light in the darkness of the living room, Yeji working on the dining table. "Y/n, didn't come out to say hi to Ryujin?" she asks, with pity that sounds forced.

"Yeah, no I was just napping," you lie, "did anything fun happen?"

"Mhm, we were discussing Ryujin's blind date tomorrow with a senior from the engineering department. Apparently, he's handsome," she shrugs her shoulder.

"Ryujin likes boys?" you ask without realising.

"Hmm, I'm not sure actually."

A small part of you feels dejected as you get a glass of water, all while contemplating if you should have reached out.

"You like her don't you?" Yeji whispers, looking up from her laptop.

It's the second time you still in your spot. Yeji had brought up something you never thought was prominent.

"Your lights were on, I could tell from your slightly ajar door. You weren't sleeping were you?" she gives you a knowing smile.

"I'm not judging you- it's just that it's obvious that you miss her. It may or not may be romantic- but you do miss her don't you?". You don't know how to reply to her. You barely knew Yeji, but somehow she very accurately read your emotions.

As if she knows what you're thinking, she continues.

"You know, every time that I've tried bringing up Ryujin, you've always changed the conversation, instead isolating yourself in your room."

Looking back, it made sense. You didn't want to think about her anymore. Your meeting with Ryujin's was temporary and never mattered. It was almost crazy how dependent you were on her within just a few months.

" I realised that I don't know much about Ryujin, nor does she about me. Sure I know she loves mocha bread, she loves her big Ikea Djungelskog soft toy, that she's watched the perks of being a wallflower more times than she can count; but I don't think I could be truly vulnerable with her. I'm scared to be vulnerable with her."

Yeji sighs, almost disappointed. She went back to working, despite her twitching lips, like she had more to say.

That night, you reflect for longer. Why was it that you felt scared to lean on Ryujin? Technically you told her about troubles with academics, problems with some of your classmates- that is considered being vulnerable right? Then what was it that you wanted her to know, but you never wanted to admit? Was it your insecurities? Was it the thought she'd never understand it?

It was like your mind had accepted that you and Ryujin had come from two different worlds, and if you invited her into yours, she would run away, like your family. Despite you coming to terms with it, the distance with your family was a wound still fresh. And nothing would change, until you could put it behind you.

25th October, Yeji handed you an invite to one of her friend's Halloween parties.

After your confession, she'd been a little nicer; she was more active in initiating conversations, and you realised she was more extroverted than your first impression. Eventually, you did watch the Maze Runner with her again, and you appreciated how she gushed about Dylan O'Brien throughout it, dispelling any awkward moments.

"I designed this invitation by the way, cool isn't it?", she asks about the party invitation in your hand. It had black bat details engraved in a glossy reflective paper. "Please come, we've had a difficult week, one party won't hurt will it?" she states, the question more rhetorical.

You agree quietly, excitement bubbling in you.

Until it did hurt, a week later.

Barely five minutes after you enter the loud, congested apartment, with strangers in costumes, you felt a part of your heart drop. There was a tight feeling in your chest, something you were sure wasn't because of the new corset you wore. Because you felt comfortable seconds before you saw Ryujin with her hands wrapped around this guys neck, kissing him on the couch as if he were her entire life. At first, you weren't even sure it was her- her hair was shorter, dyed a platinum blonde. She wore a leather jacket and a white skater dress, dressed so differently than what you were used to seeing her in.

You weren't able to comprehend how good she looked in his arms, with all her attention focused on him, smiling. The same smile that you'd missed for a month. When she does look away from the vampire- you assumed was her boyfriend, her eyes scan the crowd and she almost looks bewildered. You were stood so motionless near the entrance from where you could see them, that even the crowd that pushed past you couldn't bring you to move. It was suffocating, and unconsciously you head for the exit, looking to get away.

But fate wouldn't be so kind would it? The universe wouldn't just let you be would it? "Are you leaving already y/n?" Yeji screams from across the room, which you were sure was audible to everyone. She finds her way to you, a smile on her face. "You just came in, why are you leaving? Cool outfit by the way."

"Thanks," you offer her a stiff smile, eyes going back to Ryujin, who because of Yeji, had finally found you.

Yeji, who just noticed the tension, holds your hand and pulls you towards Ryujin.

"Atleast say hi, y/n, it won't hurt."

Yeji's assurance of "it won't hurt" was what brought you here, it was indeed what hurt you. Her saying this now wasn't helping, and you scoff. It was almost like Yeji knew this was going to happen. It was like she knew how much it hurt you, and may even enjoy it.

"Why did you invite me Yeji? You knew about this didn't you? It hurts, I..I shouldn't have come." you spit out, trembling.

"Y/n, there's something you need to know."

"What? that she has a boyfriend?" you spat, annoyed by her deception.

Yeji sighs, holding onto your shoulders, somewhat urgent.

"No, it's something only Ryujin can tell you. Please, just talk to her. This once."

At this point, you couldn't trust anyone, neither Yeji, Ryujin, nor yourself. It was like you were at different crossroads- to run away, or to confront her again. She hadn't even done anything wrong, all she did was kiss a guy. She didn't owe you anything.

You choose to run away, until you notice Ryujin approaching you with her boyfriend. It's like she withheld any decision you make, with her forcing you into a circumstance you would not choose for yourself.

"Y/n?" she asks softly. Her otherwise comforting voice now made you uncomfortable, almost bringing you to tears by how much you missed it.

"It's been so long," she holds your hand gently.

Her hands felt colder than before, and before you could say anything, the tall, matching vampire spoke up.

"Hi y/n, I'm Jason, her boyfriend. I've heard a lot about you." he looks friendly, and he doesn't seem to hold any malice. But you still hated this guy.

"You have?" you ask saltily. "...good things I hope." you couldn't help but say drily, hands fiddling with the witch hat you'd worn.

"A moment please love," Ryujin signs to her boyfriend, who goes towards the bar with Yeji.

Ryujin takes your hand and drags you towards what you assume to be the bedroom, away from the crowd.

You enter the bedroom with her, with your head ringing because of the way she called him love. You remember how she'd called you love the day you'd tried baking, the day you'd fallen asleep in her arms. You thought the word "love" meant nothing, that it was an endearing term with no implications. But if that was the case- why did she address him as love?

Jealousy eventually overrode the confusion, and the hurt that stained you previously had multiplied. You couldn't feel more stressed, it was so much more than any calculus assignment you'd ever come across.

"Are you crying?" she eventually speaks, eyes concerned. You didn't even realise the visible tears falling down your cheek slowly, your mascara ruined in the reflection of the mirror behind her.

"What do you wanna talk about Ryujin?" you huff. "Y/n, do you need time to calm down? I don't think you're in the mood to talk."

"I'm fine. Just get to the point please." you say, barely concentrating on what was going on. She comes in to hug you, but you step back.

She looks upset by this, seemingly as confused as you. "I...I thought we were friends y/n," she whispers in the same tone she'd always used to comfort you. "We weren't this far apart were we? Why do you hate me?" she raises her voice in desperation.

This was an accusation you could not believe she had made, hate was too strong for what you felt for her.

"I don't hate you Ryujin." you speak, resigned. "Then why do you look so upset, why can't you even say hi?" she emphasises, her voice breaking in between.

"Because it hurts... I can't"

You fall against the bed post. Eyes finding the bear plushie you bought her. You slowly realise that this is her bedroom, and that you were in her new house- the apartment you'd never come to before. You were barely able to process all of this when she speaks up again.

"You can't what y/n? You can't accept the fact that you like me?" You look back at her, eyes widened, as though whatever little sanity you had remaining was destroyed like the branches of an autumn tree- fallen, and weak. It was almost humiliating.

"I don't like you Ryujin," you hide behind your words like a coward. "Don't lie to yourself y/n, is it that difficult to accept that you like me?"

You don't know where this was coming from. If she knew you liked her, couldn't she just let you down gently?

"What does it matter? You have a boyfriend. Even if I did like you; no even if I loved you, nothing would change." you say dejectedly. It must have been true, because there was silence that persisted for longer than you wished it would be.

"What if it did change? What if I said I liked you too? Would you believe me?" she asks quietly, reverting back to her calm persona as she takes a big breath. You scoff, noticing how different she had become in a month. The audacity she had to ask you if you believed her, right after making out with her boyfriend in front of everyone in the room disgusted you, something you don't think you'd ever be able to comprehend.

"Why would I believe you? I saw your boyfriend. Besides, if you did like me, you'd be honest with me. I think that's the least I'd expect from you, so don't play with my feelings; because unlike yours, I can say with conviction that mine are real."

You see her expression change, her eyes becoming teary.

She sits beside you, against the wooden footboard. "I can't be honest, because I'm scared. There's so many people watching me- so many people who my family knows. I barely had, or still have any privacy in my life. Do you know why my grandparents left me this apartment? Because they don't trust me." she pauses for a minute. Taking another deep breath, eyes now fixed on to the floor.

You don't know where she's going with this, but don't say anything because this may be the last time you'd get any closure.

"There was a girl I really liked in high school, but we could never be together, because my family refused to let me meet her. They pretend to be liberal in their thoughts- but they're as homophobic as they get. There's no way they'd understand. The only time I felt safe was in our dorm, because there was no one who would snitch on me, nobody who cared. It was utopia- where you were my solace, and I just basked in the temporary peace.

But when my grandparents asked about you, they'd worry I'd gotten too close to you, refusing to believe you could be just a friend. Two months after I shifted in to our dorm, they made preparations to isolate me in this house of theirs."

She couldn't continue, as tears you'd never seen from her before, collected as a tiny stream between the cracks of the tiles on the cold floor. You understood what she meant. In an evening's moment, you realised that she wasn't this perfect being that she always projected. Yes, she was amazing, but she had her own challenges, something you thought she'd never had. Unlike the two different worlds you thought you were in, your access into her world made you realise you were more similar than you could've imagine. All of a sudden you hated your past self for being so mean to her, for harbouring insecurities that in hindsight were not worth the pain.

"Jason, is my neighbourhood friend, and he's the one of the few people I can trust. He's pretending to be my boyfriend, so that if my family ever found out, they wouldn't doubt me." she explains, trying to resolve your distrust.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, leaning your head against her shoulder, gently holding onto her hand."

The two of you sit their in silence, reflective, though relieved.

She gently kisses your forehead, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I missed you y/n. So much. But I'm also scared to go back to you, to our place. I don't know what we're going to do. I'm sorry too, for the situation I put you in. For the situation I've put both of us in."

You rub her arms gently,

"It's ok, we'll figure it out slowly. I'm sorry too . You were always there for me- and I, like the coward I am was scared of being attached to you, your generous love . I was also so insecure of how perfect you were- but now it's all so inconsequential."

To this Ryujin laughs, and she wipes her tears. "It's funny how both of our insecurities hurt us in the end. I promise, I wont' let it affect us in the future. I won't ever hurt you again y/n. I love you, so much."

"I love you too Ryujin."

You know that it's going to be a long road ahead of the two of you, but you'll be alright. You comb through her hair, leaning in to meet her lips. Her quivering lips are not soft as you expected, but slightly chapped, brushing against yours. She drags a cold finger down your spine, causing you to lose your breath. Her pulling you closer, slipping behind your corset, unzipping it. Your hands are tangled in her short locks, and you pull away in between to breathe.

With the kiss, and this new path, the autumn you hated so had come to an end. Autumn had become easier to think about, among the loneliness of the dry leaves and the warmth devoid in the air, you'd treasure the warmth that she provided. Shin Ryujin, unlike autumn wasn't temporary. Autumn will come and go, but Shin Ryujin would always stay, and you'd treasure her in every season. In the end, autumn didn't hate you as much you did, because despite everything, autumn gifted you Shin Ryujin.

Am I actually posting an autumn fic when its almost summer? Yes, yes I am. This is long overdue and idk why it took me this long to finish it ahhhh.

I appreciate any feedback, feel free to interact with this post!

-Macaroon

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yoonia · 1 year

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Free Falling (M) | pjm

➬ Title | Free Falling - final instalment from the Falling series (with bonus epilogue)

➬ Summary | People say that you should let life take its course, and to always be ready to open your heart for love. You have learned to allow yourself for the latter, but as always, allowing yourself to open up to every possibilities that life could give you have always been hard for you to do. Your first instinct has always been about hiding your desire, to protect yourself from hurt, but is it worth it to risk it all by keeping it as a secret from the one you love the most?

↳ Pairings | Park Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Singer!Jimin, non-idol!au, ex-assistant!reader, Established relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; talks about pregnancy, a mild hint of pregnancy scare, mentions of birth control, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, explicit smut scenes, including: Jimin’s obsession for boobs, soft dom!Jimin, multiple smut scenes, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, studio/office sex, breast play, nipple play (involves sucking, biting, pinching), hand job, thigh riding, dry humping, riding, grinding, clothed sex, light spanking, pussy slapping, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), clit play, hair pulling, manhandling, rough sex, ass biting, dirty talk, swearing, light restraint/bondage, pain kink, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, implied creampie, impregnation/breeding kink…and just like always, a sappy ending.

↳ Word count | 22k words (whoops…I did it again!)

↳ Story Masterlist: Falling trilogy

↳ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Commissions

↳ Cross post | AO3 | Inkitt | Wattpad (links coming soon!)

↳ Music companion | Lately - Jonisa

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @opaljm | I’m so sorry that this one took forever, but I do hope that you’ll enjoy this story and I hope this would be a nice belated birthday gift for you to read. I’ve been working on this story for a long time, since I did plan this one to be posted as Jimin’s birthday fic, so I feel somewhat bonded with these characters. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for throwing me these ideas with this Jimin. Even if it took me a while to finish, I did enjoy writing this story for you and it really felt good to give this closure to this couple. Have fun reading! (Ps. I hope the epilogue at the end would be enough to make up for the long wait)

“It’s probably nothing.”

If you had any intention of reassuring anyone with those words, it would be painfully obvious that your effort is completely fruitless. You could hear how empty those words had sounded, with not a stir of hope materialising within you as you voiced them out loud. Even as you keep repeating the same words inside your head in the silence that soon follows, you still cannot tell exactly who you were directing those words to.

Keeping your eyes on the bathroom counter, you can feel Jimin hovering close by. There is no doubt that his curiosity is much stronger than what he is letting on, though there is no doubt that he is just as nervous about this as you are when he chooses to remain in the doorway rather than stepping inside to be by your side. It feels odd to be facing this on your own, though you welcome his distant support when you are not quite sure what you are feeling right now yourself.

“Still, we need to make sure, don’t you think?” Jimin questions you, suddenly sounding much closer this time. You can feel his presence filling the room before his hands reach out to touch you, resting on your shoulders to let you know that he is there with you.

Calmness washes over you at his touch. You breathe a sigh of relief and place your hand on top of his to gain more strength from his warmth. And yet you still cannot find it in you to look away. There is an unexplainable fear that makes you believe that once you blink, then the white strip on top of the counter would either disappear or change shape. You simply cannot let that happen. Not when you need some answers.

How long has it been?

How long were we supposed to wait?

As the questions keep running through your mind, suddenly everything else feels obscured. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours, and time becomes nothing more but an illusion as it seems to drag on as you wait.

Taking a deep breath while clutching tighter on Jimin’s hand, you try to hold your composure and remain patient. Truth be told, you absolutely have no idea what you are expecting to see, yet you also didn’t expect to feel this tense over something like this either. You wonder if perhaps everything that had happened leading up to this point may have added to your agitation and doubt. It seems to have somehow drawn you to start second guessing yourself and everything that you believed to be true.

With your eyes on the white strip, you recall the conversation that you shared with Jimin early this morning. Starting from the comment that you had made so nonchalantly when you had just woken up, followed by the talk which had led him sending his poor housemaid out to buy an entire bag of pregnancy tests while you slipped into the shower.

“Is that normal?” was the question that he gave you, catching you by surprise. You had not seen him in the room when you first woke up, and for some reason, he had to choose that moment to come back, just in time to hear you murmuring to yourself about the late arrival of your monthly period.

It never even crossed your mind before. Not until the moment you opened the calendar application on your phone to check today’s schedule and realised how long ago your last period had been.

“You’re still home? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym already? And why are you spying on me?”

It hadn’t been your intention to avoid answering his question. You barely had time to process your own thoughts when he came into the bedroom wearing his workout clothes, as he would usually be out on his morning workout routine by the time you would be awakened from your slumber. Jimin looked awfully worried when he gently took your phone away from you, stopping you from changing the conversation again when he repeated the question.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure. My period does come regularly most of the time, but that’s not always been the case. I’m only a couple of weeks late. I’ve been busy lately, and it could happen because my stress level is high without me realising it or because I’ve been skipping meals when I’m working. It’s natural to happen, so I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” you had tried your best to convince him with various excuses despite his worries, before escaping his attention by rushing into the shower, hoping that he would let it go once you were done. Though it was already far too late by then, as he had already made up his mind to do something about it.

Hence the pregnancy test, which he handed to you right the moment you stepped out of the shower, followed by a long process of you taking the said test—two sets of them—and waiting anxiously for the results together as Jimin chose to skip going to the gym altogether. You may not have had the slightest hint of curiosity or concern before, but it is quite clear that his reaction and the tension that you can feel rolling out of him are beginning to affect you, and you are beginning to feel just as anxious as he is.

