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miniwheat77 · 3 days

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Alone with you. (141 x Reader.)

!smut, p in v sex, double penetration, gang bang, overstimulation, non con, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

This was supposed to be my bday fic but I’ve had writers block, hope you enjoy!

"So this is the culprit hm?" Laswell lifts up the bottle of pheromone perfume.

"Looks like it." You mumble. "Wonder how good it actually works. Might spice up my sex life." You joke. Soap laughs. "What sex life?" he snorts. Seeing Laswell roll her eyes at the both of you. "Exactly my point. Asshole." You mumble under your breath.

When Soap leaves the room, Laswell smirks at you. "I'm sure in super small doses it couldn't hurt." She winks. You catch the tiny vial in your hand that she had just thrown at you. You smile at her. "And that's why you're my favorite, Laswell." You laugh, following her out of her office. Tucking the vial into your back pocket. "Alright. I'm heading out. Graves said he has some leads in North America so I'll be over there for a couple weeks. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone." She smiles. "No promises. As always, safe travels Laswell. Ring when you get to where you're going." You call to her. She nods her head, waving at you. You disappear down the corridor, going to your room.

———

Later that same night, you make your way into the mess hall, cup in hand. It's got water in it. You haven't had the chance to eat yet. You sit down for just a second and a gasp leaves your lips when you hear a small pop come from your back pocket. "Shit." You mumble. You hear the others coming and choose to stay put, only turning to look at your backside when they're distracted. You notice that there's no liquid anymore. Had it absorbed that quickly?

You quickly head back to your room, trying to clean all of the glass out of your pocket. You change into some other leggings that you have since it's almost time for bed anyway it's not like anyone will care.

You make your way back out into the mess hall and take your seat once more. Seeing that Soap has set up across from you at the table. It's silent for the most part, until Soap starts to shuffle awkwardly. He clears his throat a couple of times, finally looking up at you. Only now does he suddenly feel very attracted to you. He was before of course but now, something is different. He clears his throat again and adjusts the way he's sitting. You glance around the room to see each of them stealing glances at you.

Is it the pheromone perfume doing this?

No… it couldn’t be. It was only a tiny vial.

You stand up to get rid of your tray and move to sit back down. “Y/N. Can I speak with you?” Your Captain grasps your attention. You nod your head, following him out to the hallways. “Did Laswell give you the pheromone perfume?” He crosses his arms. “Yeah, I was supposed to throw it away for her but I forgot about it and it broke open in my pocket.” He shakes his head. “Listen, the scent you’re giving off is way too much. Go lock yourself in your room and stay there until it’s worn off.” He finishes his sentence and then grits his teeth, like he’s holding something back. “Go on.” He breathes. You can’t help but notice the beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod your head. As you start walking down the corridor, you hear him.

“No, Johnny wait!” You turn back to see Soap trying to push passed him. Very clearly trying to get to you.

You hurry down the hallway and open the door to your room, closing the door behind you. “Jesus fuck.” You mumble to yourself. Is this stuff really this strong?

You take a deep breath, sitting at the edge of your bed.

For a couple hours, you hear nothing but silence. And it’s a bit deafening. It’s eerie like there’s something off. You lay down, trying to distract yourself but you end up falling asleep.

In your sleep, you feel someone moving next to you, dipping the edge of your bed down. You stir awake when you feel their hands on you. When you realize what’s going on, that someone is actually touching you, your eyes open completely. You jump away from them, seeing that it’s Soap. But he’s not there right now. His eyes are dark. “Johnny… what are you doing?” You breathe. “You smell so good lass. Can smell how fucking bad you want this…” he smirks. He moves off of your bed, circling around it to try to corner you. You make a split second decision and bolt for the door, sprinting down the hallway. You can hear his heavy footsteps chasing after you. You turn the corner, eyes widening and your feet skidding to a stop as you see your Captain and Gaz. They’re both standing there. Clearly blocking you from going this direction. “Nowhere to run, darling.” Gaz smirks. You breathe out.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

Soap closes in behind you, they make slow steps toward you.

You take off through the mess hall. Seeing a window that opens and hurrying up to it, you pry it open and climb through it. Sliding out of their grasp just barely. You take off running, seeing the watch tower. Perfect.

You make your way up, slowly and quietly. You don’t know if they’re on watch since they’re not thinking right.

You move up inside, closing the door behind you. Breathing. You dig your phone out of your pocket, dialing Laswell immediately. “Y/N, I haven’t got to base just yet, I’m driving.” She mumbles. “I know- it’s not that.” You breathe, hands shaking. “The vial you gave me broke open in my pocket and my body absorbed all of it, now I’m in a freaking wild goose chase Laswell.” You pant. “What? It’s that bad?” She asks. “Yes! They’re like.. freaking zombies Laswell. They’re not even there.” You breathe. “You’ll just have to wait it out Y/N.” She mumbles. “Yeah.. Yeah I know.” You mumble. “Thanks Laswell.” You sigh.

You hear creaking, fear coursing through you. Just as you turn to look at the door, a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you into them, another hand clamping around your mouth. “Gotcha.” He whispers. His voice is deep and it comes out almost as a growl.

It’s Ghost.

He moves his other hand from your waist and grasps your phone, pressing the button to hang up. Lowering the phone down onto the countertop. “Didn’t lock the door sweetheart. Almost like you wanted this to happen hm?” He breathes, his warm breath right over your ear. “You know we’re not gonna hurt ya.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Ghost, please-“ you whine. “You smell so good. Drives me crazy. I almost didn’t want to tell them you were up here.” He chuckles. Your eyes widen.

Just then, you can hear multiple footsteps coming up the metal staircase. Like everything is deafened around you and that’s all you can hear.

What are they going to do to you?

Ghost spins you around. You see the other three creeping into the room, Soap makes sure to lock the door behind himself. “Nowhere to run now, Dove. It’s just you and us now.” Gaz mumbles, stepping closer. You step back. But know it’s no use. You’re stuck, and whatever is going to happen, it’s happening now. “What are you going to do?” You swallow hard. Johnny chuckles. “Nothing you won’t like, darling. How about we get these clothes off of you, hm?”

“I- I don’t-“

“That wasn’t a question. It was an order.” Captain Price’s voice booms in your ears. His sternness always was intimidating. “Y-yes sir.” You breathe. You hope that as you reach for the hem of your shirt, they’ll start laughing. That this will be some kind of sick joke. But they don’t.

You tug your shirt over your head. Breathing out. You clench your eyes shut as they reach for their belts. Still dressed in their military uniforms. “Y/N. Look at me.” You tilt your head up, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you look at Johnny. “Nothing to be scared about. Just relax.” He chuckles. You nod your head. He reaches out, grasping hold of your upper arm and pulling you into him with ease. How easy it is for him to move you makes you realize just how powerful these men are. He forces you up against the small table in the watch tower. It’s old and you’re not sure if it’ll hold you.

You swallow hard, wincing as the table begins to dig into your pelvis. He makes you rest your hands on it. “Be a good girl.” He breathes. His voice sends chills down your spine. He reaches for your pants, tugging them down your legs. He holds them down with his foot, having you step out of them. “Good girl. Now listen.” He breathes. He raises his hands up, unclasping your bra and letting it fall over your shoulders and onto the floor. “Nobody will hear you, so you can be as loud as you want to. Alright? You’re going to like this, because you’re a naughty little thing. Promise.” He mumbles. He pushes you back down, forcing you over the table. A gasp leaves your lips as he pushes apart your legs.

He frees his cock from its confines and you can see the others standing off to the side. You clench your eyes shut once more, whining as he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes himself past your entrance, sliding in and bottoming out into you. You lurch forward with a hiss at the intrusion. “Oh- f-fuck!” You cry. Raising up slightly with a cry. He only forces you back down. “Shhh. It’s okay.” His attempt at soothing you is pathetic and half-assed. If you weren’t in this particular position, you might laugh at him.

But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at them the same ever again.

You rest your head on the table, breathing out. Take a deep breath, try not to lose control.

That’s hard to do, keeping yourself together around them when they’re as attractive as they are. And the way they’re touching you.

Just as soon as you’re full, he’s pulling out of you again. He lifts you up, shoving the flimsy table out of the way and kneeling on the ground with you. Ghost steps toward you and you look up at him, he’s still got his mask on. You can’t see his smile. “Look good from this position, darling.” He smirks. You swallow hard, he moves his jeans to the side and tugs his boxers down, revealing his length to you. He’s big. You swallow hard, looking down. “No need to be nervous now. Look at me.” He breathes. You tilt your head up again, feeling Johnny kneel behind you, moving his length up the expanse of your ass. You shudder as Simon steps forward. “Open your mouth.” He breathes. You’re trying to stay focused on Simon but the feeling of Johnny’s length pushing into you from behind has you wincing again. “Relax. Look up at me.” He lifts your chin forcefully. Pushing the tip of his cock past your lips. You take him down as far as you can, swallowing around his shaft. Hearing him gasp.

“Johnny touch her clit.” He breathes.

Johnny does it, listening to his LT.

He glides his hand over your hip and stomach. Calloused hands rough on your skin but his fingertips on your clit has your thighs ready to give out. He draws his hips back, thrusting back into your ass. Hearing you choke on Simon’s cock. You draw back, taking a deep breath. You rest your hands on his thighs, pulling him closer to you so that you can take him further down. “There.. see.” He breathes. “All you had to do was make her horny.” His laugh is deep and taunting. He tilts his head back, groaning out. You focus on the tip of his cock, knowing it’s got the most nerve endings. Being gentle but still sucking hard. It only takes a couple of minutes before his thighs are shaking.

“Fuck-“ he draws back away from you. “Wanna be in that pussy.” He breathes. “Gonna make me cum too fast.” He breathes.

He kneels down in front of you. Wiping your lips of saliva and clearing them. Johnny’s hard thrusts into you keep you wet, and you whine when he pulls his hand away from your clit. “It’s alright. Gonna get you nice and full lass.” Soap chuckles. You probably look fucking pathetic in front of them. Fucked out and desperate. You knew you needed to get laid but this…

This is too far. But it’s something you didn’t know you needed.

They raise you up, wrapping your legs around Simon’s waist. Johnny slides himself back inside of your ass, feeling you tense up. Simon glides his tip up between your folds, pushing past them. You whine out, starting to squirm. “S’alright.” He breathes. His voice is low. Only you can hear it. When they’re both bottoming out in you, your breath is gone. Lungs are empty and burning. You’re trying to catch your breath but it feels impossible. A sob gets caught in your throat and you clench your eyes shut as they start to fuck you. “Fuck- not gonna last-“ Johnny hisses. Ghost holds you still, both of them moving in unison as they thrust into you. You shake and cry, overstimulated and you haven’t even cum yet.

“Fuck!” Johnny slides out of you, pumping himself with his hand. He bucks his hips into you, resting his forehead on your back as he finishes. Simon doesn’t stop his thrusts, keeping up his bruising pace.

Johnny moves away from you, he’s been selfish thus far. It’s someone else’s turn.

Gaz takes his place. Desperate to feel you. He inches closer, spitting into his hand and gliding it over the tip of his cock. He slides into you again. Feeling you gasp out. Lurching foward into Simon. He laughs. “You’re doing good. Keeping up.” Ghost mumbles.

Gaz grips your hips and tries to hold you still as he and Simon fill you. You can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Shivering as it inches closer and closer.

Chills start at your toes and work their way up your body.

“I- oh god-“ you whine.

You clench your eyes shut, letting it take over your body. You’re sure it’ll be the hardest you’ll ever cum. They don’t stop, riding out your orgasm as it washes over you. You know they’re not going to stop.

You relax, trying to pace yourself despite being overstimulated. You raise your hand up and rest it on Simon’s shoulder. Hearing Gaz chuckle behind you at your fucked out state. Simon’s breathing is getting a little heavier. He lowers his head, lips right by your ear. “So tight baby… getting me so close.” He grits his teeth. He starts to pant, cock throbbing and twitching inside of you. He groans out, sliding out of you. He grits his teeth and tries to contain himself as he cums.

He takes a second, panting. His head is buried into the crook of your neck as he comes down. He finally pulls away from you. Standing up and adjusting his pants.

Captain Price is quick to take his place. You’re ready to tap out but it’s clear that they’re not going to let you. Gaz grasps your chin, tilting your head back. “You’re doing good. Just a bit more.” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. You can feel your captain’s hands on you, groping your breasts in his hands as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You still smell so good.” He growls. Gaz lets go of you and you finally get a good look at John. His eyes are dark, like the others. Their pupils are dilated, they look dark. Empty. Like there’s nothing there, only lust.

What the hell is this stuff and who made it?

You whine again as he slides into you. Tears filling your eyes. You clench your eyes shut and brace yourself for what they’re going to do to you. You rest your head on John’s chest as they start fucking into you mercilessly, John is desperate. He’s been waiting the longest. He’s eager and horny and the way he fucks you shows it. You’re sobbing into his chest in just minutes, overstimulated and overwhelmed. Your body shakes and you can feel the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen again. You can’t stay quiet. Moans spill from your lips uncontrollably and tears stream from your eyes. You’ve never been so overwhelmed in your life. “Do you feel good? Hm?”

“Yes!” You cry. “Tell me how good you feel.” He breathes. Forcing you to look up at him. “Tell me how good all of us have made you feel. And it better be good honey. Let everyone know how good they’ve fucked you today.” He forces your face up again by your jaw. “It feels so good- so so good- you’re fucking me so good.” A gasp leaves your lips as they thrust together at the exact same time. “Now what do you say hm? It was kind of us to fuck you.”

“Thank you!” You cry, head falling again. You chant it as they thrust into you. “That’s a good girl.” He chuckles.

They last another few minutes, but this time, neither of them pull out. Filling both of your holes up.

They ride out their highs before halting, cocks buried up inside of you still. You’re panting hard, clit throbbing. You don’t know how you’ve taken it or kept up with them to this point.

It’s Soap who lifts you up and carries you to your room. Your thighs shake uncontrollably and he helps you get cleaned up before putting you to bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable. And even when he leaves you alone, he’s still got that same dark look in his eyes.

Maybe you wouldn’t wake up alone.

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kenntolog · 2 days

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𝝑𝝔 an: i don’t really like this much :( im feeling so sick ngl reader is me i am reader, just need me a boyfie like sukuna here :((( anyways, i posted this because i felt the pressure to do it sk bare with me please!! i love you all <33 read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!

so you’ve been silent through the whole day, which has been bothering sukuna whenever he was reminded of it. nervously checking his phone at practice every chance he got, which got his teammates interested in whatever the hell happened that got him so invested in his phone(only toji tbh). his mind being focused on you instead of the upcoming game which reflected greatly on his practice and made everyone worried.

sukuna just waved them off and continued calling you with no results and texting you, which also got him nowhere. so of course, he decided to check on you after being done with university.

no one answers your door, radio silence, which leads sukuna to taking out the poorly hidden spare keys from under the fake plant and going in, still uninvited but determined to find you. he calls your name a few times, walking around the rooms with a frown on his face. the sight that greets him when he enters your room is even more confusing than your silence throughout the day.

a big pile of blankets on your bed. the longer he stares at it the clearer he can see the faint movement of it — slowly up and slowly down, up and down. he approaches it, looking over only to find a tuft of your hair peeking out from under it.

“what the hell..?” he mutters under his nose while his hands tug down the blanket to reveal your face.

even in your sleep you manage to frown and you only do that when you’re not feeling well, so sukuna leans in closer, sensing the heat radiating from you, and touches your forehead with his lips, eyes widening at how hot you feel. “the fuck happened to you?”

you blink sleepily before opening your eyes and looking up at him for a few seconds. sukuna sits down by your side, hands caressing your face gently as he inspects your condition quickly, “what’s up, loser?”

you say his name, yet he can barely hear it before you start coughing and turn away from him. he can see your face scrunch in pain; his heart squeezes in his chest when you lie back and this time your lips wobble slightly as you mouth his name, barely audible, “‘kuna~ think ‘m sick~”

“yea, no shit.” he rolls his eyes with no real annoyance in them. “let’s make you feel better, yeah, baby?”

you nuzzle into his palm and he smiles gently at you… until you unintentionally sneeze right into it, leaving slimy boogers and gross spit, and sukuna’s eye twitches as he tries to contain his curses.

of course, first thing sukuna does — calls his older brother jin, because the former doesn’t even remember the last time he got sick and jin always knows what to do, especially in a situation like this since little yuuji hasn’t developed the best immune system yet.

“are you sure you can take care of her properly?” jin asks worriedly from the other end of the line, causing sukuna to roll his eyes.

“have some faith in me, will you?” jin only sighs, barely listening to him as he writes down the list of various medicine and things he must buy to make you feel better. yet, he still catches his younger brother’s almost incoherent mumbling. “i can take care of her like no other.”

“then do just that.”

sukuna hums and presses end call, continuing to look through your kitchen cabinet full of different medicines in hopes of finding whatever the hell jin sent him.

you’re not a very obedient person when you’re sick though, he notices. sukuna can tell you’re still a bit hazed from the high body temperature and trying to sleep it off without any care, yet the sickness makes you more stubborn than ever.

and he can’t find it in himself to push you around when your body is hurting and muscles are sore from spasming in an attempt to warm up. so he just lets you sit on the chair in the kitchen, wrapped tightly in your blanket, dazedly watching him make you some soup.

he feeds you the soup himself, too, agreeing a little begrudgingly of course. you whine a bit with that pitiful broken voice of yours and he just gives in because your eyes are watery and your lips wobble, and he is just a weak man around you. don’t judge him!

sukuna is so caring, though, it makes you fall in love with him all over again. he’s a bit clumsy when it comes to cooking you stuff and making you curing beverages; rough around his the edges about his timing and maybe a little too annoyed with your childish antics, yet never showing it directly like he usually does.

watching your favourite movies and shows with you, when he’d usually just shit on your taste and choose something of his own(which you also eventually like, but nonetheless get angry at him). getting invested in them too — just so he can entertain you afterwards and take your mind off of your ill state.

not commenting on your messy state; sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, complains about cold when changing your equally sweaty shirts to clean ones, whines about the tea being too hot or the syrup being too gross(okay, that one kinda angers him he just shoves the spoon in your mouth to make you drink it since you wouldn’t do it yourself).

he also sleeps with you later that night, ignoring your warnings about him getting sick too :(( holds you tight, shares his body heat and wakes up every now and then to check if you’ve sweated any more.

needless to say, you feel a lot better the next morning!! all thanks to sukuna.

(also he gets sick a day after, but don’t ask about that pls heh).

#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen fluff #ryomen sukuna x you

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cupcakeinat0r · 2 days

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Still thinking about DadBod!Miguel………..

You loved your man unconditionally, that was a fact. But it was also a fact that he was a workaholic, and this bothered you like no other. He tried to be better about it since being with you, but the habit of staying for longer hours still persists.

You couldn’t complain all too much, though, since he did make some progress; how else would he have softened up a bit if not to come home to you earlier some days to eat you out your cooking?

Anyways, one time, it was late, he was home, but he was still in that goddamn study of his, and you were waiting impatiently in the bedroom for him.

“Baby…” you call out from the warm, fluffy sheets, “come to bed, please.” you plea, but alas, you’re response is a low, “casi terminado, beba.”

Typical.

You don’t know if it’s because of built up sexual frustration, your ovulation week, or both, but you get up from the bed and march yourself toward his study.

“Hey, mister, remember me? The love of your life?” You say almost jokingly, but you’re kind of serious at this point. You stand at the door, arms crossed.

Miguel looks up at you from his computer, and you can tell he’s tired. He’s already in his usual sleeping attire: nothing but basketball shorts, which doesn’t help the situation at all. The waistband hugs tightly around his pudge, displaying his delicious happy trail.

“M’sorry, mama, I’ll be there soon, m’kay? Almost done, promise.” But you’re not even completely listening because of how inviting his thick, muscular thighs look right about now. An idea pops into your head…

“That’s what you always say…” you walk into the study, catching Miguel’s attention once again when you stand next to him. You give his bicep a tap, a non-verbal request for him to scoot the seat back and turn to you, to which he obliged. He sees you pouting, which saddens him of course, he hates seeing his baby upset. He never does this to hurt or neglect you.

“Mamita, Que te pasa? Hm?” He coos while you sit on his lap, straddling and cuddling him as your smaller-in-comparison figure wraps around his taller, huskier build. You swear if you weren’t so horny, you’d be able to fall asleep right there against his soft, plushy, warm skin. Miguel embraces you back, pressing your front against his soft stomach and hard chest. He has a hand on your hip, the other on your lower back.

“Nothing, I just miss you…” you softly breathe against the skin of his neck, placing soft kisses there, “I miss my cuddle bear,” you speak between those kisses. You know your act is working when you feel a certain tent forming beneath you, your lips curling against his jawline.

Miguel kisses you back, his slow kisses planted along your shoulder, “I know, mama, I know,” he continues to plant apologetic pecks up your shoulder and up your neck, only riling you up even more, “I miss you, too, beba. ” he coos, pressing a kiss on your head as his gaze remains on his laptop. One of his hands continues to rub your back while the other travels from your hip to proceed typing on the laptop.

Miguel then hears you speak against the skin of his bare shoulder. It’s muffled, but he can make out a weak, “I need you.”

The typing stops.

“Perdon, mamita, what was that?” You let out a soft grunt, your hips fidgeting on top of his lap. Your heat rubbing against his bulge and lower belly gradually stealing his focus from his work. “You heard me, stop acting coyyy.” You shy away from the question with more kisses on his shoulder and neck but he persists, “dimelo, mama, que necesitas?”

His lips curl as you begin mewling quietly against his neck, your hips digging harder against his lap. “C’mon, baby, use your words.” His smirk widens when he hears a certain whimper; one he’s grown familiar with and knew what it meant.

Your breathiness tickles his ear in the most delectable way, letting out a measly, “I want — Mm…” You’re surprised to hear the typing begin again, thinking you were finally starting to take 100% of his attention.

“Whatchu want, hm? I’ll give it to you, just say it.” He gently pleads, the softness of his voice the greatest comfort in the world. He makes you feel so safe.

“Mm— I… I need you… Ungh— M’need you in me, Mig, pleaseeee.”

“You want what? Be specific, mamita, you can do it.” You kiss your teeth and roll your eyes, “Baby, you know what I’m talking about, stop being like that.”

“No, no, tell me, I wanna hear it from you. Love it when you say it… need to hear you say it…” he whispers.

You never were good at being vocal, but Miguel has changed that since being with him. The man needs to hear your sweet voice, it being absolute music to his ears. You were at your limit, so for this time, you put aside your timidity and grant him his wish.

“I want this fat cock, baby… so bad.”

You couldn’t stop whimpering due to his massive length stretching you out. You’d think you would have adapted to size by now, but given he has you sitting still on his lap, no room to maneuver, it figures.

“Mamita, stop moving, I’m almost done with this, I promise.” You know he’s having just as much of a hard time sitting still from how gravel his voice has become. Since making you cockwarm him, he’s barely accomplished any work on his computer, about to call it quits and just take you to bed to finish off what you started.

“You said that fifteen minutes agoooo.” You groan, your hips fighting against his hand, which holds you tight in position.

He quiets you with a kiss to the temple, “shh, beba, I’m giving you what you— mmfuck— what you wanted…” The way your cunt greedily sucks him in makes his mind foggy and his cock twitch inside you a number of times. In an effort to hush your noises of desperation, he leans back into his chair so that his face meets yours, practically eating your tongue in an open mouthed kiss. Amidst the heated kiss, he can feel a certain something taut against his belly. He makes the mistake of looking down when pulling away, seeing how his throbbing dick makes a faint bulge in your stomach. With this, your pussy constantly squeezing him, and your soft whimpers, there’s no way he’ll finish any work.

“Coño, you win.”

So he slams his computer, picks you up, basically runs toward the bed and throws you onto it so that he could rail you until you spoke fluent gibberish!

The end :3

A/n: inspired by an ask, Ty nonnie <3

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lovifie · 24 hours

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A Ghost Of The Past

Prompt 15 - High school sweethearts reunite and find love again from @glitterypirateduck Ghost challenge - masterlist

Cw: mentions of Simon's childhood, some inaccuracies, little idiots in love, oral sex (fem receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, some glazing, cum play, afab reader

Loving Simon Riley was easy. It came naturally. How could you not?

Throughout every single year of high school, you were seated next to him. Every project was done together. Homework was done together. Study sessions were done together. Everything was done together.

You were never invited to his house, even though you invited him to yours a thousand times.

It was really hard to distract him during class, always saying that he had to pay attention during class because he couldn't study at home. Curiosity always urged you to ask the reason for it, but you never did. Not wanting to risk the friendship by sticking your nose where you shouldn't.

Still, as the two of you started to grow; puberty passing by, changes, new problems, harder courses, harder decisions. Simon found it harder and harder to concentrate, his sight constantly trailing off to you.

He would shake his head, constantly reminding himself to stay focused. To be realistic. You were his friend and you didn't think of him in any other way.

His movements would catch your attention, your eyes lingering for just a bit more than what would be considered casual on his face, on his frustrated looking face. Lips slightly pouting and furrowed eyebrows making you smile.

Still, even as you were growing closer and closer; there was also an abyss threatening to open between the two of you. High school was ending in just a couple of months, and it didn't look like you shared the same plans after graduation.

You were worrying about university, which degree to choose, your exams, where to go and Simon… Simon kept getting to class with new bruises and cuts. And every time you tried to pry in… he would push you back.

“That looks like it hurts…” You said one morning, your forearm resting on his shoulder as you pointed at his busted lip.

“Well, aren't you a genius?” He harshly said, pushing your arm off his shoulder and making you sit straight so as not to fall.

“Well, aren't you nice?” You said back, an annoyed tone in your voice as you turned to your notebook. “No need to be a dickhead, I haven't done anything to you.”

“You never do anything.” He mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that.” You say, turning your head at him.

“Do you want a prize?” He said, with a fake smile on his face.

“Fuck off, Simon. Talk to me when you get the stick out of your ass.” You say standing up, picking up your things to leave.

He didn't say anything.

What he did, was knock on your window in the middle of the night. The glass shaking in the rhythm of the Jurrasic Park movie theme song. You ran your blinds, coming face to face with a bloodied nose Simon; so you unlocked your window, staring at him as he looked ashamed to be there.

"Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?”

“..... c’mon in.” You whispered after a minute, taking a step back to give him space to enter. He swiftly did, silent as ever, his feet barely making a sound when connecting with the ground.

You grabbed his hand, his first reaction was for him to avoid your touch before relaxing. You pulled him to the bathroom down the hall, trying your best to not make a sound. Pushing him to sit down on the toilet, and opening the cupboard under the sink for clean tissues. “I'm still mad, you know?”

“I know… I'm sorry, things… things have been difficult at home, I'm sorry.” He said, looking up at you as you cleaned the dried blood from his face.

“You could have just told me… vent a bit, something. That's what friends are for, you know?” You say, throwing the bloddy paper in the trash can.

“It’s always friends with you, isn't it?” Simon groaned before he could register what he had just admitted. “Forget it.”

“What?” You stopped your movements, looking at his face.

“Nothing, forget it.” He said, trying to take the new paper towel from your hand.

“No, I don't want to. What did you say, Simon?” You ask again, putting your hand away from his reach.

“I like you, okay! There, I said it. You can laugh now or whatever, I don't care.” He grumpily admitted in a whisper, standing up to his full height to drop the tissues on the sink and clean his own nose. An obvious blush flourishing on his face.

“N-No, I… I don't want to laugh.” You say, standing behind him, looking at the eyes of his reflection. “You… like me?”

“Yeah, no need to take the Mick out of me for it.” He groaned again, his face finally clean of the blood.

“I'm not. I'm not teasing you, I… I like you too, Simon.” You whispered back, but he heard it loud and clear; turning around in a blink.

“What?” He asked, too loud to be hiding in the bathroom causing you to shush at him and make him cover his mouth with his hand. “Sorry… but what? You? You like me? Why?”

“What you mean why?” You ask, chuckling softly, your hand resting over his chest as his hand slides from his mouth, catching yours from pulling away. “I just do…”

You notice his gaze travel from your eyes to your lips and the moment you catch his intentions, you feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Simon looking just as flustered.

Still, you look up at him puckering your lips slightly and before you can regret it, Simon does the same; pushing his lips forward and closing his eyes tightly before crashing his mouth against yours.

It's just a second. Maybe even less. But it's enough to have the butterflies in your stomach growing wild, your face more and more red as you realise you just gave your first kiss to your crush.

Simon feels just the same, like his face is about to explode from how hard he's blushing, like everything was worth it, like getting his nose broken was a good thing… his nose!

“Fuck!” He whispers, clutching his nose when the high from the kiss comes down and he realises he smashed it against your face just now.

You chuckle at him, handing him more paper when you notice the blood running again. You want to kiss him again, and again, until you lose count. So you wait patiently for him to pull his hands back.

“Young lady, do you mind explaining what's going on?” Your father's voice makes you jump, taking a step away from Simon. “Simon, what are you doing here?”

“Dad, Simon just-” You try to come up with an excuse before Simon cuts you off.

“Sorry, Sir… I, well. My dad and I had a little… disagreement and I didn't have where to spend the night, I… I'm sorry, I'll leave, I don't want to cause problems.” He quickly says, throwing the blood-stained paper towel on the trash can with the rest.

“I'm not throwing you to the street, Simon…” Your dad answered, sighting as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Simon wondered for a second why he wouldn't when his own father had no problem doing it. “Just… let's go to sleep, I'll give you a sleeping bag.”

Simon and you look at each other for a second before turning away embarrassed of getting caught. You are the first to walk out of the bathroom, Simon diligently behind you turning the lights off.

When you enter your room your dad is setting the sleeping bag on the floor, stealing a pillow from your bed and laying blankets on top. “That's one of my pyjama trousers, sleeping with jeans is not too comfy. Go change.”

He throws the pyjama at him, Simon gives him a quick nod and makes his way back to the bathroom. Once out, your father turns to you as you slip inside of your bed.

“He better not get out of the sack, you hear me, young lady? I'm trusting you two to not make anything stupid, you are too young for those things, am I clear?” He asks, pointing his finger at you.

“Yes, Dad.” You say, dragging the vowel.

He hums, before walking out, sliding past Simon and telling him to behave too, pointing finger and a scowl on his face. Simon enters the room, the tip of his ears still flushed pink, closing the door behind him and sliding on the sleeping bag. You lean over the edge of the bed, propping your head on your hand as you look at him. “Comfy?”

“Very much, yeah.” He says as he shimmies himself into the blankets.

You chuckle at him, slightly raising your blanket just to see his reaction. “You don't want to join me?”

He looks at you, utter disgust on his face. “Share a bed with you? What are you planning to do to me?” He asks, covering up to his face with the blankets. Only uncovering his face to say: “whore”

You slap his arm making him laugh, and he grabs your hand with yours. “I'm playing, I'm playing. Let's just go to sleep, I don't want your dad to kick me out.”

“Alright, alright… prude.” You say, teasing him back making him groan as you laugh.

The next morning, when your mom came to wake you up for school, she didn't say anything about your arm hanging from the bed just to hold Simon's hand.

But this confession, the hand holding, the furtive little pecks here and there, was not enough to fix the abyss pulling apart. Because the argument was not the reason for it, it was something else and you only found out on your graduation night.

When you were sitting on the curb, having dinner from the first fast food place you both could find; still dressed in your fancy clothes and picking the soda cup off the ground.

“I think I'm gonna go into math” You suddenly said.

“Math?” Simon asked, laughing softly.

You nodded. “Yeah… that or physics.” You said

“You are such a nerd.” He said laughing, earning a kick to his feet.

“Shut up! Not my fault you can't count.” You laughed back. “And you? What are you picking?”

The smile on his face quickly turned sour, disappearing into a frown, worry growing in the pit of your stomach. “I'm actually enlisting.”

“Enlisting? Like… like in the military?” You asked, looking at him even though he was looking forward.

“Yeah… exactly like that.” He said, nodding, still not looking at you.

“Why? I thought you hated it, like… Simon, why would you join the military? You don't -” You started to say, food resting on its wrapper on the ground.

“You said it yourself, I can't even count.” He said, dropping his food too. “At least this way I can be useful… I could actually protect somebody.”

“That's not true, Si. You know I was just playing, you are smart. Don't say that.” You say, trying to catch his gaze.

“I barely passed the exams, and… and I already signed in, anyway.” He admitted, looking at his hand.

You remained silent for a second, switching to look forward too. “So that's it, no? No point in telling you my mind when you're already in, not that you seemed to care about my opinion.”

“That's not it, don't get it twisted.” He says, trying to grab your hand to make you look at him. “Love…”

“Don't ‘love’ me, Simon!” You say standing up. “When were you even going to tell me? Were you even going to? Or were you planning on just disappearing like nothing?”