“I’m telling you, it’s probably nothing,” you try telling him again, though your words no longer hold the same conviction as they had earlier when you are purposely aiming for them to calm yourself down. “My period also came irregularly quite often when I first started working with you, back when I was working crazy hours and was stressing out over adjusting to living in the city, so I’m sure it’s probably the same thing. You know that I’ve been—”

Jimin’s hold on your shoulders tightens just then, and you watch with bated breath as the line begins to show on the strip. Then it stops before another ever comes up to join the first one.

“Negative,” the word comes out of you with a relieved sigh, as all the worries and tension are lifted from you. Though contrary to what you are feeling, your own voice somehow sounds a bit distant and unrecognisable even to yourself.

But you can easily recognise the unmistakable sound of a deep exhale of sigh coming from behind you as Jimin slowly relaxes. “Well, I guess you’re right. That’s what, the second test that shows negative?”

You turn to him then with a teasing smile. “Told you so. Should’ve listened to me when I told you not to worry about it so much. I’ve been busy with work, that’s all. And things are getting a bit stressful since it’s entering the end of the year,” you tell him with a shrug, already playing it off as if it’s not a big deal, hoping to change the mood.

The look that he is giving you, however, says differently.

His eyes convey something that is quite unreadable, a bit of an odd mix of concern, relief, and sombreness. The latter one gives a tight pinch in your chest, and it is the kind of emotion that you really hate seeing from him. And you don’t like not knowing where it is coming from.

Wanting to erase the troubled look on his face, you place your palms on his cheeks, pulling his attention back to you until he is looking at you straight in the eyes so you can reassure him, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll call my physician to have my health checked up to make sure that everything’s okay. And that I’m absolutely fine.”

Your words bring a bit of light back to his eyes when he smiles. “There’s no need if you don’t want to,” he says, before leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Are you going to be super busy again today? Can’t you take it easy until we’re sure you’re really okay?” he begins asking you, though almost distractedly, as his eyes have begun roaming down your body that is still clad in the silky robe that you put on after stepping out of the shower while his hands are beginning to slide down your waist.

“Ah, I only have a lunch meeting with the people from the foundation. And then I’m seeing Hyorin, the actress that Yerin has been working with lately. She had asked to see me after I’m done with the meeting for some advice, but I don’t think it’ll be too long. I might be able to come back right before dinner,” you answer him, recalling the short list of appointments that you have for today with more effort than you should have, and with your voice slowly fading out with the distraction that Jimin is giving to you.

Because just when you start answering him, Jimin moves to raise his hand up from your waist and starts trailing a finger over your breasts. Starting with his teasing touch, he gently runs the tip of his finger over your cleavage, finding the skin that has been exposed from where the top of your robe is parted.

Noticing the change in the tone of your voice and seeing how you are slowly growing breathless with anticipation, he starts becoming more brazen with his touches. Your voice fades to a gasp as he traces a finger down one breast, following the silky lining of your robe until he finds your covered nipple before trailing back up again to the other side, his finger never losing contact with your breast the entire time, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier.

“Good. I won’t have to part with you for too long, then,” you faintly hear him say as his finger lingers a bit too long over the tip of your breast, rubbing at the hardening peak from over your thin robe.

“What are you up to?” you question him when his touch seems deliberate, and when he seems pleased the moment the subtle tremble of your chest becomes more obvious as he continues.

Seeing your reaction, Jimin’s lips rise to a smile. “Nothing much,�� he whispers heavily, as if he is just as affected by his own touches the way you do. “I was just thinking—” he says as he pulls his hand away, “—since we got the test out of the way, it means we have no problem, right? Nothing to worry about. Although—I’d like to think that it only means that we have been given some more time to enjoy ourselves, maybe have some practice since we still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again.”

Before your mind clears out of the fog that he had created and you have the chance to question what he is trying to say, Jimin reaches out to clean out the bathroom counter with one swipe of his hand. He tosses the used test strips and their empty packages into the trash and wipes the cold surface clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before his hands find your waist.

“Jimin, what are you—oh!” you let out a gasp when he swiftly lifts you up and sets you up on the counter, your bathrobe barely covering your skin from the cold surface as the hem merely ends right under your buttocks.

As if he knows where the rush of chill surging through your body is coming from, Jimin brings his hands down to your exposed thighs. The gentle touch of his palms on your skin gives you the warmth that you need, but he gives you no chance to embrace it when he leans in, taking your attention from his hands with a kiss.

As always, Jimin manages to calm your rapid thoughts even with nothing more but the slightest touch of his lips on yours. While his hands continue roaming down your body, grazing the under curves of your breasts through your thin robe, then tracing and feeling your torso as his touch makes its way down to your waist. He steals your voice with his kiss, his lips moulding perfectly with yours. Even as the kiss grows with fervour, his lips still feel as soft as the clouds, enough to cool down the heat that he lights up within you with his gentle fingers.

Just as his hands grow more daring, he begins deepening the kiss further. The sensation he is giving to you makes your body grow hotter and you lean into him further, your body moving to chase his touch while you return his kiss, moaning softly as his tongue comes licking out, pressing its way into your mouth. Your mind begins swirling while he keeps devouring your lips. His hands move lower, finding the silky ties that are holding your robe together and tugging them loose until the front of your robe falls open, exposing your bareness to him. The sudden chill that touches your skin draws a gasp out of you that you pull away from him, yet Jimin doesn’t mind it, as he already has his attention somewhere else.

He smiles when you slowly open your eyes. His lips are wet and swollen from the kiss, and you lick your own lips seeing this, still feeling the touch of his lips lingering on yours. Just as you are about to pull him back for another kiss, his hands slip under your robe, opening it further apart, before he easily moves his palms to cup the soft mounds of your breasts. As you arch your chest into his touch, he gently brushes his thumbs across your nipples, moving against them in slow up-and-down strokes, then in circles, repeating the same patterns until they grow hard against his sinful touches while you begin to experience all the delicate shivers flowing through your body.

“Beautiful,” he muses with a hum as he keeps tweaking your nipple. A soft cry escapes your lips, yet his gaze remains on your breasts. He has been drawn completely to the rise and fall of your chest and the way your soft skin grows tighter the more he continues to work on your body. There is a deep, hungry glaze in his eyes as he takes his time playing with your hardened nub, as he continues to tweak, pinch, and pull, stretching and releasing it while you keep arching your chest into his touch.

He gives another tweak when your gasp comes out louder, and only then does he stop. His eyes find yours, before he gives you a smile that is filled more with mirth than warmth. “Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” he asks you, though he doesn’t wait for an answer when he soon adds, “Let me heal you, baby. Perhaps you’ll feel better with a kiss.”

Jimin puts a hand on your back, holding you steady and keeping you from falling backwards while he leans forward, his mouth closing onto the nipple that he has been playing with. He starts lightly sucking on it, using his lips to rub across the area where his fingers had been, then his tongue joins in to give a couple of licks, moving slowly across and rolling around the nub as if he is trying to lick a wound. The rush that you feel in your body from his treatment is completely indescribable. It feels so good, electrifying, and so decadent that you lose complete control of your body as it reacts to the sensation that he is giving you.

Your head falls back with a moan when he suddenly switches to the other breast. He does the same thing with his mouth and tongue, taking his sweet time with it and never stopping until it grows just as hard as the other. You feel his other hand crawling up, cupping the neglected mound with his palm before his fingers begin playing with its throbbing peak. Both your nipples have grown wet and hard, and your breasts feel as if they have become swollen and tight at the same time. The feeling he is giving you is exhilarating and you don’t want him to stop. But the moment you feel his hips pushing forward, nudging at your knees to silently request for you to spread them open for him, you know that he is not done yet.

Even in your high, you still know what to do to give him what he wants. Scooting a few inches forward on the counter, you part your legs for him, allowing him to slide between your thighs. Your trembling hands come up to his chest in your search for contact. Your eyes fall open when instead of finding his warm skin, your fingers are met with his sweatshirt.

“Off—” is the only thing that you can say to him, though your fingers are adequate to help make it clear as you begin pulling the front of his shirt.

With a chuckle, Jimin releases you and pulls back just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. In a blink of an eye, the shirt is gone, tossed away to the floor and he returns to you with his chest bare and warm enough to touch. His lips, all wet and swollen after devouring your breasts, are lifted to a sly smirk. “There. Happy?”

Biting your lips, you keep your gaze on his face while you reach out to him, grabbing onto the waistband of his sweatpants to give it a pull. “Not quite yet.”

You give the strings holding them up on his waist a strong tug and let go, and the pants simply fall to the ground, pooling around his feet. Jimin steps out of it and kicks it away, not wasting any more time as he also rips his briefs off before returning to his position between your parted legs. He moves so swiftly, yet it is the sight of his erection pointing straight at you which pulls every possible reaction that he could get.

Heat rises all over your body, starting from your face and all the way down between your legs. You have begun fighting a losing battle to compose yourself, to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him when he settles against your center. His cock is now standing between you and only barely touching, while his hands come to your thighs, rubbing gently in small circles that feel maddening and calming at the same time.

"So what was it again that you said…something about having some extra time to practice?” you question him, no longer able to hold back when your hand comes down, finding his length. His cock feels firm and hard against your palm, and you can feel its pulse when you wrap your hand around its girth.

Jimin looks down and exhales a soft sigh as you begin to stroke the length of his cock. It begins with a gentle stroke, moving up and down slowly until you can feel the first shudder running through his body. “What’s the rush? We have enough time, don’t we? We can take it slow,” Jimin calmly says, acting as if he is completely unaffected when you can clearly see him doing his best to keep it together and slowly failing, judging from the way his fingers are pressing a bit harder into your skin.

“I’m not the one who has a morning schedule today,” you tease him with a scoff, reminding him that he is the one who has been skipping his responsibilities while dealing with the pregnancy tests. Jimin merely chuckles, yet you can feel his hand moving slowly towards your center, and your heartbeat begins to race when he comes closer towards where the pulses are rising between your legs. And he keeps moving closer, until the tips of his fingers come brushing gently against your folds, making you jump at his touch before you quickly relax.

“I guess we can make an exception this morning,” he whispers, his voice sounding a bit rough when he finds you growing wet under his touch. He reaches down and wraps his hand over yours, guiding you to help align the head of his cock onto your slit. Gently, he slips his cock between your cleft and begins to stroke the tip up and down your slit. The sounds of your slickness can be heard the more he moves, as he gathers more and more of your arousal to coat his veiny girth and help him move more fluidly between your hot folds.

You look down, seeing for yourself the way his cock is rubbing against you, and how both his skin and yours look wet, glistening under the dim lighting. You let go just as he begins to push forward, your hands rise up to his shoulders to hold on when you can feel the head of his cock pushing its way into you, slowly stretching you apart to let him in. The delightful pressure that you feel when he slides into you has you tightening your hold on him, your nails sinking into his skin as you revel in the soft trembles of your tight walls welcoming him in.

Jimin slowly sinks into you, doing it with small increments, as he pushes into you an inch before he pulls back, and then comes back in to push deeper. He keeps repeating it again and again, making his way in between your pulsing walls. The sensation that he brings to your body makes your head swirl a bit more intensely than before. All you can do is lean back and take it, relying on the firm press of his hand on the small of your back that is keeping you from falling backwards. Feeling him getting deeper and deeper, your mouth falls open with small noises coming out of your lips every time he pushes a bit harder. Just as the first moan escapes your lips, coming out a bit louder when he suddenly gives a firm thrust, he leans in, capturing your lips with a soft kiss to drown your voice while he takes a short break. He basks in this moment, relishing the warm snug that your walls are giving around him, while the pulses rising from your core seem to match the one coming out of his hard shaft.

The kiss lingers as he deepens it, moulding your lips together until you melt into him further. His hands move down to your thighs, subtly rising them up until you have your legs wrapped around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to start moving more easily. He pulls back just then, giving you a sweet smile before whispering, “Hold on tight, baby.”

With a light tug on your waist, Jimin pulls you towards him and somehow finds it possible to sink just a little bit further into you. The push that he gives draws a sharp cry out of you, though it sounds nothing like a cry of pain, only pleasure. It gives the right kind of push for Jimin to start moving, driving in and out of you steadily, igniting sparks of pleasure through your body with each thrust.

Soon enough, you start moving together with him, pushing to meet each and every one of his thrusts, encouraging him to do more and to start moving faster. His pace increases, and he just keeps on thrusting into you without fail. Lost in his own pleasure, his legs begin to quiver beneath him. His body almost comes bouncing off you each time you are joined, though he never fails to thrust back in again, and again, hitting all the right spots inside you that you almost never want it to end.

Keeping one arm around your waist to hold you in place, his other hand moves to touch your body. As if he cannot spend another minute not touching you. His palm finds your breast, fondling the mound lovingly the way he always would. He enjoys feeling the weight against his palm, and to feel your skin growing hot under his touch. Your body shudders when his fingers find your sensitive bud and start playing with it, and you simply let him. His touch feels so wonderful that it makes you arch more into his hand, and it adds to the amazing sensation that you are feeling from his lovemaking.

The pleasure within you continues to rise, and his speed picks up further. The tremble that comes with his moan gives away how close he is to his orgasm, and you clench around him right when you feel your own climax starting to form itself.

“More, Jimin. I’m close,” you whisper breathlessly as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as you take in every thrust, every pounding, and every pulse that he ignites within you until your muscles start to coil with your release.

Just as the first wave of your orgasm washes over you, your mind flies back to a moment passed merely minutes ago. Jimin’s face, the look that he wore after seeing the test result earlier, comes flashing in your mind, replacing the blissful and content look that you are seeing through your bleary eyes as he comes close to his release. Meanwhile, the emotions that you hadn’t completely understood when they first came to you are suddenly becoming clearer just as the waves of pleasure are growing stronger inside you.

As he embraces his climax, Jimin gives you one final thrust, pushing you towards your own. The sensation becomes too much, and there is nothing that you could do but let yourself fall into it, allowing the waves of pleasure to take over you.

But right in your plunge into heavenly bliss, there is an unsettling realisation that comes together with it, pushing through from the back of your mind. It sucks the air out of your chest in your cry of pleasure when you realise that beyond the lingering feeling of contentment and relief that you both shared upon seeing the test result, those emotions had been accompanied by something else. Something that felt more like shattered hope.

Despite having a strong faith that today would be an easy day for you, it didn’t take long before things turned completely the other way around.

The foundation that Mrs. Min built with your assistance has prospered well over the past year. The team that manages the foundation’s programs and its main timetable have grown exponentially, leading to its current success. You have been there to actively participate in helping to form the team from day one, leading them while you were working side by side with Mrs. Min in arranging all the charity works done under the foundation’s name. You have also been there to witness their wonderful growth and take pride in contributing your role in the achievements that the foundation has accomplished so far, even if you enjoy remaining in the background instead of stepping into the spotlight where Mrs. Min has been standing so proudly in from the start.

And yet, even when things have looked so promising for the people behind the foundation, as they seem to have gained a good rapport with the public and from the entertainment companies that they are closely acquainted with, it doesn't necessarily mean that everything has been running smoothly in the background.

The lunch meeting that you attended today had ended an hour ago, and yet you are still here, sitting in the guest lounge at the same hotel where the meeting was held. There is no denying that you feel completely drained, just from going through that meeting alone. All the pleasant feelings that you have acquired in the morning have long faded, replaced with exhaustion and stress.

Though the intensity of the meeting hadn’t truly happened without a reason.

There are still a few weeks to go before the holiday season, but the end of year charity events are already looming in the corner. With so many ideas being sent in by all the rich clients that Mrs. Min has been working with and from the volunteers who have been helping the foundation so far, with the additional change of having new people being added into the team, the lunch meeting had dragged on more than you had initially planned.

Thankfully, Mrs Min had been present to mediate the meeting. Her wise words had ended all the lengthy arguments that almost occurred between the team members who are more adept in the cause that the foundation has been organising so far and the new members who came in with fresh, yet extravagant ideas. Her role in the meeting was something that you were grateful for the most, since you weren’t able to do your role in the meeting as well as you would have wanted to when you couldn’t seem to fully focus and put your mind into it.

It was hard to be completely present in the meeting when your mind kept flying back to this morning, reminding you of the emotional turmoil that you had to deal with before the day even started. It didn’t matter how hard you had tried to ignore it, when moments from this morning kept on coming back when least expected, stealing your attention away from the present.

You could barely hide the sigh of relief when the meeting was over and you were able to step away from it, to finally be freed and have the chance to clear your head. Though your headache only got worse when your employer pulled you to the side before departing, giving you her signature coy smile when she whispered, “Just do your usual magic. I trust that everything will run smoothly under your capable hands,” hinting that she was placing all responsibilities on your shoulders once her job in keeping peace was done.

Guess I was right about the high level of stress messing up with my hormones, after all, you had wondered when the pounding in your head made you wish that you could curl up in a ball in the safety of your bed instead of being there, standing right in the eye of the incoming storm.

After everyone had left, you realised that you probably wouldn’t have made it to your next appointment if you have to travel across the city for it. Thankfully, the actress that you were supposed to meet up with had offered to come and see you instead of meeting you at the public restaurant that you had originally booked for this private meeting.

The option to stay and find a more secluded place to meet up, far from the public’s attention—as requested by this potential client of yours—seemed to be working in your favour, after all, once you realised that the space that you have chosen has been quite peaceful enough and far from the crowd. You also soon found that this spot had allowed you to have a moment to think and find some time to relax. Although, the downtime that you managed to get didn’t last long, when you couldn’t stop yourself from opening up your tablet again and trying to find something to do to waste time. That was how you ended up making yourself busy again, finishing up some work while you were waiting for your next appointment to arrive instead of using the time to take a much-needed break.

Between drafting emails related to your side gigs and texting Jimin’s new assistant, the past hour has occupied your mind enough to slowly help you forget about the previous lunch meeting and all the other troubling thoughts. Though it soon brings your mind back to another matter that you have tried to ignore the whole day.

While you have been busy with your own business, Jimin is back at his recording company to deal with his. And just like how it has been for the past month, his newest assistant, Minji, keeps you in the loop through texts and phone calls whenever you are not there with him in person. Sometimes she would only be sending you news and updates, things that are being said in meetings or any progress that Jimin is having at work. Other times, she would send you frantic texts as she encounters serious problems that would need to be dealt with immediately and which, more often than not, would usually require your assistance. This is apparently something that is still pretty common to happen when it comes to Jimin, no matter how much time has passed since Jimin turned his act around.

You don’t really mind getting involved in his business or having his assistants contact you for advice like this, since you have never truly stopped being involved in his work despite the agreement that you made with him.

Jimin may have grown way more bearable compared to how he used to be in the past, but it hadn’t stopped the constant rotation of personal assistants coming and going to work by his side. This had been going on for a while, all while you stood by, watching all of this happening until you were left with no other choice but to offer a helping hand. And he was once again feeling cornered, having no other choice but to give in when he realised that he needed your help.

Using your past experience as his personal assistant, you took the responsibility of finding him the right assistant and training them before they started working alongside your fiancé. It took a few trials and errors with different candidates of your choosing, with a couple of cases where Jimin practically ran them off until you finally found the right person to do the job. And that was how you found Minji nearly four months ago, and she still holds the record of working with Jimin the longest so far compared to her predecessors. While you may have been able to take some credit in making it happen, you still view her as a blessing from heaven for having the perseverance to work with Jimin, and at the same time, with you. Though you cannot help being reminded of yourself in the past whenever you see her.

Your success in pairing Jimin with his new skilful assistant didn’t go unnoticed by the people around you. It had opened up new chances, becoming a side gig for you to focus on aside from the foundation, and it had become one of the reasons behind the arrangement for this next meet-up you are having today.

It started with Jimin, and then Hoseok became your next client when you assisted him in choosing a personal assistant that he had always needed. And then, as the news spread, more and more requests started coming from other artists working under the same company as theirs. Before you knew it, it eventually grew to become one of your side gigs, as you began to work alongside and under the guidance of the recording company to help and connect their artists with the right personal assistants when their agents couldn’t do much to help.

Since then, this part of your work has slowly branched out, and you are beginning to take on other roles. From acting as a publicist yourself or a freelance agent for those who have no direct connection to one whenever needed, or a consultant for new assistants who needed guidance. But while today’s appointment is just another part of this side gig, it would be a new challenge for you to handle. And it should’ve been your main priority today as your main task of the day is done, but it is hard to put your mind into it when your mind continues to be occupied by something else entirely.

Minji: I’m not sure what’s going on, but he hasn’t been able to focus today

Minji: did something happen? He keeps spacing out. We’re in the studio with his producers to talk about the next recording schedule but he’s not paying much attention

Minji: don’t worry, I’m taking notes. I’ll email them to you once we’re done here

Minji: I’m sorry for bothering you so much, but the producers look a bit lost with how Jimin is acting

You put aside your tablet with a sigh as you read through a series of texts coming from Minji. These texts may not sound as frantic as they normally would when Jimin stresses her out, but it still makes you feel a bit tense and worried. You type a quick text to respond, hoping that you can help calm her down.

You: I’m not sure, but he’s probably just tired. We had a long morning today

Your face flushes with heat when you recall the heated moment you shared with him in the bathroom this morning, though you quickly shake it off before it starts to occupy your mind any further.

You: that’s a good idea. Send me all the details through email. I’ll go through everything and work things out with him tonight once he’s gotten enough rest

You put the phone away once you are done texting and close your eyes. But you quickly regret doing so. Because instead of finding calmness, everything that had become the reason why you have been so out of it the whole day returns to fill your thoughts.

Your skin no longer flushes with warmth and bashfulness as your mind flies back to this morning, when you start remembering all that happened then and Jimin’s face returns to your thoughts again. You never got the chance to figure out what was going on through his head or where the expression that you saw on him had come from, and you never got the chance to figure out what it was that had your heart sinking into your stomach once reality finally sunk in.

Right after both of you had come down from the blissful high of your morning quickie, Jimin didn’t wait until every shiver and all the spasms of your climax started ebbing away before he carried you into the shower. Claiming that he wanted to take the responsibility of making you dirty again, he started helping you bathe, though the good intention that he claimed to have was quick to turn into something naughty the moment his hands returned to your body, and what happened next ended up taking your mind away from every thought and doubt you had.

All doubts and unanswered questions were left forgotten once bliss took over, and Jimin had done an awfully good job in taking your mind away from them with his expert hands, as he took good care of you while stealing your breath away at the same time. But it certainly didn’t mean that the thoughts simply vanished. They were merely pushed to the back of your mind, lingering silently and making you feel restless the entire day without you realising the real reason why until moments like this one comes—a moment where there is nothing accompanying you but silence, allowing your wayward thoughts to grow louder.

Acknowledging this, it only makes you wonder if Jimin is having the same problem, that whatever it was that had crossed his mind this morning and was hidden from you has been bothering him the whole day.

But what did go through his mind this morning, you cannot help but wonder. Had the thought of us having a baby so soon really bothered him so much that it’s still troubling him even now? And why is it making me so restless?

Deep in your own thoughts, you almost fail to notice a new presence arriving at your hidden corner. You nearly jump out of your seat when a gentle voice breaks you out of your stupor.

“Hello, I’m sorry for making you wait for so long.”

You turn at the voice, only to immediately rise from your seat when you realise that your guest has arrived. It seems that she had been rushing on her way here, but her composure remains intact when she speaks.

Wearing a simple dress and a short winter jacket on top, Hyorin still looks as charming as you have always remembered her. The older actress had been absent from the scene for the past couple of years due to her marriage and then later, the birth of her daughter only six months ago, so it was quite a surprise when she suddenly contacted you through her assistant, Yerin, who is also a close friend of yours from the business, and requested for a meet-up.

“Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you coming,” you simply say to her, welcoming her with a smile. You are about to offer her to take the seat in front of you when you realise that she has not arrived here on her own. Your eyes fall on the baby stroller that she is pushing with her, and your heart jumps for a brief moment once you get a clear sight of the adorable baby lying half-asleep inside.

Looking at her makes you stop, until you recall the conversation that you had with Yerin about this meet-up and remember the request that Hyorin has made through your friend, and realise that you probably shouldn’t be too surprised to have the baby involved in today’s meeting.

You just weren’t expecting to meet her baby this soon.

“I didn’t know that you were bringing your daughter. I would’ve picked another place that would have been more comfortable for the three of us if I had known.”

Hyorin smiles and merely waves it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. This place is quite perfect. The restaurant would have been a bit too crowded and uncomfortable for her, but she would be able to adjust better as long as the place is quiet and there are not many people going around,” Hyorin says as she takes a quick look around. To your relief, she really does seem genuinely happy with the meeting spot that you have chosen. The lounge itself serves the privacy that you would need to have this conversation, while the spot you have chosen is slightly hidden even from the hallway outside of the area where people would be roaming around, offering not only the privacy needed, but also the perfect solitude for the baby to rest without any worries.

By the time Hyorin turns her attention back to you, she is pleasantly surprised to see you still entranced at the sight of her baby girl. She must have read your expression as something that is quite a kin to a shock, because she quickly apologises and explains, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly planning to take her out with me today, but the babysitter called in sick at the last minute and she’s still too little to be handed to other people I don’t trust. I hope it’s okay she’s joining us today. I know that this isn’t what we had planned.”

Surely, that was not the original plan, but you refuse to let it deter you. So you simply wave your hand at her to brush it off. “It’s fine. She is the main star, after all. Isn’t she the reason why you wanted to see me today?”

The actress looks visibly relieved hearing this. She no longer appears so concerned or tense by the time she takes the seat that you offer. Sitting right across from you, Hyorin positions the stroller next to her, with the baby facing your way. The sweet baby steals your attention for a brief moment before the actress begins to talk about the reason why she is meeting you here. “I suppose that Yerin had told you everything that I needed.”

Nodding, you recall the phone call that you received from your friend before the actress finally made contact with you herself. The actress had only given birth to her baby daughter one month before recruiting Yerin to be her personal assistant. Even before that happened, she has always been keeping everything happening in her life ever since she got married completely private. She even barely showed up in public with her husband unless she was needed to be by his side, and she had completely stepped out of the spotlight before anyone even knew that she was pregnant.

Until the news of her baby being born was leaked to the public.

It was surprising for both Yerin and her publicist when she finally agreed to go public with her baby, though she only wanted it to happen under the condition that the announcement and the reveal will be done on her accord. That was when Yerin recommended you to get involved, with the agreement from the actress’ publicist who had known about your past work with Jimin.

“She has. Although, I’m not sure why you are choosing me to work this out with you. You could’ve had Yerin handle everything for you. Not only because she’s your personal assistant, but also because from the years I’ve known and worked with her, I know that Yerin is capable enough to handle this job.”

Hyorin shakes her head gently. “I’ve talked to Yerin about it, but she told me that if there’s anyone who can manage to arrange this as quickly and swiftly as possible then it would be you. I need someone who can make sure that not a single word gets out and nothing crucial gets leaked into the public until it’s time for it to come out, and while Yerin told me that she would be able to do it, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it if any leak still happens,” she firmly says, and admittedly, you understand where she is coming from.

You have seen it happening before, where an inside source becomes the reason that rumours or private information about any celebrity or public figure were able to get out and reach the media. The same thing happened to Jimin once, and you were quick to handle things and let the rumours die down with his publicist’s help. Knowing the fact that Hyorin had fired and changed her assistant and a few members of her team immediately after the news of her childbirth came out, you can only speculate that the rumours had been leaked by someone from her inner circle. And for that reason, you cannot really blame her for being more careful this time.

“Yerin convinced me that you’re the best when it comes to handling matters involving public relations and the media. I value Yerin’s opinion, which is why I took her advice and contacted you directly for help. My publicist has been a good help, but even she had given approval on Yerin’s recommendation, which made me believe that I can truly count on you.”

Hearing this, you slowly lean back in your seat. There is a sense of pride that you feel from hearing such affirmation coming from someone like her, but you cannot deny that there is also an underlying concern for taking such a huge responsibility. As you take your time pondering this, you recall all the years you have spent handling Jimin’s PR cases. The moment that you begin to realise that you know exactly what to do, learning from your past experience, you begin to have more faith in yourself, believing that you can take this challenge as long as you do all the right things and have all the right people to work with.

“I won’t say that I’m the best in the field. I’m just lucky enough to have learned the tricks,” you finally tell her once you have your mind made up, and Hyorin looks a bit more relieved to hear it. Your gaze falls on the little girl in the stroller who is making a soft fussy noise, indicating that she is slowly waking up. Seeing her move about, there is something blooming in your chest.

Looking at the baby girl, you are surprised to find how you are getting so enamoured by her presence. It feels like you are completely drawn to her, so much so that you want to reach out and touch her to know if she is real. Snapping out of it, you turn to the mother, sharing your concern, something that comes across your mind all so suddenly. It puts a heavy weight in your chest for thinking how this poor girl would be exposed to the spotlight so soon in life. “Are you sure you want to go public with your baby daughter? Her photo will be out there for the world to see once you do this.”

Hyorin looks over to her child with a worried smile. It seems like she understands what you are trying to ask of her. Perhaps she also shares the same concern, which is evident from the way she leans to her baby daughter and carefully starts tucking the blankets around her tiny little body as if she wants to protect her from the world. The gentle moment you are witnessing only escalates the tightness in your chest. The heavy weight now feels warm, though you are also beginning to feel something else brewing inside, something that you cannot put into simple words.

“A lot of people from the media have been hounding me to give them the rights to publish her photos. I even got paparazzi stalking me to steal a chance to take her pictures when I’m out of the house and have her with me,” she says, sighing softly in defeat before turning to you again. “I’ve talked about this with my husband, and we both decided that if we want to go public with her, then it has to be on my term. Since I’m going to start taking new offers again maybe after next year—or once she’s old enough to be handled by a sitter, at least—I would be appearing in public more often soon. That’s why I figured it would be the right time to do this. She might draw more attention once I’m back to work again, so I’d rather let it happen now than later when I can’t be sure that she will be safe. Besides, isn’t it common for people to lose interest once their curiosity is answered?”

“I really like that idea,” you tell her after thinking deeply about what she said. You do remember seeing random rumours fading into the shadows once the public’s curiosity is answered, and there is some faith inside you—although small—to believe that this would work. “And I was also informed that you’ve chosen the photographer to take her pictures?”

Hyorin looks pleased. “Yes, he’s the one who has been taking my photos since I first debuted. I’ve chosen the person to do the interview as well. I just need your help to contact them and arrange everything while keeping it under wraps. Yerin reassured me that you are the one who I can trust to make this all possible since you know how to work without gaining too much attention.”

“That would only be one of my expertise, if you can say that,” you respond to her with pure confidence. It does seem like all the years of practice with Jimin and sneaking around the media’s eyes would finally pay off. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” you begin to reaffirm her, before quickly stopping yourself. “No, let me rephrase that. I’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry.”

Hearing your promise, Hyorin releases a deep sigh of relief and begins to thank you for taking this job to help her. Meanwhile, seeing the positive reaction she is giving you makes you feel even more excited to start working immediately. You open your tablet and dive straight into action, starting from gaining more information on the team that she already has. “I would like to also talk to your publicist about the plans and arrange a schedule. It would be best if I have someone from your team that I can work alongside with and help guide me through your schedules.”

Soon, the conversation shifts into more than simple business talk. Accompanied by the warm tea and some snacks that you had ordered from the staff, the two of you begin working on the necessary planning, while you gather more information and contact from the people in her team that you consider would be beneficial and helpful for the entire publicity work.

Unlike what you felt earlier from the meeting with the foundation, you find yourself back in your element. It feels like you are diving back into familiar territory and you feel like a fish returning into the flowing water, roaming free without any worry because you know where to go and what exactly to do. It takes no time before both you and Hyorin develop a long list of tasks to work on and a proper timeline to make it all happen. You have even gotten a chance to call her manager and publicist to have her schedules handed to you before you can start contacting all the other parties involved.

The moment all the work talk is done, you remain seated in the lounge with Hyorin and her baby. The conversation then shifts once again into a more relaxed and friendly chatter as you talk about mundane things and exchange life stories as if the two of you are old friends. Hyorin had just ordered another hot drink when her baby starts fussing. She takes a moment to calm her daughter down, then she catches you by surprise when she offers you to hold the baby for a moment.

“A-are you sure?” you question her, feeling unsure, though it doesn’t stop Hyorin from handing over the baby or for you to take her in your arms so easily as if you have been ready for it.

“I trust you. And she seems curious about you, so why not?” she says as she helps you settle her baby in your arms until both of you feel comfortable. Seeing that the baby did try to reach out to you with her grabby hands even before Hyorin made her offer, you cannot find it in you to refuse. “I want her to get used to being around people too. Maybe that would help before D-day when she would be surrounded by unfamiliar people on the day of the photoshoot.”

Hyorin’s words barely register in your mind when you have your attention solely on the delicate thing you are holding. She looked so small while she was lying in her stroller, yet she feels so light and seems so fragile that you are almost too afraid to move. But the moment her eyes flutter open and your gazes meet each other, something inside you seems to snap.

Or, more like, unsnap, when your stress seems to be lifted off your shoulders just by carrying her weight in your arms, and when her eyes grow slightly bigger when she sees your face, as if she is struggling to understand why this complete stranger is holding her instead of her mother. But when the sight of fear that you are expecting to see through her eyes never shows, you slowly begin to feel it building within you instead. Though there is another emotion boiling inside your chest, a sense of melancholy and longing that suddenly makes you wonder—

“They said that babies can heal your soul. I never believed it until the first time I held her in my arms and felt like I was whole again,” Hyorin muses softly as she looks fondly at you holding her baby with such gentleness that you never once thought you would ever have. “How about you? Have you and Jimin made any plans to build your own family?”

And with that, the uneasiness that you have managed to brush off while you were talking with Hyorin returns to you like a tidal wave. Jimin’s odd expression and the cold feeling you had in your chest take over the space in your head that they almost take away the feeling of warmth and comfort that has been blooming within.

“We still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again,” Jimin’s words start echoing inside your head right at that moment. His face comes into your mind just as everything that you had talked about with Hyorin comes flashing back.

Suddenly, instead of picturing Hyorin going through everything that you have been planning together with her, you see yourself in her shoes. From playing hide and seek with the media and finding out ways to properly share your little one with the world. Knowing your place, and how prominent Jimin is in the world that he has built for himself, all of these things would be something that both of you would be ready to deal with.