“I was going to tell you, I promise.” He said standing up. “I just didn't want to ruin tonight for you.”

“Well, now is too late!” You exclaim, turning around so he cannot see the tears pooling in your waterline.

“Love, c’mon…” He whined, walking behind you. “You are thinking too hard, they are not throwing me into the battlefield in a week. I'll train, I'll become a good one, I'll get strong, I'll protect you!”

“You can't protect me if you are dead! And what do you need to protect me from, Simon?! Why are you so obsessed with protecting?!” You say, still not turning as you walk towards your house.

He called your name, making you turn to look at him. His heart clenched in pain at the sight of the tears threatening to fall from your glistering eyes but too stubborn to do so. “You don't… you don't get it.”

You sniffle before talking. “You are right, Simon, I don't! Good luck in the military.”

That was the last thing you said to him, venom dripping from your voice as you did. Before disappearing into your house slamming the door behind you.

He drifted a week later, without another word being spoken between the two of you. And even though he didn't live a day without thinking of you, he never spoke to you until 18 years later.

He kept tabs on you, always making sure you were fine, alive and happy. And to benefit his selfish mind, unmarried.

“We are in the middle of fucking Manchester, Laswell! We cannot simply stay in the open without risking civilians' lives! We need somewhere to hide!” His captain's voice barked into his phone, Laswell's response not loud enough for Simon to hear.

He knows your house is just a couple of blocks away, moving out of your parents' house a couple of years after finishing university. He could visit you, drop by, but it is the middle of the night and he is working… no reason to go to you.

“We are on our own, Laswell can't fly us back until the morning. She said they seem to have lost us, so technically we are not being followed so we are safe, we… Let's find some coffee shop or something.” Price says, putting his phone away.

Kyle groans beside him. “I'm fuckin’ starving… and peeing myself.” The sergeant complained.

“Just take a wee on the bush, Garrick.” Soap grunted at him, exhausted after the strain of the mission. “I just want to fucking sleep, I'm gonna pass out…”

“Kids! The bunch of you!” Price barks again. The prolonged deployment clearly wearing down all of them. “We cannot just go to a random house, knock a secret code on the door and be let into a warm bed and hot food. So coffee and a chair is all we are getting if we get lucky.”

Except they do. Because even though you haven't heard from him in years, he knows that you will open your door to him.

“I know someone who will let us sleep in their house.” Simon said, hands resting on his vest.

“You?” Soap asks, looking at him from the curb he is sitting down on. “Who?”

“A friend.” Simon says after a pause, taking his phone out; looking for your number hidden behind the ‘IT Support’ name of your contact.

“.... you got other friends?” Soap asks with his eyebrow raised.

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” He grumbles back, his phone dialling. For a moment he expects you to not pick it up, but then he hears your sleepy voice. “Hello?”

“Hey… This is Simon. Riley, Simon Riley.” He says, his fingers pulling at the flap of his trousers pockets.

Gaz looks at Price, only to be met with the same confused expression. That's not how you talk to a friend.

You take even longer to answer, being just woken up not helping with thinking too quickly. “Simon? ...Si? Where have you- What are you- Why did you- What? Simon, what? I don't-”

“I know, I know, love.” The nickname slipped past his lips like a second nature. “It's a long story, I'm sorry, I know I own you a long, long, very long explanation, listen-”

“Simon, it's 3:00 in the morning, this is…” he can hear you sigh on the phone. “I don't think this is the conversation to have over the phone.”

“That's actually why I called, I'm… I'm back in town for a little, do you… do you think I could sleep at your house tonight? You know I wouldn't ask if I had another choice…” Simon says, biting his glove, unable to bite his nails.

You sigh again. “You haven't changed, have you? I'll send you my location, it's close to my parents" Simon knows. “Don't take too long, I need to wake up early.”

Before Simon can answer, you have already hung up. He puts his phone away, a smile on his face when it buzzes knowing you sent him your address; and he turns to the expecting men.

“C’mon, all set.” It’s all Simon says, starting to walk without looking back.

“Are you going to explain?” It’s Gaz the one who's brave enough to ask. Simon simply looks at him before answering with a deadpan expression on his face. “No.”

Meanwhile, you stay lying on your bed, wondering what to do next. You certainly don't know what to expect next, it's been a lifetime since the last time you saw him.

The scrawny lanky kid that kept talking about protecting you, about becoming strong, about being better… has he been kicked out? Was he simply kicked? Was he injured? Why was he back?

He doesn't give you much time to contemplate about what can be the reason for his visit before you hear the knocking on your door. You finally kick the covers off, walking to the door yawning; but the sleep gets quickly kicked off your body when you look out the peephole.

Four massive men standing outside of your door, barely able to fit in the steps in front of it. Obvious guns hanging from the straps of their vest, but any of that it’s as terrifying as the skull mask looking right at you as if he could see through the door.

You can't even see his eyes, only the back voids of shadows; the street lights behind him only hiding his face more. He is the tallest, you can't even see the top of his head, and his shoulders are so wide you doubt he will fit through the door.

Neither of these men is Simon and suddenly you just want to step back into your bed, away from the danger, call Simon and tell him not to come until these people leave. But the man with the skull mask raises his hand again, and then he knocks on the door; the Jurrasic Park movie theme song sounding loud and clear.

You hear laughs outside, a gruff voice complaining to shut up, and you open the door, the short chain the only thing keeping it from opening completely.

The masked man turns to you at the sound, everyone's eyes on you but you can't peel your eyes from him. You hear the alarm bells in your head telling you to close the door, too many stories that start with a dumb decision just like this one.

But you are not the only one unable to move, Simon's eyes are locked on you. He sees the changes, how you have grown older just like him, but you have just grown breathtakingly beautiful. It has his heart beating on his ears and butterflies turning in his stomach.

Butterflies? At his grown age?

But he can't help it, not when your lips look so soft, your hair frames your face like the most perfect frame in a museum, not when your eyes look so… worried? Afraid? You have never looked at him scared before.

He noticed then how you are almost hugging yourself, using your arms to pull distance and how you frantically look at his face. What are you looking for? What's wrong with the mask?

…

He quickly pulls the mask off of his head, realising his mistake and seeing your face relax when you identify the dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead.

He is Simon still.

You breathe more easily once he takes it off, not completely relaxed at the image of the still unknown men standing right behind him. But you know him or used to, and he is your Simon.

“Sorry, it is… part of the uniform.” He says, a tone of voice any of the men have heard him use before. You look at them, clearly not wearing the mask and catching his lie. He ignores the look you send him, a bashful smile on his face. “Can we come in?”

He leans his body forward, quickly stopping when he notices you move the door closer and look at the man behind him. “They are my team, it's okay, I'll explain it later. It's alright, they are Price, Kyle and Johnny.”

Calling it an awkward situation would be an understanding, when the guy at the back with the mohawk waves at you like a child you sigh; closing the door to undo the chain and open it back up to let them in.

If they wanted to murder you the door was not stopping them.

“Please, c'mon in.” You say, a slight tone of annoyance too difficult to miss in your tone, but it still makes Simon's heart jump at the sound of your voice. “You can leave your shoes on the rack, and well… everything else.”

They do a quick work of their shoes, resting them on the rack leaving a healthy space with yours; the dirt from them remaining away from them. They take off their bags, vests and belts next; their size not shrinking in the slightest.

Simon simply remains massive, his t-shirt stretched out over the wide span of his shoulders, growing looser around his waist, hiding under his trousers that are just as stretch-out over his asscheeks and massive thighs. It’s then, when you are staring at his ass that one of them talks to you, catching your attention.

“I'm really sorry, but can I please use your bathroom?” Is Gaz the one asking, a tiny silly dance of stepping on one foot and then the other as he awaits your response.

You nod quickly, pointing to the door of your bathroom. “Yeah, that one. The light switch is outside.” He quickly moves past you, making you smile when you hear him dramatically groan as you hear water splashing.

“Garrick, close the door!” One of the other men says, the one with the funny-looking beard. “Apologies, he is usually better potty trained; but it's been a long deployment.”

You lift a hand waving it slightly, letting him know that it is okay. Simon can see how you look at him from the corner of your eyes, still awaiting the explanation. Until the loud noise of a stomach rumbling with hunger makes everyone whip their head to the man that waved at you before; a hand on his abdomen and a little coy smile on his face.

“Are you hungry?” You ask as if the sound erupting from him wasn't an obvious sign.

“It's okay, I'll live, don't worry.” He quickly says, not wanting to abuse anymore of the hospitality.

You stare at him, unsure, until his stomach screams again and you move to the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Any allergies?”

You get a group “no” as an answer before you make quick work of the cooking. Simon walks in, coming to your side and asking. “Can I help?”

You shake your head. “It's okay, go wash your hands. All of you.” He nods quickly, instructing your orders to the rest as they quickly move back to the bathroom.

You throw the premade garlic bread on the oven, throwing an obscene amount of pasta noodles into boiling water as you work on the sauce on a pan. You already struggle to measure pasta for yourself, how do you measure for four men built like a brick house?

The oven dings, throwing the bread back onto the plate with your bare hands quickly. You leave the plate on the counter, throwing the noodles on the pan; almost spilling out of it and mixing it quickly.

You pick two of the plates, turning to leave them on the tiny table in your kitchen; almost sending them flying when you jump, not expecting the four men sitting and waiting at the table surprised with how silently they moved.

“Bloody hell, almost shit my pants.” You mumble as you put the plates in the middle of the table, letting them pick their favourites. You turn twice more to pick the rest of the plates, and once everyone is served you sit down too. “Hope you like it, sorry if it's too poor.”

The one who was the hungriest looks at you like you just insulted his mother before diving in, being fair; after living on MRE for months, a warm plate of food is priceless.

You smile when they eat happily, making you wonder if you did too little. You let them eat, standing up to go out of the kitchen; but Simon grabs your hand as you walk past him. You turn to look at him, catching how he swallows hardly the half-chewed bite, before asking. “Where’re you going?”

“To get the beds ready.” You say, smiling when he offers his help again, refusing it. He lets you go, his eyes glued to you as you walk.

“So… a friend.” Johnny says, moving his eyebrows up and down. “I think Sisi has a crush…”

Simon turns to him, his usual stoic expression back on his face. “Shut up… We… we used to be together when we were kids, that's all.”

“Wait… So she's your ex?” Gaz asks, looking at the hall where you just disappeared.

“Lower your voice, will you?!” Simon shouts in a whisper. “It was 18 years ago, it doesn't… it doesn't even count.”

“It counts if it has you blushing.” Johnny says with a singing tone.

“I'm not blushing.” Simon grunts, but he rests his head on his hand, trying to discreetly cover his red ear, making both sergeants chuckle.

The sound of you puffing as you lay down on the sofa has him turning his head, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees you lay a blanket over you. He stands up, walking to you; the three men at the table exchanging a knowing look.

“Hey, lovie…” Simon says as he leans over the sofa, smiling when he sees you yawning. “Long day?”

You nod at him, rubbing your eyes and looking at him. “And a long night… will two beds be enough for the four of you?”

“Why are you sleeping here, luv? You should be in your bed…” He says, unconsciously moving your hair out of your face.

“Because none of you would fit in the sofa… besides, it’s easier to clean the sheets than the sofa. No offense but you are all stinky.” You say, digging your pointer finger into the muscle of his ribs making him smile.

“Sorry for invading your house like this.” He says, his hand moving to caress your cheek with his thumb.

“That's okay… my doors will always be open for you, Simon.” You say looking up at him, your hand moving to rest on his arm. “Even when you come back looking unrecognisable.”

“What do you mean unrecognisable? I look exactly the same.” He says, cocking his head with a fake confused look on his face making you chuckle.

“You look like you have eaten the Simon I used to know, have you come back to eat me now?” You ask without thinking before talking. “Wait, no, that came out weird.”

Simon barks a laugh, making you laugh again as he peels your hand from his arms letting it fall; an offended look on his face as he mutters. “Whore.” Earning himself a slap on his arm just like 18 years ago.

Still sitting at the table, the three men smile to themselves. Seeing a new face of their lieutenant, leaning over the woman and almost waving his imaginary tail like a happy pup.

It's hours later, after they all finished eating and you told them to leave the dishes on the sink and that you would clean it in the morning.

After you told them where the rooms were, and Johnny jumped at Gaz to share the room with him.

After they all said goodnight to you and went to sleep.

It's after all that, that you get woken up by the sound of dishes moving on the sink; sitting up to look at Simon in the kitchen looking at you and groaning when he realizes he woke you up.

“I told you to leave them, Simon.” You say, voice hoarse with sleep as you stand up.

“It isn't fair, you already cooked.” He says, turning to keep cleaning them. “Plus, I couldn't sleep.”

“Why?” You say as you walk up to him, sitting on the kitchen table.

“Price snores like an old car going up a hill, and he is way too close to ignore.” He says making you smile. “And I didn't like you being down here alone, the door’s too close.”

He closes the tap when he is done, grabbing the towel to dry his hands as he turns to you. You sigh at his words, rubbing your eyes. “You really haven't changed, have you?”

He steps closer, standing between your legs and resting his hands on each side of your body. “Can't say I have, no.”

You stare at his face, at some point after you fall asleep he must have washed his face, the black paint that covered his eyes before now gone.

You let your arms rest around his waist, leaning your chin on his chest and looking up at him as his hands rest on your back. “You still need to explain yourself, Simon.”

“I know.” He says, his eyes taking in every spot on your face, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, the way you wet your lips; so he doesn't miss the way the tear rolls down your cheek. His hand quickly moving up to dry it with his thumb. “Hey, hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying, love?”

It's there, engulfed in Simon's embrace that every worry for his wellbeing in the last two decades comes down on you. No matter how hard you tried to lie to yourself, there wasn't a day that you didn't think of him, of what he was doing, if he missed you, if he was still mad at you, if he was fine.

“I thought you died, Simon… I thought you died hating me, because I was an asshole that didn't want to listen to you.” You admit, rubbing your eyes with your hands to hide the tears. “I was afraid of something happening to you and losing you because of it, and I was an asshole that pushed you away, I'm sorry.”

“No, no, no, love.” He says shaking his head, his long-ignored heart cracking at the sight of your tears. He hugs you again, making you bury your face on his chest as he leans his forehead on your crown, his own tears threatening to spill. “I should have told you better, I should have talked to you the day after, or anytime in the last 18 years. Something. I was the asshole, love, I should have done better.”

He feels you shake your head, pushing back to look up at him from under. And god damn if he can't feel his heart beat at the sight of your wet face. “You are not, we… we were kids, it was no one's fault.” You say wiping your face with the back of your hand. “We were kids.”

“We are not kids anymore.” Simon whispers, his hands moving to cup your face as your hand moves back to his waist. You can see on his face that he is waiting, for a sign, a word, a something, to let him know that it is okay to go ahead.

Is like all those years ago, in your parent's house’s bathroom; when you had your first kiss. But so different at the same time. He is not the young boy with the broken nose, he is the grown man with the bump on his nose from where it never healed.

And instead of just pushing your lips out, waiting for him to move, you lift your hand, catching the dog tags hanging from his neck with your finger and pulling him down.

There it is.

The sign he needed.

So he leans down, your face still between his hands, and softly presses his lips against yours.

His warm dry lips, dancing along your salty wet ones. Butterflies in his stomach doing twirls and crawling up the walls. Your hand on his waist digging your fingertips pulling him closer, your tongue probing at his lips and Simon groaning against your lips when he finally tastes your mouth.

It stops being an innocent kiss, not with the way his tongue pushes inside of your mouth, his hands moving down to your hips to pull you closer, his thighs so wide you let one of your legs between his. He groans on the kiss, his fingertips digging into the softness of your body making you groan back at him.

It’s when you move your leg, reaching his groin and causing him to grind his hardening aching dick against your thigh that he pulls back; suddenly unsure of how far you want to take it. “Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

You slap his chest, grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt as you do and pulling him close again. “Don't you run away from me again, Simon.” And with the look of absolute lust and hunger in your face, he can't help it but crash his lips with yours again, your legs circling around his waist and your hand pulling his face to keep him close.

Every inhibition, every second thought, every doubt, easily kicked out of the equation. Everything getting replaced by the need to feel the other, closer, harder, and nothing else but the other.

The only thing that can be heard inside of the kitchen is the heavy breathing of both of you and the filthy sound of your tongues dancing. His tongue reaches every corner of your mouth, your hums reaching the back of his throat directly. He pulls back once again, resting his forehead in your as he sucks in a breath. “Are you sure you wan-”

“Fucking hell, Simon. Yes, yes I wanna.” You chuckle looking at him with a beaming smile on your face.

“Thank goodness for that.” He says stepping back, helping you on your feet and lifting your shirt; groaning at seeing your naked form. He leans down, his lips catching your hard nipple and sucking it in making you hiss as you pet his head.

His wide tongue moves flat over your ribs making you shudder at the feeling, using your hand to lean into the counter. “How have grown so fucking beautiful, sweetheart? I should have come back so long ago, come back to you, my sweet girl.” He slowly turns you around, moving his lips as he kisses up your back; goosebumps erupting as he moves higher, kissing up your shoulder and behind your ear, kissing your ear and biting your lobule.

His massive hands rest on your hips as he grinds his own, making you feel his hardness against the flesh of your ass making you whine in anticipation. His hands move, his thumbs getting under the waistband of your shorts and your underwear; pushing them down and letting them pool at your ankles. His lips move lower again, following the line of your column down your back, you sigh at the feeling, leaning forward and letting your body lean on the counter.

After the torturous couple of minutes, Simon takes to come face to face with your cunt, you don't have to worry about the man teasing you or making you wait. Not with how desperate he is to feel your taste melt into his mouth.

So that's what he does, as soon as his knees touch the ground he's pushing his face forward, burying his face between your folds. He slides his tongue down, pushing your hood back to suck your pearl making you moan as your hips buckle at the hard suck making him chuckle.

He kisses your skin, all around your folds, in circles that grow smaller and smaller as he gets closer to your needy clit. He kisses it last, a soft kiss just like he kissed your lips just a minute ago before the kiss turns nastier; tongue moving out of his mouth to rub it against it, drool falling from the tip of his tongue, sucking your clit softly making you moan his name as you bite your lip.

He moves back, licking up the juices that have spilled from your entrance, drinking them up as he moves closer to its source, slipping his tongue right inside making your walls grasp his wet muscle and pushing it deeper. He groans at the feeling, at feeling your tightness around his tongue, at the taste invading his mouth, making his taste buds fall in love with it, and at the delirious sounds falling from your lips.

Your hands move back, looking for him and grabbing his hand resting on the side of your hip while his other hand pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself deeper. Moaning loudly and shamelessly at the way his face glides easily against your glossy folds with your arousal.

The thumb from the hand on your cheek moves closer, slowly sinking into you making your mouth fall open on an O shape. His mouth moves up again on your entrance, thrusting his tongue deep along his finger into you, making you mewl at the slight stretch.

But the restraint of his hard cock against his zipper has him struggling to focus on how pretty his name sounds when it falls from your lips, unconsciously looking for friction and grinding his boner against the back of your leg.

The hand that is not holding yours moves lower, undoing his belt with it and his button to keep his raging hard-on covered only by his struggling briefs. You look down between your legs, catching the way the angrily red tip of his aching dick pops out of the confines of his underwear when he thrusts forward.

Your head moves back up as you moan when you feel him switch his thumb with his index and middle finger. It makes you arch your back, slightly moving back to meet the movements of his wrist. The squelching sound of your cunt sucking his fingers in only urging him forward, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further.

He can taste your arousal dripping down on his welcoming tongue, his fingers impossibly sticky with your juices. He peels his face away, moving back to stand and using his hand on your hip to push you back up, hiding his face on your neck to whisper. “Are you going to let me in, hm? Are you going to open your legs for me just like you open your door, sweet girl? Gonna let me repay you fucking you silly? Are you gonna let me get up to here?” He asks, resting his hand on your lower stomach on the last question and when he pulls his fingers back you can't help but whine, missing the feeling as you part your legs.

“Please…”

“Please what, darling?” He asks, kissing your neck sloppily as he wraps his hand around his shaft, pulling it off of his underwear and rubbing his leaking tip against your clit.

“Please… Fuck me, Simon, please.” You whine, looking up at him from over your shoulder when he pulls his head back.

He hums, satisfied with your response and probing at your soaking entrance with his bulbous tip; rolling his hips to fill you, stretching your walls to accommodate the girth of his member. He kisses your lips once more, not caring about the awkward angle of your neck as he does so, making you moan inside of his mouth as he pushes forward; groaning when he finally bottoms out. “That's a good girl. Taking me in so well… fuck, you fit like a glove, love… chocking my dick so tightly, shit…”

Your hips are pushed against the counter, his strong arms holding your upper body; almost floating with how tight he is holding you to his chest. The roll of his hips is slow, making you feel every vein and crease of his rigid cock as he drags against your walls clamping down on it, only for him to push it back inside making you mewl as you feel it hit deeper than you have ever felt.

And even though he is lifting you, you can still feel the weight of his body behind you. The strength being held back in the way his muscles tense under his skin, the control of his body with how calculated his movements are and the way he seems to have already lost himself with the way the praises and promises constantly fall from his lips.

“You have always been so fucking good to me… I always loved you more than anyone else on this bloody planet, love. You always treated me so nice, fuck!” He moans into your neck. “I'm gonna pay you back, sweetheart. For every kind word, for every kiss, for every fucking everything. Fucking hell…” It’s such a raspy moan, that you can feel the vibrations of his chest when the deep voice leaves his mouth.

He leans forward, letting you rest your body over the counter as his hands move lower, caressing the sides of your body as they come to rest on your hips. He admires your body for a second, before coming down to press his chest against your back again.

His hips push against yours as tight as he physically can, the light push of his body enough to make you land your feet over his; making Simon fight his inner urge to move his feet only to make you sink lower.

He moves his hands towards yours, keeping your palm flat against the surface of the counter as he interlocks his fingers with yours. Mouth open kisses on your nape making your brain turn fuzzy as his length keeps hitting again and again the lovely spot that has your knees buckling.

“Simon, please… harder, please.” You whine, needing him to give you more, to touch you more, to move more, faster, deeper, harder, anything, but more. And when Simon chuckles deeply behind you, making you realise how something switches on him.

He peels himself back from your back, carefully brushing your hair back into a make-do ponytail; making sure to braid his finger between the locks of your hair. “The Princess wants more, doesn't she?” He whispers against your ear making you bite your lip in anticipation. “Well… anything she wants, I'll get it for her.”

He leans back once again, except this time he doesn't let go of your hair making you arch your back. His hips rolling once more, his painfully hard cock sliding easily between your fold drenched in your arousal; his pace slowly rising making your breathing turn into whiny moans as the tip of his dick keeps pushing the breath out of your lungs with each thrust.

But your moans are not the only ones in the kitchen, his low moans slowly growing deeper as your cunt sucks his dick in, groaning when he sees the white creamy ring of your arousal form around the base of his shaft, pushing him to keep going. To keep thrusting deep, fast and hard even when he feels like he is going to combust at any moment.

He only worries when he feels you clench around him, worrying about missing your face of ecstasy as you finally come around his shaft. So he turns you around, not even pulling out and twisting you around making you look at him with wide eyes.

“I don't want to miss the way you look as you cream my cock, doll. I just know you are going to sing like the prettiest of the birds, love.” His hands move to rest on the back of your head, keeping your eyes locked onto him as his dick keeps drilling into your crying cunt, begging for the release you so badly need.

It can be heard loud and clear the sound of his skin slapping against yours, a harmony of moans falling from the two of you, but still, there is a whiny tone to your moans that rubs Simon the wrong way. “What is it, love?” He whines back, half-mocking you. “What does my pretty girl needs?”

“Simon!” You moan, making him close his eyes to make sure it was engraved into his memories the sound of his name being moaned by you. “Touch me, please.”

“How can I say no, hm? When you ask so nicely, sweetheart.” He says as he moves a hand to rub your clit with his thumb, though little circles sending shockwaves up your back. “That's what you wanted? For me to play with your tiny little clit, hm? Such a greedy girl…”

“Fuck, Simon, yes!” You moan loudly when you finally feel your orgasm grow closer. “Please, don't stop, Simon, please… I'm so close, please don't stop.”

And Simon could get shot in the back of the head right now and his body would keep moving, nothing could make him stop right now. Not with the way your thighs are pulling him closer and your cunt is sucking him in.

He feels you try to throw your head back, eyes closing as you open your mouth on a silent cry. Your orgasm hits you like a bucket of warm honey being spilled over you, sticking every fibre of your body and making you hold onto Simon as your strength leaves your body.

You still manage to keep your thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper, your mind still buzzing with your climax and little white dots still on the margins of your vision.

Your legs are not the only ones clinging to him, Simon groans, furrowing his eyebrows as he feels every rib of your velvety walls wrap around his length like a vice; making him whine when he finally manages to pull out. His heavy balls pressed flush against your spasming cunt as thick ropes of his sticky white seed spur over the soft skin of your tummy. A puddle of his spend threatening to spill over the sides of your body with your laborious breathing; wrapping his hand around the base of his twitching cock to milk every single droplet left inside.

A groan leaving his throat at the sight of your soft body, all pliant and shattered by the pleasure of the orgasm still flowing through your veins as his essence lays calmly over your soft skin.

He bends down, collecting the salty substance with his tongue, keeping it inside of his mouth just for the second it takes for his lips to reach yours; spilling it over your tongue. The taste of his seed coating your taste buds makes you moan at the feeling. He pulls back, smiling and hiding his face on your chest as he chuckles realising what just went down.

Then, weighing out the options and to prevent the awkwardness to take over the situation, he moves back; letting you rest on the counter as he picks the rag he used to dry his hands before wiping the remaining of his spend from your stomach.

“I used that rag to dry my dishes, Simon…” You say looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What? Afraid my cum will end up in your mouth?” He chuckles when you slap his hand. He finishes wiping it off and helping you get dressed again, easing you down the counter and walking hand in hand with you towards the sofa.

He lays down, pulling you on top of him, resting your head on his chest and he throws the blanket back over your body. “You still haven't explained much, you know…”

“I know… I need to order my thoughts beforehand, though… there is just so much I have to tell you… but let's just sleep for now, alright?.” Simon says, petting your head as you yawn while nodding..

“You won't disappear again, will you?” You ask, your eyelids falling close with exhaustion but still awake enough to feel his arms tighten around your body. “No. Not again, love.”

The next morning is a bit of a blur, Simon gets shaken beside you waking you up too. “Helo is picking us up in 20 minutes, get dressed.” A gruff voice says over you that you associate with Price.

Simon groans rubbing his eyes as he stands up, letting you lay on the sofa for a bit more before walking towards the entry. You frown when he doesn't walk to the kitchen, realising in that moment that Simon didn't even take his clothes off last night, his face, hands and dick the only skin you saw.

You sit up, watching how he puts his boots on; swiftly putting back on the vest and the belt, his mask hanging from the back pocket of his pants.

The three men are already around, any of them seemed too bothered by catching Simon sleeping with you on the sofa. Simon walks towards you once more, sitting down next to you and holding your hand on his lap. “You have my number now… I'll call you as soon as I touch ground, okay?” He asks, his other hand brushing your hair out of your face.

You smile at him nodding, and before you know it, the loud noises of a helicopter touching ground come from outside your door. You stand, as Price opens the door, waving at the pilot and turning to you, shaking your hand making you smile at the formalities.

“Thank you for your help, love. I'll make sure you get something sent as a proof of gratitude” He says, with an honest smile on his face.

“There really is no need.” You answer, moving to let Soap walk.

“I think she would prefer Simon to deliver it to her personally instead, Cap!” Johnny says as he chuckles to himself, Price slapping his arm as he passes.

Gaz chuckles to himself, trying to cover it as a cough as he passes to walk after Soap. “Thank you for the dinner and the bed, lass. Nice to meet you, I'm sure we'll hear from you soon.”

Simon rolls his eyes at the sergeant, not a droplet of mean feelings in the gesture before he turns to you once you are alone, an apologetic look on his face. “I think we don't have to worry about them hearing us last night.”

“Nah, they probably didn't, don't worry.” He says, the two of you chuckling again. Until you look up to him, your hand resting on his chest. “This is not the last time I will be seeing you, right, Simon?”

“No, love. A week, two tops before I'm coming back to you.” He says, kissing your forehead and resting his over yours. “Will you wait for me?”

“I have waited 18 years and you are asking if I can wait two weeks?” You ask and he nods, completely serious about his words. “I'll wait another 18 years for you, Simon Riley.”

He sighs as if he was afraid of other possible answers.

“You won't have to wait that long.”

“I better not.’

“You won't… I promise.”

“See you in two weeks, Simon.”

“See you, love.’

And with that, his lips kissed you one last time, before rolling his mask over his face and walking to the helicopter. Waving at you before closing the door and disappearing into the sky until the next time you saw him.

Half a life living with him, followed by half a life living without him; and now, after all those years, finally the promise of spending the rest of your life living it with him by your side, like the time apart never happened.

Like Simon Riley never left your side.

And with the promise that he would never do it again.

This was. the longest single-chapter fic I have written before. So please, if you liked it leave a comment and reblog it 💚💚💚

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jarofstyles · 14 hours

Text

Leather & Lace

Hello my angels and welcome to Leather and Lace!!! We’ve got a very cute 3 parter (I’ve finished writing it) coming in for you guys. We love a good grumpy x sunshine and couldn’t help ourselves writing another one. Please leave us feedback! We love to hear from you

Check out our Patreon for early access to parts 2&3, as well as 170+ exclusive writings!

Wc- 8.2k

Warnings- oral sex, praise kink, soft Dom h, opposites attract, cum play/swapping

---------

“How can you be this happy in the morning?” Harry grunted, hoodie pulled over his head as he sat down next to a bubbly Y/N. Her couch was comfortable but it didn’t make up for the fact that he was at her flat at 8 in the morning.

“It’s not that early, lazy bones.” She hummed, tucking her legs under her as she sat down on the other side. “Thank you for coming to help today, by the way. I know you don’t like getting up early.”

He really didn’t, was the thing. He hated it. Harry only had so many days off and after working a long shift bartending last night, the very last thing he wanted to do was help someone unpack in their new flat. He’d rather claw at concrete than be awake right now, rather eat a raw egg, rather go through tattoo removal. If it was anyone but Y/N he would have laughed in their face at the mere ask.

But it was her. It was twinkly eyed, pouty lipped, warm hearted Y/N who had asked him a week in advance and promised him a bagel with cream cheese and an iced coffee for brekkie, whatever he wanted for lunch, and ‘whatever he wanted in general!’. Little did she know he was going to say yes anyway, considering he knew he couldn’t say no to her sweet little ask with her smaller hand on his tattooed arm and wide eyes peering up at him. He wasn’t someone who liked to do things for many people without there being some sort of monetary gain, but this was different.

Y/N had somehow latched herself onto one of the grumpiest bastards in the area while she herself was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever seen. Rarely spoke a mean word of anyone (except when they hurt someone close to her), went out of her way to help anyone who needed it and always wanted to be a shoulder to cry on. He’d seen her take money from her own wallet to cover someone’s bill when they were short, even seen her rush to help an elderly man across the street. It got her into trouble sometimes which was why he was glad that he’d been the hip she’d chosen to attach to.

Their first interaction had been him sitting in the courtyard of their uni, listening to music under the tree. He’d had his sketchbook in hand, doodling in between classes when he looked up to see a girl with a pretty yellow bow in her hair offering him a cupcake because he looked ‘sad.’. He had been sad, actually, but that was pretty much his normal resting face. He’d tried to blow her off but she’d taken a seat next to him, introducing herself and telling him about her own day to ‘distract him’. He hated to admit that it worked.

From then on, she popped up everywhere. At first he’d been a bit worried that she was following him but it truly was a coincidence. Y/N had found her way under his skin, wriggled her way into that cold heart of his and made it warm up just a little each time she came around. At some point she’d become a daily fixture in his life, her texts lighting up his phone with emojis and telling him to meet her at the cafe or the library- and for some reason, he followed.

“Mmm. Know y’wanted me here to see me get all sweaty. If y’wanted to see my tats and muscles so badly, you coulda just said so, Sweets.” He smirked, watching her eyes widen. So easy to fluster.

“No! Stop teasing me, s’not nice.” She grumbled, poking his knee with her socked foot. She’d chosen lavender striped ones today. “I don’t have a lot of strong friends, you know that. Niall’s comin’ by after work to help you put the bedframe together and move the books from the car. Besides, I’ll let you sleepover and everything after we’re all done. I know you loveeeee my bed.”

He did. But more than anything he liked laying in said bed with her. Harry had a hard time admitting he had begun to gain feelings for the girl but deep down he knew he did. He liked that she insisted on cuddles, curling her leg around his and nuzzling her face into his chest, or even better yet the crook of his neck. Loved when she’d sleepily ask him questions about his life and tell him facts about her own. She resembled a tiny kitten while sleepy, insistent on getting all of the pets and attention.