Is that why he seemed so troubled about this?

Keeping your eyes on the baby, you try your best not to dwell on these wanton thoughts too much and focus on the present. On the little child who is watching you curiously, as if she is capable of reading your thoughts while you are working on hiding it from her mother.

“I, uh…we haven’t really discussed it yet,” you find yourself answering Hyorin, despite not knowing what to say. “I’ve seen Jimin with children before, and I can tell you that he absolutely adores them,” you say this while looking up at Hyorin with a smile, just as you think about past events where Jimin had to work with children or whenever he encountered them in the past.

“He may have hinted about wanting to have his own kids, but he always says that he would love it even more when those children belong to someone else so he could be the fun uncle,” you joke with her, making her laugh, leaving out the fact that you were simply referring to his past comments about the troubles he might have from having kids. Then you look down again just as the baby shifts in your arms, and seeing her makes you want to voice out your personal dilemma, “I personally have never really given it a thought before, since I’ve always been so focused on my career.”

Just as you say this, something just clicks in your mind. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense, though you are still too afraid to put your thoughts into words.

“I was just the same before. I’ve always loved children, but never really thought about having my own, or even planned to, since I loved my freedom and I still enjoyed my bustling life where I only had to focus on working and building my career,” Hyorin says. There is a faraway look in her eyes as she reminisces about her younger self, and that look slowly evolves into something that is filled with love and endearment as she glances at her baby daughter. “But I suppose that people’s priorities and views can change depending on where life is taking them to, don’t you think?”

“Yeah—” you mutter softly, understanding completely what she means. You find yourself smiling as you look down at the baby in your arms. She has her eyes open, her tiny lips forming a small smile before she starts giggling and cooing at you, and you begin to feel something inside you shift.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. People do change,” you slowly add, and just like that, the fog that has been shielding your true desire is lifted, and you can finally understand the reason why you have been feeling so uneasy ever since the idea of you and Jimin having a baby together started to take root inside your head, and why Jimin’s reaction has been haunting you.

From that moment on, something does change inside you. The uncertainty is slowly shifting, and you find yourself longing to have this warmth blooming inside your chest to last for a lifetime.

You have never done anything like this before.

And yet, you enjoy the thrill that is growing in your chest as you lock lips with Jimin, allowing him to swallow the soft moans that you keep making. You cannot really help making these sounds, when the sensation you are feeling is starting to take control over your body. It builds up like a ripple, calmly spreading from your core to your whole body, before growing more intense with each passing time and with each ministration that you are making against Jimin’s body.

“God, you’re so hot,” Jimin groans against your lips, his hands digging deeper into your hips while causing your skirt to hike further up as you keep rocking your hips on Jimin’s lap. You press down harder, grinding your covered center over his thigh until the ripples of pleasure rise into waves, causing you to tremble on his lap.

You pull away from the kiss with a gasp, while Jimin trails his kisses lower, moving down your chin, to your neck, adding a couple of light bites when his lips come pressing against your pulse. Your hands, which have been clutching desperately onto his shoulders, begin to move down. One palm rests against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your fingers, while you reach down between your rocking bodies with the other hand, finding the hard bulge forming from under his pants which had pulled your attention after repeatedly brushing against it while you are grinding against his hard thigh.

“I want you, Jimin,” you mutter softly with a gasp just as your palm lands over his covered cock. It has grown hard since the moment you started riding him, yet it almost feels like it stiffens further under your touch. You gently rub your palm over it, causing Jimin to groan against your neck, and the moment you feel it pulsing at your touch, the ripples of pleasure that you are feeling shift into another. “Please, Jimin. I won’t make it if we have to wait until we’re home.”

With a groan, Jimin releases your neck and pulls away. “Fuck, I know. Hang on a minute, baby,” he says with a soft growl coming out of his lips. Keeping one arm around your waist to stop you from falling over, he reaches down with the other to unzip his pants. Even with his movement being constricted under your weight and your bodies are pressed together, he still makes it work.

Within a blink of an eye, his pants are unzipped and pulled down to his hips. His hands return to your waist soon after, guiding you to straddle over his crotch before he slips a hand between your legs and gently swipes your panties aside. His fingers find your nether lips, all slick and wet from your arousal. He rubs his fingers across your folds, slowly parting them as he continues, then slides his digits in to find your pulsing entrance. You feel him exploring your heat, using your essence as he pushes his fingers into your pussy.

Biting your lips, you stifle the sound of your moan that is threatening to come out as he moves his fingers in and out of you. He keeps it gentle, making sure not to push too deep but just enough to prepare you for him.

“You’re so wet, baby. Are you sure you want to do this here?” he asks, while you can only nod frantically. Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his hard-on, drawing a soft moan from him. You give him a couple of gentle strokes, making him quiver beneath you. Your action is enough to give him the answer that he needed from you, so Jimin carefully lifts you up on his lap only to help align your position right on top of his waiting cock. His eyes are on you the whole time, watching you with eyes full of love and lust as you slowly lower yourself onto his erection, gritting your teeth when his cock penetrates you in the most delightful way possible, just the way you wanted him to.

"Oh fuck!" Jimin gives out a long, deep groan of pleasure as you gradually impale yourself on his cock, your muscles pulsing as his girth spreads you open on your way down, milking his cock as you slowly slide yourself up and down on his shaft.

Jimin presses his lips on your neck once more, breathing you in while muffling the sound of his moans that comes from the sensation rolling through his body from having his cock bury itself in your warmth. Once he is inside you, and you are settled nicely on his lap, he kisses your skin and whispers, “Just make sure not to get too loud.”

You swallow down a whimper before answering him, “I’ll do my best, baby. Anything, just—oh, God!”

Your words shift into a light shriek when he suddenly bucks his hips upward, pushing his cock deeper inside you. The pressure feels so sudden that it is almost painful, yet the rush that it brings feels so good it rocks your entire body with that one firm push. Noticing your cries, Jimin pulls you down to him and presses his lips on yours. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your gasps and moans while he rocks his hips, pounding his cock into you with sloppy thrusts. He doesn’t rush right away, taking his time to relish the pleasure that is growing inside him.

Just when your body is adjusting to him, growing more comfortable to move on top of him without shaking too much, Jimin slows down.

“What’s going on, baby?” Jimin breathlessly asks you as he pulls away from the kiss. His hands remain on your hips, holding you up on his lap and stopping you from falling as you lean back from him.

You can barely control your own breathing when you question him in return, “What—? What do you mean?”

Jimin shakes his head, and you take this moment to lean back in, kissing the nape of his lips to tease him, coaxing him to continue. “You are—insatiable,” he moans. “You have been for the past couple of weeks. I don’t mind it, but I’m getting curious to know why.” Instead of answering him, you only roll your hips on him, pushing down on his length to get him deeper, and his words fade into a soft moan. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, enjoying the way you are sliding up and down his cock too much to make it stop, but he puts his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you back so he can look at your face. “You never agreed to my ideas of getting frisky while I’m working or to do these things in an open place like this before.”

Hearing this, you almost falter in your movements, albeit it does make you stop for a brief second before you continue again. Your body reacts first before your words ever make it out of your lips, with the lower part of your abdomen pulsing slightly and your muscles clenching around him as your mind drifts back to a moment from one hour ago. Back to the moment you made a quick check on your calendar, and then rushing to see him before you could stop yourself. You told yourself that finding out that you are beginning to enter your ovulation period had nothing to do with it. You convinced yourself that you had simply missed your fiancé and seeing how enticing he looked while he was so deep in his work snapped something inside of you that you immediately pounced at him. But now, when you feel him buried deep inside you, his girth pressing against your pulsing walls and your stomach coiling with pleasure, you are no longer quite sure what has driven you to this.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just in the mood for it,” you simply say to your lover, shrugging it off while putting your rapid thoughts aside at the same time. Closing your eyes, you focus on rocking your hips, riding his cock until the pleasure numbs everything else. “Maybe it’s stress?” you add with a moan, enjoying the waves of sensation that keep building up. Burying your nails into his shoulders, you start moving faster, eager to find your blinding climax. “And you’ve always had an amazing way of helping me destress.”

Jimin softly chuckles, not even trying to deny how right your words are. “You know that I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, as he runs his hands up beneath your skirt, finding your hips. He gives you a tight grip, slowly taking back control as he starts guiding you to follow his pace while he continues to speak. “And I won’t lie, I’ve always thought about how hot it would be to have sex in a place like this, where I’m supposed to be working—” he adds, and he slowly shifts on his seat, finding the perfect angle which would allow him to move better before he starts rocking on his seat, thrusting up just when you come down. The sound of his moans echoes through the room that you almost miss his next words, “—and dealing with the risk of getting caught.”

Your eyes flutter open when he gives you a hard thrust, making you gasp when it rocks your entire body starting from the core. Moaning at the pleasure erupting inside you, your words almost fail to come out when you tease him, “Then maybe I should warn you that I completely forgot to lock your studio when I came in.”

Jimin’s gaze flickers from the door to you, never once missing his pace as he does so. With a sly grin, Jimin bucks his hips upward with a strong force, and he begins thrusting his cock harder into you at a rapid pace while groaning deeply, “Oh, fuck. You’re so naughty, baby. I really love seeing this side of you.”

His words barely register in your mind as you embrace the pleasure that keeps building inside you. But then you start feeling a tug at your top, coaxing you to open your eyes just to see his hand trying to pull it apart. Realising what he is up to, and how close he is to ripping your favourite blouse to give him more access, you hurriedly pull back and start unbuttoning it for him.

Jimin opens his eyes wider once you are done, hungrily taking in the sight of the expensive lacy bra that you are wearing underneath. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, completely mesmerised by what he is seeing. This time, you are not fast enough, and his hands reach up, pushing the piece of lingerie down and grabbing greedily at your now exposed breasts. As you start bouncing on his lap, Jimin gropes at your shaking breasts, squeezing and kneading excitedly before he buries his face in your cleavage and starts sucking hungrily on your nipples.

You continue to ride him, your hips undulating lithely over his crotch as you slide up and down his cock. Starting to feel so good, you can barely keep your voice down while Jimin keeps groaning blissfully against your skin while mauling at your breasts, going from one to the other as if he is having a feast.

It wouldn’t be long before you can feel it coming, right about the same time Jimin starts cursing and arching his own chest, his cock convulsing intensely inside you as you freely embrace your orgasm. Nothing can stop it from coming into you so quickly. Perhaps your body is a little more sensitive than normal, due to the circumstances, or maybe being reminded of all the chances that anyone from the recording studio might come in and catch you at the height of your wanton pleasure is pushing you over the edge.

With a gasping moan, you succumb to it, the waves of your orgasm rocking your body in a delightful bliss, and your muscles clench tightly around him, sucking him until he is pushed right into his climax. For once, you can feel everything, as if your senses are heightened. The warmth of his release filling you up makes you tremble on his lap. Each twitch and pulse coming from his cock keep triggering the small spasms of your climax, giving you small orgasms while he keeps himself buried inside you. His arms holding you up to his chest feel a bit warmer than usual that you simply melt into his embrace.

It takes a moment before you finally come down from the height of your climax. Once it happens, silence falls, yet neither of you makes a move. He keeps his arms around you as you both take a moment to breathe and find your bearings, to give a chance for the remaining waves of your climax to wane down.

Sighing in contentment, Jimin kisses the top of your head before asking, “Did you get what you came here for?”

“Close enough,” you answer with a chuckle. Pulling away from him, you take a long, deep breath as you straighten up on his lap and take a deep look into his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt you at work.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all,” Jimin says, grinning, most likely not even feeling sorry that you had been so daring enough to start this. “If you say ‘close’, does that mean I’m not doing a good enough job to satisfy you?”

“Oh, you did good. Way better than expected, actually,” you tell him with a content sigh, smiling as you lean down to kiss his lips and whisper, “I’m just saying that I won’t mind going on round two once we get home.”

“Oh, take a look at this, honey. Isn’t this beautiful?”

You must have been spacing out when Jimin’s mother suddenly speaks up, her voice startling you so that you nearly spill your tea. You look up to see the soft-spoken woman sliding your tablet towards Jimin, showing her son the pictures displaying flowers and seating arrangements on various wedding ceremonies that you and his mother had compiled together from the internet.

The three of you are sitting together in a small restaurant not too far from his family’s home, enjoying lunch at the small round table facing the back garden that is quite hidden from the other patrons. The lunch date wasn’t planned, and you certainly were not planning to start any conversation regarding the future wedding when you first accepted your future mother-in-law’s invitation to meet her today. But at some point near the end of the meal, the wedding was brought up between sharing life updates and work-related chats which accompanied the sweet dessert that was served on the table, and Jimin’s mom started opening some image references through your tablet—which had been so conveniently placed on top of the table after Jimin used it to show her some of his upcoming works.

Jimin takes a quick look at the pictures on the tablet and groans, feigning annoyance at having to choose, though the small smile that he is trying so hard to hide is giving away his true feelings. You know that he is happy to know how excited his mother is about the upcoming wedding ceremony, even if neither of you had yet to set an actual date for it. “Why are you showing me these, Mom? I know nothing about flower arrangements. Show it to ______,” Jimin whines at his mother while giving you a quick glance. This time, he is no longer hiding his smile when he adds, “She’s the one who gets to decide everything about the ceremony.”

His comment earns a light smack on his arm, a gift from his mother. “It’s your wedding too! You need to tell us what you’d prefer so everyone would get what they want and be happy,” she complains. “Besides, I already know what ______ wants,” she adds as she grabs the tablet back from Jimin’s hands. “We’ve been sending each other these photos. She made me a—what do you call it—Pinterest?”

Smiling, you nod at her before boasting to Jimin. “Yes, I made us an album on Pinterest so your Mom and I can send each other ideas.”

Looking pleased, Jimin takes your hand in his and kisses it. “Who would have thought that both of you would be having fun planning out this thing,” he says with a chuckle, though it does make you happy just seeing him this way. “Just choose whatever you want for the wedding, I’ll make sure to make it happen.”

His gentle way of showing affection warms your heart, though it doesn’t seem to give the same effect on Jimin’s mother when you hear her scoffing from your other side. “Ooh, listen to him acting so cool,” she taunts him, causing both you and Jimin to laugh as he pulls away. “He used to be so embarrassed to show any affection even to us, his parents, and now look at him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he leans back in his seat. “I think both you and I have to agree that ______ deserves to be treated special.” He glances at you teasingly as he says this, causing your face to grow warm, but there is really nothing that you could say in return when his mother wholeheartedly expresses her agreement.

“Oh, I completely agree,” she says, smiling softly when you turn to her. “Both myself and Jimin’s father feel truly indebted to you. We’ve witnessed how much you have helped Jimin over the years, and you guided him to turn his life around—”

“Oh, but that’s all—”

Jimin’s mother cuts you off with a smile and takes your hand. “And we’re also thankful for all those wonderful gifts you helped Jimin get for us over the years you worked with him,” she adds with a wink, while her compliments make you feel shy. Glancing at Jimin sitting by your side, you find him smiling bashfully too. Guess he hasn’t been so subtle about your help with the gifts, after all. “Thank you for taking care of Jimin for so long. It makes me happy knowing that you’ll be taking care of each other for many more years from now on.”

The conversation continues for a while longer, this time with Jimin showing more interest as he looks through the pictures, sometimes with a smile on his face when he stops to take a closer look at a couple of pictures that manage to catch his eyes. You barely pay attention to the pictures that he keeps swiping on the screen, until his mother takes over the device again and immediately gushes over the first set of pictures that appear after her first swipe.

“Oh, look! How cute is this? They have a little girl as their flower girl. Do you think it’s their daughter?”

You lean closer just as Jimin does the same so he could take a look at the pictures together, and your heart starts racing the moment you get a clear view of them. The first photos show a little girl, no older than three years old, wearing a white, fluffy dress as she walks down the aisle between all the smiling guests, the intricate arrangements of decor and flowers, while her tiny hands are busy trying to dump crumpled petals onto the ground as she walks. The next set of pictures shows the girl joining the bride and groom as the pair seem to read out their vows, before the groom picks her up in his arms, making it abundantly clear how much the flower girl seems to be a blended copy of both bride and groom, the girl’s loving parents.

The picture of the happy flower girl lingers in your mind for a while longer, staying there even after the lunch date is over. You can still see it in your head after coming home to the apartment that you now share with Jimin, repeatedly being reminded of her even when you are trying not to think about it. You had known that seeing that picture would do something to your head, yet you didn’t really expect that it would be affecting you this much.

The day is now over, and here you are, sitting alone on the bed while Jimin is taking his time in the shower. The sound of the running water isn’t doing much to silence your thoughts once they resurface. But being alone with your thoughts like this, it gives you a chance to finally delve deeper into them and take a good, closer look to find some answers. To find out why you have been so restless for the past couple of months.

But deep down, you know that the answers have always been there all along. You just have been in denial for so long that the voice of your own conscience is silenced. Not anymore, you bitterly realise, when you finally admit to yourself what it is that you truly want.

Is this what people usually call as baby fever?

You wonder about this with a sigh as you lean back against the bedrest. Looking up to the ceiling, you try to remember when exactly did this feeling begin to emerge in the first place and how it all started.

It all started from the job you took on with Hyorin, when you decided to assist her publicist and help guide her team regarding her public exposure of her new family. Meeting her child for the first time had been the moment when you first felt a deep affection like no other. You had first brushed it off, thinking that it had only been an emotion which came due to the fact that Hyorin’s baby was so adorable and easy to handle with that her presence helped eliminate your stress.

But then the photoshoot happened, and that feeling only grew stronger once you were reunited with Hyorin and her child, forming rapidly into a desire that you couldn’t seem to shake off. The photoshoot was held only a month after your first meeting with the mother and daughter pair, yet the baby seemed to have grown so fast and had become more confident within the short amount of time that you weren’t seeing her. Her presence became a breath of fresh air at the photo studio then, and the longing you had for having the same bond and compassion as what Hyorin had with her child grew more intensely within you ever since.

No, it had started before then.

—you wonder as you begin to realise, recognising that same emotion appearing before your first encounter with the baby ever happened. You had felt that same longing growing inside you that morning when you stood by with Jimin, waiting for the result from the pregnancy tests. It was that longing that had kept bothering you since then, one that appeared from that one moment when you unwittingly pictured yourself and Jimin with a child while unconsciously wishing for the test result to show you a positive sign. You had tried to ignore that feeling, yet it lingered still, growing inside you until it bloomed to be this desire that has been so strongly holding you hostage with a vice grip.

And it was the same desire which had led you into a frenzy, turning you into an insatiable lover to Jimin almost effectively. It had led to numerous occasions where you initiated intimate moments at any given chance. Just like the day when you came to his studio for a quickie, or when you slipped into his changing room on the night of his live performance to get frisky right before he had to come out on stage.

Realising all of this gives you a sense of relief.

Relief of knowing that there is really nothing wrong with you at all. But you cannot deny that it also makes you feel terrified, which is the exact same reason why you have been denying this feeling for so long, and not without a reason.

For many years, ever since you first started entering adulthood, you had always been strict about making plans regarding your life. Starting from the years you spent in school—about the study that you wanted to focus on and how many years you were going to spend studying—to the period of time you started building your career, and the plans you made for yourself on how you would start building your family.

Jimin’s presence in your life had been the first thing that trampled all of your life plans. Just like how the thought of having a child of your own is beginning to make you want to forget all about planning and to simply dive right into it.

People talk about having baby fevers after meeting or seeing other people’s newborn babies, but never once had you ever thought to look deeper into it, or to ever suspect that you would experience anything like it yourself.

Never once had you ever expected to have these thoughts running through your mind. You have been so convinced that the idea or need would not even cross your mind until later, much later, only once a long period of time has passed after you hear the sound of the wedding bells. But here you are now, pondering, contemplating, even having a mental image of yourself with a smaller version of you or Jimin in your arms.

In the past, thinking about something like this would have bothered you. It would have sent you running to the hills, not out of fear, but out of the daunting feeling that tells you that you are not ready. That you wouldn’t be worthy enough to even consider it. But here you are now, feeling an unshakable deep sense of longing that you have no idea how to deal with. And you have only noticed now that this feeling has sunk its root so deep within you that you are feeling so strongly for it. You have never craved something so bad, that it is beginning to take control of your want and need. It has taken control of your main focus that it becomes the only thing you can think about no matter how much you have tried to push it so far to the back of your mind.

Sitting there with this realisation washing over you, you have also come to realise that there is really no point in fighting against it.

You want it. You want it so bad, and you can only silently hope that Jimin would want the same.

With your thoughts running havoc inside your head, you remain seated on the bed in the same position for quite some time. Still with your back pressed against the bedrest, your eyes looking far away at the ceiling and not at all noticing Jimin as he finally steps out of the bathroom.

He says nothing when he finds you. It makes him curious when he sees you like this, yet he waits for a blink of a moment before snapping you out of it with a gentle voice, “Is there something wrong, baby?”

You turn to look at Jimin as he walks closer to the bed. He had left the bathroom door slightly ajar behind him, allowing you to see a faint trail of mist coming from his hot shower following him. The mesmerising sight of him walking out of the mist, with nothing more but a piece of towel hanging around his waist to cover the lower part of his body, and with his hair and skin still slightly damp from his shower, makes your heart leap a beat. But you try your best to not let any of it—not even the inviting sight of his bare chest—make you lose focus.

Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak. “Can we talk?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Normally, those words would make me run for the hills,” he jokes with a light chuckle. “Of course, we can.” Saying this, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing you with a curious yet concerned look on his face. You don’t even question his lack of need to cover himself before joining you in bed. Not when you’ve learned through the period of time you have spent living with him that it is quite a normal occurrence with Jimin to be completely bare when sleeping with you. You do feel grateful that he is keeping his towel on—for now, at least—so you can remain calm and focused enough to be able to share your thoughts to him properly.

Though it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are capable of controlling your nerves.

Looking at his beautiful face, you try to think of ways to express your thoughts and feelings, not knowing how to get your message across without making him feel bad. In the end, the words just start running out of your mouth, “What do you think about a…a baby?”

Jimin looks surprised, obviously not expecting to hear such a question. For a moment, you feel a bit of hope when his eyes seem to lighten up. But it lasts only for a brief moment. Your stomach feels heavy the moment that light dims.

“Are you asking me if I would ever consider having one? Now?” his frown deepens, and his eyes flicker to your stomach curiously. “Are you—”

“If you’re asking if I’m already pregnant, the answer is no,” you quickly answer him, and his gaze clears out when he looks at your face again. You try not to see his expression as relief, knowing that it would only disappoint you if it is true. “I was just wondering—I know we haven’t talked much or planned forward aside from the wedding talk, and we’ve only talked briefly about maybe considering to talk about it only after the wedding, but I’m curious to know…do you want kids?”

With a sigh, Jimin answers carefully, “I’ve always wanted kids. Even though I know that I told you about not wanting them with my work being so busy and all, but the truth is, I just wasn’t ready then.” Hearing this, you are reminded again of his past comments. Everything that he had said about having children at the peak of his career—about how it would be a terrible idea or how he didn’t see himself as someone who could handle a child—and all the other comments that had given you the basic reasons to deny your feelings. “I know that you might not be thinking about it—”

“What makes you think that?” you quickly ask him, “Do you think I don’t want to have kids?”

Jimin’s brows crease yet again. “You just never told me you did, except for the time you said something about waiting until after the wedding day to talk about it. And I never brought it up again once I started thinking about it because I just thought—” he sighs. “I’ve already asked a lot from you ever since we started this relationship, so I didn’t think it would be fair if we talk about it before you’re ready.”

“What if I am ready for it?” you carefully ask him, “What if I’ve been ready?”

“What are you saying?”

Biting your lips, you silently decide that this might be the best chance to admit everything, now that he is answering all of your questions. “Remember that time when my period came late and you made me do the test?” Jimin nods at this, obviously remembering that moment, though he does seem a bit lost, still not knowing where this is going. “I’ve been thinking about it since then. A lot, actually.”

Jimin seems interested as he leans closer. “Go on,” he says, urging you to keep talking.

With a sigh, you finally admit to him in a small voice, “I think I’ve caught myself a major case of baby fever.”

“You have?” he asks, looking intrigued, and judging from the sly smirk that he is trying so hard to hide, he also seems to be excited to know more. “When did this happen?”

“It’s been happening for a while,” you answer him, still with a small voice but with less hesitation this time, before you start telling him everything. From the morning this feeling first emerged, the first time you began to picture having mini versions of you and Jimin, and then having that feeling grew stronger when you got involved with Hyorin and her child. Then you explain how it had possibly been the reason why you had been acting rather wantonly over the past couple of months, even while you were still in complete denial. And then you admit how you have remained in denial until the moment you saw the wedding pictures today—the beautiful pictures of the bride and groom and their happy little daughter becoming a part of their special event—when everything finally came crashing down on you.

“So—” Jimin starts to speak, finally putting two and two together. “All those times you suddenly turned up at work, giving me surprises whenever I come home, initiating things, all of that…all because you were craving for a baby?”

Groaning in defeat and shame, you cover your face with your hands and start grumbling under your breath, “I think I’ve been unconsciously trying to get pregnant. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin laughs and gently pulls your hands away from your face. “It’s fine, baby,” he says, looking more amused than you expected he would. “Thank you for being so open with me about it. But you’ve been taking your shots, haven’t you? Or did you stop taking it when it happened?”

You can feel your own blood getting drained from your face, suddenly realising just how bad things could’ve turned out and feeling guilty about what you have been doing.

How could you have been so reckless? What would’ve happened if you did get pregnant and Jimin wasn’t happy about it? You feel guilty for knowing that you could’ve jeopardised your entire lives and relationship because of it.

A sense of relief washes over you for knowing that at least your birth control is stopping all of that from happening. “Yeah, good thing the shot was still taking effect. Oh, God. I’m supposed to have another appointment already. What if I’m late to get it? I’m so sorry, I have no idea what I was thinking. I’ll make sure to call them up in the morning and not miss any until we have everything plan—”

“Unless—”

You stop when Jimin cuts you off, though he only confuses you further when he doesn’t continue. “What are you trying to say?”

Jimin smiles softly and shrugs. “Unless you change your mind about waiting until we’re married. That’s the reason why you wanted to talk about this with me now, isn’t it?” There is a glint of mirth and joy in his eyes when he says this, as if he can read through your mind. “Have you been thinking about the pictures we saw today? Do you want to have our own little ones be at our wedding? A mini version of you running down the aisle in her tutu dress while dumping flowers to the ground, or a mini me with his tux, waiting to hand out a ring after our vows? That’s what you’ve been thinking before I came back, wasn’t it?”

Him bringing this up only makes you teared up. “I—I want that,” you softly whine, before groaning, “Oh, Jimin. You’re making it worse. Now I want it so badly.”

With a soft chuckle, Jimin gently wipes a tear that slips down from your eyes. “You had doubts because you thought I wouldn’t want kids, did you?”

You nod. “Whenever I think about it, I’m always reminded of what you said and did then, about how much trouble kids would give you when you’re so busy with your schedules and tours,” you confess to him. “Even when I see how good you are with children, either with the children modelling with you or with your friends’ kids, I would keep remembering how we both agreed to only talk about having kids after we get married so I keep denying how much I want it.”

He gently shakes his head. “I know what we agreed about. But I have to admit that my view about having kids have started to change ever since I began picturing our lives together and about us building a family together.”

“You have?” you ask him, while he simply nods. “You never said anything, so I didn’t know what to think when I started thinking about it too.”

“Then—” he starts, slowly sliding closer on the bed to get next to you. “How about we talk about it now?”

“Okay,” you whisper to him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you to his side. “What should we talk about? Where do we start?”

“First, we can hold back that birth control shot for a while, if you want to,” he says after mulling it over for a brief moment. “And then why don’t we just let things be? See how it turns out if we allow things to happen naturally.”

“Are you—are you sure about it?”

He shrugs. “I mean, we haven’t really set out a date for the wedding, so that gives us some time, doesn’t it? We don’t even know if it would happen so soon. But, at least we can do some practising until then,” he says, lowering his voice seductively and teasingly that it makes your face feel warm.

“I don’t mind having some practice.”

Hearing your bashful answer makes him smile. With a light touch, Jimin lifts your face by the chin and whispers, “I love you, baby. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide things from me. You know that you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

Nodding, you look at him with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I wanted to purposely hide this from you. I guess I was just in denial about it. Until today,” you carefully admit, before slowly adding. “I love you too, Jimin. Thank you for allowing me to open up.”

He kisses your temple, and when he pulls away, the look in his eyes gives a tight pull inside your chest. His gaze is filled with love and affection when he looks at you. But there is something else there, appearing at the same time he runs his gaze down your face, to your body, before his eyes stop briefly on your lips.

As if he cannot help himself, Jimin leans closer and gives you a passionate kiss, his hand coming to your waist with a gentle caress over your nightshirt. Feeling the thin fabric covering your skin, Jimin lightly groans. “What did I say about wearing too many clothes to bed?” he complains, looking annoyed at your sleeping attire. He pulls it lightly, tugging on it until its hem starts rising up your legs and all the way up to your hips.

“Take this off,” he whispers, as he helps you pull it further up so that he could press his palm on your belly. “And for now on, now that we’ve talked about practising, I want you to forget ever wearing these things to bed.”

“Really?” You lift your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Not even those little pieces that you love so much?” you ask him while glancing over to the nearby drawers where you keep your negligees and lingeries that he has often bought for you, and he immediately knows what you are referring to.

Groaning deeply as he starts picturing you wearing them, Jimin immediately says, “Except for those tiny things. I’ll let you wear them from time to time. Now stop stalling and take this thing off.”

With a tug, he helps you peel the nightshirt off of your body. With a blink of an eye, he pulls it over your head and then it is gone, leaving you in nothing more than the cotton panties that you have been wearing. Looking down at you, Jimin looks pleased to see that you have at least decided not to wear your bra before climbing onto the bed.

Just like always, he immediately seems to be captivated by the sight of your bare breasts. His eyes are locked on your soft flesh, watching as they rise and fall in your steady breath. Then his hands come down on your exposed mounds, palms touching and kneading on them, starting from the under curves of your breasts before climbing their way up, finding the sensitive tips, making them grow hard with his touches. Using two of his fingers, he gives one nipple a pinch, while he playfully rubs a thumb over the other gently, drawing a myriad of sensations that cause you to arch your chest to feel more.

Claiming your lips once more, he kisses you with full of hunger, drawing your attention away from his hand as he reaches down between your legs and starts teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“All that talk about having a baby with you—” he breathlessly whispers against your lips while pressing his fingers at your center while his other hand are still spreading warmth on your bosoms. “Now I can’t get it out of my head. You make me want to just give it to you now.”

His words put the same images into your head, drawing a soft gasp out of you. Immediately, you feel the sudden rush of desire coming back to life. The same one that had taken over you even before you found the courage to admit this baby fever of yours, now rising more intensely, taking over you so strongly that it almost makes you grow breathless.

“You did say something about practising, didn’t you?” you whisper with a raspy voice, already embracing the pulses of desire brewing under your skin. Reluctantly, you push Jimin away, forcing him to take his hands off of you when you shift on the bed. With a coy smile, you slowly peel your panties off of you, kicking them down your legs until you are completely bare. But instead of giving him a chance to return to you and touch you again, you flip onto your hands and knees, wiggling your hips to him teasingly before saying, “Come over here then, Daddy. Come put a baby in my belly.”

Your words seem to snap something within Jimin, as his gaze darkens after hearing you. Raking his gaze down your body, you can those pretty eyes of him filled with lust and hunger, and a dark desire that seems so intense that you can feel it on your skin, as if it turns into invisible fingers tracing down the curves of your body until his gaze rests on the area between your legs. Crawling towards you, Jimin kneels right behind you, positioning himself close enough to see everything but not enough to have his body touching you.

Just when you are about to look over your shoulder to see what he is doing, wondering why he isn’t making any move, the sound of a smack echoes through the room, before a sting of pain slowly grows right on your right bottom cheek.

Did he—did he just spank me?

Before you can find your answer, Jimin’s palm returns to your skin. Though instead of bringing more pain, he gently caresses the very same spot that he had laid his hand on earlier, as if trying to soothe the sting that faintly lingers. “Sorry, baby. I couldn’t help myself,” he says with a low voice, still while caressing your skin until you feel the pain subsiding. “It’s just that seeing you teasing me like that after our serious talk drove me crazy. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It’s fine. I…I kinda liked it,” you shamelessly admit to him when you start feeling a new sensation building up once the pain and the shock is gone.

“You did, hmmm? Then how about making this fair?” he asks, right before you feel another slap on your bottom cheek, landing on the left side this time, making you gasp.

Once again, he soothes the pain with his gentle palm. Slowly, the pain starts ebbing away, and it almost seems like the blood pulsing at the spots where his palms had landed on are not only fading, but shifting into something more delectable, which is gathering at your center. The sensation only intensifies as Jimin continues kneading at your bottom, and you begin to feel your desire pulsing from within your core, even when he has yet to touch you there.

His touches grow more alluring, as he is no longer using his palms to soothe your pain, but to deliberately cause something else to rise in your body. As if he could feel it, perhaps from the way your hips are slowly swaying against his touch in return or from the way your breathing grows heavier, and he continues to repeat his touches, kneading and massaging and caressing lovingly that it is beginning to drive your head spinning.

Then suddenly, he bends down, pressing his lips right over your spine. To the sound of your gasps, he begins tracing kisses on your skin, down to your tailbone, and to the lovely curves of your buttocks. The sensation you feel building from his action leaves you gasping for breath, and he is not stopping, moving to find the spot where you still feel the phantom pain of his spanking and going around it, before moving to the other side to do the same. And then just when your body reacts on its own, with your hips moving backwards to chase his lips, he suddenly gives you a bite, right under your left bottom cheek where he had spanked you earlier.

You let out a squeal, not expecting to have him biting you there. But just like before, Jimin quickly replaces the pain with a soothing kiss. Except that this time, he traces his kisses from the painful spot all the way to the center, finding your throbbing pussy. He doesn’t give you any chance to process this when he starts eating your pussy, devouring you from behind with his hands holding firmly at the curves of your bottom.