Harry had decided he wasn’t the relationship type after his last girlfriend had cheated on him with his old best mate- but meeting Y/N had reminded him of the die hard romantic that laid underneath the surface. All the hard work he’d had piling up bricks on top of his red, bleeding heart had seemed to be consistently excavated by the pastel wearing girl who still enjoyed the fairy lights he used to see online in those aesthetic bedroom photos. It scared him a bit at first. Even now, he was nervous about the idea of getting closer to her than they were now because her heart was a tender and precious thing and he didn’t necessarily trust himself not to hurt her- but then again, he knew he’d do miles better than anyone else could. He’d spent the time learning about her as the months went by, listening to her drawl on about the pinterest boards she made, her dream finds she always looked for at the thrift stores, her least favorite reality TV contestants, which pastries she found to be too dry at the cafe and which had the best level of moisture, what blankets she liked, every little tidbit he had stored away in his brain to use at a later date.

No one would be as protective of her as he would be, which was why lately he’d been entertaining the thought of perhaps moving past the point of no return and trying to see if maybe, possibly, perhaps.. They could be more.

It had come with a lot of deliberating but he’d come to understand that if he failed, Y/N wouldn’t caste him to the side. She’d never in a million years abandon him like he feared, which only gave him more motivation to go for it though… He was still biding his time. He had to let her get settled here before he shook up her life a bit more.

They were opposites, the sweet girl and him. Harry was quite literally the bad boy cliche of everyone’s after school special’s dreams. His hair was long and curled, brushing his jaw. He went for darker clothing, usually his ripped black skinny jeans and a band tee but sometimes more eccentric with some silk and leaving his tits out when they went on a night out. His nose had a simple black hoop, his nails painted and chipped though this week they were a bubblegum pink, a la Y/N’s expertise. His body was hard from the gym he liked to frequent and inked, only getting more every month. He wore the occasional eyeliner when he felt spicy. That was only the physical things.

Sometimes he wondered why she felt drawn to him, as she said. He was dark and moody with a darker sense of humor. Somewhat of a pessimist, he expected the worst from people and tended to stay away from them the best he could. The opposite of a social butterfly, he only usually went out in the past for a drink or to get his cock wet, never for the pleasure of interacting with people. Even then it was rare considering he did quite well in the hookup area being a bartender himself.

Harry often wondered how and why she felt the pull to be around him and why she felt so at ease in his presence but he figured it had to be that he’d knocked the lights out of a bloke in her philosophy class who’d been riding her ass. He’d made the wrong decision of cornering Y/N at a party Harry had been dragged to, touching her a bit too much and not listening when her smile became thin and she backed away from him after giving a rejection much too polite than the man deserved. There had been no hesitation in laying him out, tugging Y/N into his side and demanding she stay with him for the rest of the party after she insisted she didn’t need to go home.

Funnily enough she’d been a hit with his own small group of friends, everyone also feeling the same sort of kindred protection over her. Not many people were genuinely warm and fuzzy in the way she was.

Y/N was… She was the sun, she was a cinnamon roll fresh baked on a sunday morning, she was a kitten sprawled in a sunbeam. All the good things, he could find a way to relate them to her. That probably should have been the indicator he had feelings for her far sooner than he’d ever let himself admit, but she had taken the time to crack him open.

It was hard to stop thinking about what made her both his opposite and so special. Harry dwelled on how soft her clothing always was, both in color and texture. She liked those pastel colors and fuzzy cardigans, hair bows and those signature mary janes with the tiny heels. Lip oil as opposed to lip gloss because it was ‘too sticky’ but still dragged all his attention to her lips and made him wonder if it really tasted like tangerine like it smelled.

Her touch was gentle and tender, cautious at first but as soon as she got the go ahead, she showered you in attention. At least, she did to him. Brushing stray hairs out of faces and wiping crumbs off cheeks, she had little sense of personal space once granted permission. She’d been mindful of his distaste for touch at the beginning but once he’d leaned into it, the girl had no qualms about straightening his shirt or leaning into his form, hell- there had been a few times she’d helped herself to his lap when there was no other seating option. Usually that was when she was tipsy considering she would most likely be a little shy sober, but that was something he enjoyed.

The light to his dark, he doubted anyone else could make him feel the way she could. Hence why he was up after only getting 4 hours of sleep, sipping the coffee she’d gotten him. There was little he wouldn’t do for a hint of her smile.

—--

“Babe, you’ve got t’make a decision.” Harry said gently, placing the large mirror down and leaning it against the wall.

“I know, I know but… It’s bad luck to have your mirror facing your bed.” She wrung her fingers together. “I’m sorry, H. I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the rear today. I promise m’not trying to, but It’s my first place and I just want it to be perfect.” Her head looked down, making his heart squeeze.

God damn it. Leave it to her to make him feel like he’d kicked a puppy. Sighing, he tugged the bandana on his head back into place and approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “M’not upset with you. Promise. I just think you’re overthinking it a bit.” Her superstitions did tend to make her feel a little squirrely sometimes and he knew it. “We’re gonna make it look perfect. Incredible, even. Reckon the magazines will be calling you up to feature you, but we can’t just have a freestanding mirror slab.” He’d picked it up for her off of craigslist just a bit ago. Even if it wasn’t a dodgy listing, he wouldn’t let her go on her own. That’s how people got kidnapped.

“Ugh, I know.” She groaned, flopping into his chest. Never mind it being sweaty, she rubbed her nose between his tits and let out a tired groan, her hair smacking his chin. It’d been tossed up in a very messy bun that was a bit lopsided but made her look doubly as cute, though he didn’t tell her that. “Why don’t we mount it to the back of your door then? Not facing your bed, or another mirror.”

He could almost hear her brain going as she mulled it over before he felt the nod against his chest. “That will be good, I think. I love that idea.” Y/N had been going back and forth over design choices with him all day as if he had a clue about interior decor, but he had appreciated her caring about his opinion nonetheless. “That can be the last thing we do. Niall’s fucked off somewhere futzing with the books so we can eat after that’s done.”

The thud of his heart against her ear was steady as he gently ran a hand over her shoulderblade. “What’s on the menu?”

“Think we’re ordering pizza because I know m’too tired to cook which means you lot have to be too.” She chuckled, finally prying herself out of his chest and blinking up at him.”Then we can go to bed.” He was thankful her ear was away from his heart so she couldn’t hear the way it stuttered. You’d think after sleeping in her bed a multitude of times that he’d get used to the sound of that sentence but it still did him in every time.

“Okay. I can run and pick it up after I mount this to the door if you call it in.” He knew she wouldn’t want to go. It was visible on her face how tired she was and it melted him internally. He knew that she’d be a little snuggly menace tonight and fuck if he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Gonna run into the pharmacy t’grab some body wash for here, if thats okay?”

“Course it is.” She beamed at the suggestion, making him happy that he’d even brought it up. Y/N used to suggest he sleep heer a lot before and he’d refuse, thinking she was just trying to be polite- but she really did enjoy him staying with her. “I liked the pomegranate one you used last time, just sayin’.” Patting his chest she moved from his grip, heading to grab her phone. “Normal for you?”

“Yeah, love. Same as usual.” He rubbed over the achy spot in his chest that she’d left by pulling away, looking forward to sleeping tonight so he could feel it fill back up.

—-----------

Harry had grabbed the pomegranate bath stuff. He’d grabbed the whole line, actually, the shampoo, conditioner, body wash and some sort of ‘skin buff.’ Whatever that was.

Y/N had squeaked as he showed her, along with a pack of the makeup wipes she usually used and he’d steal. He’d figured it was about time to be the one to buy the replacements. “Ah! And you got the face mask I like.” Her eyes were wide and bright as she bounced on her toes, smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek before looking back down at the holographic packaging. He’d hoped he had gotten the right one when he’d seen a sale on them when on his way to the check out counter. It was worth the little bit of money to feel her lips for a moment. “Thank you, H. You’re the best, as usual.”

“The hell am I?” Niall scoffed, wiping his hands dry after washing them.

“You’re great too, but he got me the face masks I like and they usually sell out. So he’s a bit higher up in points today.” She placated him, brushing past him to put them in the bathroom. “Harry, plate up the pizza, pretty please!”

As soon as she had disappeared, Niall shot him a look. “When are you two gonna make it official?” He whispered. “The heat eyes bouncin’ off the both of you is sickening at this point. She’s turned you soft.”

Harry settled with a glare, placing two slices on the paper plate and sliding it over to him. “Eventually. Her whole life is shifting. Can’t do shit right now without rattling her.” It was the first time he admitted or even hinted at having feelings for her besides point blank telling anyone who came around that she wasn’t available. Y/N didn’t know he did that though.

“Thank fuck you don’t still have your head up your arse. I was worried you’d never admit you’re gone for her.” He faked wiping sweat off his head making the other man roll his eyes. “She’ll be happy, H. You don’t have to worry about her rejecting you. Just go on and do it. She talks about you like you hang the moon every night at this point even when you aren’t around.”

A weakness he’d spotted, Harry stood a bit straighter before leaning in. “She does? What does she say?” Oh, he hated how desperate he sounded to hear the answer but the fluttering in his stomach made him insisting on finding out.

“Oh, how thoughtful and kind and generous you are and how you’re the best person she knows, all of that. She stares at her phone and waits for texts from you when she comes out and you’re working, gets these huge smiles or giggles when you do. or tries to get everyone to move the party to your bar.”

That last part, he’d hoped for. He liked the idea of her wanting to be physically close to him and suggesting everyone come and see him, but knowing she did the same thing he did when waiting for messages from him soothed a piece of him. He wasn’t alone in it. It was hard sometimes for him to decipher her behavior considering she was genuinely so friendly with everyone and he didn’t want to flatter himself and think it he was special… but apparently he was.

He didn’t have a chance to answer when Y/N glided from the bathroom, finding her spot on the kitchen barstools. “What did I miss?”

“Nothin’, Babe. Just chatting shit.” He murmured, sliding her a plate with her pizza of choice on it. “Figured we’d go to the grocery tomorrow, yeah? It’s a bit sparse in here with the food.” He had the next day off and intended on spending it with her. They’d made lots of progress today and had 80% of the place unpacked, but he knew she liked those restocking videos online. “Think they’ve got those organizers back in stock.”

“Oh!” She gasped.”Yes, you genius. I’ll need your help though, strong man. I like the one trip wonder.” It was a tease considering she knew Harry hated making multiple trips up with bags.

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a lift now and I’ve got that collapsible wagon.” Reaching out he gently flicked her nose for being a brat. “So we won’t have t’worry about that.”

—-----

Y/N was either very oblivious or a tease. Harry could never fully figure out which one.

He sat on her bed, messing with her telly when she emerged from the shower in her little cotton shorts and one of his shirts. It was one he’d just been looking for last week, actually, an old Iron Maiden one with a few holes in the collar area. Unmistakably his. The faded gray complimented her skin, looking extra cozy on her as her powder blue plush bunny slippers flopped against the ground and she made her way to her skincare desk.

“You little thief.” He grumbled from the bed, leaning against her headboard. “I was searching everywhere for that last week.” Though he had narrowed eyes she would know he was only teasing.

“You left it with me, remember? I ended up packing it so I wouldn’t forget it but… It’s super comfy.” She smiled guiltily at him, spinning in her chair. “Is it okay if I wear it? It still smells like your cologne and it helps me sleep sometimes…”

Ah, a shot to the heart.

Y/N didn’t know what it did to him to know he was an aid in good sleep. That it both made his heart stutter and his cock throb at the sight of her wrapped up in his clothing like she had all the rights to it. Like he was her boyfriend and she liked to wear it to remember him. Her scent had a similar effect on him, leaving it in his sheets when she stayed over, “Totally okay, lovely.” He smiled gently. “M’just teasing you. Though it does wonders for my ego to know you like my cologne that much.”

He knew he was making her a little flustered considering she didn’t look right at him, but he thrived off of that. Knowing he made an impact on her like that made him feel just a bit more confident that she felt similarly to him. There was no answer from her, but he wasn’t done with her quite yet. Standing up with a groan, he made his way over to her little makeup and skincare set up, placing his hands on the back of her chair. “What are you putting on your face?” He asked curiously, looking over her head to the products she had neatly organized.

“Well, first I wipe with one of these toning pads.” She opened the little tub, using a tiny pair of clear tongs to grab one. “You don’t want to be sticking your fingers in there and potentially making them all dirty so it came with this little thing. You give it a few passes over your t zone.” She showed him as she did it, Harry watching diligently in the mirror.

“Mmm. Then what? You’re always doin’ all of this fancy stuff to your face. Figure that's why your skin is so pretty.” He let his fingers fiddle with a few strands of hair.

“Thank you.” She said sheepishly, picking up a smaller tube. “Um, I use this undereye cream to help with puffiness and brightening. Its soothing. I apply it with the smallest finger though, because while I’m not afraid of wrinkles it’s the weakest fingers and the skin under your eyes is more delicate.”

Huh. “Didn’t know what.” He was actually learning something from this.

“Mhm. Why do you think I tell you to go gentle when you use the makeup remover?” A smile tilted up one side of her lips a bit further, eyes focused on the mirror in front of her. She pretended not to notice the slight shiver he gave her when he leaned down, letting his face get more level with hers- but he did. He noticed anything he could. “A-And then I use some vitamin C stuff for brightening, a serum and a cream. I use the little fan to make it dry faster so it isn’t sticky.” She pointed to the mini pink fan he’d always noticed. He’d just assumed it was for when she got hot. “Do you… Would you like me to use some of it on you when I’m done?”

She sounded hesitant to ask which he understood. Not a lot of the guys in their friend circle would want that, but he wasn’t that insecure about himself that he’d say no to someone pampering him. Especially not when it meant Y/N getting close to him. “Sure, sweets. I’d love that. Reckon my skin needs it.”

“What do you usually do with it?” She asked curiously, meeting his eye in the mirror.

“Makeup remover, wash my face, that cream you left at my place if I remember.”

“It’s not fair you have the skin you do.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Cruel, actually.” It kind of was. He got long lashes too, which she always complained about. “Go and wash your face first, heathen.”

Harry let out a small laugh before going off to do that. Returning with a fresh face, he stood in his prior position, watching her finish up the routine before holding the fan closer to her face to finish it off. It was an interesting process he hadn’t paid much mind to before, but then again, she didn’t bring every single thing to his place either.

After putting her hair up in a claw clip, she stood up from the plushy chair and motioned for him to sit down. He did as asked, feeling her residual warmth as she lined up the products for them. “Okay, so we start with the toner pad.” She gently pushed him to lean back in the chair, her face coming closer to his as she delicately swiped it over his cheeks and nose. He was getting an up close look at her, noticing the scar near her eyebrow and a few spots on her face. It made him warm up a bit, being able to see her so close when she was awake. Usually this level of observation was reserved for when she was asleep. “Oi, keep your head up.”

“Sorry.” He laughed, avoiding the impulse to move the chair back and forth. He liked to swing on it at times.

“Wait- how about this.” Without giving it much thought, she gripped the chair and swung it over to turn his body to the side, helping herself to straddle his lap. “This seems a little easier, no?” Fingers gently tipped his chin up, eyes focused on her motions.

Harry’s breath had disappeared. No longer available, he felt her sitting on top of his thighs, innocent as ever as she went through the motions. Tender with her movements and pressure, she was treating him like porcelain while giving him a little makeover. He should be focused on how nice the products felt on his skin, but his mind was elsewhere.

She smelled amazing, as usual, but having it this close up was a little hard for him. Yes, she sat on his lap before- but not in his shirt, with her thighs on display and tiny little shorts. She didn’t straddle him before either, didn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. All his energy was focused on trying to ensure she didn’t feel the stiffy that was quickly growing in his pants.

“I can’t believe how good you’re being for me, H.” She whispered. “No whining or anything.” Her smile was soft as she wiped the serum over his face. “You’re so pretty.”

Fuck. He swallowed thickly, trying desperately to not let his cock construe those words into the filthy praise kink he had, but it appeared to be a bit too late for that. She had no idea what she was doing to him and he didn’t want to be a perv, but god damn. If the girl continued, there would be no denying that he’d cream his damn pants. Being pet on, feeling her brush his hair off his forehead while she stroked his face and adjusted his position to where she wanted… He was only so strong. “Thanks.” He murmured, trying to keep his composure.

“Of course.” She beamed, seeming pleased. “I’m surprised you’re letting me do this, but you’re full of surprises.” It seemed like she didn’t know the battle he was facing internally, which was his goal, but that was soon to be ruined. “Hold on a second.” Shifting slightly on his lap, she stood up momentarily before sliding further up. “Sorry, I was falling down a bit-”

Harry hadn’t meant to, he really fucking didn’t. But she sat right on top of him, squirming a bit. Giving his dick a bit of friction, making his hands grip her hips and sit her down hard to stop the movement. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t face her as he heard the hitch in her breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I promise m’not being a creep or anything.” He winced. “Just been a while and uh-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice rang out, fingers brushing through his hair. “H, look at me. I’m not mad.” Of course, her words were sweet and syrupy, going right to his dick yet again. Y/N had no fucking idea how much she effected him, how many times he’d thought about her in this positon and how guilty he felt that he’d turned a sweet moment into something like this. “C’mon. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

He took a moment before opening his eyes, looking at her face. Studying it, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Her hand cupped the side of his face, a slight pout on her pretty lips. Y/N didn’t seem upset about it, seeing as she sat still and could most definitely feel his cock under her. He could feel her cunt over him, hot through the fabric and he was doing everything in his power to be fucking normal.

“There you are.” The tables had finally turned. Harry was the shy one in this moment and Y/N was the one seemingly not freaked out. “It’s a natural body function, H. I know you’re not some kind of perv. I sat on your lap, remember?” She soothed his nerves. “Besides, I’m flattered. Was beginning to think you thought I was some kind of troll or something.” The smile kicked up on her face, but his frown deepened.

“The fuck? Why would you think that?” Brows furrowed, he didn’t like that she thought he didn’t find her attractive. He called her pretty quite a bit.

“Well, I’m not your type. You go for all those tattooed girls with the bad ass attitudes, which is cool cause I think they’re hot too but… I’m all soft and squishy, y’know? I like the soft things, kinda the opposite of you so I just thought I wasn’t someone you’d be attracted to. M’nothing like what you go for.” She didn’t seem offended by this, rather stating it matter of fact- but Harry couldn’t believe how wrong she was. He had to wonder how long she thought this.

While he was secretly pining after her, she was thinking he was going off to get blowies by the girls that flirted with him which, sometimes he did. At the beginning of their friendship, he tried to stave off those feelings for her by getting someone else underneath him, fucking away the frustration but he learned fairly quickly that none of it did much when his mind was on someone else. It’d been months at this point. Sure, he liked a bit of flirting to boost his ego, but that was only when Y/N was preoccupied.

“Well, you’re wrong.” He said sternly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Dunno where the troll idea came in when m’always staring at you.” He scoffed. “No more of that bullshit. Wouldn’t be hard if I didn’t think you were stunning. Trust me.” In fact, she was the only thing that got him hard these days. Thinking of her mouth, her thighs, her tits, her ass, anything. Even her hands, for fucks sake. “Don’t ever doubt how beautiful you are t’me. Pisses me off.”

“Sorry.” She bleated, pouting back at him. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just.. You call me pretty but I never would have thought you meant it like that. I like that you let me cuddle you and stuff so obviously I know you aren’t repulsed by me but, I dunno.” She swallowed, looking down at his bare chest. “I’m sorry for getting you… if you’re uncomfortable.”

God, he was mucking this up wasn’t he? He shook his head, letting his thumbs rub over her hips as he softened his face. “No, sweets. Don’t apologize. S’not a big deal, I’m not mad at you. Just don’t like the idea of you thinking poorly of yourself. You’re fucking stunning.” So stunning that his cock was still hard under her. “I’ll go take care of it when we’re done, but no more squirming. Okay?” Squeezing her, he tried to rectify the situation. “No more fussing.”

“But…” Y/N’s lips twisted slightly, sliding her hands down to his shoulders. “That’s not fair.”

Harry blinked a few times, looking her over hesitantly. “What d’you mean? I’m okay, pet.”

“Well, It’s my fault that you’re like this.” She protested. “I can fix it, if you want. Haven’t given too many blowies before, but I can take instruction pretty well.”

Harry truly thought he was dreaming for a moment, his face hot as she gave him an innocent look. Like she meant it, though it slightly embarrassed her for not having a lot of experience. But feeling her shift on him clued him back into reality. This was real. “You- You don’t have to do anything for me, Y/N.” He was holding on by a string. “You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your responsibility to get me off just because my cock’s got a mind of his own.”

Y/N huffed again, shaking her head. “I want to. Can I?” Her face shifted slightly. “You’re not making me do anything. It would make me feel better If i could take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I mean it. Promise.”

And god, if Harry was a stronger man he’d lift her off his lap and insist on taking care of it himself. He’d explain that it could make lines blurry and he liked her a bit more than a friend and they’d have that talk. But he wasn’t a stronger man, and she rolled her hips on him again with a hum, making his head fall back when she repeated the action. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. “As long as.. As long you’re sure. I don’t want you to regret it or anything.”

“I won’t.” She peeped. “I like making you feel good, Harry.” Her face seemed brighter as she watched him nod.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” He sighed. “I’ll show you what I like.”

Never in a million years had he expected her to be visibly excited, slipping off his lap and on to her knees in front of him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eyes looked up at him with curiosity, hands running over his thighs as she waited for direction. He’d dreamt of this so many times, stroked off in the bathroom to this very mental image to get his load out quicker. His cock pulsed inside his sweats. This was really happening. “M’not wearing briefs under these.” He warned, pushing the waistband down as he slowly tugged himself out of the pants. His hand was slightly shaky ass he gave himself a squeeze at the base, a soft hiss leaving his teeth when her hand covered his own.

“I’ve only done it a few times but…” Her eyes widened. “Yours is the prettiest I’ve seen.”

And fuck if that didn’t get him going. Harry took pride in his dick, as a lot of men did, but to get that compliment was better than anything else. His hair was normally trimmed shorter, but it had been a while. It was groomed a bit at the base, his happy trail leading up his stomach. “Thank you.” He mumbled, removing his hand and letting hers take over. Y/N was eager and that much was obvious, feeling her give him a few strokes as she shuffled closer in between his spread thighs. “I- I probably won’t last long. I wasn’t lying, it’s been a while.” And he’d imagined her in this position so many times that he was programmed to get off to it quickly.

“That’s okay. You’re quite big so it’ll be better for my jaw.” She giggled. Fucking giggled while her thumb rubbed over the slit, making him shudder. He’d always imagined she’d be much more shy in this situation, but again he was proven wrong. “What do you like?”

Honestly? He could cum just like this. Her stroking him slow, looking up at him with that pretty little face. Splatter her pretty face with pearly strings leaking from the slit of his cock, let it drip down her cheeks and chin. But she wouldn’t like that answer. “I’m okay with anything you give me, but I… I like to hear you.” He swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving his nose. “And uh, a bit wet. If that’s something you’d like.”

Y/N looked like she was taking note, nodding at his words. “I want to know what you like, m’okay with anything.” She smiled. “I knew you had to be big cause.. Y’know you’ve got the energy. And I’ve felt it a few times when we cuddle, before you wake up. It’s just different to see it.” Y/N leaned her head on his thigh, continuing to jerk him off. “I’ll probably choke a little bit, cause you’re the biggest I’ve taken. It’s okay though, I’ll be fine. I’ll pinch your tummy or somthin’ if I need a second to breathe.”

Who the fuck was she? Y/N had never, ever shown or hinted at being filthy in her life, but here she was. Talking about choking on his cock. He throbbed in her hand, making her eyebrows raise. “You liked that. Noted.” Leaning forward, she kept eye contact with him as she dragged her pink tongue from the base up to the tip, letting it sit there for a moment before she pulled away, giving him a few more strokes. “You can show me what you like too. Don’t be shy about it, H. I want you to feel good.”

Harry nearly lost it as he watched those gorgeous lips purse, spitting right over the tip. It slipped down his length before her hand caught it, stroking and spreading it over his cock. Filthy, filthy things filled his tongue immediately, but he tried to pace himself. “Fuck me…” He whispered, gently gathering her hair in his hand. “I didn’t know you had this in you, gorgeous.” It nearly bowled him over. “Can you.. Take it in your mouth. Suck the tip for me. I want to see that.”

Normally, he had no problem being a cocky, arrogant man. He was dominant most of the time with his hook ups- but Y/N wasn’t just a hook up to him. She was special. He didn’t want to do a single thing to potentially fuck this up. He wanted her to like this, to see how much he liked it too. She had no problems following instructions, the man watching as her lips stretched around the tip and dipped down a bit as she suckled on it. A soft hum left her mouth and vibrated over him as he curled the hair around his fist, making him groan. “Yeah, jus’ like that, angel. Fuck.” He kept his eyes on her as she bobbed shallowly, taking moments to rub her tongue over his leaking slit. “You’re so good, so sweet t’me. Can’t believe you’re doin’ this.”

Y/N pulled off the tip, lips wet as she peered up at him. “I’ve thought about it before.” She whispered, lapping over the side of his length. “Wanted to see your cock. I knew it’d be pretty.”

What the fuck? Harry’s brian felt fried, completely caught off guard by this information. Sure, he had thought maybe once or twice she was teasing him but it wasn’t often. Y/N was just so sugary sweet and kind, a slight air of innocence, and… Now she was telling him she’d thought about sucking him off before. “You have?”

“Mhm.” She stroked him a bit firmer, the slick sound of her hand around his wet cock getting louder. “I heard.. Heard rumors and felt left out. You like me the best but you never asked me to do anything.” Rubbing the tip over her pouted lips, Harry was shocked yet again.

“Cause y’mean more to me than any of the other people.” He swallowed. “Too fuckin’ sweet. I like you the best, you’re right but.. You’re my sweet girl. Didn’t want t’use you for anything like that. Would break my heart if I hurt you and you’d not want to see me again.”

“What if I wanted you to use me?” She asked, peering up at him with those eyes. They drove him absolutely mad. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me unless I asked, H. You’re so good to me… I just want to be good for you too.” Taking the tip back into her mouth, she pushed herself down further and he felt his stomach clench. It took him off guard, feeling the hot mouth take him down and bob herself against him, a soft hum vibrating over him.

“Oh- Fuck.” He let out a broken groan, leaning further back into the chair. “You are, baby, you fucking are. Hot little mouth… shit.” She whimpered around his cock at his words, sucking a little harder as her hand stroked the rest of him. She liked that. “What is it, hm? Like when I call you baby? When I tell you how perfect you are?” His words got a bit darker. He was slipping into another headspace and Y/N seemed to be coaxing it on.

She did a half ass nod, not pulling off his length as she continued. Harry wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that she’d be a greedy girl like this, but he was incredibly thankful that she was. “You are. Such a good girl, so gorgeous with your mouth stretched around my cock. Didn’t know you were gagging for it, baby. Should’ve told me.” He chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t have wasted my loads in the shower before comin’ t’bed with you. Could’ve pushed into your needy mouth and let you swallow it down.”

Y/N moaned around his prick, eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. He’d never seen a better sight. “You’re so beautiful, angel. So pretty. Didn’t know such a filthy thing could have you lookin’ even more beautiful.” His throat felt thick as his cock throbbed in her mouth. “Fuck, you don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about it.”

Y/N pulled off, panting slightly as webs of saliva connected her mouth to his cock. “How much?” Her voice was a little hoarse, but he could hear that she was desperate to know. “You- You could have. I don’t want you to waste it anymore.” There was the tiny bit of shyness coming back in. “If umm, if you think I’m good enough at this. I’ll do it.”

“Fuck me, baby.” His thumb wiped over her spit soaked lips, breaking the threads of spit as he caressed her cheek. “All the fucking time. S’the only thing that gets me off.” Confessions he hadn’t thought he’d be saying so soon, let alone before he’d ever kissed her, spilled from him. “You’re doing amazing. More than good enough, too fucking good for me.” He couldn’t believe she was offering. “You sure you want t’be the one to take care of it?”

“Yes, I want it. I don’t want anyone else to do it.” She pleaded. “I’ll be the best for you. Just- you can tell me and I’ll suck you or, or anything you want.” Harry tested it, gently pushing her head back towards his prick- which she immediately took back in her mouth. The perfect, wet heat bringing him back to that filthy place in his head.

How could she think he could ever say no? She’d been his weakness since she brought him over that damn cupcake.

“Oh, sweet girl. Anything?” He cooed. “Dangerous thing to promise me. Don’t want anyone else to do it either.” His breathing was getting harder, trying not to thrust his hips up into her mouth and make her take it all. Sure, she’d probably do it, but he still felt the need to be delicate with her. “Take a little more for me, baby. Just like- there, there you go.” He praised, mouth falling open as she did exactly what he wanted. “Gonna make me cum.”

This felt a million times better than rubbing one out in her bathroom. His legs were near vibrating, the wet sound of her mouth taking him down and the clicks of her hand stroking his spit soaked cock filling her bedroom. This was the last thing he’d expected was her on her knees for him tonight and part of him wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a wet dream, but he was thanking whatever higher power that was up there that his sweet girl had a dirty side to her. One he wanted to be the only one privileged enough to see.

“In my mouth.” She gasped, pulling up for a moment. “Want to taste you. Please?”

How could he ever tell her no?

Pushing her back down on his cock, he let his hips rise up and shallowly thrust into her mouth as she moaned around him, drooling down her chin and letting him use her the way he needed to get off. The best part was knowing she was enjoying it so much. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long already, but he attributed that to shock. She was dirty, his sweet girl, choking slightly on his cock as the tip hit her throat, but she made no move to want to stop.

His last straw, though, was feeling her hand over his balls, whining around him as he let out his deepest groan yet. It was sloppy and messy and so fucking good that he felt lightheaded, tummy hot and legs weak as he felt himself approach his end. “Fuck, jus’ like that, your fucking mouth is perfect… fuck, fuck, fuck, baby- M’gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-” His voice failed as his head fell back, lifting his hips as his cum began to pour into her mouth. Ribbon after ribbon coating her throat, pulling back a bit to get it on her tongue while she worked him through it.

He didn’t realize he had so much in him, but perhaps it was just Y/N that made him cum this much. This hard. His ears rung a bit, curses leaving his mouth as he watched her mouth open and hand stroke him to see the pearly mess on her tongue. At the last little bit,he used his grip on her hair to tug her up to his face.

“C’mere, sweet girl. Share with me, don’t be greedy.” holding her face while the other had her hair, he pulled back into his lap and her mouth to his and groaned as she licked over his tongue, sharing the remnants of his load with him. It was something a bit nasty and deprived, he knew, but Y/N merely moaned back, her clean hand curling around the back of his neck.

The kisses slowed from frantic and hot, to softer, slow and sweet. Pecking her lips over and over again, her whimpers melted into giggled as he untangled from her hair, sliding his hand under the shirt she had on to get some bare skin on his fingertips. “Sweetest thing, most beautiful girl.” He murmured between kisses. “Thank you. Best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re jus’ saying that.” She whispered, though the smile was difficult to wipe off her face. Obviously she liked praise just as much as him.

“Nope. Mean every word.” He confirmed, rubbing his nose over her cheek. “Thank you, baby. Felt so damn good, can’t feel my legs now.” Harry’d never felt like this after a blowie, both in his legs and the fondness he felt for the girl. If there had been any doubts about his feelings for her whatsoever, they were shattered. He was so far gone for her, it was pathetic.

“Good.” She smiled, feeling the kiss to his cheek. “I need to finish your skincare, though. So tuck yourself back in, cause m’gonna do that and then brush my teeth again. Though.. I can tell you’ve got a good diet. Tasted nice.”

Though Harry knew cum never really tasted good, he was chuffed that she hadn’t minded. Even more, that she hadn’t minded indulging in sharing with him. “M’not selfish, I need to help you too.” He reminded, though she merely shook her head.

“I’ll take a raincheck. M’so tired now, and I want to enjoy it fully.” Pecking his cheek in return, she picked up the moisturizer. “Think you need a lip mask too. Thankfully, you’re in the right hands.”

Harry was sometimes a selfish lover with hookups and he could admit that, but with Y/N he never wanted to be that way. He wanted to make her feel good, but he could wait. It only made him anticipate it more- there would be a next time.

“Okay, sweets.” He chuckled. “Do whatever you’d like.”

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thatacotargirl · 1 day

Note

Hi there, still accepting requests? For some reason I'm in the mood for some classic Elriel angst 🥺 maybe where Inner Circle reader loves her best friend Azriel and secretly knows that they are mates, but he was always in love with Mor and now seems smitten over Elain, so she's scared to tell him in case she gets rejected, and she doesn't want him to feel forced to be with her because of the bond, but he finally realises (maybe when reader is about to give up on him and go on a date with someone else or leave the night court) and they get their cutesy happy ending together 😊

Hi there! I absolutely am, thank you for the request! I’m a fluffy writer at heart so this is my first attempt at any kind of angst - I hope I do your request justice!

Inbox is always open for requests ❤️

Divider is from @tsunami-of-tears , you are an absolute genius! Thank you for making such beautiful dividers ❤️

Misunderstandings

An Reader x Azriel one shot

"AZ!"

You hear screeching laughter from the library of the House of Wind and you feel your heart crack, your stomach drop, and your head spin, knowing exactly who that laughter is coming from. The strawberry pastry in your hand drops to the floor as you pop your head around the door, careful not to be seen, and see Elain balancing precariously on Azriel's shoulder. Azriel, who is known for his reserved nature, his lack of comfort for physical touch, has Elain hoisted on his shoulders and is guiding her towards the bookshelves so she can reach the book she is looking for. Only, he keeps pretending to trip, or to drop her, or to forget she's there - making her scream and grasp onto his arms tightly. In other words, he is flirting with her.

You feel tears pricking in your eyes as you slowly back away and close the door quietly behind you, desperate to not hear the laughter any more.

When you had felt the bond snap with Azriel 75 years ago, your heart had soared. You had harboured a crush on the Shadowsinger since the first moment you met him and to know he was your Cauldron destined mate had been the best moment of your life. Only, the bond snapped one-sided, and Azriel had yet to realise. Sometimes you would tug on that little golden thread, other times you'd yank on it harshly, hoping for any sort of reaction from him, for him to realise who you were. But nothing.

Instead, you watched as Azriel pursued an unrequited crush on Mor for centuries. She had no idea that you were mates, the only person that knew was Rhysand - and likely Feyre by extension. She didn't know how much it hurt to watch Azriel follow her around, his eyes full of metaphorical hearts. You saw the pitying looks from Rhysand every night at Ritas when Azriel would make a sly attempt at garnering Mor's attention, his back turned to you.

You and Azriel had always been close, he was easily the best friend that you had ever had. You could fall into comfortable silences with each other, neither of you particularly extroverted people, especially not by comparison to the rest of your family. But there was always a very clear line in your friendship and it was never once crossed. You'd hug, if the situation warranted it, you'd sit next to each other at meals and on the sofa, he'd help you if you asked; but you knew he didn't see you the same way that he saw Mor.

And now, Elain.

You had caught the pair of them in the kitchen just last week, laughing and covered in flour as he watched Elain bake. You saw them sat shoulder to shoulder in Azriel's study late at night, giggling over who knows what. Azriel had never looked this happy before.

You didn't realise you were crying outside the library door until you felt a hand on your shoulder and the sensation of winnowing around you. When you looked up, you were in Rhysand's office and clasped to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I told him to stay away from her, on account of her being a mated female, I thought he'd listen".

You could do nothing but cry harder. His feelings for Elain surpassed even an order from Rhysand - and Azriel never defied Rhysand. You heard the door open but didn't look up, too busy soaking Rhysand's shirt in tears. You felt someone pull you towards them and your body was engulfed in another, large male. You would know Cassian's scent from anywhere.

"He's a fool, y/n", Cassian whispered into your hair. You looked up at him, and then glared at Rhysand.

"I didn't tell him!", Rhysand said, holding up his hands in innocence.

"He didn't have to tell me, y/n. I figured it out a long time ago - for a Spymaster, I'm amazed he's so damn clueless".

You only cried harder, your head on Cassian's chest, mindful of his siphon. He held you whilst you wept, slowly guiding you both to the sofa in Rhysand's office.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Rhys".

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch him fall in love with every female that isn't me".

Both Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other, concern marring their faces.

"What are you saying, y/n?".

"I need to leave, Rhys".

You didn't know how long you intended to leave the Night Court for. Rhysand had spoken with Tarquin and had agreed that you would go to the Summer Court. You would find a home and work there, and Tarquin would allow you to stay for as long as you wanted - forever, if that was your decision. He had even lifted the ban on Cassian, allowing him to visit, but only if supervised by you at all times. You had formally resigned from your role as Night Court emissary and began packing your bags.

Mor and Feyre, teary-eyed, sat on your bed watching you pack - Mor secretly pulling out clothes from your suitcase so you'd have to re-fold them and stay longer.

"Mor".

"Please don't leave us, y/n. Azriel is an idiot, he's not worth leaving over".

You had told them about your mating bond with Azriel. Nesta and Amren also knew. But you'd been careful not to tell Azriel or Elain. You didn't want Azriel to leave Elain just to be with you because of the mating bond - you wanted him to be with you because he loved you. But he didn't. He loved her.

"I have to, Mor. It's time I get some space and find my own feet again. All these years have been taken up by Azriel and waiting for him - I deserve more than that".

She sighed, her head hanging in resignation. She knew you were right.

As you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase, you moved it to the door where your boxes waited to be transported to the Summer Court. You heard a knock, expecting Rhysand, but opened the door to a grinning Elain.

"Hi y/n! I was just wondering if you wanted to go..."

Elain looked from you to the suitcase, to the boxes, to Mor and Feyre's tear-stained faces, and then back to you.

"What's going on?".

"I'm going away for a little bit - just to the Summer Court. But you can visit, and I'm sure I'll visit here again".

Elain's lip wobbled.

"For how long?".

Feyre couldn't hold back her sob and at that moment, Elain realised you might be leaving forever.

"Why?".

You wanted to tell her the truth, but her sweet face made it hard to be angry at her. She didn't choose this. She didn't know that Azriel was your mate. She is just a young female thrown into a new world and making the best of it.

"Just need a change of scenery", you reply, forcing a smile on your face. You watch as Elain's face changed from heartbroken to panic-stricken, and she ran from the room.

"I think maybe that was one change too many for her", Mor sighs.

"I'll go after her", Feyre says, standing from the bed. She pulls you in for one last, long hug and flies from the room, hiding the new batch of tears streaming down her face. You see Rhysand standing in the doorway, his hand outstretched to you.

"Ready?".

You nod, taking his hand in yours and feeling his powers fill the room as he winnows you to Adriata, the Summer Court, your new home. You felt a lightness take hold of your body that had been missing for the last 75 years. A sense of calm and peace. Your heart was broken, but it could heal, you could find yourself again and feel happiness and joy at the small things in life, things you sorely missed.

But, if you'd have tugged on that golden thread one last time, you'd have felt Azriel's answering pull back.

Elain thundered through the House of Wind and up the stairs to the training ring on the roof. She burst the door open to see Azriel lighting the last of the candles that surrounded the picnic blanket, rose petals littered the floor, and a strawberry pastry sat on a plate in the middle. Azriel knew they were your favourite, and knew it had to be the food he offered you for the mating bond.

"AZ, SHE'S GONE".

Azriel whipped his head to the door to see a dishevelled Elain standing there, red in the face and out of breath.

"Gone where?"

"The Summer Court, she's left the Night Court, Az".

Azriel felt his heart sink. He had only felt the bond snap a few weeks ago and had been planning this night ever since. Elain, his new friend and confidant, had been helping him. She had helped Azriel find and read your favourite romance novels in the library to know what you liked from a partner, she had helped Azriel learn how to bake your favourite pastry so it would be perfect for you when you accepted the mating bond, she had taught him calligraphy so he could write you the love notes he knew you swooned over, the pair of them giggling at Azriel's attempts to be a hopeless romantic, and failing terribly.

He never imagined that you would leave before he could tell you how much he loved you. That you would leave without even saying goodbye.

His head reeled as he stumbled backwards. Without a second thought, he took to the sky, wings beating harder than they ever had before, towards the Summer Court.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Tarquin". You were in awe of the home he had provided for you in Adriata. A beachfront, two-story home decorated to the nines in shells and pearls. It was glorious.

"It is my pleasure, y/n. Please, do enjoy everything that my Court has to offer. This particular beach gives a beautiful view of the sunset".

With that, Tarquin departed - allowing you time to process your move and absorb your new surroundings. You walked down to the ocean, your beautiful new sundress blowing gently in the breeze, and felt the water flow up to your mid-calves. It was pleasantly warm, heated by a day of sunshine, as you watched dusk start to coat the horizon.

That was, until something crash landed in the ocean in front of you.

Before you were able to turn back and run, you noticed a black membrane bob up out of the water, followed by a blazing blue siphon. You heart stuttered as you watched Azriel swim as fast as he could to you.

"Y/n", he breathed, his hair matted to his face with sweat and salt water. In his hand, you noticed a soggy, crumbled, almost entirely disintegrated strawberry pastry. Gaping, you watched Azriel offer the pile of mush to you.

"Az?"

"I.... love.... you", he heaved, trying to catch his breath.

But you were pretty sure you stopped breathing altogether. You heard more noises behind you, and turned to see your entire Night Court family there, having been winnowed in by Rhys, Feyre and Mor.

"What is going on?".

Rhys stepped forward and offered you his hand.

"Let me show you". So you did.

Once joined, Rhys entered your mind and showed you memories from Elain and Azriel's minds. You saw the moment the bond snapped for Azriel, the grin that had taken over his face when he realised, the sheer excitement she had felt at knowing two of her friends were mated. You saw the conversation between them - Azriel asking her to teach him how to make your favourite strawberry pastry. You saw, from their eyes, what they were giggling about at Azriel's desk - the poorly written love notes, all addressed to you. You saw the book Elain was reaching for in the library from Azriel's shoulders - your favourite romance - and how they studied your tabs and highlighting like their life depended on it. You saw the picnic. You saw Azriel's heartbroken face when Elain told him that you had left.

As Rhys withdrew, you realised that you were crying. When you looked up, you realised you weren't the only one, your entire family was in tears - Cassian near blubbering into Nesta's hair.

Azriel loved you.

You turned to face him, still completely sodden and holding out the mush to you. You took it, grimacing slightly, and shoved the entire pile of it into your mouth.

"I love you too".

Azriel flew at you, grabbed you into his arms and kissed you like he would never get another chance. You dropped your shield and felt the bond overflowing with love, Azriel pushing all of his emotions to you, almost knocking the breath out of you once more.

"Come home?", he asked quietly.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again. Then paused.

"But, maybe in a couple of weeks?". Azriel looked at you with confusion, before his eyes suddenly darkened, a feral look overtaking his face.

"Aaaaannnddd, that's our cue to go", Cassian laughed, your family all grappling at each other to get out of there quickly, not wanting a front row seat to your show.

You paid no attention as you let Azriel lift you into his arms and carry you towards the beachfront house. You simply smiled, feeling comfort in the fact that, maybe, everything really was going to be ok.

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #azriel x reader #a court of frost and starlight #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel #azriel one shot #acotar imagine #acotar oneshot #azriel imagine

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janaispunk · 2 days

Text

just close your eyes

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, implied death of a character, the angst is ANGSTING in this one

a/n: once again, i can't thank that jackson joel pedro photo enough for the inspiration that it's brought me. i hurt my own feelings with this chapter, and truth be told, it's gonna get worse from here.

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Over the following days, something of a routine forms between the three of you.

Joel spends most of his time resting, asleep more often than not, the shape of him on your couch a picture that you grow familiar with. But as his fever goes down and the skin around his injury is less red than when you first laid eyes on it, you allow yourself the tentative hope that you might have been able to actually save him.

You’re becoming less skittish around him, getting used to his rather gruff demeanor, slowly realizing that what Ellie said was indeed true, it’s not about you. You come to think he just doesn’t like needing and accepting help.

Ellie follows you around like a puppy, eager to soak up every scrap of knowledge that you can share with her. It’s not much, you think, mostly cooking, the task of turning supplies into various meals, given the limited resources that you have in this world. You like having her around, the almost constant stream of chatter and questions never annoying you.

It fills your usual silence, helps keeping you grounded in the present. Most of the time.

Now that you have company, it becomes painfully obvious to you how much time you spend in your head, just sitting and staring straight ahead, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the time passing. You have taken to having a book open in your lap, to make it seem like you’re reading, but you find yourself looking down at the page without seeing it, not sure when you last turned it.

It’s not what they would have wanted, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake yourself out of it. Well, it’s not like anything happened the way we wanted, the bitter voice in your head answers.

If Ellie or Joel notice, they don’t ask about it. You hear their voices in the night sometimes, both of them sleeping in your parents’ bedroom now, since the couch was starting to hurt Joel’s back.

You don’t lock your door anymore, leaving it ajar, just like them. The thought of someone else being down here with you is soothing you, the fear of them being a possible threat basically nonexistent at this point. Instead, a different kind of fear sets in.

They haven’t talked about where they are going, but you know that they’re not gonna stay forever. Once Joel is completely healed, and winter has given way to spring, they’ll most likely be off again, leaving you on your own again. You don’t want to grow attached, but it’s difficult not to, while being with other constantly.

You and Joel are taking longer to warm up to each other than you and Ellie have, but you’ve gotten used to having him around you. It’s a quiet, but trustworthy, reassuring thing, his presence in your space. Now that he’s healing, he’s someone who you trust to take responsibility, to take care of things if needed. You’re not sure how you know, but you’re certain that he is.

One evening, Ellie finds the DVD collection that’s stashed away in the cabinet under the small TV in the corner of the room. You hadn’t watched anything in forever, not sure if it’s even still working, but her enthusiasm makes it impossible to turn her down.

Even Joel pipes up at the prospect of a movie night, crouching down next to her to sift through the DVDs. They’re both drawn to the shitty action movies – usually not your preferred taste, but you find the corners of your mouth lifting when they both turn around simultaneously, looking for your approval of their choice.

Joel pushes himself back up with a grunt, pressing the button on the TV and making it spring to life without issue. You settle deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a knitted blanket over yourself as you watch the opening credits play.

It’s so comfortable, so normal, and you want to get lost in the feeling in a way that makes your heart ache. Ellie sits down beside you to share the blanket while Joel stretches his legs out on the other couch. A smile is tugging at his lips when he catches you looking at him, but it can’t hide the wariness in his eyes, mirroring your own. It’s the feeling of things being too good to be true, the fear of nothing good ever lasting, of the world crashing down around you again, that always accompanies you, and without asking, you know that he feels it too. You cast your eyes back to the screen, trying hard not to get yourself lost in the fear, but to enjoy the moments of peace while they last.

Ellie loves the movie, her eyes wide at every action-packed sequence, gasping at every explosion. At one of the more absurd scenes, you can’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbles up your throat. You’re unexpectedly joined by the deeper rumble of Joel’s, a sound that you haven’t heard before.

You glance at him, to find his eyes already on you, an emotion in them that you can’t place. Neither of you say a word, both quietly returning your eyes to the TV.

When you’re lying in bed later that night, you still feel the smile on your face.

While your closeness with Ellie came quickly, almost taking you by storm, it’s a quiet, slowly growing thing with Joel.

It begins with him lingering in the kitchen when you’re preparing the morning coffee, asking you questions about the place, about keeping supplies, electricity, the safety measures. He helps you with cooking, grumbling about giving something back when you protest.

He’s gruff, no comparison to Ellie’s lively chatter and endless questions, and it makes you nervous at first. But you get used to him, his more quiet demeanor, his dry humor. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to scare you again, avoiding sudden movements or getting loud, and while you appreciate it, you also can’t help but wonder how broken you must seem from the outside.

He doesn’t ask prying questions about your past, how you’ve come to live here all alone, though you have to imagine that he’s curious. You don’t ask him about his either, even if you do wonder how he and Ellie ended up together. It’s a quiet mutual understanding and you’re grateful for it.

You have to believe that he had his fair share of loss in his own life, that the both of them had; an inescapable reality at this point in the world’s history.

It’s like a silent camaraderie when he catches your eye as Ellie is reading out puns to the both of you once more, rolls his eyes in a way that still holds so much love for the girl next to you, but that fills you with the urge to giggle. It stops you in your tracks the first time it happens, the sensation so unfamiliar to you that you can’t place it for a second.

When you smile at him, the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly as well, before he huffs an exaggerated sigh at the joke that you just heard. It riles Ellie up, just like he wanted to, you suspect. But you block out her bickering at him, busy with your own thoughts. One thought in particular, one that you haven’t had about anyone since you were a teenager.

Joel is kind of pretty when he smiles.

The both of them have also taken to working their way through the bookshelf that’s taking up most of one of the walls. It’s mostly guidebooks on hunting, gardening, self defense, anything that your father deemed possibly useful. Over time, you had added books from your old bedroom, the one upstairs, that you had hastily carried down the stairs, hoping for the familiar words to give you a sense of normalcy in a world where nothing was normal anymore.

Joel sometimes talks to you about them, asking your opinion on which ones to read, discussing their contents with you. Over time, you realize that he does it when you’re zoning out, pulling you back into reality with the drawl of his low voice next to you. You’re thankful for it, not used to being cared for like this, but also mortified that as it seems, he does notice when you’re too deep inside your head.

It’s one of those afternoons, you’re just about to start preparing dinner, when Ellie asks if you have more books somewhere, about something cool. “Like what?” you reply, an easy smile on your face.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “like comics, maybe? Ohh, or something about space?”

It takes a moment before the words register, before they form a picture in your mind, the memory of exactly what she’s asking for. You stop in your tracks, frozen on your way to the kitchen. Your toes dig into the carpet beneath your bare feet. A faint trembling starts in your hands and slowly spreads through your body.

Ellie says your name, an edge in her voice. You’re not sure what your face looks like.

Your wide eyes find hers, looking up at you from where she was spread out on the floor, her hair splaying out over the scratchy rug, one of your books held over her head. You had joked about how that position couldn’t be comfortable a few minutes ago.

You see Joel from the corner of your eye, slowly raising to his feet from the couch cushions. It feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re sucking in air but it doesn’t reach your lungs.

A large, warm hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. Joel rubs soothing circles over your back, your name a low rumble on his lips.

“It’s– it’s not a problem if not,” Ellie murmurs, sitting up slowly, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, uncertainty written over her features.

You force a shuddering breath in, using the sensation of Joel’s hand splayed over your back to ground yourself. Nodding your head, you will your voice to travel up your throat.

“Yeah no, I– just a second.”

Joel repeats your name, more questioning this time, but you ignore it, feet carrying you into the bathroom where you quickly shut the door behind you. Skin stretching over your knuckles, you stand over the sink, gripping its edges to stay upright.

It’s what he would have wanted. He would have been so happy to share them. It’s true, you know what.

You’re not sure what’s worse. Going in there yourself, crossing the threshold of a room that you haven’t entered in years, haven’t even opened the door to, or letting someone else do it, let them disturb the memory of a reality that you’ve tried to preserve in there. Too painful to touch, but too important to let go of.

Steeling yourself, you return to the living area. Ellie and Joel are sitting close to each other, both of their heads flying up at the door opening. It’s obvious that they have been talking about you. You bite your lip.

Ellie rises to her feet slowly, takes a tentative step toward you. “Listen, it’s not that important really–” She sounds like she’s talking to a skittish animal.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice not to betray you. With a deep breath, you cross the room to the door beside yours. One of two that you keep firmly closed.

It creaks on its hinges when you open it slowly, your hand shaking on the handle. You try not to look around, to keep your eyes closed to the truth that nothing changed in here, and yet everything changed. It’s stuffy, stagnant air that’s been untouched for too long, but it smells like him. Like he’s still here with you.

You don’t see the unmade bed, still carrying the trace of the last time he got up, the stuffed lion beside the pillow. Don’t see the half finished drawings on the desk, or the mess of action figures in the corner. You grab the stack of comics from the nightstand, ignoring the way your vision blurs at the edges. Move on to the shelf, smaller than the one in the living room, blindly picking out random books.

When you step out of the bedroom, quickly pulling the door shut behind you again, neither Joel or Ellie have moved. You can’t meet either one’s gaze, don’t want to see the expression in their eyes.

Ellie takes the stack of books from your outstretched hands, murmuring a thanks, and you sense that there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Questions, apologies, you don’t know and you don’t want to.

Turning on your heels, you escape into your own room, closing the door as quickly as you can before you collapse on your bed. Tears flood your eyes in time with the memories flooding your head, threatening to pull you under and drown you under their waves.

You hear their muffled voices through the door, but neither of them comes to disturb you. You’re thankful for it, not needing anyone to witness you in this state. Eventually, you drift off into sleep, your mind gladly giving way to unconsciousness.

The following night is the first time that Joel has to shake you awake from a nightmare.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedrostories #janas fics #fic: safe and sound

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ellecdc · 3 days

Note

Helloo!!!

Fisrt: I bloody love your blog, you knoked me up on Poly!Moonwater and now I always think about them.

Second: Could I request black brother centric fic? Like it’s a Poly!wolfstar X reader, (or literally any ship that you like involving Sirius), where they have a kid, and Sirius is like watching them play alongside Reg, and he just starts spiralling bc he’s afraid that he might become like his parents, and Reg starts comforting him taking in account what they had to go through, and their relationship growing ecc… and he’s like “Just the fact that you’re worrying means you’re not like that, you’re doing a great job.” And Sirius just dies crying with him.

Obv only if you feel comfortable writing it!! Thank you!!!

those poor sad boys; what I wouldn't do for them

parents!wolfstar x reader but it's Sirius and Regulus centric

CW: brief mention of Black brother's childhood, Sirius spiralling, Regulus talking sense into him, baby wolfstar being a certified menace, hurt/comfort

Regulus should have known there was an ulterior motive to Sirius’ “are you busy this afternoon?” text.

Not that Regulus didn’t like spending time with his older brother (though he would staunchly deny that he did if Sirius ever asked), but it wasn’t common for Sirius to invite him over unprompted.

And sure enough, as Regulus stepped through the floo at your, Remus, and Sirius’ shared home, he quickly realised why.

Your pudgy little offspring (that Regulus loved more than life itself) was sitting in a booster seat at the kitchen island as she shoved some form of noodle into her mouth and babbled at Sirius which sounded nonsensical to Regulus but seemed to make perfect sense to Sirius as he answered her queries.

And you and Remus were nowhere to be found.

“Look who it is, babygirl!” Sirius cheered as Regulus stepped into the kitchen, though Regulus could see some of his brother’s usual enthusiasm was curbed.

“Unc’Regloo!” Aurora cheered excitedly as she raised her messy fists up into the air much like she was cheering at a quidditch match.

“How’s my future little seeker?” Regulus asked as he planted a kiss into the toddler’s hair.

“Please.” Sirius scoffed as Regulus knew he would. “She’s going to be a beater like her Papa, obviously.”

Sirius and Remus (though Remus certainly only did it to get a rise out of Sirius) argued emphatically over who the child looked more alike - Sirius or Remus - having kept the biological father unknown.

Regulus was happy to note though that the child was nearly a carbon copy of you; She had your hair, your eyes, and your smile.

But the way the child ‘pat Regulus’ arm lovingly’ [leaving a small orange coloured handprint on his pressed shirt] was all Sirius.

“Where’s your better third’s?” Regulus asked as he leaned against the granite countertops - well out of reach of Sirius’ mischievous offspring [and her messy hands].

Sirius spared him a half-hearted glare as he turned back to watch his daughter. “Daddy had an interview at Hogwarts today and mummy is at the Ministry.” Sirius explained as if it had been Aurora who had asked the question.

“I see why you called, then.” Regulus added solemnly, turning to look at the child. “I wouldn’t want to leave you alone with Papa either.”

The child giggled as she shoved more noodles into her mouth, but Regulus turned to see Sirius staring at the child dejectedly.

“Sirius?”

Sirius cleared his throat and seemed to ‘shake himself off’ as he asked Aurora to drink some water and then helped her clean her hands and face [and even her hair; Salazar, babies were messy].

“Papa! Can play outside?” Aurora asked excitedly, clasping her hands under her chin and batting her lashes at her father as if she were asking for something quite outlandish.

“Of course, sweetheart! Lead the way!” Sirius agreed readily, following the child out the sliding back door as Regulus followed the pair.

Aurora was no sooner pouring sand into a little plastic bucket before Sirius let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Reg.” He whispered quietly.

Regulus surveyed his brother in bemusement; Sirius sat on the patio furniture with his elbows on his knees and one hand covering his mouth as he stared unseeingly at his daughter.

“You’re supervising your child during playtime, Sirius.” Regulus offered, causing Sirius to scoff unamusedly.

“I’m going to fuck it up; all of it. I don’t know why I ever thought I could do this, because I can’t.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Regulus interrupted quickly, turning his body directly towards his brother. “You can’t do what exactly?”

“Any of it, Regulus.”

“You can’t love Remus and Y/N?” Regulus asked simply.

“Well, no not that; I mean, of course I do-”

“You can’t love that sweet little girl over there who thinks you just hung the stars because you agreed to let her play in dirt?” He continued, gesturing to said child who was now dumping the bucket of sand on top of her head and squealing in delight.

“I….I don’t know how to be good… To be a good husband and father to them, Reg. I don’t know how to be…to be better; better than them.”

The them remained unexplained, but both brother’s knew who Sirius was referring to.

“Well,” Regulus started with a sigh, turning back to watch Aurora jump up and run over only to slam her little body into Sirius’ larger one.

Sirius, for his part, pretended to have the wind knocked out of him causing the child to squeal before he scooped her up into his arms and planted three smacking kisses to her sand covered face, and plopping her back on the ground for her to toddle back off again.

“Mother would have had your head for squealing like that.” Regulus said simply, causing Sirius to let out a sigh that sounded awfully close to a sob. “Father would have backhanded you for getting sand on his trousers. Kreacher would have been ordered to lock you in your room for daring to touch a guest with dirty little hands if we had ever dared to eat without utensils.”

He took a deep breath before he turned his now shining eyes back to his big brother; the only family member who ever showed him any amount of love and affection throughout his entire childhood that wasn’t conditional or performative. “And I don’t know that I was ever kissed by our parents. Were you? Do you remember them pressing a kiss to our cheeks?”

Sirius shook his head minutely as both brothers pretended they didn’t notice the tears falling down his face.

“That child is far more loved by you alone than the two of us ever were growing up, and the best part is that she knows she’s that loved.” Regulus pressed, looking back towards his niece as she moved towards a water table Sirius had called Regulus over to help Remus build a few weeks ago whilst he and you drank spiked lemonade and watched them struggle.

“And that’s not even taking into account the amount of family she has surrounding her; me, the Potter’s, Remus’ parents, and you Marauders.” He spat as if it was a dirty word, causing Sirius to chuckle wetly.

“And Siri…” Regulus stated more earnestly, forcing Sirius to make eye contact with him before continuing. “The fact that you’re even worried about it tells me you’re already far better than them, yeah?”

Sirius chuckled wetly again as he squeezed his eyes shut; more tears falling as he nodded his head.

Both boys were surprised when a small hand appeared on Sirius’ cheek, gently wiping at the tears adorning her father’s face. “Why Papa cry? Papa have owie?”

Sirius laughed again and pulled himself together. “No, Papa doesn’t have an owie darling girl.”

“Papa sad?” She asked again, tilting her head slightly as if that might help her understand her father’s predicament any better.

“Papa was sad, but he feels a lot better now that you’re here.” He said with a smile. “Better not leave me here alone with your uncle again though, otherwise he might make me cry again.”

Regulus scoffed derisively before Aurora pointed a stern glare at him that wasn’t particularly intimidating but sweet Merlin did she ever look like you.

“Bad unc-Regloo! Make Papa cry!” She shouted as she hopped off her father’s lap and made for Regulus.

Regulus - not willing to find out what exactly the child had in store for him - hopped out of his seat and took off in a ‘run’ which began a squeal-laughing chase around the backyard as Sirius laughed and cheered Aurora on.

“That’s right, baby girl! Avenge your father! Make sure to get his ribs; that’s where he’s most ticklish!”

Yeah, Regulus thought to himself, Sirius really has nothing to worry about at all.

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cordeliawhohung · 3 days

Text

In Limbo [Chapter 4]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

cw: violence, blood, vomiting, allusions to sexual trauma

you wish he wasn't so kind

wc: 4.1k

Ever since you were a kid, all your life has been is a game of numbers.

It’s a grueling game, and you’re reminded of its indifference towards your feelings and needs as you scribble your thoughts into your journal. You’ve gotten very good at mental math over the years. Between calculating hours, wages, taxes, overtime… every single day you live is planned to perfection to make sure you can survive throughout the month. There isn’t a single pence not accounted for, nor pound that goes to waste.

A sigh dances between your lips as you give your hand a break from writing. You’ve been sitting in that bed for what feels like hours just crunching numbers, and you can feel the effects of it ravaging your lower back and wrist. As your head rests against the wall behind you, you take a deep breath of the fresh air blowing through your open window. It’s always chilly in November, but you go insane being kooked up in the small confines of your studio apartment. It’s the only bit of freedom you can pretend to have without having to put yourself in the eyes of the public.

Two weeks. That’s all you have left until the 25th.

Your phone buzzes on the bed next to you, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you glance away from your notebook to look at the illuminated screen. Though you had told yourself you wouldn’t text Simon under any circumstances — you really were trying your best to avoid owing people — that leak in your sink had become unbearable. No longer a soft drip, it’s become a steady flow over night, and your head already hurts at the thought of your utility bills. You had messaged him earlier that morning, sheepishly requesting that he assist you once more, and he left almost immediately in order to buy the right materials.

You take the phone into your hands and unlock it to view his message. Simon’s texts are… odd. They’re very short and blunt, just like he is. Proper capitalization and punctuation, and refuses to use any text talk. It’s nothing concerning, it just makes you feel like you’re speaking to a robot more often than not — or someone being held against their will to talk to you. No matter. Short and blunt is good. Quick. Painless.

Be there in five.

It was a lie. He shows up three minutes later, and this time he doesn’t sneak up on you. You realize very quickly that instead of driving a car or taking the bus like any sane person would, he’s brought a motorcycle. The roar of the engine has you peeking out of your window down at the street as he quickly shuts it off. It’s hard to tell what kind it is, as you’re not exactly an expert on that type of stuff, but it’s a sleek black, and very well taken care of. Even with the helmet on you recognize right away that it’s him based off of his sheer size alone, but the confirmation comes quickly as he begins to shed his protective layers.

His knock sounds at the door moments later, and you answer it with a throw blanket wrapped around your shoulders. A bright pink dusts the tip of his nose and his cheekbones, frosted from the bitter cold and his drive over. Simon looks down at you for a short moment before taking a quick scan of the area behind you. His eyes narrow when they return to you.

“Chilly. Is your heat out?” he asks as he steps into the room.

How the hell can he sniff stuff out like that so quickly? “Uhm, no I’ve just got the window open,” you explain.

He gives you a strange look before humming in response and making his way toward your kitchen sink. There’s something wrong with him, surely. Throughout your entire life, you’ve never met someone so hellbent on trying to solve every single issue that just so happens to plague you. Even Row will give up after a period of you insisting that you’re fine, though she does so begrudgingly. Does he see you as some poor creature that can’t take care of itself? Or is he just genuinely this kind?

Simon Riley is a strange man. Maybe it’s easier for him to stick around because you’re too nervous to tell him you don’t want him here.

While he works on fixing your sink, you return back to your bed where you continue to crunch numbers and plan out the remaining time you have left this month. There’s always been a huge difference between living, and keeping yourself alive. It’s a balance you try to keep, though it’s extremely difficult. Paying for your rent keeps you alive. Getting Marco his money on time keeps you alive. And after you are finished with all that, you are left with £297 in your checking account.

Working like a dog, just to live off of scraps.

You draw an angry circle around your final number before tossing your journal back onto the mattress. How you’re going to afford groceries this month is beyond you. Work nights won’t be so bad, because Bruce — the chef and owner — is more than happy to make free orders for anyone working for him at Sapori. Any other day of the week will be a little tricky, but nothing you haven’t done before.

A cold breeze puffs through the window, and you pull your blanket tighter around your shoulders. Simon’s still working on your sink with parts dismantled on the counter next to him. As he scrubs them clean with some sort of solvent, you can’t help but take notice of the way his back flexes with the movement. Even through the dark fabric of his long sleeved shirt it’s obvious how his muscles dance underneath it, like there’s too much of him to be properly contained by fabric alone.

Bee’s words from the other night ring loud in your mind. You sure know how to pull them. It’s laughable how she thinks you’re able to attract people as if Simon sees you as something more than a pathetic animal that doesn’t know how to care for itself. Though, you can’t exactly disagree with her. For all his rough edges, he’s an attractive man. But that’s about as far as you ever go. Looking, admiring from afar, keeping your distance. Distance is good. Keeps you safe. Keeps everyone safe.

Besides, you’re not sure if intimacy is something that’s meant for you. Every time you think of a hand on your waist or hot breath on your face your body tenses so much you can feel it trying to rip itself to shreds. You think of someone’s lips on yours and you want to scream. You think of that hand, sliding between your thighs inside of your skirt, and the bile in your stomach starts to churn.