The way his sinful lips are kissing your nether lips with pure desire, and his tongue slipping between your slit and pressing against your pulsing heat, all give you the kind of pleasure that feels so maddeningly good, you begin to lose the ability to hold up your weight. Still with your hips being held up by his strong hands, your upper body falls over to the bed as your body shakes with pleasure.

“Ah—Jimin!” you cry out for him, unable to hold back from the rush of pleasure he is igniting within you, though your voice is slightly muffled by the sheets beneath you. Seeking leverage, you clutch the sheets with your shaky hands, holding on as he continues to eat you, sucking your pussy with both lust and hunger that you can feel the faint ripples of your climax building inside you.

Jimin devours you for a moment longer before pulling away, stopping right as you are already at the brink of your orgasm. In the absence of his lips, he slips his fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness to use it to push his digits into your pussy.

Your fingers sink further into the sheets as his fingers slide through your hot walls, pressing against the pulses and gently spreading you open for him. He pushes all the way in until he has most of the length buried inside you before slowly pulling out, waking up the spasms of your pleasure, and he repeats it again, pushing in and pulling out at a slow, teasing pace until your body welcomes him fully. He continues fingering you, giving you a few more strokes before he finally comes to a halt.

A soft thud can be faintly heard beyond the sound of your heartbeat. You may not be able to see it, but through the back of your mind, you can only guess that Jimin has tossed away his towel. There is a shift on the bed when he moves closer. His hand returns to your hips to hold you up, while the other reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and giving it a pull until you rise up.

“Pull yourself up, baby. That’s it. Hold on tight for me,” he whispers, gently pulling you back up by your hair until you are straightened up with your palms planted on the bed.

Jimin only lets you go to give himself a couple of strokes and align himself at your center. With his other hand, he presses down at your spine, holding you still. You wait with bated breath until the moment you feel a nudge at your wet opening. Jimin’s hand returns to your folds, spreading your nether lips apart just as you feel the head of his cock pushing through. He fondles your clit a little while the pressure of his penetration builds.

Inch by delicate inch he enters you, welcomed by the spasms of your desire and the wet sound of your slickness giving way for him to slide deeper. He thrusts, and pushes, pulling out briefly and then pushing in again, until your body gives way to his length and girth. And that is when he begins fucking, pushing and bucking his hips at a rapid pace, advancing even deeper with each thrust while giving you nothing more but intense pleasure.

Jimin’s cock is soon buried to the hilt in your tight walls, deliciously snugged between your warmth. The shudders that keep surging through his body pour themselves all over yours, centered from where your bodies are connected. His hands are tightly gripping your hips as he continues fucking you, adding more force into his thrusts now that your body is fully adjusted to his ruthless poundings.

“That’s it, baby. Take my cock!” you hear him grunting as he humps against your behind. Each hard thrust of his pelvis causes his hips to slap loudly against your round bottom while his cock keeps surging deeply inside your tight, clutching pussy. Each pounding he keeps giving you rocks your entire body that you cannot help but bury your fingers deeper into the sheets to hold on.

“Oh, Jimin!” you groan out his name through the intense waves of pleasure that are increasing from your core. Your body is getting shunted and shoved further against the mattress as your lover vigorously slams his hard shaft into you.

As Jimin’s thrusts grow more and more frantic, you can sense that he is almost ready to cum. “Oh fuck, yeah!” you hear him grunting under his breath, his hard erection keeps pistoning in and out of your hot cunt.

You brace yourself, both to feel his release and to embrace your own, but to your surprise, Jimin halts before the first shudder of his climax comes and pulls out of you, denying you of your release. It happens so suddenly that you feel as if your body loses its force, nearly toppling forward once more if not for the hard grip he has on your hips to stop you from planting face first onto the bed. Just as you are losing balance, Jimin pulls you up and swiftly flips your body around as if you are weightless.

“Oh!” you let out a squeal once your back lands on top of the mattress. Your heartbeat is still pacing rapidly, still in shock at how easily he is able to handle your body and weight. Kneeling between your legs, Jimin oozes power and dominance, yet you can still feel the gentle aura that he always carries with him when he runs his fingers from your hips, tracing down to your thighs where he gives another tight grip and lifts your legs up.

All the way up.

He doesn’t stop until your ankles are settled on his shoulders. Not only does this position put a strain on your body, it makes you lose any sense of control. Your muscles put up a restraint for a moment before you try to relax and let it happen, and that is when he pushes forward, bending over you until you are half-folded beneath him.

“Easy, baby. Breathe in and relax. Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he keeps whispering these words to soothe you while he keeps rubbing your legs. His touch travels back down to your hips just as you feel him nudging back at your folds, his stiff cock ready to return to your warmth. With his gaze locked on yours, Jimin grabs a tight hold on your hips and then pushes forward, entering your heat in one firm stroke.

“Oh, God!” you scream out as you feel the pressure knocking the air out of your chest. In this position, he feels like a tight fit inside you, your muscles seem to clench around him in a firm hold.

You can feel it affecting him when his body shudders on top of you. His chest feels tense against your palms when you reach up to hold onto his shoulders, yet his heartbeat thrums so rapidly that he seems to be shaking under your touch.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me,” he curses, taking a moment to breathe deeply while he begins pumping his hips and cock, setting up a pace while setting your whole body into a bundle of wildfire.

Your legs tremble as he pushes into you a few more inches, taking his time to enter you while relishing your pulsing warmth, until he impales you fully once more. You can feel him throbbing within you, each pulse coming from his girth coinciding with the pulses coming from your walls, as if his cock is responding to your body. But what catches your heart is the desire written on his face.

He pulls back again only to return with a hard thrust, pulling a gasp out of you. Instead of giving you a moment to breathe, he repeats the motion, delving not only just a few inches deep, but spearing deeply until you can feel the pressure deep inside your chest. And your body welcomes him, when you feel nothing but intense waves of pleasure.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” he says between the deep moans he keeps making, while you can barely respond to him, unable to find the right words and too breathless to sound your voice.

“Uhh, so…deep,” you whine breathlessly as he thrusts deeply without a warning, hitting the spot that gives you a blinding pleasure.

Jimin forces his eyes open to look at you, rocking his hips firmly as he picks up his pace. “I’ve read some stuff when I have time. Some said that doing it this way will make sure that the seed will set inside your womb properly,” he says, groaning with pleasure between each word he speaks. “Not sure if it’s accurate, but it’s still worth a shot, don’t you think?” You open your mouth, yet your mind is too muddled to even think of an answer. Folded under his weight, there is really nothing that you can do but to take his pounding and give in at the sensation building within. Seeing this seems to please him, as a smile appears on his face when he leans in and whispers, “But I think I’m beginning to like this position more now.”

“You’ve been—ah! Looking things up before?” you gasp breathlessly.

“You have no idea how often I would picture you carrying our child. You would look so beautiful, so hot—fuck, I’m picturing you right now,” he confesses further, never missing his thrusts or losing his pace. Though it does feel like he is suddenly picking up his pace again, suddenly getting a bit rougher when he briefly closes his eyes, groaning, “Just thinking about it makes me go crazy.”

The tempo of his thrusts keeps building up, and the waves of your pleasure keep rising. It seems crazy to think that the thought of him getting you pregnant through this is making you feel hotter, and your body seems to grow even more sensitive the more he puts those images into your head. So much so that you can feel your body responding to him more excessively, that each pump of his cock feels so blindingly good, sending your body rocking harder and your toes curling with how intense all the pleasure coming to you feels through your body.

“Ha—ah, Jimin!” you cry out when there seems to be nothing stopping you from going over the edge. Right at the same time, you feel him bulging inside you, and his rapid thrusts seem to grow a bit clumsier, as if he is slowly losing his own self control.

“I’m going now—” he groans, fucking you harder, faster, filling the air around you with the sounds of his gruff moans, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the shaking mattress, and the hoarse sounds of your cries of pleasure. The ripples that he ignites within you grow more intense, and he moans loudly when he feels it too. “That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock, baby. Cum right now and take all of my load.”

You can feel that he is getting close, yet still holding back to wait for you as he works your body so expertly. Releasing your hold on his shoulders, you reach up under your folded legs and start palming your own breasts, playing with yourself. With each knead, each pinch at your nubs, and the firm push of your soft flesh, you add the intensity of the sensation you are feeling from his rough lovemaking. You are already on the brink of your climax, and Jimin takes it even further when he slips a hand between your entwined bodies and finds your clit, giving it a light slap before pinching it, pushing you towards your blinding climax.

“Oh, oh, oh…! Jimin—” you cry out in your release. With nowhere else to go, you could only fist onto the sheets beneath you, holding on tightly as your entire body convulses. Your orgasm feels so intense that it draws a deep groan from Jimin, and he doesn’t let go, still thrusting steadily and keeping his pace as if he wants to make it last. But for some reason, you don’t feel any sign coming from him to chase his own end.

Your body continues to shake with your release, taking its sweet time to come down. Through your hazy eyes, you watch Jimin as he opens his eyes, looking as if he is enchanted and mesmerised by the sight of you embracing your climax. He reduces his pace and looks down on your body, not at where you are connected to each other but at your lower belly. Pulling his hand away from your clit, he presses his palm on your stomach, gently caressing it.

“Oh, baby. I really can’t stop thinking about it now that you’ve put the idea inside my head,” he murmurs, his voice fading in and out while you are trying to ease down from the spasms of your release, which is hard to do when he is still moving inside you. In and out he goes, steadily slow, dragging his girth along the length of your pussy walls to make you feel everything. “I can’t wait to see your stomach swell with our baby. I’m going to fuck you every night, fill you up until you are full with my cum, until we have our little one growing inside you.”

He continues talking, soft spoken words that sound almost like a spell. With each word he gives you, his pace begins to pick up again. As if his own spell had done something to himself. He somehow feels even harder, the width of his cock seems to swell further, making it feel tight when he pushes deeply with a forceful thrust.

“Jimin, please…!” you cry out his name with a voice so raw and dry and breathless. But every word that you want to give him fades, taken over by the pleasure as it rises like a tidal wave.

You close your eyes when the delightful pleasure overcomes you, and his words, the beautiful spell that he gave you earlier, take form inside your head. It snaps something out of you to picture yourself being pinned the same way as he fucks you into oblivion, all for the sake of putting a baby inside your womb. It makes you grow hot, your core coiling with another wave of orgasm, each spasm growing stronger from one to the next, and you are suddenly hanging at the precipice of your release with no return.

You scream again as he thrusts into you so deep, too deep, holding you there as he makes you take his entire length, to take all of his hard cock as it throbs and pumps roughly into you. He seems determined to make good of his words, as he doesn’t slow down a pace, only returning each cry and moans you give him with a hard, intense thrust.

“Jimin! I’m coming again!” you cry out once more, yet you feel your body rising, your hips welcoming his ministrations so openly like a needy, wild minx, all while being pinned helplessly beneath him with nowhere else to go.

“Baby…fuck!” he cries in return, as he bucks against you, and you feel the warmth of his release filling you up, drawing more and more spasms coming through your walls. He continues moving his hips, keeping the same sloppy pace to make it last. And then he ends it with one last final thrust, his cock pulsing inside you tightly, spurting the last of his seed to join the rest, completely filling you up just as he promised he would. You can feel his excessive cum flowing out of your cunt with each thrust he is giving you, coating his cock, down to your bottom, making a complete mess out of the two of you. Yet neither of you cares, when you both find your climaxes together, embracing it with your bodies shaking and rocking together as one.

It continues for a while longer—as Jimin continues to rock his hips against you, bringing you into a long-drawn-out bliss, while everything seems obscured as you are lost in cloud nine—until the moment Jimin slowly eases down and begins to shift. He does his best to be careful as he lowers your legs back to bed, his fingers moving in circles as if to soothe your trembling legs. Drained of energy and feeling sated at the same time, your entire body feels listless, though you still endure the occasional jolts of pleasure until they slowly begin to wane.

You close your eyes briefly as you take a deep breath, only to have them fall back open when Jimin pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. Jimin meets your gaze with a smile, making no move to leave you as he reaches out, picking up his discarded towel to clean both of you from the remnants of your wild lovemaking.

“Seems like we’ve made quite a mess,” he mutters with a chuckle while he carefully rubs your tender skin.

“Hmmmm—”

Your lack of response only makes him chuckle. Tossing the soiled towel away, Jimin kisses your lips and lies down right beside you. He gathers you in his arms, pressing you close against his chest. “But I also think it was worth it. Don’t you think?”

Once again, you give him nothing but a tired hum. Too exhausted to speak, all you could do is lean against his chest with a content sigh. You can still feel him shaking as he laughs, yet you already have your eyes closed, already fading into the dreamland that you barely hear him whisper to you, “Try to get some quick rest, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

It feels like you barely doze off for a brief moment when you start feeling his touch on your skin again. You come awake in Jimin’s embrace, his hand on your breast, before he sets you on alert when his other hand travels down between your legs. A gentle press from his naughty fingers on your clit triggers a moan slipping out of you, then his lips descend on the side of your neck to stop you from squirming in his hold. Snaking his arm around your waist, Jimin continues kissing your skin, adding to the myriad sensations rising through your body with his fingers playing with your swollen clit while he cups your bare breast with his other hand once more.

“You’re not feeling too sore now, are you?”

The only thing that you can give him as an answer is a soft moan, when his touches seem to wake up not only your nerves, but also your desire.

“Hmmm—” is the only sound you can possibly make before a sigh of content slips out of you. But words don’t seem to matter as much when your body reacts first, as you arch your chest into his touch and you slowly give in, allowing him to pull your legs open, spreading you wide for him to lean closer and align himself at your center.

“Easy, baby. Bear it with me. It’s going to be a long night,” he whispers, right as he spreads your folds and pushes his hips forward, his stiff cock entering your throbbing pussy in a gentle stroke, though still enough to make you quiver in his arms.

Epilogue…

There is something magical about the warm sunlight falling on your skin, the sound of waves filling the background, and the colourful petals spreading against the white sand.

If there had been any doubt over having this destination wedding when you first planned it, it has surely been forgotten. Right now, all that you have in mind is the thought of walking down the aisle, the flowery path leading you towards your future. It feels like you are walking inside of a dream, with your dress flowing with each step you take, while Jimin is waiting on the other end, looking like a prince charming.

“You look beautiful,” you hear your father whisper to you as he walks you down the flowery path. You look up to him with a smile, unable to answer him without worrying that you might cry if you try. Instead, you look down, hiding your flushing face while trying to compose yourself before your emotion gets out of control.

Your eyes fall on the flower bouquet in your hands just then. The combination of white daisies and yellow roses should be able to represent your love story with Jimin, but there is another that is present as a token of your love. The baby bump that is partially hidden behind the layers adorning your dress and the flower bouquet now pressed against it.

The heart-to-heart talk that you shared with Jimin all those months ago had led to many nights of lovemaking, trying new things, new positions, and ‘more practising’, as Jimin would describe it. After a lot of effort made, a lot of waiting, and numerous tests taken, it finally happened, and now there is a precious life growing inside you.

Your dream of having your little one running ahead as your flower girl or standing by his side as the ring bearer would have come true if you had waited a while longer. But you have waited long enough, and neither of you wanted to wait until another period of time goes by to be married. You had to accept having another girl be your flower girl, Jimin’s toddler niece who is waddling clumsily towards Jimin across the flowery path while carrying her basket in her tiny arm. You watch her with a fond smile as the pretty petals keep dropping directly from the basket as she toddles away instead of from her fingers. Rubbing your palm over your bump, you picture having your own girl one day toddling ahead of you, and it is enough to cause a comforting warmth blossoming inside your chest.

After the slow walk that seems to last forever, you finally have no more than a few steps away left from reaching Jimin. Your future is just an arm’s reach away. Looking at him now, you cannot help but take a good look at the life that you have had for the past few years, of how much your fate has unravelled in the most unexpected way possible. And it all happened because Jimin came into your life.

Growing from the work relationship that was filled with challenges, to a mutual partnership filled with respect for one another, and here you are now today, exchanging gazes filled with passion and love, the mutual feelings that you both share as you embrace this new journey together.

Sometimes you cannot help but wonder where would you be today if you had taken all the different decisions in the past. But all the same time, you would always be reminded of how often your choices had almost made you lose all of your chances to be happy with him.

How often had you tried to deny your feelings in the past? From the love that you had secretly harboured for him, to your desire to become someone deserving of his love, and the desire you had for building your future with him.

Whenever you look back to those moments, you are always reminded of the times you had unconsciously put on your glass masks to hide your feelings and your true desires. The same glass mask that had once helped hide your heart and soul from him. All the same masks that were so fragile you had kept them guarded so firmly just to protect yourself and keep you safe from being hurt or disappointed.

But with your luck, Jimin had always been able to be the one to take those masks away from you. Time and time again, he would find those glass masks of yours and be the one to crack them into pieces, revealing your true self to him. With nothing more but his gentle touch and his pure love, Jimin has always been able to help you open up, to give you the courage to be completely bare for him, and you have always found the comfort of knowing that never once have you regretted ever giving your faith in his love.

Finally reaching your future husband, Jimin welcomes you by offering his hand for you to take while whispering softly,

“Ready?”

“Always,” you answer him while returning his smile.

Right there and then, as you take his hand and look up at his face, finding his eyes glowing with his unshed tears while you can feel your own beginning to form right before the priest begins reading out your vows, you find yourself breathing a sigh of content, because those glass masks are no more.