“There we are,” Simon mutters to himself.

As Simon runs some final tests on your sink, you slide out of your bed and tip toe into the kitchen behind him. Water no longer drips out of the spout, and the apartment feels oddly quiet without the constant stream, but you’re grateful to no longer have something quite literally siphoning out your finances.

“Should be set,” Simon explains as he cleans up old, calcified hardware from your counter. He tosses the discarded metal into the paper bag the new ones came in before turning his attention to you with crossed arms. “Anythin’ else need fixing?”

“No, nothing else is broken. For now,” you say in an attempt at humor.

But there is one issue left: payment.

“Thank you, again. I, uh, don’t really have the money to pay you for it, but I can comp another meal for you tonight, if you’d like?” you offer.

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it. I’m workin’ tonight, anyway,” Simon excuses.

This… is not how you expected the conversation to go. He seemed more than happy to accept free food last time, yet now he’s making it seem like you don’t need to pay him back at all. Of course you’ll have to pay him back. That’s how the world works. If he doesn’t want anything now, he’s going to want something later.

“I can drop it off tonight at the club,” you insist, desperate to finally be rid of him. “I’m sure you get hungry at work, and I know for a fact the food there is terrible.”

Simon shrugs. “The chips aren’t that bad.”

You look him up and down before raising an eyebrow. It’s a silent question — no, a protest — you know for a damn fact a small serving of chips isn’t enough for a man his size.

“Text me what you want, and I’ll bring it by tonight,” you repeat, tone all but begging for him to accept.

Dark eyes study you like you’re a specimen. His gaze feels like he’s pinning you to some examination board with your legs and arms splayed out. You’re on full display, chest and stomach waiting to be cut into. All he’s missing is the lab coat and scalpel to rip you open.

“Alright. See you tonight then, sweetheart.”

Work goes by fast. Too fast. It’s busy, which is to be expected of a Saturday, but this is outrageous. Between the takeout orders and the endless wave of patrons, it’s impossible for you to take any sort of breather. The aroma of fresh bread and cheeses soaks so deep into your being, you’re certain you’ll have to soak in the shower for hours in order to get it off of you. A deep ache plagues the bottoms of your feet, and by the time you’re finally able to lock the door it’s nearly midnight.

Things always pass by in a blur on nights like this. The only thing you’re able to focus on between the tasks at hand is the sweat that gathers on your neck and soaks into the collar of your shirt. Really, it’s a blessing in disguise. A busy day means busy hands and busy hands mean you don’t have to think about the notification waiting for you on your phone, or the meal you’ll have to deliver soon.

Yet, your phone is the very first thing you reach for the moment you’re able to grab a seat. One of the waiters is huddled up in the booth next to you, rolling silverware for tomorrow night’s service, and the clinking drowns out the soft music playing through the speakers as you unlock your phone.

Order whatever you want for tonight. Not picky. Come through the VIP entrance. I’ll wait for you.

It was sent a while ago, just before eleven. He’s been waiting for nearly an hour and a half, and it’ll be much later by the time you finally get it to him. So much for paying him back. Maybe you should have waited for him to have a day off that way he wouldn’t be waiting for ages just to get his food — then again, you hate having to owe people for longer than needed.

sorry, it’s been a long night. should be there before one!

“Chip!”

Your eyes dart away from your phone just in time to see Bee waving at you from the kitchen entrance. Her ponytail has gotten rather ratty throughout the busy night, yet her beauty is still effortless and captivating as large, sunflower-shaped earrings swing above her shoulders.

“Bruce is gonna close up soon. Want anything?” she calls.

“Uh, yeah, just an order of capellini pomodoro!” you shout back.

Instead of answering you, she gives you a thumbs up before vanishing back into the kitchen. It’s an easy meal. Something quick. Usually your go-to dish whenever Bruce demands that he feeds you, which is quite often. You swear he has some sort of sixth sense that can detect whenever you’re trying to skip meals to save cash.

A sharp buzz from your phone pulls your attention back down to your lap. Its screen illuminates with the preview of Simon’s response back to you.

Take your time, sweetheart.

“Christ…” you mumble to yourself.

You wish he wasn’t so kind. It would be easier to push him away if he was as cruel as everything else in your life is.

It’s an awkward ride on the bus. Warmth seeps into your lap through the thin, styrofoam takeout box as the world passes by you in a blurr through shiny windows. There are two other women on the bus with you, and you find yourself breathing easier at the realization that there are no men around you. Everyone avoids eye contact with one another as a woman in scrubs types away furiously at her phone, and a woman who looks two seconds away from throwing up rests her head against the cold window on her left. All three of you exist simultaneously, yet so separate from one another. For once, a part of you is glad that you’re not alone.

There’s an odd pit in your stomach that forms when the bus halts at your stop. It’s one thing coming to the club when you’ve got Row to drag you around, but it’s something else entirely when you know you’ll have to navigate the area all by yourself. Styrofoam squeaks as you grip the box in your hand and exit the bus where the chilly night air cuts right through your work clothes. There’s no need to zip your jumper up. It’s a short walk to the club, and you can already see a group of bouncers hanging around the front entrance of the building.

Simon had told you to use the VIP entrance, but the issue is that you can’t remember where it’s at. You had only been there a few weeks ago, but you were so tired after your shift that you were too exhausted to really pay attention and remember anything. You have a vague memory of a neon sign, and two large double doors, but that’s about it. Instead of wandering around the building like an idiot, you decide to do something ultimately worse.

“Excuse me.”

The bouncers at the front entrances are in the middle of their smoke break as you interrupt them, and they look at you with narrowed, unentertained eyes. There’s a few steps that lead up to the entrance that makes you feel impossibly small as they scrutinize you like you’re just some bug on the pavement. You chew on your bottom lip before you clear your throat and try again.

“I’m, uh, looking for the VIP entrance? I’m supposed to meet Simon?” you say.

“You askin’ or tellin’ us?” one of the men asks with his cigarette stuck between his teeth.

Everything you say feels like a question, and you feel heat rise up in your face. You’re starting to second guess asking for help. Maybe you should just call Simon and ask him to meet you out front, but you’d hate to take him away from his job. No, you just need to grit your teeth and bare it. Once this is done, you don’t owe him anymore, and then you’ll never have to see him again.

“Sorry,” you try again. “It’s just that, I’m supposed to bring Simon dinner tonight, I just need help finding the entrance.”

“Sorry love, dunno a Simon.”

You raise an eyebrow at the man, your confusion beating out the anxiety gripping your chest. “Doesn’t he work security with you?”

The other man slaps the smoker on the arm — something playful and childish — before he rolls his eyes.

“She’s talking about Riley, you dunce,” he explains.

Terrible realization washes over the smoker’s face, and he quickly flicks his cigarette onto the ground where it sputters and dies in a little wisp underneath the sole of his boot.

“Shit, of course,” he says, a silent apology soaking his words. He points a finger toward your right, guiding you along the darkness of the building. “VIP entrance, yeah? Just head that way and make a left before the alleyway.”

It’s not the easiest set of directions to follow, but it’s certainly more than you had a moment ago. You give the two men a quiet thanks before trudging down the pavement. The only thing keeping you warm is the food in your hands, but the night air is sapping its heat faster than you had anticipated. You fear by the time you finally find Simon, it’ll be stone cold. Hopefully they have a microwave somewhere.

Soon enough, it won’t be your problem.

Just like you were instructed, you make a left turn into the area you had assumed was the VIP entrance, yet you very quickly find yourself in the alley you were told to turn before. It’s a simple fix. Turn around, backtrack, and find the right turn — but it’s not. It’s not simple because the air is so acrid it starts to choke you. You’re frozen, stuck in time at the entrance of some grimy alley as two men converse with each other and pass notes and cash between one another.

Dirty business. Dirty, filthy business that stains your skin and festers until you’re rotting. It makes your tongue go dry, but it only gets worse when you realize that you recognize one of the men. It’s difficult not to with his brown, undercut hair and stone cold eyes. You want to run, but it’s too late. His blue eyes have already found you in the darkness with a fire that illuminates you like a spotlight. He always looks angry — determined — with harsh features and tense lips. Yet, as he stares at you, he appears almost relieved. Like he had been looking for you.

You swallow the lump in your throat as this man mutters something in Russian to his friend, who quickly brushes past you as he departs. Heavy feet brush against the stone floor of the alley as you’re approached by that monster of a man, and you tell yourself to look away, but you can’t. You know better than to look away from Andrei when his hands are in his pockets.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, stopping just close enough to crowd your space, but not close enough for you to step back.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you try to choke out the words to respond to him. “I’m… delivering food.”

Andrei looks over his shoulder at the poorly illuminated area behind him, before he turns back to face you with a raised brow. “To who? The rats?”

“I made a wrong turn,” you answer honestly.

He chuckles, but there’s no amusement behind it. No, you’re nothing but a curious creature. One he can’t wait to cut into.

“You’re always getting lost, aren’t you?” he questions. It’s not something he expects an answer for, and you know it, so you stay silent as he leans closer as if ready to tell you a secret. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You’re very aware of that fact. You knew as much the moment you laid eyes on him.

“I’ll just… drop this off and go. I’ll go home, I swear,” you attempt to plead.

“Dangerous men here. Lots of them,” Andrei continues as if you had never spoken in the first place. “You’d do well to keep your distance. I know you like getting caught up in bad business, but this isn’t something you want to get stuck in. That much, I can promise you.”

If only he knew how hard you try. You’ve been playing this grueling game since you were a kid. You’re just always dealt a bad hand.

“Chip?”

Simon’s voice bounces off the brick walls around you, rattling you to the point you swear your knees will give out. You’re unsure if you should feel relieved or terrified that he found you. How he did it, you’re not sure. Then again, he always seems to be searching for a problem to try and fix. Andrei looks over your shoulder. His lip twitches, and you swear you’re going to be sick.

“Need something?” Andrei asks, bored.

“Yeah,” Simon responds. Gravel and sand crunches behind you, and you jump as you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. “I need you to fuck off.”

Amused, Andrei tilts his head to one side. Simon is significantly taller than him, yet he doesn’t seem intimidated at all.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he warns.

“Don’t care,” Simon deadpans. “I said: Fuck. Off.”

There’s no time to warn Simon about the war he’s started with those words. Rage boils in Andrei’s eyes with a heat so violent you can feel it in his hands as he shoves you to the side.

The takeout box slips out of your hands just in time for you to catch your fall. Soft flesh collides with sharp rocks and broken glass, but the adrenaline pumping through your system numbs the pain in your hands and knees. Angel hair pasta litters the ground around you, and the mouthwatering scent of Simon’s would-be meal becomes stomach churning. Something that can only be described as a strained sob escapes your mouth as you try to steady yourself and keep your body from toppling over onto the ground.

All you wanted to do was drop off Simon’s meal and go home.

It takes an eternity for you to push yourself to your feet and even then you almost fall back to the ground. You look at your hands, shredded and bleeding from whatever you were unfortunate enough to catch yourself on, and your body begins to tremble from the frigid air and shock that grips you like a vice. You hear grunting, and your stomach drops.

You turn your attention to the mess behind you, and the tinnitus in your ears suddenly roars louder than everything else around you. Blood gushes from the side of Andrei’s head and his nose, dribbling down his chin until it stains the dark fabric of his shirt. His head rolls against the back of the wall as he leans against it for support. You can hardly see what’s in his hands from behind Simon — who has decided to use himself as a physical barrier to keep Andrei from you — but the glint of the knife in his hand is unmistakable.

It hits you all at once. The blood. How it spills on the linoleum floor and spreads, outlining the cooling body in the kitchen. You wonder how many other lives that knife has taken. That cruel, curved blade that taunts you as Andrei folds it up and shoves it back into his pocket. Pale eyes land on you in a warning as he wipes his face on the back of his hand, smearing blood across the flushed color of his cheeks. He doesn’t have to say his caveat out loud for you to know what he means.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re next.

There’s hardly enough time for you to turn around and brace your sore hands against the wall before your stomach bubbles. Rancid bile stings the back of your throat as you puke, vile liquid sloshing on the ground. There’s hardly anything inside of you to get rid of; just the consumed remnants of your brunch from hours ago. You try to keep it down, but you’re overwhelmed by the way the muscles in your body contract, contorting your body uncomfortably as you expel the only bit of sustenance you were able to eat that day.

Simon’s hand rests on your hunched back, making you jump, but you can’t get yourself to turn and face him. Muffled words — your name and reassurances — break through that high pitched drone harassing your hearing, but it doesn’t quite reach you. Everything is disconnected. Nothing but frayed wires and nerves. Shuttering breaths. Cold blood. Trembling hands. Rocks sticking out of flesh.

Then there’s nicotine. It’s faint; something that haunts the fabric of Simon’s shirt as he holds you close. You’re not sure if it’s to offer you comfort, or to keep your shaking legs from collapsing; you don’t care either way. Instead, you focus on the smell of him — old smoke mixed with something clean, like deodorant — as well as his warmth as he keeps you tucked close to his side. It does nothing to stave off the panic ravaging your chest, but it’s enough for now.

“C’mon, I’ve got you,” Simon says, voice hardly cutting through the drum of your heart pounding in your chest. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mafia!ghost #f!reader #mafia!141

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bookyeom · 2 days

Text

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 2.8k warnings: a couple of swears, Seungkwan’s not mad he’s disappointed, kissing

Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.

hype boy by new jeans

i know what you like boy you’re my chemical hype boy

i’m not looking for just fun maybe I could be the one

You don’t know why you called him.

Well, you do know why, but even in your inebriated state, you still vaguely know that you probably shouldn’t have.

You haven’t seen Seungkwan in over a week. He looks mad when he enters the bar to find you, and you know you deserve it. When he opens his car door and helps you in, you expect him to start lecturing you, to complain about your lack of responses to his texts and calls, anything — but he doesn’t say a single word.

That makes it so much worse.

When he’s annoyed, your friend can complain for hours (when Chan ate the last of his yogurt just last week, you hadn’t heard the end of it for days). But when Boo Seungkwan is genuinely hurt and angry about something serious, he stays eerily quiet. You’ve seen it happen, but you’ve never, ever been on the receiving end of his silent treatment before.

And it terrifies you.

After you’ve climbed into his passenger seat as gracefully as you can manage, you can’t help but stare at him while he reaches to do up your seatbelt. He’s always been soft like that with you — doting, caring, kind. This time, you don’t think you deserve it. You know you’ve really hurt him, but the alcohol mixing up your brain can’t figure out how to fix any of it right now.

“Can you please sit still, I swear to god—”

You barely hear him with how hard you’re staring. You dazedly note that his hair has gotten a bit longer at the ends. It falls softly into his eyes as he huffs at you, trying his best to shake the strands away so he can see while his hands are busy trying to clasp your belt in. You hate when he’s struggling, and he’s pouting now, and that just won’t do —

So you lift a hand to help him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, and it takes you a second to realize that he’s stopped moving. You meet his gaze, your hand falling to brush over the soft roundness of his cheek.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper, and you think you hear his breath catch, but you don’t know why. You only said it because it’s true. Because you wanted him to hear it.

You also want to kiss him — so you do. Even though you think he might hate you right now.

It’s barely there, a soft press of your mouth to his, and you pull away before he can react. He stares at you, mouth open just a little, and your eyes are wide as you stare back.

Then he removes your hand from his face, clicks your seatbelt into place, and promptly shuts the car door.

Oh.

You can feel tears begin to prick at the back of your eyelids, and you rapidly blink to try and keep them away. You keep your face turned from him, even as he gets in and starts the car, even when he asks you if the temperature is okay and you just hum in response.

Your brain can’t form thoughts of anything but rejection as he drives you the rest of the way home in silence. You’re drunk, and you’re embarrassed, and honestly? By the time he pulls up into your visitor parking spot, you’re a little bit angry, too.

You were trying to mend things, to kiss and make up or whatever it is they say, and he had rejected you. You can’t help the few hot, frustrated tears that slip down your cheek.

You’d met Seungkwan the year before. You’d finally worked up the nerve to join your university’s badminton team, and he’d been the first one to pull you in for a rally with his teammate. He’d helped you meet your future partner that day, too. You hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but you’d been pretty smitten with him from the start.

And it had only gotten worse from there.

You saw Seungkwan at practice once a week at first, which quickly turned into twice a week when the two of you would practice after hours. Soon enough, you were hanging out on weekends, too, and then hanging out with each other’s friends. You’d been able to push your little crush down for the most part, not wanting to even go down that road when he was one of the best friends you’d made in a while.

Then you’d been selected for the MVP tournament at the end of the semester, and you still remember the moment it had all hit you like a fucking train.

You knew Seungkwan had an exam the day of your final game, and even though he said he’d make it, you hadn’t expected him to actually run across campus to get to you in time. And when you’d heard your name and found him in the crowd, sweaty from the exertion of his jog, you’d been so happy you could have cried.

When your partner had scored the winning shot, it took mere seconds for Seungkwan to find you on the court. You were swept up into a hug that had the air whooshing from your lungs. When he’d pulled away, he’d been grinning from ear to ear, swaying you from side to side playfully by your shoulders.

You’d known it then — that you loved him.

He was always cheering you on. In badminton, in your academic life, when you tried to keep up with him at karaoke — he was your biggest fan, period. He believed in you, and that meant everything.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan’s eyebrows had furrowed, his smile falling as he gave you a concerned once over. “Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head, trying desperately to form words that made any bit of sense so you could get away from him for a minute and just breathe. “Just exhausted,” you managed, and to your relief, all he did was nod in understanding.

“Go shower, get changed and then go home and sleep,” he’d instructed. Usually, his mother bear instincts would have made you smile, but you couldn’t force it then. He had let you go with one more squeeze to your biceps, a hand lifting in a wave as he backed up, before turning around and jogging back over to the rest of his friends. You had been completely frozen in place as you’d watched him go, unable to move until one of your teammates called your name.

You hate that Seungkwan knows the code for your door.

You hate that he treats your apartment like it’s his, that he knows where everything is, that even though he’s obviously still upset with you — and even though you’re upset with him — he still helps guide you to your bathroom to wash up, still leaves pajamas for you outside your bathroom door.

You hate that he takes care of you, because you want it to mean what it so obviously doesn’t.

He’s sitting at your desk when you finally climb into bed, avoiding all eye contact as you pull up the covers. You can feel Seungkwan hesitate before he speaks.

“Do you need anything else?”

You hold back a sigh. “No.”

“You sure?”

“I said no.”

Your eyes meet his pointedly. Seungkwan’s eyebrows raise, and you raise yours right back. It’s him that lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he stands up.

“Okay.” He takes a step toward your door before he pauses, and his eyes meet yours again as he adds, quieter, “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Whatever.” Your voice is small, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath.

“Y/N.”

You don’t respond, rolling onto your side and away from him. It's quiet for a second, and you wait with bated breath for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just turns the light off, and closes the door.

After your terrible realization at the championship game, you’d completely avoided Seungkwan — plain and simple. There’s no way of getting around that truth. You’d been scared and embarrassed, and you’d known that even just one look at him would have ruined you. You wish you could say you were brave, but you’re a coward — you know you are.

And so all of his calls and texts had gone unanswered — for an entire week.

When you wake up, you don't feel great, but you don’t feel as bad as you’d expected. Your head is pounding, though, so you force yourself up and to the bathroom for some Advil. You stop short when you see a pair of legs hanging over the arm of the couch, and your heart drops.

He’d stayed?

You can tell Seungkwan has been awake for some time as he scrolls on his phone. The blanket he must have used is already folded up neatly beside the couch, and his face lacks the usual sleepiness it wears when he’s just woken up. He doesn’t hear you come in until you speak.

“You’re here?”

Seungkwan looks at you in surprise before he sits up, his phone falling to his lap. He pauses before he says, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, gnawing on your bottom lip. All you can think about is the fact that your head is pounding, and you desperately need some more water. “If I were you, I would have gone home.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not you — I, personally, prefer to talk things out instead of avoiding the problem.”

It takes your hungover brain a moment to process. Then you wince at his pointed words, your stomach turning for more reasons than one, but you don’t retaliate. He isn’t looking at you when he says them. You are suddenly so nervous, your voice shaky as you speak, but you know this can’t be avoided. You hate this, but you know that it’s your own damn fault.

“I’m sorry.” The words feel heavy as you say them, and you can hardly breathe. You know where this conversation has to go, and you’re desperately not ready for it.

You’re not ready to lose him.

He crosses his arms. “For what?”

You think you might burst into tears. “For last night.”

“What part of last night?”

Your breath catches. Is he really going to make you say it? You steady yourself as you say softly, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

For someone who usually wears his heart on his sleeve, Seungkwan is suddenly very hard to read. “Okay,” is all he says, and your heart sinks. “What about the fact that you ignored me for a week?”

“I don’t know, Seungkwan.”

You watch as his eyebrows shoot up. “You have nothing to say after a week of ignoring me? God, I should be so pissed at you right now.”

You wince. He’s right and you know it. For some reason, though, he’s not mad. He looks dejected, tired, unhappy — but he’s not angry. You wonder why not. Your voice is small when you respond.

“You’re right.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “So that’s it? I don’t get an explanation? You’re admitting to ignoring me on purpose for a week, and I’m supposed to be okay with that without even knowing why? You haven’t responded to any of my texts… and after all of that, you call me to pick you up because you’re drunk and need a ride?”

“I didn’t even think you’d pick up,” you say softly, honestly.

“That’s what you got from what I said?” His voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. “Of course I picked up. It’s you,” Seungkwan says with a scoff, and your heart lurches in your chest. He pauses, taking in a deep breath. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

Your voice is soft as you say, “You know I would.”

“Do I know that? I also didn’t think you’d ghost me for a week, but I was wrong about that.”

“Seungkwan—”

“Wouldn’t you care if I stopped talking to you for a week with no explanation?” His voice gets softer as he speaks, suddenly unsure, and you hate yourself a little for being the cause of it.

“That would break my heart,” you admit, and you watch as Seungkwan crosses his arms pointedly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you say after a pause, and you are heartbreakingly aware of how inadequate it sounds.

He closes his eyes, inhales a sharp breath, and then he says, “Okay.”

You look at him in surprise. “Okay?”

He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders lifting into a defeated shrug. “What else am I supposed to say? You won’t talk to me or tell me what I did wrong. I literally can’t do anything else.”

You feel your heart break just a little bit more. He’s past the point of frustration, past the point of trying — and you think that’s the worst thing that could have happened. Now, he just looks sad, and it’s your fault. You watch as he stands up and takes a few steps towards the door, and you can feel the panic rise in your throat.

“Seungkwan?”

You stand up too, your fingers grasping at his sleeve to stop him. He turns back to you in surprise, and you try to steady your heart, your breathing, your nerves. He waits, eyebrows furrowed, gaze not leaving yours as he searches for an answer.

“Please stay,” is all you can manage. “I’ll tell you. I’ll explain everything. Just… just give me a minute, and — just please don’t leave.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then he nods. He finds his spot on the couch again, arms crossed over his chest, and you join him. You squeeze your eyes shut. You take a deep breath before reopening them, staring at your hands, and then you say it.

“I like you.”

You can see Seungkwan straighten out of the corner of your eye. You don’t stop, you don’t let up, because if you don’t say it now, you never will.

“I really like you, Seungkwan, way more than friends,” you continue softly. “And I’m sorry for avoiding you, but it wasn’t as if I could just tell you why.” Your voice grows even quieter. “You’re my best friend. I can’t lie to you… but I didn’t want you to know. You’re just so — you’re amazing, Seungkwan. I like you so much, and it was starting to become really overwhelming. You have to understand that I just — I just needed to breathe for a little bit.” You swallow, hard, before you add quietly, “When I saw you last night, when you came to get me, I just… I missed you, and I guess drunk me wanted to kiss you, so she did.”

Your confession hangs in the air between you, and you want nothing more than to sink into the couch cushions beneath you.

Then he says quietly, “And what about sober you?” and you suddenly can’t breathe.

“What?”

“Does sober you want to kiss me, too?”

“Seungkwan.” Your voice breaks, a quiet, desperate plea for him not to push any further. You squeeze your eyes shut, and your chest is tight as you nearly beg, “Can we please just —“

“Y/N. I like you too.”

Your eyes fly open. You stare at each other for a moment — a pair of blushing idiots.

“I really didn’t think I stood a chance,” he admits after what feels like the longest moment in existence. It’s so soft, so Seungkwan — your Seungkwan, the one only you and a select few get to see, the one who’s a little insecure and uncertain and real — that it makes your breath catch. “When you kissed me, I…”

“Kwan,” comes your whisper, and you think you can see the makings of a shy smile on his lips at the nickname.

“I’m freaking out right now,” he admits, cheeks flushing pink, and all you can do is stare at him.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously?” He lets out an awkward laugh at that, and it’s your turn to blush.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I’m just — holy shit. You know?”

Seungkwan laughs again. “Trust me — I know.” He shoots you a soft smile before he repeats, “Holy shit.”

It’s silent for a moment as your giggles subside, and you feel so shy that it almost makes you laugh again. You have to look away from him to breathe a little, but you can feel him shift closer, your knees brushing.

“Come here?” It’s a quiet request, as if there’s any way you’d deny it. You turn back to face him, cheeks flushed, and he smiles.

The way he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger makes you smile, too — and the kiss he presses against your mouth soon after has you downright giddy. It’s long and slow, so soft that it makes you ache, yet still so intense that it manages to steal the breath from your lungs.

“More of that, please,” you say when he pulls back. You’re breathless, and Seungkwan’s ensuing laugh is so bright that you feel like you’re being held by the sun.

“I think I can make that happen.”

A/N: Listen. I know I can’t just write for Seungkwan. Don’t look at me. ANYWAY! thank you for reading!!! If you read it REBLOG IT, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise

TAGLIST: @tae-bebe @seungkw1 @wheeboo @waldau @gyuminusone @darkypooo @wqnwoos @minisugakoobies @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lvlystars @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @kyeomkyeomi @bewoyewo

#bsk x reader #Seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader #SVT X reader #svt imagine #Seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagine #bsk imagine #Seventeen fluff #my writing #bskfic #Thirteenvalentines

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kedsandtubesocks · 3 days

Text

what the water gave us

Merman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: the fairytales were half true, the merman you found is indeed handsome but oh so grouchy

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, merman/human relationship, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older) instances of blood & injury, brief violence, Joel still being a terrifying force even as a merman, very light discussion of grief & loss of a loved one (Joel with Sarah & reader with their father) grumpy but soft!Joel, sharing food as a love language, use of nickname, protective!Joel, slightly possessive!Joel, f!oral receiving - along with spicy moments, mentions of mating & merfolk courting rituals

word count: 7.6k

a/n: here it is - the nice final surprise for our mermay mini series, this is for all of us who would kiss fuck the handsome merman lol! Thank you to @pr0ximamidnight for letting me scream about this & to @the-wild-wolves-around-you for always being the best support - and to you, if you’re reading this, thank you so much ♡

The sun hangs low against the sky, painting the world in a soft orange creamsicle shade. Sliding your shoes off, you sink into the soft sand and walk the shoreline.

You love your aunt and uncle dearly. But having such a large get together at their house to meet the neighbors and their friends just got too much. It’s why you politely excused yourself and ended up here.

The crash of the waves, the peaceful quiet of the thankfully vacant beach, it all settles you while you walk aimlessly getting lost in your thoughts.

Until a sharp deep growl pierces the air.

The noise sounds close, electrifies your skin, and makes you stop. That’s when you notice trickles of blood in the water.

Petrified your eyes follow the trails.

Then you come across a sight you can’t believe.

By the long stretch of rocks leading out from the shore into the sea, a man sits half up on the rocks.

Older, distinguished in the wrinkles around his face and beautiful grays in his curled hair, his skin however seems drained of color. There’s also a huge gash against his side as if he was impaled.

Even though he’s partially out of the water, you notice, the skin at his hips don’t lead to legs. Your eyes go wide.

Another snarl of a growl comes and you realize it’s this man. His face fiercely stares you down in menacing terror.

“You’re hurt!” You blurt out.

“Get the fuck outta here!” He howls, even has an accent of someone from this area.

“You’re bleeding out too fast!” You don’t even know medical conditions that well to know this isn’t good.

On your walk here you noticed a few beach towels left vacant on the shore.

You immediately turn around and bolt.

The man screams out a curse, yelling at you to stop, but you don’t. Thankfully you don’t have to search too far down the beach to spot one of the forgotten towels. Quickly grabbing it you then rush back.

The strange man is still on the rocks, but it’s obvious he tried sliding down them in an escape. However it opened his wound up more.

“Wait!” Now you cry out. “I know this isn’t much but this can stop the bleeding for now!”

You offer weakly that you could maybe try to get medical attention, but even weary his eyes go wide, and he snaps out a fast sharp no.

“Then you need to wrap this around the wound or press into it.” You offer the towel.

“Y’don’t think I know how to handle this, ya dumb human?” He snarls.

Human. So he isn’t human like you suspected.

“Your wound is getting worse.” You urge now, promising you won’t get others but have supplies that can help.

“Do what ya fuckin’ want.” He snarls.

Gingerly, you place the towel down on a rock then scramble out of the water and head back to your family’s beach home. Thankfully everyone has moved upstairs, allowing you to sneak in, grab a first aid kit, then leave.

You just hope the man hasn’t left or gotten worse.

The sky grows dimmer. The sun almost vanishes beyond the horizon. And thankfully, the man is still on the rocks.

Yet his eyes flutter in and out of consciousness.

Keeping the first aid kit as dry as you can above the waves, you rush into the water towards him.

He’s barely awake, might not even fully notice you’re beside him now. But quickly you unpack things fast on the nearby rocks and tend to the wound as best as you can. The man hisses a half growl at the padding you place to stop the bleeding. Then you use an embracing amount of large bandages over the wound.

The bleeding doesn’t seep through the wraps and it’s enough for now. You’re afraid of leaving him here, but you’re more worried about moving him. So taking the towel you grabbed, you delicately drape it over his body, keeping his face open.

He seems human enough from his upper body. This mystery man is also handsome, scarily so. But the sky is getting dark, and you need to get home. Gathering your things you return to the beach house.

“Hey, where’d ya go?! And what’s with the first aid kit?” Your mom says a bit surprised.

You explain with a half lie that you went walking on the beach and helped a guy who got cut.

“Well look at you! What a hero.” She grins warm and her words feel soft.

That night you barely get any sleep and think of the man on the rocks. Earlier, when you were panicking trying to tend to his wound, you didn’t have time to fully look into the ocean at his lower body. But you caught a glimpse.

You saw a partial marine like body, a sea creature like tail even among the cloud ocean water.

A merman, you had possibly helped a merman.

Now you just hope he makes it through the night.

Scrambling awake the next morning, you make an excuse of wanting to enjoy the beach bright and early, and head to the rocks.

Of course he’s gone.

You almost knew he wouldn’t be here. A piece of you did hope, faintly hoped, he would be. Even the towel is gone.

Out in the ocean a loud splash, like someone slapping against the water, arrives.

There floating in the waves, only seen from the chest up, is the mystery man. He’s okay. He’s here. He’s alive.

“You’re alright.” You exhale relieved.

This man glares at you fiercely. It highlights his weathered wrinkles but also intensifies his handsome features. There’s an intimidating and hardened nature radiating off this gorgeous creature.

“Why did ya save me?” He flat out asks, and you’re stunned.

That’s what he came here to ask you about?

Your face even scrunches up slightly confused, but you tell him the truth.

He was hurt. You had to try and do something.

The answer does soften his features. If anything his eyebrows furrow harder.

“Y’fuckin’ tell anyone about me?”

For possibly being a mythical being, this man does speak very human. You shake your head no, promising you didn’t and won’t ever tell anyone.

He scoffs, distrusting.

With sharp narrowed eyes, he gives you one final look before slipping back into the water.

You sit on the shoreline for what feels like hours, but he doesn’t return.

A bit dejected and quiet, you head home.

Later, trying to get your mind off everything, you decide to enjoy the time you’re here and head into the water.

The wind provides a nice breeze, and the sea swirls around you. Slowly you trek deeper into the ocean letting the water rise. Eventually you comfortably float and glance back towards the shoreline. Your mom lounges in her lawn chair with the recent book she just bought. The sky, beautifully soft this morning, now seems dimmer with all the clouds moving in.

A wave crashes over you from behind.

Powerful and large it drags you under. You were so focused on watching the beach you didn’t even see it coming.

Now you’re under the water, caught beneath the sea.

The saltwater stings your eyes as you try swimming against the current. But you’re a bit disoriented and even trying to just float back to the surface seems harder.

Suddenly warm solid hands are on your hips pulling you up. You’re guided up to the surface. Sweet air fills you and you cough through the stinging in your lungs. You’re kept above the water, held up.

You whip around trying to see who helped you, but there’s no one around.