There is a fleeting moment of clarity as a soft flutter grows inside your chest the moment you open your heart and soul for him. It first comes to you as he recites his vows to spend his eternity for you and grows stronger as you promise him to do just the same. You simply embrace everything, all while holding his hands tightly, never to let go, as you are free falling into your future with him.

Together.

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cuubism · 10 months

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Hey, okay so I'm still very much ruined by your Dream with wings au and I love the overall theme with coming to terms with the loss of them and accepting it and being able to move on, but my brain is by angst like this immediately in the mode of I have to fix this, have to give him back what he lost in some way.

And yeah, here is what I thought could happen.

So the universe ends, Death closes up. But with every end comes a new beginning and so on. So new universe, all Endless are still there + Hob. But because there aren't any humans yet or maybe there never will be, Hob becomes something else, Hope for example, and grows wings because Hope probably has some. Hob is very much conflicted over that because of obvious reasons but then the first beings of this new universe begin to dream and something changes in Dream. He adapts to the new universe and the new dreamers and one day his back is in absolute agony, his wings have started to grow back because the dreamers of this universe need him to have them. And of course he is rather conflicted about this because he did accept his loss and learned to live without them but also he is so elated to have them back. And Hob is there with him every step of the way and it makes it a lot easier and the first time they fly together is magnificent. And maybe Dreams wings are not completely the same as his old ones as he is not the same he was then but he can fly again and cradle his dreamers close not only in his arms but in the safety of his wings as well.

And well this kinda got a bit sappy but hope you like it. Of course feel free to ignore this ramble if it doesn't fit with your idea of your fic it's just how my brain works. Loved your fic by the way if it wasn't obvious.

Oh this is sweet! Yeah I understand the impulse to want to make it better for him somehow. Dream could definitely regain his wings in a new universe with new dreamers.

I love that it's just Hob at the end. Just Hob and the fundamental concepts of the universe chillin in the void. NOTHING can stop Hob.

On that note--

The first thing Dream knows of the new universe is grief.

He had not expected to know anything. Everything had gone when the universe he'd known had finally succumbed to its ultimate entropy, and if, when, a new one came to be, he had expected to reformed utterly. New dreamers. A new Dream.

The thought of not knowing had given him peace. One could not miss anything when one did not even know one had had it. And Dream, at the end, had had much to miss.

Strange, that. Terrible, that.

Why, then, is he sitting on the shores of creation, wet sand sticking to his clothes, the Dreaming stretching out around him? It's empty, flattened, nothing but black sand and dark sea infinitely in every direction--but it's still the Dreaming he knows. Why? And why is he sitting here?

In the next moment, why ceases to matter. He is sitting here, in the reformed, empty Dreaming of this empty universe. And Hob is not.

He curls his knees up to his chest, presses his forehead into them, wraps his arms around his head. He doesn't want this sun, this sand, this Dreaming. He doesn't want this universe that doesn't have Hob Gadling in it.

He blocks it all from his vision and sobs, there on the beach where he'd once spent so much time creating. There is no one to hear. None of his creations remain. There are hardly any dreamers. He digs his fingers into his hair, wishing he could simply rip himself right out of this universe. Some other Dream can tend it. He's had enough.

A light hand lands on his shoulder.

"Go away," Dream growls. It can only be one of his siblings, new-but-not, and he does not want to see them. Cannot, yet. "Tend your own misery."

"What misery?" says a familiar voice. Dream goes still. Someone sits down beside him. "Don't you want to explore a whole new universe?"

Dream throws his arms around him. Hob catches him, laughing, even as Dream presses his face into his neck, still sobbing. "I care not for this wretched universe."

"What kind of attitude is that to start out with?"

"Hob."

"Shh, it's alright." He pets Dream's hair as Dream persists in trying to crawl into him until they're irreparably tangled together.

"How?"

Hob kisses the top of his head. "You've really got to learn the power of just saying no to stuff."

Dream lets out a hysterical laugh against his neck. He just may have lost his sanity when the universe was scrambled. But he'll take this insane universe that has Hob in it over a sane one that does not. "Just saying no?"

"I didn't want to leave you, so I didn't. Simple," says Hob, and Dream wraps his arms around him tighter.

"Destiny will need to invent a new form of logic to accommodate you, Hob Gadling," he says, and Hob chuckles.

Finally, Dream lifts his head to look at him. Hob looks much the same as Dream last saw him, but a new power thrums around him, an aura that's obvious to Dream now that he is looking. "What... are you?"

Hob tugs on his ear in thought, and Dream smiles inwardly to see that that affectation still persists. "I think I, uh. Don't get mad."

"There is nothing that could possibly anger me now other than losing you again."

"Well. I think I... stole part of your power? Not on purpose, really. It's like you said. When you tell Destiny no, things get... weird."

Dream lays a hand on his cheek. Yes, he can feel it, the hum of his own essence, swiftly merging with Hob's. "You've stolen nothing. But part of my domain is within you, now. Under your care."

"What part's that?"

Dream finally manages a tiny smile, even through lingering tears, at the thought. "I believe it is hope."

Hob studies him, eyes wide, then huffs an incredulous laugh. "Sounds a bit messed up, doesn't it? Me taking hope from you?"

Dream leans his forehead against Hob's. "You give me hope. Every day. By being here. And as I said. You have taken nothing. The power is still a part of me. Hope and dreams are inextricable intertwined. But it is in your care, now."

"Right," breathes Hob in wonder, cradling the back of Dream's head. "That's. Wow."

"'Wow,'" Dream echoes, and Hob laughs, cuffing him lightly about the ear in admonishment for the mocking tone.

Dream's hand is still on Hob's cheek, and he reaches for the power that's in Hob now, touches it, lets it flow through him. It reaches for him in turn, lights up his own power that feels so new and fresh and alive, in this newborn universe. He closes his eyes at the warmth, cries finally quieting in his chest.

Hob sucks in a breath. "Dream..."

Dream comes back to himself with a start. "What? What is wrong?"

Hob is looking over his shoulder. "Nothing." He reaches over Dream's shoulder. Brushes his fingertips along the-- along the wing that is now arched there, folded carefully over his back.

He had not even noticed them appearing. They are not physical wings, to whatever extent Dream has ever been physical. They are pure energy, shimmering translucent in the sun when he folds one around himself to touch it. The ghostly feathers spark with power at his touch, and brighter still when Hob lays his hand over Dream's.

"You're beautiful," says Hob, as Dream keeps touching the feathers in wonder. Hob swipes his thumb under his eye, and it's only then that Dream realizes he's crying again. Silent, glittering tears.

"I do not... understand."

"New universe," Hob says. "New dreamers?"

Dream leans his head on Hob's shoulder. "New dreamer. Have you been imagining me with wings all this time?"

"Couldn't help it," says Hob. He strokes a hand along the phantom bone of the wing, and Dream shivers. "Knew you'd be glorious." He strokes the wing again, in awe. "You're beautiful."

Dream tucks his forehead further into Hob's throat, overcome. "What will I do with you, Hob Gadling?"

Hob pets his hair. "Well, right about now I could really do with a hot bath, I'm absolutely covered in sand. Don't suppose you can make that happen, Dream Lord?"

Dream laughs, wet and aching. "If you had not noticed, we are in the middle of an empty desert."

"So? Blank canvas."

"I suppose... I could create something for you." He thinks about it more, the pain of the empty, desolate Dreaming ceding to a different feeling. Hope. "I suppose... I could create anything."

Hob kisses the top of his head. "Exactly."

#just say no to mortality! the hob gadling ethos #this is the sappiest thing i've written in a while wow #dreamling #dreamling fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #hob x dream #my writing #ask #autumnlibrarywolf #dream's wings

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silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

Text

❤️‍🔥!Bad reputation!❤️‍🔥

Pairings : Mick Schumacher X femOC (Cherrie)

Word count : 6.2k

Warnings: just fluff I think . Sappy asf. To make up for the max angst lmfao xoxo

The two times world champion was all that people could talk about lately , her name had been whispered and muttered among the paddock for so long now that it was becoming almost like second nature for mick to overhear her name as he passed by .

All anyone could talk about was how different she was from the other drivers , how she seemed to think that she was better than them all , with the way that she refused to spend any of her free time around them .

She simply came to the track , she won the race and then she would leave . Just like that.

She didn't even celebrate with the other podium winners , didn't attend any of the over the top parties that were thrown for her . Didn't let the other guys drag her out to any clubs for drinks , she didn't do more than give them the occasional smile and pat on the back before pulling her usual disappearing act.

She didn't let anybody know her . Didn't want to be any of their friends , despite how much they tried.

And so the nickname the 'ice queen' had been born.

Because she didn't seem to like anyone at all .

Didn't even try to play nice or waste her time pretending that she wanted to be around them. She spent most of her time in interviews and their conferences with a bored look on her face , only speaking when spoken too.

And even when she did speak , rarely did she say anything nice about them.

It was as though she saw every single one of them as as her rival , on and off the track.

Even though she was still so young and by right , she should have fit right in with the rest of the guys . She didn't let herself get close to any of them , didn't even look at them most of the time.

And it had caused a lot of tension and uneasiness to surround them whenever she was around. Their teams had worried about the way her coldness and uncaring nature would come off to the media .

The way it seemed as though she hated even her own teammates , never interacting with them unless she was forced to.

Merely giving them a small nod of congratulations if they managed to make it into the top five , never seeming very impressed with them at all.

Because she was number one and she stayed number one .

She was there to win , not make friends. She had simply told the reporters whenever she was questioned on her lack of relationships with the rest of the drivers .

Mick didn't quite understand the big drama that was surrounding her at all. So she liked her privacy and preferred to be alone, what was so bad about that?

She had been nothing but polite and cordial to him whenever the two crossed paths .

She would always give him a 'good morning' or a pretty little smile whenever she saw him. She had even checked in on him after the race when he had crashed , making sure that he was okay and not leaving his side until she was certain that he was a hundred percent okay.

He wouldn't call them friends yet, not out loud anyways. He didn't want to get his hopes crushed about their barely there friendship but they were something .

She certainly treated him a lot nicer than she did the others . Never once had she spoken a bad word about him either .

In fact , whenever she was asked a question about mick she would always boost him up and praise him without any hesitation , despite him not being as high as ranks as she was .

She saw potential in him and she always told him that one day he would be on top.

That was more than enough for him .

He thought that she was pretty great.

The others drivers however ... they seemed to be filled with a mixture of intimidation and annoyance just at the sight of her.

Hearing cherries name being brought up in conversation , he stopped in his tracks as he saw Pierre , Charles and Sebastian stood talking inside . Their eyes glued to a screen with matching looks of unease .

"What's going on?" He walked over to them curiously , giving Sebastian a friendly pat on the back in hello. Getting a smile in return from the older man.

Pierre just frowned at the tv screen unhappily "she's slagging us all off again." He almost whined . Not understanding why she didn't seem to like them at all.

Charles , her teammate , not wanting to talk negatively about her just squirmed a little uncomfortably.

"I don't think she means to." He told them honestly , having noticed the way that she seemed to just talk without thinking about the consequences. She just said whatever was on her mind .

"I think it just comes across wrong." He added with a small wince as they all watched Cherrie purse her lips in clear annoyance as the reporter brought up their names to her again.

Mick rose his eyebrow as he intently watched the screen , taking in the denim shorts and Ferrari tank top that she was wearing .

All of her tattoos that covered her arms and legs on show , he thought that he saw a new one on her chest as well. He didn't recall seeing that snake on her skin before .

He would have to ask her about it , he thought to himself vaguely as he tried to focus on what she was saying instead .

"Do you think that the competition will be more difficult for you this season? It's seems the new cars will be incredibly powerful." The man said while looking at her expectantly .

Cherrie just tilted her head and lazily brought the microphone up to her painted red lips , looking

Bored out of her mind .

"You could have the most powerful and fastest car in the world but If you can't control it well.. If the driver doesn't match the car then it makes no difference to the result in the end." She simply replied as though she was racing against idiots .

She didn't mean it badly . She just meant that she hoped that the rest of the drivers were ready to handle their new cars. That she hoped they felt like one with their wheel.

Only it didn't come across as she had hoped. Like usual .

Instead she sounded as though she was calling them all terrible drivers.

Sebastian snorted a little in amusement from beside him .

"She's not wrong. You wouldn't become a singer if you didn't know how to sing would you?" He resorted. Seeing her point.

Mick just hummed in quiet agreement .

"So you think that it'll be an easy win for you again this year?" The man asked , stunned by her words.

Cherrie just shrugged a little , chewing on her bottom lip for a moment before answering.

"I think that I've trained well and my car feels good. I know that I can achieve what I want if I put my mind to it. So if I want to win then I will do so.." she confidently answered .

Mick laughed a little at that. Grinning to himself as he shared a amused look with Sebastian at how casually she was destroying them all.

Pierre didn't look as amused , shaking his head with a frown.

Charles , honestly , just looked a little envious at his teammates confidence in herself. Wishing that he could trust himself that like.

He had hoped that Cherrie would be willing to give him some pointers or give him some advice on how she won so often .

He had hoped that she would share some of that magic she seemed to possess with him too, yet every time he tried to even talk to her , she would make up some excuse and disappear .

It quickly became clear to him that she didn't want to be his friend and he was too scared of her to keep pushing for something that she wasn't willing to give.

"She's so cocky.." Pierre grimaced.

Mick looked over at him with a raise of his brow , feeling a little defensive on her behalf .

She worked hard for what she had . He knew that she spent most of her free time on the simulator training .

She didn't just win just out of pure luck.

"Yet she's a two time world champion and you're not." He shot back at him , unamused by their negative views towards her.

They didn't know her at all so what right did they have to judge her?

They all looked over at him in clear surprise , taken back by his snapping defence of her .

Sebastian seemed to quickly click on though , tilting his head at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

Seb was the only one that he had told about his growing friendship? Could he call it that? With Cherrie about .

He had told him about how he had given the intimidating driver his number after she had looked after him after crashing before , had told him About how he hasn't expected for her to actually use it but she did .

She had called him the very same night to check in on him and the pair of them had been texting pretty frequently since . Usually about random things they had seen or read about .

Mick liked to send her videos of his dog and Cherrie sent him pictures of her fat pug in return .

He was hoping that their dogs could have a play date soon , he was warming her up to that one . Seeing as they had yet to actually hang out alone in person , yet he wasn't losing hope.

The fact that she still answered him was a good sign.

He must be doing something right .

"You can't actually like her? She's mean! She called me a little boy to the press the other day!" Pierre exclaimed in disbelief .

In his mind she was just unapproachable and damn right scary .

Charles gave him a look "that's because you said that you could easily beat her . So she said that she doesn't worry about little boys on the track." He chuckled finding it funny how casually she had hurt his friends pride .

They all laughed at that . Pierre just scowled.

"She doesn't like us! How many times have we all tried to be her friend? She treats us like we're not worth her time." He complained. Still butt hurt over her constant rejection of their friendship .

They had all thought she was so cool , with her aloofness and her tattoos . Her careless way of speaking . She was like something out of a dream. The bad girl attitude that she had.

They had all wanted to be her friend . Had all wanted to get to know her , had all maybe crushed on her a tiny bit .. which was why it stung even more to have her act so coldly towards them all the time.

Mick just rolled his eyes at his whining , focusing back on the tv as she got asked another question.

He noticed the way she kept fiddling with her earrings and then her nose ring. Twirling them about over and over again.

Was that a nervous habit? He wondered to himself in concern as he noticed the way that she kept fidgeting in her seat . Looking like she'd rather be anywhere else .

Was she just nervous around people and just accidentally came off as rude instead? Had they all misjudged her character?

"And what about the others drivers?" The man brought up to her . Clearly looking for some drama.

"Are there any that you're looking forward to being on the track with? Any predictions?" He pushed.

Cherrie took a minute to answer , tapping her fingertip against her earring again before finally answering .

"I look forward to every race . It's always fun to be on the track with Lewis..." she chuckled a little bit at the thought of the driver that she was always head to

head with.

Then she smiled and said "but honestly I think this year will be different . I'm hoping that this will be Mick's year .. I know he's been training hard and I really want to see him up on the podium . He'd look great covered in champagne." She casually said as though she hasn't just turned his stomach into a whole damn zoo.

Mick felt the heat rush to his face as he listened to her talk about how much she wanted him to win , that she believed in him.

Feeling his heart race in his chest as he struggled not to grin like a love sick idiot , aware of the others looking between the screen and himself in shock.

Having been unaware that the two even knew each other .

All apart from Sebastian who was grinning at him knowingly , gently punching his shoulder with a quiet laugh underneath his breath.

"Oh my god." He breathed out with a shy chuckle as he loosely crossed his arms over to his chest, blushing bright red .

Pierre was just gaping at him in disbelief and envy .

“What? How? How did you get her to like you?!" He exclaimed in shock.

Mick just shrugged , not even looking at him.

Instead he focused on watching Cherrie smile as she talked about him , his heart warming in his chest.

He impulsively pulled out his phone and wrote out a quick text .

Can you compliment the others too? They look like they’re going to cry with jealously. He texted her .

Watching as she peeked over at her phone that lit up on her lap , smirking a little to herself as she looked straight at the camera and gave a little wink .