Someone screams your name frantically. Your mom and your aunt on the edge of the water shout for you.

Weary from the waves you slowly swim, practically float, back to shore before your family scrambles to help you out. They rapidly ask if you’re okay, covering you with towels.

“We saw you go under and didn’t come up for so long.” Your mom explains still very worried.

“Did you guys see that shark?!” From behind by the beach house, your uncle calls out as he comes running.

“Wait, shark?” You blurt out.

Your uncle rapidly explains how he saw the fin poking out of the water around you.

“Could have been a dolphin.” Your aunt offers.

“No, definitely looked like a shark. Thank goodness you got outta the water.” Your uncle playfully ruffles the towel over your head.

A few bystanders sitting nearby ask how you’re doing and also comment how they swore they saw the ominous shark fin swimming around you.

A shark. It doesn’t make sense. You felt strong very human hands on you. You knew a guiding force saved you.

But then the thick cotton clouds above pop and the rain comes. After heading inside and deciding to rest for the day, your gaze stays watching the harsh waves. The storm and ocean move in tandem. You wonder about the man you met, if he’s safe in the water.

Maybe it’s all the talk of the supposed shark in the water, but before you end up fading into a nap, you swear you see a fin swimming in the current.

- 𖤓 -

“You gonna be okay with us heading to the museum?”

For the millionth time you reassure your mom you’ll be fine staying back and getting more rest. The rain from yesterday’s storm stayed, a quiet downpour thankfully not as strong. After everyone heads out, you see this as an opportunity to head out to the beach.

With the rain, the shoreline is vacant. So with your umbrella you head to the beach. The murky water under the dim sky seems more mysterious and your eyes scan the waves, maybe waiting for something to appear.

“Glutton for punishment or somethin’?” The familiar twanged voice.

Immediately you snap your gaze to the side. There in the water, closer to the edge of the shore, is your mystery man.

You blurt out how worried you were about the storm and about him. His eyebrows furrow.

“Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” He answers muttering.

“And you,” he asks, nudging his handsome chin towards you. “Y’doin’ alright?”

Your heart jumps in your chest. He came to check up on you.

Nodding firmly, you thank him gratefully. You knew it had to be him who saved you in the water.

The man simply nods.

You swallow hard then blurt out if he’s seen a shark.

His face hardens confused. It’s actually adorable with how curiously his dark eyes shine.

“A shark?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, thought I saw a fin in the water.” You don’t want to tell him your uncle did as well.

“Wasn’t a shark.” He answers gruffly, almost a scoff.

You want to press more, ask if it was a dolphin instead when your stomach instead growls loud. Your eyes go wide embarrassed.

One of his eyebrows raises.

“Sorry, need to grab some lunch soon.” You sigh embarrassed.

“Then head inside, lil’ minnow. Go get somethin’ to eat.” He says firm.

Before you can reply he’s sinking back in the water. But as he swims away that’s when you catch it faintly -

A sleek fin towering out of the water.

The shark creature is him.

Also…you realized he just called you a little minnow and for some reason, you find it oddly affectionate.

The next morning a mess of crabs clutter the beach. Even the neighbors besides your family’s place head to the shore to admire.

“It’s like the sea wanted us to have a crab bake.” Your mom laughs.

“They normally don’t wash up on the beach in this many numbers, it’s odd.” One of the neighbors explains to your uncle.

While everyone eagerly moves to get the crabs, your eyes stay on the water hoping to spot a fin among the waves.

At night, once everyone is asleep, you quietly slip out and head to the beach. The patio lights from the beach homes cast a soft illumination. The crashing waves among the abyss beyond are strangely calming even with the darkness of sea and sky stretching out wide.

Patiently you sit at the edge of the water, not even knowing what you’re truly doing here.

“Persistent one, ain’t ya?”

His voice emerges from the darkness and your soul almost jumps out of your body. This time the mysterious man flutters up from the waves and is closer than before.

“Why were there so many crabs on the beach?” You ask quickly and curious.

“Don’t know. Crabs are fuckin’ weird little shits.” He replies bluntly with a hard grimace.

A part of you thinks he does know why.

“How’s your wound?” You ask.

Gingerly he lifts himself closer to the shoreline and then goes to rest halfway upon the beach allowing you a sight of his torso.

The area where the wound is healing up nicely and you even grin relieved.

But him being half out of the water onto the shore also allows you a better glimpse at his lower body.

Tail. He has a tail.

It’s sleek, a deep stormy gunmetal gray, that in this dim lighting almost seems like a lovely rich blue. Faintly you can even see the dorsal find at his lower back.

It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful. Lovely sun and age spots pepper his skin. His bare chest is broad and seems strong. This man from the sea is burly, solid, and aged, a force of the water that speaks of his power that’s weathered the tides

You don’t even realize you’ve said something, much less called him beautiful, until your mystery man responds.

“Y’think I’m beautiful?” He sounds terribly confused.

“Weirdest god damn human I ever met, lil’ minnow.” He adds muttering.

“I have a name.” You huff back, gently teasing.

“Yeah?”

Your lips twitch at his reply, and you give him your name. This beautiful merman stays quiet.

“And you? What’s your name?” You ask cautiously but hopeful.

No reply comes. You’re worried you’ve pressed your luck.

“Joel.”

Until he answers, and you discover this merman’s name is so lovely.

“Don’t normally see ya around here.” Joel comments.

You perk up asking if he lives nearby.

“More or less.” A cryptic answer.

You explain that you’re here for the summer. After finishing up for the semester you and your mom decided to take a break out here.

“Younger than I fuckin’ though.” Joel says harsh under his breath, and annoyance bristles in you.

“Probably not as young as you think.” You argue back, even explaining you’re just starting grad school so the break was needed.

Joel scoffs, not looking convinced.

“Maybe you’re just an old barnacle.” You fire back, teasing.

Surprisingly, this man from the water snorts amused. The sound is precious. You want to ask him more, learn more about him, but a tratorious yawn escapes you.

“Head to sleep, lil’ minnow.” Joel mumbles.

“Not tried.” You huff, but another yawn betrays you.

“Mhm.” Joel hums, and you think you see a twinkle of amusement in his deep eyes.

There’s so much you want to say, maybe even ask when you’ll see him again. But rising up off the sand, you hear a splash in the waves.

The spot where Joel rested is now empty. A wistful ache settles into your chest.

However the next morning though, an impressive mess of clams and oysters are on the beach. A bright bubble of a laugh almost escapes you.

When the night rolls in, you again sneak back down to the beach. This time you bring some of the leftover sushi from dinner.

You don’t wait for long before Joel swims onto the shoreline.

You greet him with a warm grin. His focus however is on the container on your lap. His handsome scrunched up face seems grumpier.

“What’s that?” He rumbles.

“It’s just fish and rice.” You explain opening the container. “Thought we could share.”

“It’s sushi.” He flat out says and your eyes go wide. He knows what sushi is and you even admit your surprise.

“Yes I know what sushi is.” He replies a bit crabbier. “Don’t live in a fuckin’ damn cave.”

“Where do you live?” You ask now.

“Somewhere.” He replies flatly not answering, so you don’t push it.

Instead you return to the meal before you.

“Since it’s fish, thought you might enjoy it.” You offer.

“You…brought me food?” His voice sounds steeled, cautious. You realize how suspicious it sounds and how hesitant he would be.

“It’s fine, I promise.” You reassure and even prove it by chomping down on one of the California rolls. Trying to ease the tension you ramble about the different types of sushi you like and those you don’t care for too much.

You realize now you must sound ridiculous. You’re about to clamp your mouth shut when very cautiously, slowly, Joel reaches over and grabs one.

It’s like feeding a stray cat and not wanting to scare it. You can’t help but turn to stare and see his reaction. He plops it in his mouth and cutely chews thoughtfully.

“Well?” You ask a bit hopeful.

Joel simply shrugs, almost bored, not even speaking on the taste or if he likes it.

But you do notice he reaches for another one.

In the quiet night, you and Joel simply sit enjoying this space together. You try to ask more about him and about his world. But the dry unamused look he gives his answer.

Joel instead is the one asking questions about where you live, what are you studying for, and one question that knocks you out surprised.

“Y’dont got a mate.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but you still almost choke on a sushi roll.

Stammering, you ask him what made him say that.

“Don’t have the mark humans wear that they’re taken.” Joel comments then moves to point to his ring finger where a wedding band would sit.

“Some couples don’t wear bands.” You argue back.

“Oh? Ya one of ‘em then?” He challenges.

Deflated, you mutter out a low no.

“Why?” Joel asks direct.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t ya have a mate?” He questions serious and his thick voice crawls over your skin.

You shrug, not knowing how to fully answer. Instead you half heartedly tell him you haven’t found anyone yet.

“Don’t sound like a good enough reason.” Joel replies.

Now you’re annoyed, even feel your face scrunch up at his casual tone.

“Why do you even care?” Your question comes out a bit sharper than expected.

Joel shrugs. “Just don’t make sense why a young thing like you is alone.”

Immediately you fire back that you’re not alone. You have friends and family that love you.

Now you stare at Joel hard and fully annoyed. His dark eyes scan your face while he stays composed, unable for you to read.

Your phone chimes with a text notification breaking the moment. You decide to call it a night. Joel is quiet when you move to leave.

The air hangs thick and tense. Internally, you try reasoning that you’re literally talking to a mythical being. This merman was bound to have a strange view of human customs.

You simply tell him good night and walk back.

Before you head inside, you turn around to the shore unable to stop yourself.

Joel very visibly is still in waves. His upper half floats among the obsidian sea with his dark eyes hyper focused on you. However once you spot him, let your eyes lock into his, the merman sinks into the water.

That night you dream of a man from the waves so handsome and real in your arms, but it feels as dangerous as a storm.

The following morning, instead of creatures fit for a seafood restaurant waiting, the most lovely shell sits on the sand.

“Oh that’s pretty.” Your mom even coos. It is.

Cherished and still in awe, you place the shell on your dresser.

Later that night you return to the beach again. This time time with a bag of chips.

Joel arrives hastily.

“The shell is lovely.” You tell him.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He answers simply, but his gaze stays eyeing the chip bag. Your heart warms even at his grumpy reply.

Opening the bag, Joel wrinkles his nose.

“Smells salty as hell.” He sneers.

“Says someone who lives in saltwater.” You snort munching on one of the chips.

“That’s sayin’ something if I say that shit is salty.” Joel huffs.

“They’re delicious.” You clarify holding out a chip to him. Joel’s face scrunches up even more, you laugh.

“What’s with all the sudden human food?”

You shrug. “Just a nice late night snack, thought we could share that’s all. Let you maybe just try more human food.”

With a cautious hard frown, Joel leans forward to the chips in your fingers and moves to bite it. In the process though his lips slide over your fingers.

His mouth is hot, wet. You even feel the brush of his tongue against your fingertips and try not reacting.

Joel makes a face as he chews, maybe not aware of what he just did. Your heart however rages fast and you ask if he liked it.

Now Joel’s eyes flicker to yours. You notice him swallow, notice how thick and bare his neck is and how you want to kiss it already.

He shrugs. You’re learning that’s a very common Joel answer and can’t push for more.

“Your mother. She seems nice.” He suddenly says.

You’re surprised he noticed her earlier out here. She’s been enjoying reading while you stayed inside enjoying a nice nap.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” You admit with a soft smile.

“Just you and her?” He presses and you agree happily.

“Where’s your father?”

You didn’t know you’d be discussing this with him. But you explain gently that your dad passed away when you were younger.

“Oh.” Joel’s voice pops a bit. “I… I apologize.”

You reassure him you’re alright. You were young, a child then, and appreciate his sympathy.

“Besides my mom always told me if I ever missed him, I just had to look up.” You tell Joel.

“What?” He asks and you turn your gaze up to the sky.

The stars are faintly out but so sweetly twinkling in the dark.

“My mom said my dad sits with the stars now, watching down and always shining bright to remind me he’s always with me, even when I can't see him.”

The words still warm you to this day.

Joel stays silent.

“And you? What’s your family like?” You ask returning your eyes back to earth, back to this son of the sea.

Joel continues to stay quiet. His focus now falls to the sand where you sit. You should’ve known he wouldn’t respond to something so personal.

“Got a brother, but he doesn’t live too close. He’s gotta pod of his own now.”

He has a brother. And they call their families pod. This information warms you, feels precious and rare.

“I had a pup.” Joel admits.

He had a child.

“Lost her many years ago.” He mutters soft.

Your heart shatters deep in your chest.

“Joel, I’m so incredibly sorry.” You tell him earnestly and sympathetic.

You gently ask him what her name was.

“Sarah.” A lovely name.

You glance back up at the sky. You don’t know anything about merfolk culture, how they honor those who have passed. But you can at least honor her the way you know how.

“Sarah is definitely up there too among the stars, watching over you.” You say reassuring.

The stars seem to twinkle back.

Again, Joel stays silent. You’re worried you might have stepped too far.

“Thank you.”

But in the soft breeze of the night, you almost miss his kind soft whisper of a reply back.

You and Joel sit in a soft silence for the rest of the night.

Waking up the next morning, from the view of your bedroom window, another shell sits on the beach.

This goes on for a little over a week. You sneak down to talk with Joel, even teach him how to play tic tac toe in the sand and discover he’s a sore loser.

Then beautiful trinkets arrive on the beach the following mornings.

Some were dazzling sea glass pieces you want to find a way to make into a necklace. Once he even left you a weather and a very old waterlogged broken compass.

You cherish it all.

But then one night, Joel doesn’t show. You wait, and wait. But no appearance of your merman. And no new seashell or trinket sits on the beach the morning after.

Again you head down to the beach at night. Still no sign of Joel.

You try not to get wrapped up in worry. But soon a week passes.

Now you’re worried, fully wondering what could have happened. You don’t even know where he lives to say you can simply go check on him. You feel a bit helpless, frustrated.

At the week’s end, your aunt wants to take you and your mom to a nice dinner in town. That night enjoying the nice meal, your eyes still drift to the view of the sea. Watching the soft waves, the dreamy sea, you simply hope Joel is okay.

When you get back, you head straight to bed and wonder if you’ll see your merman again.

In the morning, you almost don’t look out the window, like you’re trying to slowly detach yourself. But you do.

On the beach sits a new shell.

You practically fly out of the house and down to the shore.

Later that night, Joel this time rests on the edge of the water - waiting for you.

He’s never looked more beautiful in the moonlight.

You exhale relieved, welcoming him back. Joel’s eyes seem endless as he stares at you nodding

“Sorry, had some things I had to sort out.” He explains, even apologizes. You don’t even want to press why or get upset that he simply vanished.

He’s here and he’s alright. That’s what matters.

“I know it might be too personal, and you can tell me no,” you begin weakly. “But where do you live around here?”

You rationally explain it’s simply to see and make sure he’s alright. You even vow to keep it a secret.

“Worried about an old ass barnacle like me, lil’ minnow?” Teasing, he’s faintly teasing.

But you do worry about him. Even tell him that. Joel doesn’t reply for a moment.

“Tomorrow, come ‘ere early. And I’ll show ya.” His voice is as steady as a river.

You barely get any sleep that night. Before the sun even reaches over the horizon, with the sky faintly showing signs of waking up, you head down to the shore.

Joel already waits for you. He’s ethereal in the morning light. The soft cotton candy sky paints him in a delicate glow.

You walk along the shore while he stays in the ocean and you follow his lead. The guide of his fin from the waves would look menacing, the sign of a terrifying shark in the water. Yet you follow it without hesitation. Thankfully the pace is easy and you enjoy the fact that you simply have him by your side in his own way.

Slowly you walk further away from the familiar beach homes and down towards a more secluded part of the coastline. The houses begin to dwindle. Those still standing houses seem older in their style, rickety and abandoned.

Compared to your family’s beach home that sits further back on the land, these homes sit right above the water.

Weathered from their location, they seem like ghosts watching you. Eventually Joel leads you to a home that’s collapsed.

Halfway in the water, halfway in the sand, it is a cluster of debris and scattered remnants of a home

You watch Joel swim into it from the sea.

So this is where he stays. You find a small alcove to duck under and then step in. Surprisingly, the beach house had collapsed into a father cozy like alcove.

The echoes of the ocean softly swirl all around. When you glance out the opening, it gives a clear sight to the sea where Joel must freely swim in and out hidden by the cover of this remnant.

He’s made a home out of these hollow bones. He emerges out of the water, and his freshly slicked back hair has always made his face seem sharper. But here in the soft atmosphere he seems even more dreamy.

You earnestly thank him for showing this to you and even admire its coziness.

“Y’like it?” His voice is gruff as you continue taking in the space. Yet you feel eyes on you the entire time.

“I do.” You admit truthfully.

That’s when you spot the towel you gave him. It’s crinkled up in a ball, still covered in some dried blood. But he kept it. That reality gets logged in your throat.

You go to sit down on the sand and slide off the bag you brought. You didn’t know how long the trip was going to take and trying to add to the lie you told your family about going to search for sand dollars, you added the bag.

Now it proved handy as you pull out the box of assorted fruits you packed.

Feels like it’s been so long since Joel and you have done this.

Handing him an orange slice, he bites down on the whole thing not even letting you finish explaining not to eat the peel. You shriek a bit panicked, but he mumbles about you worrying too much.

“Well, someone’s gotta worry for you.” You huff back.

In this seemingly short yet expansive time you’ve known him it’s like you’ve become completely bonded to this strange man.

In very common Joel fashion, he settles into silence. Playfully taking an orange slice, you put it in your mouth then smile at Joel.

He snorts a faint type of laugh and it’s everything.

This time you also notice how close he rests on the sand next to you now, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Y’know…” Joel begins soft. “Never got to thank ya for savin’ me.”

His tender low rumble almost mixes in with the crash of the tide. You think of the blood stained towel still here.

“It’s okay. And you’re welcome. Plus I think we’re even now at this point.” You gently tease.

A deep hum comes.

“Ain’t like any human I’ve ever met.” He says even lower than before.

Something indescribable claws in you, and you glance at him. Joel is undeniably gorgeous, the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen.

His usual slicked back curls are starting to dry, highlighting their light fluff, and you ache to brush back some of his strands. However his intense gaze bores unflinchingly into yours. It’s like his eyes spark a fire in your chest burning everything in its wake.

Before anything can be said, Joel suddenly snaps up sharply glaring out to the sea.

“Need to get ya home, lil minnow. Gonna storm soon.”

The sky looked so clear on your walk here. Even now it doesn’t seem like a storm approaches. But you trust Joel. The minute you reach the beach house, thunder rolls in the distance.

Later, in the shower, your mind drifts to Joel. Your thoughts have been with him so much. But now they cross into a more sticky territory.

Joel resting beside you earlier was the first time you had ever seen him fully out of the water. Your eyes snuck as many glances as you could trying to commit the sight to memory.

You knew his golden skin bled into the color of his tail. But his tail, now that you fully saw it, was magnificent. Strong, sleek and sturdy, it speaks of how much power he holds as a son of the sea. Yet you can’t stop wondering where his reproductive organs were.

You knew he had a daughter but you also don’t know if maybe he adopted her. You didn’t want to ask about merfolk procreating, but your mind swirls with thoughts of it. Thoughts of something slippery slick, simply Joel’s, slithering in between your legs clouds your imagination and your throat goes dry.

You’re so caught up in those thoughts, you don’t even head down to the ocean that night.

Instead you dream of merman and the taste of saltwater on your lips.

-𖤓-

The beach is crowded today. You should’ve known the weekend would bring in more crowds. The amount of people must have deterred Joel away from leaving a gift.

You admit you were a little heartbroken when you didn’t see anything on the beach this morning, but you understood.

Now you sit peacefully in the water and search for more shells in the sand to add to your growing collection.

Eventually a soft beach ball gently bumps onto you.

“Sorry!” The splashes come, and off to the side are a pack of three frat boy like guys.

“Kinda got away from us.” One of them says bashfully.

“It’s okay.” You reassure.

“I like your swimsuit.” The guys smiles, and you thank him.

“You wanna come hang with us? You look lonely.” One of them asks then takes a swig of his beer.

Politely you decline, but thank them for the offer.

“Aww,” another says, swimming a bit closer. “C’mon. Gotta be better than just sitting here doing nothing.”

“I’m fine.” You kindly try to stay composed, but you already don’t care for how persistent they are.

“Man just leave her, she looks like a fuckin’ prude anyway.” One of them laughs, and your gut feels uneasy.

Fucking pieces of shit.

You don't even reply, not knowing what else they can do. Skin feeling tight, you want to get out of the water now, and hope they leave soon.

They snicker and laugh with each other, talking amongst themselves. It makes your skin crawl even more. Now you really decide to leave.

Suddenly a horrified scream comes.

It’s male, pierces through the air with pure agony.

You whip your gaze around and find blood spilling into the water. One of the guys that was just speaking to you is the one screaming, holding his leg swearing something attacked him. Another one of the guys then collapses into the sea as he screams. More blood colors the waves.

“There was something in the fucking god damn water!” One of them yells.

Off to the distance someone yells ‘shark!’ and terror fills you fast. The panicked commotion arrives. You frantically scan around.

The fin barely moves above the waves, but you catch a glimpse before it dips below the water.

From the shore, your mother screams your name begging you to get out. You return to land but are determined to find Joel.

“I’m gonna take a walk, clear my head.” You tell your mom.

“There’s a shark in the water! Just stay inside for the day.” She urges.

Promising you won’t get in the water you even reassure her you’ll have your phone on hand. With an apprehensive sigh, she nods.

You practically fly down the coastline.

Even in the middle of the day, no one pays you a second glance. Thankfully further down the beach the commotion trickles down until it’s just you and the sea. Approaching the decayed and vacant homes, this time they feel like guards keeping you safe.

Immediately you slide into Joel’s alcove. You’re not sure it was him, but something inside just whispers it was.

You discover a sight.

Joel sits halfway out of the water and snaps his face up to you. His eyes are what you notice first. Even with how dark they are, his pupils are now slits, reptilian like. Then when he spots you, they expand and dilate as his face crumbles.

He mutters out your name.

You spot his hands - now instead claws with faint traces of blood staining them.

Before you is an apex predator, a true hunter of the waters. And he’s glorious.

The blood seems to confirm it was him in the water. He attacked those guys.

“Go home!” He barks, a fierce growl.

“Did they hurt you?” You ask softly, approaching him with hesitant steps.

He repeats his words, roaring at you to leave, but you don’t. Even with how fierce and terrifying his voice rages, you move, almost possessed, to kneel on the sand beside him.

“Are you hurt?” You repeat again gently.

He pauses before barking out a quick no.

“You were in the water?” You question low.

“I…” you’ve never heard Joel hesitate like this. Your eyes stay on his claws.

A moment passes.

“Always try to swim nearby when y’get in the water.” Joel admits, like he doesn’t even register yet that he's speaking.

Your heart gets tangled in your throat.

“Normally I stay far away and deep enough, but those fucking boys… the things they said.” He snarls disgusted and vicious.

He attacked them because of you. That reality rearranges your soul.

You now gingerly reach down to the water and gingerly grab his hand. Reflectively he almost draws away.

“What’re y’doing?” He mutters sharp.

“There’s still blood.” You whisper back then start pouring water over his hands, cleaning him.

The emotions surging in you feel too deep and strong to describe, but they consume you. You rinse his hands, being cautious of the sharp edges, watching the water fade away the crimson more and more.

It’s quiet in the alcove. Just you, him, and the soft sound of the waves. When his hands are free of blood, you gather one in your grasp. His talons are sharp. He’s dangerous, and you adore him. You gently draw it up to your face.

He doesn’t stop you. You even worry this might be too much, possibly overstepping. But this feeling in your chest is so raw you can’t stop.

You lean into Joel’s palm and gently kiss the center of it as your eyes close.

“Thank you.” You speak, barely recognizing your soft voice.

Suddenly you’re jostled. Your eyes snap open petrified thinking he’s shoving you away. Only to find he’s instead swiftly pulling you closer.

You’re only allowed to process that in a blink before his lips crash into yours. You inhale sharp but eagerly scramble to grab onto him now.

He tastes like the sea, of something deep and ancient but beautifully Joel, and your mouth opens up to him wide and greedy.

You can tell he hasn’t kissed recently, or maybe kissing other merfolk is different, but he’s messy. Teeth clink and crash, but it’s fierce, truly him.

Like the surge of a wave Joel moves against you unleashed, and you draw him closer now moving to rest back against the sand.

Joel shifts moving over your body with a clumsy but earnest ease as he continues kissing you fervently.

Your hands run up his broad and strong shoulders while his hands, claws no more, now map your body out.

“So god damn soft.” He says hoarse and deep against your lips. Then Joel burrows his face against your neck and inhales.

“Smell s’good.” His voice trails off while his lips begin kissing and nipping against your skin.

Your body reacts, rising up to grind against him.

“Joel.” You whisper out his name and he growls. The vibrations of it rumble against your skin rattling your bones.

“Wanna mate ya.” He mutters low, as if smoke leaks into his voice. “Wanna make y’mine.”

“Please please please.” You beg him dizzy and clawing at him.

Joel licks at your skin, and your eyes close in bliss.

He’s a force, dizzying and consuming like the sea itself, and you happily fall under his current. Your swimsuit top is discarded and Joel makes quick work diving down your body to your bottoms.

Without warning he shoves his face into between your legs, flat against your pussy and inhales deep. The most powerful groan rattles the air and you whine.

“Wanna taste, want more.” He mutters possessed, clawing at your bottoms that you shimmy out of.

Now you squirm a bit self aware, very hyper aware, of how intently Joel pokes and strokes around your folds with eyes focused.

You even shift your legs hoping to close them when he growls.

“Don’t hide. S’mine.” The possessive nature leaking out of his voice makes you drip.

That first lick he takes against you, you almost come especially when he groans debauched.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, knew y’d taste so fuckin’ good.” Joel mumbles.

What he lacks in his full knowledge of your body, he makes up for that in how fervently he lets his tongue explore and dive into you. It drives you mad, and your hips trash trying to press into him more.

When you come, he moans loud.

Lips wet with your essence Joel crawls up your body in a daze kissing you as much as he can.

Now he grinds down into you and you feel a very new sensation, a hard bump against your core.

Joel draws back and you now fully see the new raised area against his front torso. His hand palms it, the same way a human would, and he hisses. You ache to touch him.

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You mutter.

Joel blinks back at you, still hazy in his dark eyes. But he leans down and bumps his head against yours soft.

“Starlight, y’sure you want this?” You sure you want me, is what you hear.

You nod and kiss him soft on the lips.

A part of you wanted to be afraid, to not face the growing desire for this creature of a man. But when Joel and you become one, it feels as if the world becomes whole. Like this is what it’s always meant to be, you and him.

Your legs sliding against his tail, his teeth biting into your neck with an aching promise wanting to break the skin, you discover a crescendo of passion like no other, a crashing of the land and sea.

He is yours, just as much as you as his.

Now curled against him on the sand, your merman keeps you in his arms tracing his fingers against your shoulder. Every inch of you feels sore but in a delicious way. You enjoy resting against his sturdy frame.

“You’re still so warm.” Joel mutters a bit in awe.

“And you feel nice and cool.” You smile wiggling closer to him even while being practically glued to his side.

“Can I ask…” you begin hesitantly, and he hums a rumble of a noise that sounds like he’s giving you the okay.

You ask him why he suddenly vanished for that week.

Joel sighs, dreary and deep.

“Didn’t wanna face how… close I was gettin’ to you.” The reveal makes your heart flutter.

Softly you rub against his solid chest then lean to kiss it.

“Glad you came back.” You tell him, and he simply nods.

However even in this soft afterglow, a small doubt trickles now in.

“Joel.”

“Hm?” He sounds as if he’s falling asleep against you.

“Is this… Are you sure this is okay?” You ask delicately.

Joel snorts.

“Yeah, s’okay.” He reassures you. “Been practically courting ya this entire time anyway.”

He says it almost casually, like if it’s an afterthought. Your mind however skips over itself.

You bolt up to look down at your merman still lounging on the sand. His face scrunches up pouting at the loss of your body next to his.

“Wait? Courting?!” Your voice shrills.

Joel rolls his eyes and tugs at your arm trying to get you back into his embrace.

“What do you mean courting?!” You continue sqwuaking.

“You sound like a seagull.” He deadpans. You swat at his shoulder urging him to please explain.

You even stare at him determined. An adorable almost bitterly bashful expression colors Joel’s handsome face. Those deep eyes of his dart away from your stern gaze.

“S’nothin’. Been takin’ care of you same way you’ve been takin’ care of me, that’s all.” He replies gruffly still seeming embarrassed.

Suddenly it all clicks.

A few semesters back you took an ecology course for a science credit. You faintly remember a lecture about how different species mating behaviors. Your professor even made a comparison of a man winning a game of billiards against another guy to establish himself as a strong opponent.

In essence, sometimes mating rituals were about proving you were a strong provider and protector.

Joel had been doing this all along. The way he protected you on the beach, the various seafood critters left on the beach, the way you also fed him, along with the beautiful seashells and trinkets he left -

It had all been his own way of showing his affection and intentions.

Your merman opens his mouth to say something, but you pounce on him quickly. You kiss him pouring in all your devotion you can, and Joel welcomes you greedily.

Eventually a text from your mom comes asking if you’re alright and it gently bursts the bubble you’ve been happily sheltered in. Begrudgingly you kiss Joel many times goodbye. He of course swims by your side the entire walk home.

Later that evening, you sneak back out to the shoreline and kiss your handsome myth of man so many times under the moon's watchful eye.

“So you’re mine?” You ask quietly among the crash of the waves.

Joel nods firm and steady. “Just like you’re mine.”

You float in a dreamy bliss and wish more than ever you don’t have to leave him for the night.

“Don’t worry, lil’ minnow.” He reassures you with one last soft kiss. “I’ll be in the water.”

It’s a promise, a vow, as true and beautifully ancient as the sea.

#if you’re reading this thank you so much me and merman Joel are giving you all the underwater treasures #joel miller x reader #merman!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #Joel miller fic #under the water series #Joel 🤎#pedrostories

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satorusugurugurl · 1 day

Note

How would satosugu, nanami, and choso react to reader trying to hide a really bad injury after a mission and thinking they’ll take care of it tomorrow, but they end up passing out or something ?

Mwah 💋

Hurt

Summary: You get injured on the job, and try to hide it from your boyfriend, how will they react when they find out the truth?

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kam, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,221

Warning: Mentions of injuries, blood, suggestivness, little angsty, little crack!

A/N: Ah nothing like a good stern lecture from sexy anime men! Thank you for the request Nonnie enjoy!! 💚

Gojo Satoru + Geto Suguru

This wasn’t good, nope, not in the slightest. Your side was killing you. The structures the doctor at the hospital did sting each time you moved, and you’d already taken the pain meds he had prescribed. You just needed to wait until tomorrow. Shoko said she’d heal you as soon as she was in town. Until then, you just needed to fake it.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Ijichi announces as he opens the car door for you. “I should call Gojo and Geto to tell them what happened.”

“I’m fine,” you respond with a grimace. “They're busy teaching right now. I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“But you lost a lot of blood.”

“I'm fine!” you assured him, patting him on the back as you headed towards your house. “Don't call them. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Standing inside the threshold, you waved as he drove away, but the second the door shielded your face, you doubled over in pain. If the assistant supervisor had seen you like this, he wouldn’t have let you go inside alone. Your trusted friend would have called your partners, insisting for them to come home. If they had known what had happened, they would have cared for you, of course, but you would also have received a lecture on why you should be safe. Geto would insist you train specifically with him. Gojo would ensure you were sent on missions with him until they were sure you could protect yourself.

That would be the worst-case scenario. You hadn’t gotten injured like this in years. It wasn’t even your fault. The floor gave way, leaving you vulnerable for a second, totally not on you, but your boyfriends wouldn’t see it like that.

“Oooh fuck me.” You whimpered, resting your head against the door. “Fuck me”

“That can be arranged.” Hot breath fanned over your neck, making you jump. “Whoa, easy there!”

Gojo’s eyes were on you as soon as you turned toward the voice. They were full of happiness and joy over seeing you come home. “Satoru? What are you doing at home? Shouldn’t you be teaching right now?” Your sudden outburst had him blinking in confusion.

“All of the students were sent on missions,” Geto answered as he leaned against the wall, cocking an eyebrow. “There were no other missions, so we decided to surprise you.”

“Oooh!” The throbbing pain in your side had you wincing. “That’s great! Awesome, what a nice surprise!”

“You don’t look too excited,” Satoru bluntly called you out. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

“Oooh yeah, I’m great.” You were lying; you were far from great because the room was spinning. “I need to sit down; my feet are—” your vision blurred as you stumbled past Satoru leaning against the wall.

“You sure?” Suguru asked, gently grabbing your shoulder and steadying you. “You look pale.”

“I'm just tired.” the faster you got past them, the quicker you could get off your feet and relax.