Taking in a deep breath she hummed , the smirk never leaving her lips as she tapped her fingers against her phone looking like she was trying not to laugh.

"The others aren't that bad either." She finally said to the reporter who looked visibly shocked that she was suddenly being so nice.

Deciding that she could be a little nicer, even if just to make mick happy. She smiled.

"I have a great teammate too. He's been doing good and I think that Charles could really stand a chance at winning this year too. He just needs to have a little confidence in himself and to stop letting every little mistake bring him down." She said honestly .

Charles froze , his lips parting in shock at the encouraging words about himself that he was hearing from his teammate .

The same woman that he had hoped to connect with for so long.

The same woman that he had believe didn't like him, having thought that she had felt like he wasn't as good as a driver as she was.

Yet here she was , smiling and talking him up.

He smiled brightly , relief filling him as he realised that she did respect him as a driver. That she believed in him too.

It was a nice feeling.

"He's a good driver and a really nice guy. I think he's scared of me though.." she laughed a little knowing it was true. He was damn right terrified of her.

Charles flushed red , making eye contact with mick who was already grinning over at him in amusement .

Lifting up his eyebrow at him as if to say 'see? She isn't that bad!'

"And Pierre.." Pierre perked up , hoping to hear something nice about him too.

“Will get to see me, mick and Charles on the podium together. He can take the pictures." She smirked .

Pierre rolled his eyes with a huff as the others burst into laughter at her jab towards him.

She really wasn't going to let his earlier comments go. No matter how cute Mick was.

"Unbelievable." He muttered in disbelief shaking his head as he looked at them jealously .

"She's mean." He just repeated , unamused by her sense of humour.

Mick was too busy texting her too care.

See? He typed . Being nice Wasn't that hard was it?

That was Painful. Was all she wrote back.

You owe me. She then added.

Mick peered back up at the screen just in time to see Cherrie getting up off her chair now that the interview was over . Her phone in her hand as she looked down at it with a small smile on her pretty face.

Dinner? Wine? My place at 7? He dared to send.

His eyes locked onto her face as he watched her read his text. She just let out a laugh and found the camera that was watching her , raising her eyebrow at him with a smirk on her lips.

Giving him a quick thumbs up .

Can you cook lasagne?

I'll bring the desert. How does cake sound? She sent back.

Mick couldn't help the blush that came up his cheeks as he bit down on his bottom lip to try and stop the giddy laugh from escaping .

I can try. Sounds perfect!

His shaky fingers typed out before noticing that Seb was reading their texts from over his shoulder with a grin on his face .

He looked up at the older man pleadingly "how do you make lasagne?" Was all he helplessly said , eyes hopeful that he would help him.

Sebastian just sighed at the lovesick man in front of him, patting him on the shoulder with a sigh as he steered him away to the exit.

"Come on. We need to go grocery shopping.."

By the time that seven o'clock rolled around , mick had worked himself up into a nervous wreck.

Fingers shaking anxiously as he kept kneeling down in front of his oven to keep an eye on the lasagne , worrying at his lips as he wondered just how long he should leave it in for.

Seb had told him that when the cheese on the top turned golden then it was as good as done , yet the cheese was still too white . Groaning a little underneath his breath as he pulled himself back up to his feet , picking up his glass of wine that he had already poured himself and gulping at it like it was water .

Staring around his apartment that he had spent nearly an hour trying to tidy up before eyeing the

Set up of the dining table worriedly , wondering if he had done too much.

They hadn’t exactly clarified that it was a date. He had only told her that he would cook and provide the wine, there had been no mentioning of romance .

He eyes the lit candles and red napkins anxiously , biting on the end on his nails as he exhaled loudly , trying to calm himself down.

He wanted it to be a date.

He wasn't so in denial that he could pretend that he only wanted their night to be friendly .

Yes, he wanted wanted to be her friend. He also kind of wanted to kiss her every time he saw her pretty face too.

That wasn't very friendly . Perhaps a bit overly actually.

But he also wasn't so foolish as to believe that it would be that simple either . Cherrie had mostly been polite and cordial to him at best, there had been no hinting that she might have felt the way he did towards him either .

He didn't know what to think but the hope was building up slowly in him not matter how many times he tried to dampen it with rationality .

He wanted her. God , did he want her. It was driving him insane .

So much so that as the Knock finally arrived at his front door , he flinched so hard that he almost choked on his wine. Hurrying to place the glass down on the table before rushing off to the door.

Pausing for a moment to quickly run his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath , he then swung open the door and plastered on a smile .

Only for every word he wanted to say to get stuck in his throat as he looked at her .

Cherrie stood there with a store bought chocolate cake in her hands , wearing a beautiful smile and a tiny red dress that left little to the imagination.

Her tattoos showcased proudly against her tanned skin , her long hair curled and carelessly pushed over her shoulders .

With dark eyeliner and her pretty red lips , mick thought that he might faint .

"Oh wow." Was all he could blurt out as he blinked back at her with wide eyes.

His cheeks flushing red in embarrassment as he realised that he had just been stood staring at her without saying a word.

"You look insane ." He breathed out before swallowing nervously , his eyes darting back up to meet her amused ones .

"I mean not insane In a bad way - like insane in a oh my god you look so beautiful way. " he inhaled sharply and shook his head , a sheepish smile on his face as he let out a mortified laugh.

"I mean- you look really pretty." He finally got out.

Cherrie just smiled bashfully, letting out a small giggle as she looked him over in his black jeans and smart white dress shirt . He looked handsome.

Looking into his Angel eyes , she felt her heart flutter. Feeling some of her own nerves soften as she realised that he was just as nervous as she was.

Doing what she always did when she felt anxious and unsure of herself , she put on a face of confidence and played pretend .

She could do this.

She could be a normal pretty girl having late night dinner with a handsome guy at his place .

This was totally normal.

"Thank you." She said . Glad that she had gone with the red dress after all.

“You look really handsome mick. I Like the shirt ." She said while letting her hand reach out the smooth over his slightly crooked collar , straightening it out for him.

His breath hitched , clearing his throat quietly as he finally moved aside to let her in.

"Thanks." He let out a shy laugh , catching the scent of her sweet perfume as she walked past. Carefully shutting the door behind her.

She took a deep breath in and let out a pleased hum, peering over her shoulder at him with a smile.

"Wow something smells good. The last time I tried to cook myself dinner my kitchen ended up smelling like smoke for days." She told him honestly .

At the reminder of the food he let out a small gasp , quickly jogging past her into the kitchen .

“Oh shit the lasagne!" He pulled open the oven door with the mitts. Letting out a sigh of relief when he noticed that the bubbling cheese had finally turned golden on top.

"Thank god." He mumbled to himself as he pulled it out of the oven. Placing it ontop of the counter for a moment as he pulled out two plates .

"I was worried I would fuck it up.." he then tilted his head as he began to plate it up.

"Although you haven't tasted it yet. So.." he let out a nervous chuckle.

Cherrie just smiled , eyeing the already open bottle of wine on the table as she took a seat. Setting aside the cake she had brought with her for later.

Looking at the already empty glass that he had downed before she arrived , she giggled a little getting his attention.

"I take it that the wine is good?" She lifted up the bottle and poured herself a glass.

Mick let out a small groan as he placed their plates down onto the table .

Looking over at her with wide eyes "I was supposed to pour you that!" Then he looked at his already empty glass and sighed .

"But yes it is nice . I had a little so I -" he hesitated to admit that he was so nervous by the thought of her coming over that he needed a drink to calm down.

Seeing his struggle , Cherrie just smiled over at him in understanding .

“Take the edge off? I always need a glass after a race ." She admitted to him . Looking down at the plate full of steaming lasagne hungrily .

"This looks amazing Mick. Well done." She mumbled. Missing the flushed look on his face from her praise .

Laughing a little as he carefully took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Pouring himself another glass of wine as he did so.

"Really? You never go to any of the parties or clubs to celebrate after . I always just assumed that you didn't like to drink or something." He told her truthfully .

She always disappeared before anyone could even try to drag her along.

Cherrie laughed and shook her head as she picked up her knife and fork, looking over at him with a small smile .

"I prefer to drink alone. Less likely to embarrass myself then. Plus clubs are not my scene." She said before putting a piece of the food into her mouth . Closing her eyes in bliss once she tasted the cheesy goodness .

"Fucking hell. This is so good.." she moaned out. Opening her eyes again to look at him in amazement, watching his face colour at her reaction.

Shifting in his seat at the sound of her moaning , he forced himself to have innocent thoughts .instead decided to be thankful that he hadn't fucked up the food and gave them a upset stomach.

"Seb helped me." He admitted to her sheepishly. Getting a chuckle in return as she quirked an eyebrow at him curiously .

"You told him I was coming over?" She asked.

Mick looked back at her hesitantly , knowing how much she liked her privacy. What if she hasn't wanted anybody to know?

"You don't mind?" His uneasy question made her frown .

Confusion crossing her face as she looked back at him curiously . "Why would I mind? It's not a secret . I'm not doing anything wrong by having dinner with you.." she simply replied . Swallowing another bite of food happily.

He slowly nodded his head , relief filling him.

She didn't mind people knowing that she was hanging out with him? Coming from the same woman that refused to spend time with any of the other drivers alone , he was a little surprised.

"I know it's just..." he tilted his head a little , deciding to just be honest .

“You don't seem to really like any of the other drivers or want them to know anything about you.. you're not friends with any of them." He mentioned cautiously . Watching her reaction closely , not wanting to upset her.

But she trusted mick and she knew that he only had good intentions .

That he just wanted to know her better and truthfully ... she wanted him to ask questions . She wanted to get to know him too.

"It's not that I don't like any of them..." she started . Drinking a little bit other wine first before continuing "it's just that I like to focus on racing. The last time I let myself get comfortable with others it didn't end well." She found herself telling him the reason to why she was so closed off.

Mick frowned in concern , not understanding.

“What do you mean? Did something happen? It wasn't anyone I know was it?" He questioned her worriedly , a category of people who could have potentially upset her going through his head.

Cherrie shook her head with a small laugh at the protective way he had straightened in his seat. No doubt ready to fight anyone who had dared disrespect her.

It was nice to see how much he cared . How he wasn't afraid to hide it either.

"No , no. Not in F1." She assured him . " it was in F2 before I won. I was close friends with quite a few guys there and the minute I started beating them it turned nasty.." she told him truthfully "my own teammate kept refusing to let me pass and caused me to go off track more than once . And then there was all these rumours.." she shook her head in annoyance as she thought back to how stressful and upsetting her time there had been.

"-Because I was friendly with them , everybody started assuming that I was fucking them all. It didn't help that they never denied it . They just played into It and made me out to be this stupid slut who spread her legs for all the drivers .." she muttered .

Quickly draining the rest of her wine before the bitterness of the memories could upset her.

Mick could only frown back at her , seeming

just as upset by it as she was .

Visibly disturbed by what she had just told him, shaking his head in disgust at her past team mates behaviour .

"God that's horrible . I'm sorry that happened to you." He breathed out feeling terrible for her. Reaching over to grab her hand and get her fingers a gentle , comforting squeeze.

His eyes gazing into hers with concern. "Did you get back at him? Your teammate?" He asked her curiously .

Because she didn't seem like the type of woman that would just let something like that slide .

As she watched Mick lift his glass of wine to his lips , his eyes never leaving hers .

She couldn't help but smirk a little smugly .

"I did." She nodded her head slyly, awaiting his reaction to what she was about to admit next.

"I fucked his wife in his trailer. Then I won the championship and got signed to Ferrari which was his dream team." She bluntly told him . Proud of herself for being so petty.

Mick choked on his wine. Looking back at her with wide , shocked eyes.

His mouth dropping open before he let out a bark of loud laughter , almost cackling in disbelief .

"No!" He gasped out . Still giggling as he watched her nod her head proudly . Grinning back at him.

"Oh my god." He couldn't believe it. Unable to stop laughing .

“Talk about revenge! What did he do when he found out?" He wanted all the gossip.

Cherrie just shrugged with a giggle "cried. Sent me a few threatening messages but I was too busy to care. It's what he got for fucking me over ..." she casually said. Pushing away her plate now that she was done eating.

Mick leaned back into his seat with a amazed shake of his head . Looking back at her in amazement .

"You're amazing." Was all he could breathe out. Utterly infatuated with the woman in front of him.

She blushed a little , tucking her hair behind her ear sheepishly .

“Girls gotta do what a girls gotta do." Was all she replied.

They spent the next minute just silently looking at each other with silly smiles on their faces before Mick let out a loud sigh.

Drumming his fingers on the table "I've wanted to do this for a while now." He found himself telling her. The wine seeming to give him that extra bit of confidence he needed to make his move.

Cherrie tilted her head "have dinner with me?"

Mick just smiled "get to know you. I knew you weren't a cold hearted bitch like everyone made you out to be." He bluntly said. Glad that he had stuck to his intuition about her.

She let out a surprised laugh , the word 'bitch' sounding weird coming from him. It sounded funny.

"Well I'm glad you think so." She giggled shaking her head at him.

“You could of asked me sooner though. I would have said yes.." she told him.

Mick couldn't help but raise his brows in surprise "really?" He blurted out before he could stop himself .

Having been so scared of rejection that the possibility of her actually wanting to hang out with him too hadn’t even crossed his mind.

To him she was just so cool and mysterious . She was somebody that he had dreamed about , spent so long thinking about that he hadn't actually imagined her being attainable .

She was way out of his league .

Yet here she was, at his dining table , in his apartment and smiling back at him like she wouldn't want to be any where else in the world.

"Really." She confirmed to him. Finding his surprise too sweet .

“I really like you. I've been wanting to hang out with you for a while now but I wasn't sure how to ask you.." she decided to just got for it.

Their nervousness had kept them waiting long enough . She didn't want to waste another second that she could be spending with him by her side.

Mick felt like his heart was trying to escape his chest, butterfly's filling his stomach as he looked back at her with hearts in his eyes.

So In awe of her . "I can't believe this... I feel like I'm dreaming." He muttered to himself in disbelief. Running his hands over his face to try and pull himself together.

Then he pushed himself up out of his seat and walked over to her , offering his hand .

She looked at his hand and then looked up to him in confusion , yet she took it anyways .

Letting him pull her up from her seat before he smoothly interlocked their fingers together and pulled her closer to him.

"Not dreaming." She whispered to him with a small smile as she stared into his Angel eyes . Titling her head a little at him.

His cheeks were permanently tinted pink since she had arrived , his pupils blown wide as he grinned down at her . Biting at his bottom lip with a shy chuckle.

"No I'm not ." The realisation that this was real and that this was really happening hit him all at once.

"I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world." He told her matter of factly. Pulling their hands behind her back so that they he could rest his arms around her waist .

Making her dip back to look up at him with a quiet giggle , blushing .

"I thought you were scared of me?" She returned to him. Recalling his nervousness around her too.

Mick hummed in agreement "oh yeah. You scare the hell out of me ." He easily admitted , eyes twinkling.

"-doesn't change the way I feel about you though. If anything it only intensifies the feeling." He told her truthfully . Biting the bullet .

She pulled her hands out of his grip so that she could put her arms around his neck instead , taking a step closer until they were chest to chest.

Seeing his pulse racing against his neck , watching the way he swallowed nervously yet never took his eyes away from her own.

"And how do you feel?" She finally asked him, their lips gently brushing against one another as she nudged her nose against his soothingly .

He let out a shaky breath , closing the gap so that his words were spoken against her lips . So soft and true.

"I love you." He whispered before letting his eyes flutter shut as he finally kissed her.

Running his hands softly up her back till the palm of his hand reached the back of her neck , squeezing it gently as she hummed happily against his mouth.

Titling her head to deepen the kiss , sliding her tongue into his mouth as she slid her fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands until he was groaning against her . Pressing their hips together as they stumbled backwards , his other hand sliding down to clutch at the hem of her dress as he hiked it up.

Pushing them into the direction of his bedroom, heart racing in his chest as he felt her nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Pulling her mouth away from His for a moment as she began to kiss down to his neck , lapping at the tender skin there .

She traced her name onto his neck with her tongue , sucking a small mark beneath his ear as he breathed out her name desperately .

"Cherrie please.." he pleaded as they stumbled over to his bed . Letting out a small gasp when she suddenly pulled away only to roughly push him onto his back till he hit the mattress with a startled huff.

Gazing up at her with lovestruck eyes , his chest rising and falling rapidly as she smirked down at him slyly.

"You love me too?" He needed to know . Reaching out to grab her hips and pull her ontop of him too.

Cupping her jaw in his hands as he traced her swollen lips with his fingertip slowly, his darkening eyes never leaving her own.

Cherrie just breathed out a sigh and tapped over his chest three times , right over where his heart was.

"I love you. I do. Do you Want me to show you just how much?" At his hurried nod she let out a loud laugh and reached over for the blanket to pull it over their heads.

And all mick could think then was that he couldn't wait to walk into the paddock with her , hand in hand , just to see the looks on everybodys face when they saw them together .

For them to see about how wrong they were to think that she was this untouchable ice queen without any feelings.

She loved him. He gleefully grinned to himself as he kissed her and kissed her until his name was all that she could repeat.

Everyone else could suck it.

#mick Schumacher imagine #mick Schumacher x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #F1 x reader #f1 fic

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