Suguru releases your shoulder, letting you step towards the living room. “For someone who’s doing great. You sure are swaying a lot.” Satoru was by your side, watching you as if he thought you would fall, which you might end up doing.

“Yeah, I can assure you, I’m fine.” Your tone was as sharp as a knife, causing both partners to cease interrogation. “I just wanna sit down with you both., watch a movie and cuddle.”

Upon hearing your request, the request you always made when you returned from a mission. Both men fell into your routine. Suguru walked past you, heading to the couch, while Satoru ran to the bedroom.

“I’ll grab blankets!”

“Princess, do you want to grab the snacks? I’ll pick out the movie.” there was a particular look in your dark-haired boyfriend's eyes. He was trying to test you to see if you were as fine and dandy as you claimed to be

Knowing him, the interrogation would start if you asked to pick out the movie instead. Neither he nor Satoru would let up until you came clean about the injury. Once that was out in the open, you knew the lectures and scheduled training sessions would soon follow.

Blinking away, the blurry vision in your eyes, you gave Suguru a thumbs up, heading into the kitchen. You grab different kinds of snacks, candy, popcorn, and some chips. Each wavering movement had the stitches in your side screaming in protest; your sore skin begged for you to sit down and relax. You tried to fight through the pain, but your painkillers weren’t cutting in. Leaving you in a sheen sheet of sweat as you carried the bowls back to the living room.

Upon hearing your footsteps, Suguru turned just as Satoru returned with a blanket. The bowls in your hands felt like they weighed a ton as you tried stepping forward, but your legs refused to move. Suguru noticed your behavior, standing and taking a tentative step forward.

“Princess?” Two Suguru’s stood before you as your vision blurred with black spots. Something hot and wet ran down your side.

“Why are there two Suguru’s?” Your voice cracked as the bowls fell to the ground. “I-Is it my birthday?” Your hazy attention was suddenly on Satoru as you stumbled. “Oh,” Blinking at the Satoru’s rushing for you, the room suddenly turned on its side. Oh no, you were falling. “Fuck.”

Darkness overcame you, and thoughts of double Satoru’s and Suguru’s infiltrated your dreams. Dreams that were lewd, sweaty, and full of pleasure. But in the midst of your, what would you call it? SatoSugu orgy, Shoko appeared, staring down at you.

“Make sure you sterilize that wound,” Her cigarette bobbed between her lips. “Infection can set fast.”

“I know that.” The Suguru at your neck responded less out of breath than you were.

The Satoru between your legs looked back at Shoko. “Do you want us to bring her in tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll stop by on the way to work.”

As you blinked in your dreams, your groggy eyes opened, and you found yourself lying in bed. Suguru was shaking a spray bottle before spraying it on your side. The wound suddenly felt like hundreds of hot needles were stabbing it. With watering eyes, you screamed in pain. You knew the spray was supposed to help, but it seemed to enhance the throbbing pain in your side.

“Looks like your patient is awake.” Shoko chuckled on the phone Satoru held. The pain made you try to curl in on yourself just to have your boyfriend stop you. “I’ll let you guys go. See you in the morning.”

“Bye, thanks, Shoko.” the second you heard the FaceTime call, cerulean eyes met you. “Soo, you wanna try telling us how your mission went again?”

“N-No.”

“Ooh, she said no, Suguru.”

“That she did. Do you want to tell her?”

Your white-haired boyfriend shook his head, a sinister smile on his face. “No, I know you were looking forward to it.” Suguru’s eyes were shut as he gave you a gentle smile that wasn’t gentle in the slightest.

“Did you seriously think Shoko wouldn't call us and tell us about your injury?”

It feels like your house crashes around you. “That traitor.” Your wound receives another spray of antiseptic. “Ow fuck! What was that for?!” Suguru continues to smile, the smile that always scares the loving shit out of you.

“You heard Shoko, I need to make sure it’s clean.”

Satoru is by your side in an instant. “Why wouldn’t you tell us what happened? Did you think we were going to yell at you or something?” You bark out a laugh, giving them a look of disbelief.

“Yes! I made a rookie mistake. Regardless of how it happened, it ended with me leaving myself wide open and getting hurt in the process. I know that this one.” Suguru hums in response. He cleans up the bloodied gauze around you. “Is going to make me train with him. And you aren’t going to let me go on any missions by myself.”

“You’re right about one thing: you will be training with me every morning for a week.” Suguru pats you on the head.

“But you’re wrong about me going to higher-ups. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself; you had an accident. You’re not the first sorcerer to get injured on the job.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Both your partners exchange a look with each other. “Yeah, we aren’t going to lock you in the apartment and not allow you to go out. You’re strong, but you shouldn’t have lied to us.” Suguru gently strokes your hair back. “So in the future, if you happen to get hurt, just be honest about it. You wouldn’t like it if Satoru or I hid something like that from you, would you?” They watch as you shake your head.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I won’t ever keep something like that from you guys again.”

“Good,” Suguru kisses your forehead as Satoru lies beside you on the bed. “but just because you apologized doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

“Huh?”

Satoru claps his hands together above his head, drawing your attention. “Sex ban for a week.” If your side wasn’t screaming in pain, you would have sat up.

“S-Sex ban?! Why?! Shoko will have me all healed up tomorrow!”

“Your side might be healed, but our hearts are still wounded.” Faux sorrow is thick in Satoru’s voice.

“L-Let’s be reasonable about this! I haven’t seen you guys in like a week! I need you both!”

The sound of things being thrown in a trashcan draws your attention. “Should have thought about that before you lied to us. For the next week, you’re training with me; in that time, neither me nor Satoru will touch. You’re not even allowed to touch yourself. Princess, you’ll have to suffer and watch us go at it.” Satoru scrambles off the bed, throwing himself at Suguru, his delicate pink lips pressing against your boyfriend's. “It’s a shame, too, because you sounded like you were having a great time when you passed out earlier.” You helplessly lay in bed, watching your boyfriends make out with each other.

You never hid another injury from them after that torturous week.

Nanami Kento:

“Ow, ow, ow.” You gingerly touch the gash on the back of your head. It throbbed in pain to the point it was making you dizzy. You had Nitta glue it shut with the first aid kit from her car, ignoring her pleas to call Nanami and go to the hospital. The gash itself wasn’t a big deal. So, there is no point in calling Nanami on his day off. It could wait until Shoko was back at school.

A cursed spirit got too zealous and threw you against a metal gate. The impact had you seeing stars, but you quickly shook it off and finished your mission. The wound would be another addition to the scars you had gained over the years. A superficial cut was something your boyfriend did not need to worry about or get involved in. The only thing he needed to do was lose himself in his book.

Reading was precisely what he was doing as you stepped into the apartment. Nanami’s legs were propped up on the ottoman, his eyes roaming over the pages of the book he had eagerly awaited. The gentle smile on his face as he sipped tea was the only clarification you needed to know you had made the right choice and not bothering him.

“I’m home!” You announced, kicking your shoes off before collapsing on the couch beside him.

“Welcome back.” Nanami laid his book down on his chest, allowing him to kiss you gently. “How did the mission go?”

“Easy, I’m happy to be home.”

“I'm happy to have you home. I was pretty lonely and bored.”

“Lonely and bored? Is your book not that good? You’ve been so eager to read it for weeks.”

“Oh, it’s good, I missed—” his lips move, but a sharp ringing in your ears drowns him out. He notices the blank look as you try to pinpoint what he said. “Love?”

“Hmm?” Play it cool, play cool.

“I asked you a question.”

Well, playing it cool might not be as easy as you thought. “I’m sorry I’m a little out of it. What did you say, Ken?” The questioning look in his eyes lets you know he’s on to you. Damn him for being so perspective.

“I said I missed you and asked if you wanted to lie down on my lap while I read.”

“Oh! Sure, of course.”

You rest your head in Nanami’s lap, making sure your gash isn’t anywhere close to him. Your husband notices the awkward way you lie down, as if your head is tender to the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. He lifts his book while his free hand gently strokes the top of your head.

Each time he pulls his hand back, you stiffen in fear that he’ll graze over your wound. He doesn’t come close, though. Nanami focuses his strokes solely on the crown of your head. Usually, you would have called asleep and could fall asleep, and you would have if it weren't for the pulsing, pounding pressure that begins to build in your head. You choke back, pained groans, and whine, not wanting Nanami to know what’s going on.

The pressure continues to build, and nausea swirls in the pit of your stomach. Ringing in ears, headache, and nausea put the three together, along with a head wound, and you don’t even need a doctor to tell you what’s wrong. Most likely, you have a concussion, and it’s a bad one.

You should have listened to Nitta and went to the hospital. Getting checked out right now was probably a good idea, but how could you tell your boyfriend now? ‘Oh, my brain got scrambled by a cursed spirit and failed to mention it to you. Could you maybe take me to the hospital?’ Yeah, that was a conversation destined to end in an argument or lecture, both if you were lucky. If Shoko hurried up, you might have been able to sneak out to meet her at the school.

“Love.” Your husband whispers. “You’re trembling, and you keep wincing. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m—” Nanami holds his hand out in front of your face. His palm is coated red with blood.

“You’ve already lied to me once, so do not do it again.”

“Ooh, I’m bleeding.” You try to sit up, but your body falls forward as dizziness overwhelms you. Nanami catches you, lifting you into his arms. “The blood is supposed to be inside of my body.”

You blink slowly as Kento rushes out of your apartment. There are blurred shapes and muffled voices as you’re treated in the hospital; you feel disoriented like you’re high. Your husband's hand holding yours is the one comforting sensation that grounds you.

His thumb rubs comforting circles over your knuckles. His deep, soothing voice talks to you, shushing your pained cries as the back of your head is stitched shut. And his smell engulfs you as you lay together in the hospital bed.

Once the room clears, you look towards your husband, who stares ahead with an unreadable expression. The instant he feels your eyes on him, his head jerks in your direction. That unreadable expression shifts into a look of anger and disappointment. You were royally fucked.

“Ten stitches.” An audible gulp sounds from you. “The doctor had to put ten stitches because your makeshift patch job failed.”

“It was only—”

“Stop talking, do not interrupt me.” Oh, he was pissed, and you felt like you were five inches tall as you snapped your mouth shut. “I called Nitta to find out she told you to call me, but you insisted on not bothering me on my day off. When have I ever in our entire relationship made you feel as though I’m not available on my days off?”

“You haven't.”

“Then tell me why you wouldn’t have called me.”

“I-I didn’t wanna be a bother. You work so hard you deserve to relax on your days off.”

Kento turns so he’s facing you, fingers gently holding your chin. “Just because I have a day off does not mean I am incapable of caring for my wife.” The anger that burned in his brown iris shifted to sadness and concern. “Do I make myself clear? We don’t hide stuff like injuries from each other.”

He had every right to be angry. If he had hidden the injury from you, you would’ve reacted the same way. Hiccups bubble in your chest as you softly cry. Nanami’s grip on your chin slides up to your cheek fingers, gently brushing away the falling tears.

“I'm sorry, Kento, I should’ve talked to you.” His lips kiss away the last lingering tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for apologizing. Are you okay now? You're not in pain, are you?”

“No, I'm just drained.”

Nanami peered at the clock on the wall. “Go ahead and get some rest. I’ll wake you in about an hour to check on you.” His warm and gentle voice has you drifting to sleep.

“I love you, Kento.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Choso Kamo:

“Ew, do you think it’s broken? It shouldn’t look like that.” Nobara cringes as Megumi and Yuuji help ease you onto a bench.

“It’s just a sprain.”

“I don’t know, but it’s already swelling.” Megumi’s blue eyes lock on your ankle. “I might be broken.”

Yuuji is biting down on his knuckle, glancing between your ankle and face. “My brother is going to kill me.” You were going to kill the three of them if they didn’t give you some space to breathe.

“It’s not broken. I assure you of that, and Choso will not kill you.”

What had started as a typical training session had turned into a full-on brawl. One that ended with you getting kicked so hard you stumbled back ten yards just to roll your ankle. None of your students were at fault; if anyone was, you encouraged them to go at you with full strength.

“Look, just do me a favor, okay? Do not mention this to Gojo. The bastard will never let me live it down, and if you see Choso, don’t mention it to him either.”

“Should we just go grab Ieri for you?” Megumi glanced back at your ankle, which was already starting to bruise.

Oh, if only life were. “She has today off, and I refuse to bug her with some so Minuscule; I’ll be fine until tomorrow.” Skepticism painted the features of your students. “I’m fine. Go wash up. Class dismissed.” None of them moved like they were waiting to see if one of the three would fight you on your decision. There was hesitation in their features, so you mustered the best mom look you could.

One that terrified them more than a curse.

“Right, right! Later!” Yuuji was the first to take off, running down the path. Taking a second glance at you was all your other students needed to follow close behind him.

You sat there on the bench, looking up at the sky. All you needed was a few minutes to yourself before you attempted to head back. But those few minutes turned into an hour. Not because you got tired or lost track of time. No, it was because when you tried to get up, your ankle protested at the weight you put on it.

Maybe it wasn’t a minor sprain like you thought.

Regrets of your choices in the last hour lingered like cheap perfume. You had no phone, no students to help you, and there was no one to come to your rescue. Your only choices were to crawl back to the teacher dorms or wait for a soul to pass by. If no one stopped by, you would have to settle in for a long night

You were about to start crawling, praying Gojo didn’t walk by when a confused “Baby?” Called out from down the trail, drawing your attention in.

Choso was rushing forward, his hair bouncing with each step. “Hi, Cho!” You waved before patting the seat next to you.

“What are you doing here? Gojo said your training session with the kids ended over an hour ago.”

“Oh, I, uhm, just wanted to admire this beautiful day. Take a chance to smell the roses.”

Your boyfriend sat down next to you, his eyes moving to look up at the trees. The sunlight that shone through the branches and leaves caused the rays of sunlight to dance over his handsome face. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and soaked in the sun's warmth.

At that moment, you forgot about the pain in your ankle. He looked so happy; the last thing you wanted to do was ruin his peaceful zen to have him worry about you.

Opening his eyes, he let out a soft sigh before his warm gaze met you. He looked at you like he had when admiring the towering trees above. Damn, your busted ankle; if the numbing pain weren’t so bad, you would’ve kissed him until neither of you could breathe.

“I see you’ve been here. It’s a perfect day.” Yeah, if only he knew the other reason you were sitting on the bench. “As beautiful as the view is, it is getting late. Do you want to head back? Yuuji invited us to go to the movies tonight.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Choso took your hand in his, helping you stand up. “Nngh.” You cry out behind your hand as the pain in your ankles shoots up your leg.

Choso’s warm gaze on you and an. “What’s wrong?” He studies your stance, noting how you put all your weight on your good ankle.

“N-Nothing, I’m just stiff.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm!”

“Okay then.” he pulls his hand away, causing your balance to falter. “Let’s go if you're fine.”

Sweat beads on your forehead, not from the warm day but from the pain. “Alright.” You try to come off as chipper, but your voice betrays you, cracking under the discomfort. “L-Let’s get going! Movies! Yay!” Choso crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you.

Taking one step forward feels like a sore is plunged into your foot. You grit your teeth before taking another step forward, the pain more intense this time, the singular sword suddenly multiplied by ten. Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you attempt to take another step forward, only to stumble.

You brace yourself for the impact that never comes. Choso’s arm is around your waist the second you stumble forward. He can feel your ragged breathing as he eases back onto the bench. His long fingers gently push up your leggings, revealing your swollen and discolored ankle. It seems as though sitting on the bench has made it worse. You knew better than to let it dangle. I.C.E., icing, compressing, and elevating was best for you to do with a sprained ankle. Instead, the swelling was out of control when this could’ve been avoided.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” In your tear-filled gaze, Choso’s eyes are lingering on your face. “Is this the real reason you’ve been sitting here for so long?”

There was no sense in lying, not when you had been caught. “Yes, that’s why I’ve been sitting here. The kids offered to help me, but I was being stubborn.” The sigh that leaves Choso’s mouth is thick with disappointment. “I didn’t bring my phone, or I would have called you eventually.” Your boyfriend moves, turning so his back is facing you.

“Yet when I’m beside you, you still hide it.”

“I-I know, I’m sorry.” You wait for him to get up and leave you stranded on the bench. But instead, he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Well, come on,” he gestures to his back, “get on, we’ll go home, and we’ll take a look at it there,” You do as he says, climbing onto his back. “And up we go.” he stands, allowing you to bury your face into the crook of his neck. He gives you a piggyback ride across campus. Things remain relatively quiet until he sighs. “Baby, next time you get hurt, please tell me. That way, I can help you,” he glances at the corner of his eye. “I know you think you have to do things all on your own, but you don’t when I’m with you.”

Not even a second passed before you bit down gently on his cheek. “I promise I’ll tell you next time. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. I’m sort of embarrassed that I got taken down by my ankle. I’m a sorcerer, for god's sake.” You give his cheek another nibble, winning shy laughter from him.

“Don't eat me~ how will you get back to the dorm?”

“Crawl?” You suggest, resulting in Choso laughing harder.

“No crawling for my baby, I got you.” and you couldn't have been more content with that.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 1 day

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I love how you characterize Aaron Hotchner! Would you please write something for him along with the quote ‘keep your eyes open, sweetheart’? Completely up to you, but was definitely thinking about some heavy angst 🙃🙃

"look at me" - hotch x gn!bau!reader - 985 words

cw: injuries and depictions of violence, general angst, anxiety, hotch literally just being a hero as per freakin usual

why hello my love! thank you sm for this request <3

i don't write a lot of angst, it's certainly something i need practice with! but i really enjoyed writing this and i smooch ur lil forehead

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

People always say that in a near-death experience, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

Not yours.

You didn’t see your whole life, no. You saw bits and pieces - learning to ride a bike, walking at your high school graduation, pinning your FBI badge to your blazer. And then you just saw Aaron.

The first time you met, shaking hands as a brazen formality in the middle of a case, feeling his deep, brown eyes scrutinize your every move, watching him watch you. He was testing you back then, seeing if you’d be a good fit for the team.

The first real conversation you shared with him - The Beatles, which song was his favorite? Laughing at him when he said Yellow Submarine.

When he held your hand for the first and only time on a particularly rough case, about four months ago, and promised you that things would get better.

When you comforted him for the first time, about three months ago, after Haley left him. You promised him that everything happens for a reason.

Five minutes ago, when you told him you felt certain the unsubs were going to strike again. You felt it in the pits of your stomach, you told Aaron. And he just nodded and said he trusted your intuition. Then he held the door open for you, and led you out of the police station, into the dead-quiet night of the street.

He clicked the key fob in his hand, and the SUV burst into red-hot flames and sent you both flying. You were immediately knocked unconscious, your body thrust out into the street flippantly, like someone had simply thrown a baseball.

You come to on the concrete, your head pounding. All sound is muffled, but you see Aaron on his knees, hovering over you. His face is covered in dirt and soot and blood, and he keeps cupping his hand over his ear.

“ - hear me?” Sound is restored in the middle of Aaron’s question. It’s abrupt, like someone changing the channel on the TV, but you can hear again. You feel dizzy and disoriented as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Stay down,” Aaron instructs, guiding you gently to lay flat on your back once again. Your entire body is throbbing.

“Aaron,” you feel a panicked, whispered sob escape you. He grabs your hand and you feel him squeeze it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. You feel dizzy, like you might pass out again and Aaron’s grip tightens around your hand. “It hurts.”

“Keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart. Please?” The endearment rolls off of Aaron’s tongue like he’s said it a million times before. He hasn’t. Your relationship with him has been professional-ish up until this point. You’re not sure how he feels about you, exactly, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that he said it. “What hurts?” Aaron’s speaking loudly, like someone who has headphones in. His hand is still pressed against his ear.

“All of it,” you murmur. “Everything.”

You feel tears in your eyes. Your stomach is in knots and you feel like someone is sitting on your chest. You blink a few times, feeling the tears drip down your face and onto your lips, salty and full of dread.

Aaron’s checking you over, you realize, lifting your head gently and quickly to make sure you’re not bleeding. He’s talking to you, telling you what he’s doing so you don’t panic even more. He uses feather-light touches to lift your arm, and pain shocks you, coursing through your wrist. “Shh, hey, I’m sorry,” he says, laying your arm by your side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Your wrist is broken.”

You blink a few tears away.

“I’m going to pick you up, Y/N,” he tells you. He never calls you by your first name, but you’re in so much pain that you can’t even be jarred by it. “Can you move your other arm?”

It feels laden, but you can. You nod and whimper in confirmation.

“Can you hook it around my neck?” He asks as he slides his hands under you. The crooks of your knees and your back are cradled by Aaron’s arms and you wrap your arm around his neck. Once he determines you’re stable in his arms, he lifts you up. You hear sirens blaring as they get closer, and you see Aaron grimace. You feel his body tense up, his fingers curl around the fabric of your shirt.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him in an unfiltered mumble, sniffling as he carries you towards the nearest ambulance.

“It’s just my ear. I’m fine, Y/N. I’ll be fine,” he promises, but you feel how labored his gait is. It’s taking everything in him to carry you to the ambulance. You want to tell him to stop, to remind him that the paramedics can bring the gurney to you. But you’re so tired, so dizzy. You think maybe if you just rest your eyes a little bit, you might feel better. Your head tilts to rest in the crook of Aaron’s neck. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Y/N, you might have a concussion. You have to stay awake, okay?” Aaron’s voice draws you back. Your eyes are shaky when they open, and you see him looking at you with weighted concern as he sets you onto the gurney.

The paramedics load you shakily up into the ambulance, and you reach your uninjured arm out. “You’re going to the hospital with me, right?” You ask.

Aaron nods, climbing in after the paramedics and sitting beside you. His eyes are piercing and full of consternation as he takes your uninjured hand in both of his. He runs his fingertips over your knuckles, nodding assuredly, though you are certain he is feeling exactly the opposite. “Yeah. Of course. I’m not going to leave you.”

#criminal minds #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #hotch fic #aaron hotchner imagine #hotchner #hotch #hotchner angst #hotch angst #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds fic

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megistusdiary · 3 days

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hi ! i adore the way you write for arle ໒꒰ྀི´͈ ᵕ `͈ ꒱ྀི১ your writing in general is just always so amazing. i was wondering if you could write something for arle x chubby fem reader ? i feel like people rarely write for chubby reader, so it would be nice if you could whenever you had the time. 🩷 btw can i be 🪷 anon ?

hiii tysm i'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of arle ♡♡♡ also, yes!! emoji anons are always welcome.

i totally hear you, though. it's tough finding wlw fics already 😓😓 i hope this is okay!!!

(also, i got another ask for a similar concept, so i combined it here and got 2 birds with 1 stone)

(nsfw utc)

her claws, always so sharp, yet dulled on specific days- for moments like these. she kept them sharp enough for you to feel them, blunt enough to not hurt you.

her left hand slides up to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss while you shift around on her lap, trying to lean up on your knees. she grunts, moving her hand back down to your hips, shoving you down and holding you still.

"must you squirm around so much?" she asks, brows furrowing when you look away. she guides your chin back up to face her, frowning.

"aren't i... a little heavy to be sitting on your lap like this?" you ask, leaning back, gasping when her sharp nails dig in further to keep you in place.

"excuse me?" she asks, silencing your soft protests. "you think i cannot handle you? is that what you're implying?"

"no- i... i just..."

she squishes your cheeks together, pulling you in so your fuller chest presses to hers. she secretly indulges in the plush feeling, enjoying how cute you look with your lips puffed into a pout.

"do not presume to tell me what i can and cannot do. you are mine, and i am yours. i love every inch of you to pieces, just as you promised me the same. or do i need to remind you?" she asks, preventing you from speaking still.

you whimper, feeling her push you down to lay beneath her, shoving your shirt up and off of you. her nails lightly scrape over your stomach, cupping your breasts.

"perfect." she mumbles, pinching your nipples before leaning down to lap over them, feeling them peak under her touch. she kisses down your body, tenderly holding your waist, leaving little bites at your stomach, sliding her fingers into your panties.

you moan as her fingers swipe over your cunt, sliding your panties to the side to expose you. her eyes trace your slit, leaning down to place a kiss on your clit, eyes finding yours.

she shoved your thighs up, hands squishing them down against you, gripping the thickest part of them, leaving indents from how firmly she held you down. your moans increase in volume as she keeps you in place, sliding her tongue over your pussy, dipping it into your fluttering hole every so often.

she mumbles to herself in a language you're not sure you understand, considering your mind has gone fuzzy from her tongue on your clit. you can only assume her words are loving from how tenderly she sucks your clit, fucking you with her tongue.

once you cum on her tongue once, she lets your thighs sink back down, instead reaching up to kiss you again, hearing you whimper at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

"beautiful." she praises you, kissing down your neck, listening to your gentle moans. "you're perfect."

#🪷─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𐦍༺#genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader smut #fem reader #genshin wlw #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚#💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´#arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x you

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luffyvace · 2 days

Text

If Luffy accidentally made you cry

Reader: gn

Headcanons of if Luffy made you cry on accident

A/N: I’m leaving how he made you cry completely up to you so your silly little head can envision whatever you came up with and not have to comply with what mine did and possibly dislike it because it’s cringe 👍

As soon as Luffy saw the tears begin to form in your eyes he frowned, backtracking immediately.

now he’s not the brightest guy on the seas so if he doesn’t realize he hurt you—cut him some slack- he’d say something like, ‘hey! What’s going on?! Why’re you crying?”

if you react more harshly because he didn’t register that it was his fault right away, and shout at him, smack, whatever- he’s gonna be confused and a bit hurt himself. The situation’ll probably escalate quickly if you do this and I’m talkin in a bad way. Worse if you walk away because now he can’t get context from you. ‘I don’t get it?! Why’re you so upset all the sudden?!’ Is likely his next response.

let’s say you finally get it through his head that it was through his actions and/or words that your crying. He’ll be in a quick moment of shock as in, ‘I did that? I did do that didn’t I?! Oh no, I did!’ But Luffy’s a man who owns up to his mistakes when he’s wrong, undoubtedly and honestly. So you get a bunch of apologies immediately after. ‘Sorry! I’m sorry! Sorry! I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean it! Sorry!’

this is where he’ll try to comfort you physically, if you’ll let him. He’ll start with an arm on your back in case you get defensive, but if you sink into his touch he brings you into a tight hug. He doesn’t stop apologizing throughout all of it. How could he have made you cry?! He loves you! How could he have hurt you?!

he promises to get you all your favorite things to try and cheer you up. He promises never to do/say what he did to make you cry ever again too! Definitely! In fact, he’ll never make you cry again! Not that either!! Do you want Sanji to bake you a cake to help you feel better? Food always makes him feel better! ❤️‍🩹

rewinding back in time a bit! 😅 let’s say you didn’t go the aggressive reaction route, and your still crying from whatever he did or said to make you. But he’s also still confused as to why you’re crying. It’s likely you’re still upset that he didn’t get it, but you have more patience. You tell him what he said or did to hurt you and to be honest from there it’s pretty much the same reaction!

something that would also change the scenario up a bit is if he realized it was him that hurt you from jump. But again, not a big change. He’d be really upset with himself that he hurt his lover, apologize like a man, then comfort you. <3

if you don’t cheer up right away he’ll keep trying and trying until he sees your visibly happy again. He won’t leave your side for an adventure or any kind of fun until he sees you’re alright. It just doesn’t sit right with him to leave you crying on your own. He’s a man who takes care of those he loves, why would he?!

If he indirectly made you to cry—example, he did something and his actions ended up hurting you, he would do whatever he can to fix it immediately. He was playing in your room and accidentally broke something precious to you?! Crap! Usopp! Franky! Can you fix it?! How about we glue it back together?? You were saving up that gold for something really important?? Uhh- he spent it all on meat by accident- SORRY! He’ll go steal a bunch more gold right now so don’t cry okay?! He’ll be back as soon as he can!

in case you really couldn’t think of a reason he’d make you cry I listed those :)

honestly these are real short because even when going into detail Luffy is a man about things and will always apologize in the end. These are headcanons of if he makes you cry and I really don’t write angst like that, meaning I could extend these and do a scenario where he disagrees that it’s his fault but I ain’t gon do allat. Goodnight.

-Brook YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOO 🏴‍☠️

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artists-ally · 19 hours

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{Fake It Like You Love Me} Azriel x Reader x Xaden Riorson x Cassian

*slowly creeps up from the depths of hell* Heeeeeeeey, glad you guys remember I still exist 😭😭 First off, THANK YOU for 600 followers. That's insane and I don't deserve you all so thank you so fucking much. SECONDDDD, here is another part of my Fuck Away The Pain series!! Sorry this has taken me so long to do, but I think you for your patience. As always, let me know what you think and feel free to drop a request if you have any!!! Enjoy! Title and series inspired by this song.

Part 1: {Show Me Where It Hurts} Part 2: {Dirty Little Curse} these do not need to be read in order to be enjoyed!

Word Count: 7,630

Warnings: Smut. Like... an alarming amount of smut. ACOTAR x FOURTH WING, Dom/Sub, MMMF, use of the nicknames "pet" and "sir", oral (M and F receiving), pet play, degrading, praise kink, choking, spanking, cum eating, unprotected sex.

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain @thelov3lybookworm @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @agent-anna @blessthepizzaman @bubybubsters @highladyofterrasen7 @annabethgranger123 @acourtofbatboydreams @thatacotargirl @berryzxx @throneofsmut

Summary: It is just after the legendary snowball fight. Azriel, Cassian, Rhys and Xaden are in the sauna while you, Mor, and Feyre are inside the cabin. Once Rhys leaves, it seems that there is a vacant spot that needs to be filled.

~~~~~

“So, explain this to me again?”

“Every year, they have a snowball fight. They just keep going and going and going until there’s a winner,” Feyre explains. “This is the first time you and Xaden are here so I think they’re taking it easy.”

From off to the side of the cabin, we hear a shout and then a chorus of laughter.

“Maybe not,” Mor says, peeking out the window. “Cassian just decked Riorson in the face.”

I giggled, sipping my warm tea and curling my legs under myself. “Probably made fun of Cassian’s hair or something. Called him a wet dog.”

“You know damn well that animal will come in here and shake like one too.”

“And after the sauna? Yuck, it’s going to smell for ages in here,” Mor shakes her head.

“The sauna?”

Both of them stop dead in their tracks, exchanging a knowing glance. Feyre looks at me with a twisted smirk. “You don’t know about the sauna?”

“Should I be afraid?”

“Definitely,” Mor grins, setting down her cup. “After they get done, they all go into the sauna together.”

“Naked?” I dare to ask.

“Terribly so,” Feyre adds. “A few years ago, on my first trip to the cabin, I got Rhys kicked out because… well, he just couldn’t stop thinking of me.”

I damn near choked. Then I burst out laughing. I can imagine it. Rhys, Azriel and Cassian sitting in the sauna together. It must be some sort of rule they have. If one of them gets a little too hot and bothered, they’re out. But the thought of them all in there, Azriel and Xaden sweating… does some pretty magical things to my brain.

And the space between my thighs.

“Gods you are just as bad as they are, Yn,” Mor fake gags, coming to sit next to me. “Don’t get too excited. None of us have ever been in, and none of us ever will.”

“Really? That’s kind of shocking, honestly.” There hasn’t been one exception? “I know Cassian is a bit of a…”

“Male whore?” Mor fills in the blank. It makes me giggle.

“I don’t quite know everyone well enough to make those assumptions, but Cassian definitely gives off a certain… aura.”

“Oh please, he’d take it as a compliment,” Mor smiles, playing with some of my loose hair. “But no, not even him. Now, what I cannot believe is how you ended up with both Az and Riorson. That is truly a work of art.”

I can’t help the smile that blooms onto my face. “Some are just more blessed than others.”

Feyre barks a laugh, “I’ll say. You got lucky with those two, you know.”

“I know. We’re not like– together together, but they take very good care of me. I honestly kind of like it. It's all the best parts of a relationship without having to worry about if everyone is getting enough attention. They give me what I need, and I give them what they need.”

“Have you ever asked for more? To be in a real relationship?” Mor asks, curiosity getting the best of her. Feyre smacks her in the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Don’t be insensitive,” the High Lady reprimands.

“Don’t be silly,” I wave them off. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think that’s what I want. Sure, being in love is great and all, but why complicate it? We work flawlessly together right now, why change? If either of them brings it up, I’ll be open to the idea. But for right now I’m thriving. They are far too generous anyway. They constantly bring me gifts or invite me out to dinner. They’re doing enough for me. Far more than enough.” “Not to mention the world's best sex,” Mor wiggled her eyebrows at me. “What’s it like with the two of them? Are the rumors of the Illyrian true? What about Xaden, is he packing too? Gods I bet he is, isn’t he? Now, I am the last Fae in Prythian who’d want to be taken by two males, but… for the both of them? I might reconsider. Tell me, does Az-”

“Cauldron boil me,” Feyre sighs. “I’m getting a drink.”

“Ooh! Will you bring me-”

“No,” Feyre scolds, heading into the kitchen.

“Crony bitch.”

“I heard that!” Feyre shouts from the other room.

Mor and I share a laugh, snuggling in close together. “This is so fun.”

“Isn’t it?” Mor says, “You’re always welcome back, Yn. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Az so relaxed. He looks… happy. And I can’t vouch for Riorson but he looks like he needs this too.”

“Yeah it’s been a stressful couple weeks for Xaden. There was a huge issue in his homeland and he nearly lost his life. His dragon is bonded to someone else in his squad, and her dragon almost died. It was scary. I’m just glad he’s okay. On the flight up here he was giving me all his strategies on how he was going to win.” There’s a loud cackle from outside and the sound of bodies running into each other. I looked over the back of the couch, seeing Xaden at the bottom of the pile, snow being shoveled into his face. “Guess they didn’t work so well.”

“They’re probably done now,” Mor explains.

“Sauna time?”

“Sauna time.”

The door opens and the four males clamber in, shaking snow from their hair and clothes.

“I’m gonna get you back for that Rhys,” Xaden grins, evil intent behind those onyx eyes.

“I’d like to see you try. Hey Mor, hi Yn. Where’s Feyre?” Rhys pats the top of Mor’s head, offering me a kind smile.

“In the kitchen!” She calls, the High Lord following the sound of her voice.

Cassian makes a b-line for the couch, shaking his head like a mutt. Mor squeals, I just shut my eyes and take the damage. When I open them, he snickers and sits on the floor, sighing loudly. “And that makes 181 wins for yours truly.”

“Then he must have cheated,” Mor gags, wiping off Cassian’s grime with the bottom of her shirt. “For fucks sake Cass you stink.”

“I’m a hard working male,” he begs to differ.

“Only thing you’re working is gonna be my foot in your ass,” Mor chides, standing up. “I’m going to shower, I smell like a dog.”

“You wish you smelled as good as me. Sorry to catch you in the crossfire, Yn.”

“It’s all good,” I smile, rubbing the few drops I got off on my sleeve.

But the look on Xaden’s face when he comes to sit next to me reflects anything but. He’s got a scowl directed at Cassian, but he makes quick work of masking it, planting a kiss on my cheek. A moment later, Azriel does the same thing.

“Should you be sitting on the couch?” I ask. Xaden’s hair a soaking wet mess, his clothes more the same.

“Trust me,” Azriel chimes in, “There have been far worse things on this couch.”

I blink at him, wondering if I would need to burn my clothes after this. He plops down next to me, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind my shoulders.

Cassian looks between all three of us. Clearly seeing the size difference and taking notes about it. “I should probably keep my mouth shut.”

“That would be wise, brother,” Azriel grumbles, stretching out his legs. “Where's Rhys? Im fucking freezing and I wanna go in the sauna.”

“He’s in the kitchen with Feyre,” Mor said, rounding the corner from the washroom. She clearly didn’t shower, but she smelled much better. “And we all know what happened the last time the two of them were left alone here.”

“What happened?” Xaden and I asked at the same time.

“Nothing,” Azriel, Cassian and Mor responded in unison.

The dragon rider and I shared a look, a silent promise to ask Az about it later. We had a nice evening planned, dinner with everyone, and then they were going to let Az, Xaden and I spend the night in the cabin. We’ve never been here before today so it was a generous offer. I can tell how much this place means to all of them.

No one needs a vivid imagination to get an idea of what’s going to happen later.

“Fuck him,” Cassian pushes to his feet, binding his hair back with a strip of leather. “Come on, let's get started. He can decide later if he wants to join.”

Cassian and Xaden head out the door, but Az stays seated next to me. “Having fun?”

“Of course,” I reassured, patting his thigh. “Mor and Feyre are very kind. And this is a lovely cabin.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Looks like you two had a lot of fun,” I smile, resting my cheek on his damp shoulder. “You smell far better than Cassian.”

“Naturally,” Az smirked. “And yes we did. Xaden needed it, you needed it. It’s always just been the three of us every year, but it felt right to have Xaden here in the mix. You too, obviously.”

“Glad I could make the cut,” I joked, receiving a pinch on my ear.

“Brat.”

“That’s not even close to me being a brat and you know it.” “Don’t I ever,” he grinned, covering my mouth with his. Despite the chill coming from his body, his lips were warm and soft. Full of life, vibrance, and need. “By the sound of it, Rhys won’t be joining us in the sauna. We won’t be in there long, will you bring us some towels around four?”

I looked at the analog on the wall, the hands reading 3:22pm. I nodded, “Sure.”

He curled my hair around his fingers before standing, following the other two outside.

In the meantime, I hung out with Mor and we talked about random stuff. She tried to get more details about Az and Xaden, but I wasn’t willing to give them up. We played a few card games, had a snack and a glass of wine before she winnowed off the mountain and back to Velaris to meet some friends at Rita’s.

Just as I was curling up with a book, I felt a cool whisper circle my wrist. A strand of Azriel’s shadow wrapped around and around in a never ending bracelet. I smiled, looking at the clock. Just seven past four. I head for the closet, grabbing three thick, soft tan towels.

Damn, it's cold out here. How do they not freeze to death? I carefully step in their footsteps so my toes don’t get frozen off. There is a little stone path to the sauna and I gladly jump from stone to stone. With the towels under my arm, I knock on the door.

“I brought your towels, they’ll be out here on this chest,” I shouted, unsure if they’d be able to hear me through the thick wood paneling. There was a small jut out from the roof over the door, ensuring they wouldn’t get covered with snow.

“Will you bring them in?” Xaden calls.

I skidded to a halt, damn near knocking myself over. Did he just say what I think he said? “I thought no females were allowed in the sauna?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassian’s voice boomed. “We just need the towels so our bits don’t freeze off. You can close your eyes if you’re scared.”

Scared? I wasn’t scared, but I didn’t particularly care to see Cassian sprawled out with all his glory on display. Well, okay that's a complete lie. Ever since I first saw the Lord of Bloodshed, I thought he was… well… hot. He’s tall, all thick muscle and confidence. He knows he’s hot shit. I’d imagine if he were a closer friend that confidence might piss me off, but I think he’s funny. He knows what he’s got and he’s not afraid to show it.

“Are you going to bring them or not?” Xaden shouts.

Oh. Right. The towels.

I take a steadying breath and push open the door. A wave of humid, damp air blasts me in the face, instantly melting the flecks of snow on my hair and lashes. There isn’t a light save for a few windows to let some ventilation in. It's dark, but I can make out the three figures. Azriel and Xaden are to the left, and Cassian is to the right.

I keep my eyes on my boys and place towels in Xadens open arms. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Of course,” I smile, carefully avoiding any glimpses of Cassian in my peripherals. Just before I can reach the safety of the outdoors, Azriel’s hand wraps around my wrist, gently tugging me in front of him. His other hand curls around my hip, pinning me still. “Yes, my shadow?”

He all but purrs at the nickname. “Stay.”

Stay. Stay? As in… in here? With him and Xaden and Cassian? “You guys enjoy your time together.”

I tried to take another step, but he sat up, gripping my body to keep it positioned between his powerful legs. I trailed my eyes down his torso, seeing a bit of a surprise waiting for me. “I told you to stay.”

Heat flooded my body, a different heat than the one coursing through the sauna. I quickly glance at Xaden to see him exchanging a glance with Cassian across the way.

“I- I wouldn’t want to kick Cassian out just because you want me, Az. That’s rude,” I say, my breath hitching when he slides his hands under my thick wool sweater. He rakes his nails down my back and I momentarily forget that there is a third set of eyes watching.

“I don’t think Cassian would mind the show, would you, Cass?” Azriel looks around my torso at the Illyrian, and I have to force myself not to do the same.

There isn’t a verbal response from him.

Az roughly grips my hips, forcing me to sit down in his lap. His mouth attaches to mine before I can make a sound. I flinch momentarily when he bites down on my lip, his pace fast and aggressive. The sauna is silent save for the sound of our lips meeting.

Sweat begins to swell around my hairline, trickling down the back of my neck. He removes my sweater and tosses it towards the open door. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the hot air coats my bare back. Azriel breaks the kiss, latching onto my neck and collar bone.

“Az,” I say, already breathless. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“Are you telling me that you’ve never thought about Cassian before?”

Shit. SHIT.

“I- well I didn’t- not in the way you think I would’ve I was just-”

“That certainly didn’t sound like a no, Yn,” Azriel looks up at me, a knowing glint in his eye. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I- I didn’t think… I would’ve never thought that-”

“You have five seconds to tell me to stop. One.”

“Azriel I-”

“Two.” He pushes me back to my feet.

My knees buckle and it’s an effort to keep myself upright in the sweltering humidity. “Why would I have thought that you and Xaden would want-”

“Three.” He stands, towering over me.

I huff in annoyance. “Azriel, stop counting-”

“Four.” Az makes me take two steps back, advancing on me.

“Xaden will you please fucking-”

“Five.” His fingers wrap around my throat and push me back. Directly into Cassian. A second set of hands find their way onto my body. Cassian grips my hips, keeping me from falling. I am deathly still. I hardly breathe. I don’t dare make a noise. “You’d like it if Cassian joined, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t respond.

“She looks petrified,” Xaden points out very matter-of-factly.

“I like it when she’s scared, she obeys when she is. Isn’t that right pet?”

One word. One stupid nickname and I’m under his spell. Fuck, of course I want Cassian to join. I haven’t ever seen him without clothes, but he doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “I- I umm-”

“Just admit it and I’ll let you go,” Azriel demands, tightening his fingers for emphasis. It’s nowhere near a dangerous amount, but it makes my breath hitch.

“Yes yes,” I rush out, senses on fire.

“Yes what, pet? Come on, you know the rules. If you want Cass to join you have to tell him.”

Azriel releases me, and if it weren’t for Cassian holding me up, I would’ve keeled over. The combination of the restricted airflow and the density of the heat in the sauna was going to make a lethal combo.

And I craved it.

I quickly slipped under, fully ready to play with the three of them. I gently turn and look down at Cassian. His bronze skin is shining with sweat, hair still bound behind his head. I take a deep breath, swallowing. “Would you like to play with us, Cassian?”

His eyes dilate, tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips. “I thought you’d never ask, darling.”

Relief floods me and I smile. I am so thrilled he said yes. I look over at Az and Xaden, waiting for their command. I desperately need them to tell me what to do. This is already so overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and welcome Cassian, okay?”

I don’t need to be told twice. Like he knows what I was thinking, his knees spread apart, inviting me in. I sink down to the floor and stare up at him through my wet lashes. “Messy or clean?”

A grin spreads across the Illyrians mouth. “Oh, she’s good. Messy, darling. I want to see you ruined.”

Cassian’s finger separated my lips and I sucked on his thumb. He pressed down on my tongue, and I swirled it around his digit. Meanwhile, his other hand fisted himself, and I couldn’t help but take a glance.

Cauldron boil me alive–

I delicately reach a hand out and replace mine with his. The warrior's head falls back and he shuts his eyes. My hand is so much smaller than… well, every part of him. I stroke up and down, gently thumbing the small slit at the tip. A few drops slide down onto my finger and I generously lick them off. He definitely tastes similar to Az, but nothing like Xaden.

The moment my tongue circles him, he cuts loose a moan deep from his chest.

“Fuck you’re so warm,” Cassian lifts his head, taking in the sight of me taking him in. I swallow around him, drawing more sounds out of him.

“I think what makes it so good is she loves doing it. Don’t you, Yn? You love being stuffed full,” Azriel comes up behind me, his presence stealing my breath away. Maybe it’s the added heat that makes my head dizzy. “That’s right, work him all the way down. Get him nice and deep.”

I push and push my head all the way down his cock, taking a moment to stay still, just emphasizing exactly what I can do. Cassian laughs at me, full on laughs. A mocking sort of sound that spreads goosebumps all across my skin. He bucks his hips, really testing how far he can push me.

“Oh, she’s good,” he grunts, head tipping back again. “Keep that perfect mouth moving, darling.”

My ears are ringing a little. Whether that be from the heat or the sheer overstimulation, it’s hard to tell, but I didn’t react right away. The next thing I knew, one of Azriel’s hands was fisting my hair, the other braced at the back of my head. I nearly choked when I was ripped away and then slammed down onto his cock a few times.

“You heard him, Yn. Take his cock like the good slut you are,” Azriel reprimanded. He continued to overpower me, making me work up and down on Cassian. I let my jaw go slack, along with my hands braced on Cassian’s thighs. I let out a content sigh as I was fucked on Cassian’s cock.

I rocked with Azriels movements. His grip singed my scalp and an ache formed in my jaw. It was familiar, ignorable, but present nonetheless. I was glad to have them doing all the work, it was far too hot in here to think clearly… even without the added exertion.

When Az decided I got the memo, he let go of my head and I continued the motions with steady practice. I closed my eyes, feeling every drop of sweat on my body. My thick, fleece lined leggings were beginning to soak through. Xaden’s calloused hands found their way to my waste and began to slide them off. With a pop, I pulled off of Cassian, giving my jaw a much needed break. Xaden peeled them from my legs, taking my underwear with them. But, before he let me sit back down, he laid down on his back, beckoning me to ease on top of him.

“Surely you’ll suffocate, it’s already unbearably hot in here,” I huff, catching my breath.

“Then I shall go doing what I love most,” the dragon rider replies. “Sit.”

I looked to Az, silently asking if this really was a smart decision. He just gave me a pointed nod with narrow eyes, a promise that if I didn’t listen he’d make working for my release miserable. So I obeyed without a second thought.

The moment his tongue curled into me, I sighed. Aimlessly, my hand worked tentatively up and down Cassian’s shaft, drawing a few sounds out of the General. “Let me fuck your throat, darling.”

There must’ve been a sparkle in my eye because I grinned, opening wide for him to do so. His length was thick. Almost too thick. And long. Fucks sake everything about him was big. I was up for the challenge. As it hit the back of my throat, I relaxed, letting his hands fall around my ears. It was gentle at first, his thrusts long and even. I moaned in tandem with the licks I was receiving from Xaden, my mind a melted, scrambled mess of ecstasy. With a particularly hard suck on my clit, I jerked the opposite way Cassian was going.

“Ah ah ah,” he chided, clicking his tongue. “You don’t get to run away from me. Take what you’ve been given. Be a good fucking girl, Yn.”

I glance up at him, throat too full to make any noise. A third set of hands– Azriels, so experienced and commanding, settled on my breasts, plucking and pulling. I could feel everything and nothing at the same time. My entire body was numb with pleasure, numb with exploration of the three of them.

Azriel. Xaden. Cassian. All three of them, the most powerful warriors of their respective worlds, all focused on one thing. One goal.

Me.

Cassian picked up his pace, the thrusts less deep, but far more firm. It was clear he was chasing his high, thick veins beginning to bulge in his arms… up his chest… in the column of his throat.

“She does such a good job at taking it,” Cassian praises. “Doesn’t gag, doesn’t complain. Look at all those pretty tears. All for me, darling? Do I fuck you so good you need to cry? It’s okay, I’ll lick them clean. Then make them spill down your neck again when I get to fuck your pussy.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, thighs shaking with the force of Xaden’s tongue against my core. I writhed my hips, breathing harshly through my nose every other thrust because that’s all Cass would allow. At some point Azriel’s hands left the mix. I couldn’t see him anywhere, but his presence remained. Those shadows replacing his skilled fingers.

My body was wound tight. I was already anticipating a fun night with just Azriel and Xaden. But now? With Cassian? A new fire had been set ablaze inside me. And it needed– no, demanded, to be let out. I tried to warn Xaden, I tried to ask for permission, but I couldn’t with Cassian’s grip on my head. I fiercely moaned, hips shaking so badly that Xaden had to lock me in place.

“You can let go,” Azriel commanded from somewhere behind me. I silently thanked him.

Like a crack of lightning, my release barreled through me. I came so hard my vision whited out, a faint ringing bounding between my ears. Moans of pure pleasure spilled out of me and right onto Cassian. The extra vibrations must’ve done wonders from him because his grip faltered, as well as his pace. His head slumped forward and his eyes rolled shut.

“Fuuuuck, whatever you’re doing to her, Riorson, you better not fucking stop. Keep her moaning like that. Fuck I’m gonna cum so hard. Want it, pretty pet? Want my cum down your throat, filling your belly?”

He released my head, bidding me to give a verbal answer. After what Xaden just did to me, I’m not sure that’s physically possible. “P-Please, sir” I sigh out, my voice in an atrocious state already. “Wanna make you feel so so good.”

The use of ‘sir’ must’ve really done something to him. He sat up, a corrupt, unforgiving smile creeping onto his cruel lips. “Sir? That’s a dangerous game, my darling.”

“She doesn’t mind a little bit of danger, does she?” Azriel grips my hair again, pulling my head back so I have to look up at him. I nod carefully, the strain in my neck almost too much. “Yes she does. Now get to it, I'm getting impatient.”

Bad things happen when Azriel is left uncared for. And who was I to make him suffer?

I stuck out my tongue, a silent beg for Cassian to slip back in. He did without further coercion. The first time my nose brushed the soft hair on his pelvis, I could’ve sworn it was an accident. The second time, I realized it wasn’t. I couldn’t breathe, a small panic settling in every crevice of my body. I tried to keep calm, but between a relentless Xaden under me and a ruthless Cassian in front, it was near impossible.

“F-Fuck fuck fuck fuuuucccckkkk,” Cassian shouted, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen flexing. “Gonna take it all? It’s gonna be a lot, can you handle it, darling? Yeah I think you can. I’ll make you either way. Stay niiiiice and still for me- oh fuck-”

At the last second, he pulls me off about an inch and the humid, sweat filled scent of air floods into my nose. I drink his release down. It’s thick and warm, salty and abundant. I hum around him as I swallow and swallow and swallow. My eyes fill with tears yet again and they escape down my cheeks.

Cassian shudders. With gentle laps of my tongue, I clean him up. He watches me attentively. I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips when our eyes meet.

“You…” he breathes heavily, chest swelling and falling. “You are a little devil, aren’t you?”

The Illyrians hand wraps around my throat and he pulls me to my feet, and off of Xaden. The way our tongues met could’ve moved mountains. He was not shy in showing how much he wanted me. I melted into him, straddling his thigh and letting my arms drop to my sides.

Azriel played with my hair, hands caressing my ass. Together, they brought me down, content to let me relax for a few minutes.

“You did so well, pet,” Azriel cooed, dragging his tongue over the shell of my ear.

“So fucking good,” Cassian murmured against my lips. “Such a good little girl.”

I could hear Xaden climb to his feet, the sound of his hand stroking his cock loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I will never, ever, get tired of making her cum on my tongue.”

“Should I have a taste?” Cassian asked, placing small bites on my throat.

“I actually had something else in mind,” I sighed out, getting lost in all the hands and tongues. He gave me a curious look, but I just smirked, easing onto shaking legs and turning around so my ass was in Cassian’s lap. “I want to play a game.”

“A game?” There is an obvious hint of danger in Cassian’s voice? “What kind of game?”

“I want you and Xaden to fuck me, and I want Azriel to tell you when to move and when to stop.”

I haven’t yet brought it up to Azriel and Xaden, but I’ve always wanted to do this. A game of red light green light. To give full control and power to him, making us work for our pleasure. I look at Azriel, gauging his response, but he just grabs my chin, bringing our faces level.

“Yeah? You wanna play a game? Want to be treated like a literal pet? Taking commands and performing tricks?” His voice is thick with desire, so low only we could hear it.

My heart skips a beat. I hadn’t thought about it like that before. But the idea is… it’s-

“Look at her face, Cass,” Xaden tilts his head mockingly. “She wants it so bad, don’t you, pretty girl? Would you like a collar, that way if you get lost they know who you fucking belong to? Gods she’s so red. Don’t be embarrassed, pet. We know just how much you love being fucked full of cock and cum.”

“Sit on his dick, Yn,” Azriel orders. “Now.”

Silently, I hover over his lap, letting Cassian guide my hips. At the first press of his tip, I gasp. A new thrill thrummed through me.

Azriel comes and stands in front of me, cupping my cheeks. “I know he’s big, but you’re gonna take all of him. And you’re going to like it because you asked for it. So, here’s your first trick. Sit.”

The Shadowsinger pushes on my shoulders, leaving no option but to take Cassian all the way. All. The. Way. My breath is lodged in my chest with no room to escape. I can’t think. Can’t hear. Can’t see. Can’t even begin to process what is about to happen.

“Oh, good girl Yn,” Xaden praises, still stroking himself. “Look at how pretty she looks, Az.”

Cassian grunts behind me, hooking my legs over his knees so the others can see him buried inside me. I cry out at the shift, feeling him go deeper and deeper. Gods, he feels like he’s everywhere.

“Cassian, why don’t you play with her nipples,” Azriel instructs, walking back and forth in front of us. “Xaden, give her something to suck on.”

“With pleasure,” Xaden grins, those onyx eyes narrowing on my mouth. I go to protests, but then I realize just how hard he is. How flushed his skin is. And I need to taste it, to relieve him of his torture.

He traces my lips with the tip, coating them in his slick. With a heady pant, I stick out my tongue to invite him in.

A hand cracks down on my thigh. I scream out, more in shock than in actual pain. Azriel’s hand was the culprit.

“Did I say you were allowed to taste it yet?” His eyes are swirling with lethality. I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something stupid. “Well?”

“N-No,” I say meekly. “I’m sorry. May I taste it, Az? Can I please taste Xaden?”

After a minute of letting the question hang in the air, building suspense, he nods. Greedily, I take Xadens hips and bring his cock towards my mouth.

It’s such a glorious sound to hear when Xaden curses low. A deep rumble in his chest letting me know this is exactly what he needed. Without moving– fearful I’ll get another smack– I look at Az, awaiting my next instruction.

“Fuck her throat, Xaden,” Az says, eyes scanning out bodies. “Start fucking her nice and slow Cassian. Really savor her, make her moan just like Xaden did for you.”

At the same time, both of their bodies start sliding in and out of me. They find a rhythm instantly: Cassian fucks me forward onto Xaden, and Xaden fucks me back onto Cassian. It’s easy enough to let them do all the work, my bones and liquid at this point anyway. All I know is pain, pleasure, and unfiltered need for these males.

I moan deeply as Cassian hits that spot inside me. Xadens hip stutter, his head tipping back as Cassian hits it over and over again.

“Does that feel good, Xaden?” Azriel asks, gripping his hair at the root, whispering right in his ear. “To have our girls' mouths all around you?”

The dragon rider nods as best he can with Azriel’s grip. “Fuck yes.”

“Make her stop.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I told you to. Yn, stop,” Azriel demands. I instantly pull my mouth away from Xaden, even if it makes me want to scream and thrash and beg for it back. I need it, need to taste it, need to feel him cum down my throat. “See, she listens to me. Do I need to punish you too?”

“No,” Xaden shakes his head. “I’ll listen.”

“Yes you will.” Azriel gives a fake smile. “On your knees.”

Xaden sinks to his knees.

“Suck on Yn’s clit. Make her cum on Cassian’s cock.”

The sight of Xaden, on his knees, cock leaking continuously, does something to me. It gives me ideas for later. He helps push open my legs, even when the first brush of his tongue makes me see stars. Cassian has to wind his arms around mine to keep me from sliding off. I know he’s strong, but to be able to hold me still and keep fucking me is…

“Good boy, Xaden,” Azriel praises, brushing his hair away from his face. “Just like that, make our pretty girl cum.”

It’s not going to take long. His laps are so soft, so gentle, and it works far faster than I’d like to admit.

“Az- Az can I cum?” I ask, just to be cautious. I do not want to have this taken away from me. I can’t have it taken away from me.

“Yes, pet. Cum as much as you want.”

It’s like music to my ears. It’s building and building. In my core, at the base of my spine. Behind my eyelids. It’s fucking everywhere. My vision goes white and an embarrassing noise tears from my soul. I writhe on Cassian, driving him further and further inside me. Sweat is dripping off me in buckets. Fuck it is so fucking hot in here.

“Very good Xaden,” Azriel says. “What a good boy, making our pet cum so well. You can stuff your cock back down her throat. She looked so sad to see it go. Go ahead and cum, fill her up nice and full. Cassian, get up.”

Suddenly I’m on my feet being steadied by several pairs of hands. The way Cassian is looking at me, the way he’s breathing, tells me I’m in trouble. The glances passed between Az and Cass worry me. The next thing I know I’m on my knees and elbows, ass up in the air.

“Sit on the floor, Xaden,” Azriel commands. “Right in front of Yn. Yup, there you go, now just let Cassian fuck her onto you.”

A shudder runs through my entire body when Cassian slips back in. I swiftly take Xaden down, mainly because if I don’t I’m going to go crazy. The delicious, sweet taste of him fills me once again and I hum in content.

“Don’t hold back Cassian, chase exactly what you want. Fill up her pussy as much as you want, she can take it.”

“Fucking hell, Az. Are you trying to kill me?” Cassian chuckles, letting his motions pick up pace. Every snap of his body into mine sends waves of pleasure down my spine. It rolls through me and allows me to take even more of Xaden in my mouth. “I’ll never get over just how fucking tight she is.”

“Malek spare me…” Xaden curses. I get to watch Xaden fall apart and a new thrill fuels my motions. I lose all concept of time, I have no idea what is going on. All I know is Cass is fucking me like his life depends on it, and that Xaden is holding on for dear life.

I suck as hard as I can, pressing my tongue into the bottom side of his cock. I can’t pay attention to the most sensitive areas of him, mainly because Cassian if fucking me too hard to let me. Hopefully I can make him see stars anyway.

“F-Fuck Yn, I’m gonna cum,” he warns, knees falling open. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to her, Xaden,” Azriel kneels beside Xaden, hand trailing over the muscles in his chest.

I watch the muscles in his abdomen clench with every breath. He scrunches his eyes closed and I brace for him, letting his hips rut as fast as he wants. With a long, drawn out growl, Xaden releases down my throat. I do my best to swallow it all, but between the angle and Cassian's relentless thrusts, I let a few drops spill out.

Xaden is throbbing on my tongue, his sounds of pure pleasure fill my ears, filling me with deep satisfaction.

“Can’t fucking take it anymore,” Azriel rips me off of Xaden and takes his place. I’m hauled up onto my palms, Azriel’s cock bobbing in front of me. Before I can take it between my lips, Azriel bends down to my level, licking the droplets of Xadens cum off my lips.

I went as still as a statue. Tingles spread from the tips of my fingers to my toes. I watched him swallow, his Adam's-apple bobbing. I was at a loss for words. If he wanted me to speak, it’d be impossible.

Thankfully I didn’t have to. He filled my mouth, not wasting a second.

“Xaden, will you go grab those towels?” Azriel asked, hands trailing over my shoulders.

“When I can move,” he responded, making the Shadowsinger and the General laugh. I swore I could feel the rumble of his laughter through his cock.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Cassian warns, adjusting his grip on my hips.

“Wait.” Azriel urges, “Give me one minute.”

Cassian stills, and I whine in discontent. A second later, his hand smacks my ass, undoubtedly leaving an imprint of his hand. “Don’t complain, pet. Or you won’t get anything at all. You should be grateful to be stuffed full of our cocks. That’s no way to disrespect a guest.”

Azriel is unforgiving as he fucks my throat, his pace fast and hard. To be fair, he has been waiting a long while for his turn. It doesn’t take long for him to start showing signs of nearing his high. He grabs both sides of my sweat-soaked head, and I feel drops from his own body–and Cassians–land on me.

“Want my cum?” Azriel asks, pulling me off. “Want me to cum down your little throat, pet?”

“Yes yes yes,” I slur my words together. “Please gimme all of it, need all your cum. Wanna taste you so bad.”

“Yeah you fucking do,” Azriel’s grin is sinister. He knows exactly what to say to make me squirm. “Drink it all up, slut.”

When he finally gives me what I want, I don’t dare waste a drop. I leave no mess to clean up as he cums all the way down. There’s nothing I can do but swallow, swallow, swallow.

I begin to lose some consciousness, the heat and over exertion finally catching up to me. I feel Azriel slip out, praising me and telling me how good I did. I think I nod, but Cassian resumes his motion and I forget about everything. I can only focus on him pounding into my pussy, getting so deep I have to let out little noises every time he does.

“She’s so fucked out,” Xaden says from… somewhere.

“Yeah she is, she looks so good. Limp and used. So fucking hot, Yn,” Azriel agrees.

I moan in response. It’s about all I’m capable of at this point. And it feels so good. Everything they did to me, every thrust from Cassian feels like I’m floating. I close my eyes and let him finish me.

As Cassian lets go, I feel him pin my shoulders to the ground, ramming his hips as hard as he can into me, filling me up nice and tight full of his cum. There's a big stretch, and then an almost immediate release. His warm slick flows out from around him and down the inside of my thigh. Tears or exhaustion and pleasure streak down my cheeks and fall onto the wood floor of the sauna.

Eventually, I’m laid on my back. I can barely open my eyes, but I feel a tongue lapping between my legs. I try to inch away, but firm hands keep me from closing my legs. I whine.

“Ah ah,” I hear Cassian chide. “He’s just trying to clean you up. Be still. Here, drink this.”

A cup is pressed to my lips and I hungrily drink down. The salty, briny taste is washed from my tongue and my blurry vision begins to steady. I look down, seeing Xaden between my legs, his curly head soaked with sweat.

Cassian’s thumb brushes my cheek, collecting a small tear. “Aww, poor baby.” I watch as he licks it from his digit. It… gets me going faster than I’d like to admit. Then his tongue trails the length of my cheek. I shudder, letting out a tiny squeak. “Told you I’d lick them clean.”

“Alright that's enough, Xaden,” Azriel says from up above. “Let’s get her inside and cool off.”

“I just couldn’t help it, her pussy looked so good full of cum,” Xaden winks at me, and I can feel a flush of my cheeks and neck. “Even after all we’ve done together, I still make you blush.”

“Zip it,” I glared at him, failing to keep my smile at bay.

Cassian lifts me up, hugging me close to his chest. We’re all covered in sweat, but I don’t give a fuck. I just want to take a nice bath, curl up with my boys, and sleep into next week. A cold burst of air greets me as we step outside the sauna.

“Is she doing okay?” Azriel asks. I think it’s him that brushes hair away from my face.

“Mhm,” Cassian responds, giving my body a squeeze. “She's gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” Xaden added. “She always recovers really well. She’s not afraid to tell us what she needs. But by this point we know what she needs.”

“My only request is a bath.”

“See?” Xaden chuckles, then plants a kiss on my head. “Feeling okay? Not too lightheaded?”

I make a noise that sorta sounds like an ‘mhm’, but it kinda comes out as a garbled mess. All three of them give a laugh.

“That was… more fun than I thought it was going to me,” Cassian sighed contently, padding down the hallway to one of the bedrooms. I'm set gently on the bed, propped up against Cassian. I am way too tired to open my eyes, but my ears track them all around the room. I can smell the soft lavender wafting from the bathroom. Hallelujah.

“Yeah, I’m glad you joined,” Xaden agreed, his fingers beginning to braid sections of my hair. “We’re just waiting on the tub to fill up, pretty girl. Then we’ll get cleaned up and go to bed. You did such an amazing job, taking us all like that. And the game? We’re going to have some more fun with that, aren’t we?”

“Yes we are,” I nodded, peeking open my eyes to find them all huddled around me. Azriel smiles sweetly, cupping my face, stroking his thumb back and forth across my cheek. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he whispers. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I nod, clenching my hands to get some of the tingling to go away. “It was so hot in there.”

“We even turned down the heat before you got in there,” Xaden explained, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Did you have fun?”

“I always do, did you?” I asked, looking up at Cassian.

“In the beginning I was a little unsure but… now I’m hoping you’ll send word any time you wanna play again,” He grins, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You were unbelievable.”

“Isn’t she something else?” Azriel looks at me fondly. “Baths ready, want to be by yourself or do you want one of us in there with you? Or… well, I guess we all can fit if that's what you want.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to wash my own hair,” I grin.

They all share a look, smiles creeping onto their mouths.

“I’ll get the shampoo,” Azriel winks.

“I call the conditioner,” Xaden stands, following Azriel into the bathroom.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Are they always like this?” Cassian watches as they root around in a cabinet, smelling the different bottles.

“Yes, they’re too kind to me.”

“I think it’s well earned,” he smiles, helping me stand. “Come on, let's go.”

I let him lead me in, making sure I get a good look at his ass. Damn. just… damn.

“I could ask Feyre to commission a painting, it’ll last longer,” he says cockily.

I give it a smack. With a helping hand from Azriel, I sink into the tub, and let the water cool off my skin. I lean back, wondering how I got so damn lucky.

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