#How to make espresso on the stove | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyuneflix · 2 months ago

Text

THE CURE 0.2 • Bang Chan

sex therapist!chan x client!reader after years of unhappy endings, your friend suggests a trip to sydney's most up and coming sex therapist. you hadn't expected much, least of all to discover the cure you'd been looking for all this time was your therapist himself.

word count: 13k << back to dash // next episode >>

CONTENT WARNINGS

𐙚 - female masturbation, mutual masturbation, vibrator use, guided masturbation, dirty talk, use of "slut" and similar terms, chan is called sir, light degradation, light spanking, slapping, more orgasm denial, fingering, oral both female and male receiving, sub!reader, soft dom!chan but some hard dom too, slightly possessive chan, praise, very tiny breeding kink in the form of chan pushing his cum inside her.

! - inappropriate relationship dynamic (chan is her sex therapist), reader is written to be neurodivergent though it isn't explicitly stated, therapy talk/setting, descriptions of self help and healing, brief mention of toxic positivity and dissociation, very brief description of reader having a difficult childhood, talk about hopelessness and feelings of defeat. like last time, everything is intentionally vague but approach with caution all the same.

episode two - a cure for self-dissatisfaction

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that you were actually here, again. Making another appointment had sounded so promising in the after-glow of your first ever orgasm–or, at least, the first that felt like that–but now that you were actually here you questioned your sanity. How could you possibly face him after that phone call? Sure, it had been an entire month since then, plenty of time to get over it or just cancel the one-hour slot. You never did, though, and you still couldn’t quite decide why. Was it him that you wanted to see again? So entirely unable to close this chapter of your life now that he’d suddenly made its contents more interesting; turning the pages of your life from dull shades of black and white into hues of technicolour.

Or, maybe it was just that. He made things interesting and you needed interesting.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, the manner with which your fairytale life had twisted and morphed into something so mundane. You had the fancy beachside apartment, the dream job with the fun co-workers. You had the nice clothes and the sparkling jewels to go with them; large wardrobe full to the brim with rare pieces and garaments alike. Even your dating life had been exciting, meeting famous faces and well-off suitors in the upscale establishments you frequented with your friends. But it wasn’t enough. You feared nothing would ever be enough. Nothing exciting enough, glamorous enough, expensive enough to fill the growing feeling of indifference that threatened to paint your entire world grey.

A part of you liked familiarity, needed it, even. Clung to it in the same way you gripped the straps of your favourite tote bag. It was comforting to ease the unknowns of life with something habitual and constant. But when you did settle, when the anxiety did dissipate, it was like you almost missed it in its absence. It was the adrenaline you craved rather than the anxious wracking of your brain; the adrenaline that followed every redundant fear your mind conjured up; the push of chemicals through your veins as you murmurred ‘oh fuck, am i going to miss my train?’, ‘shit did i leave the stove on?’, ‘did i have a meeting today or was that tomorrow?.’ The bubbling of nervous adrenaline, it was like a shot of espresso, or the abrupt sound of your morning alarm clock. It forced you back to reality, tore you from the prison your restless thoughts built around your consciousness.

Chan had been that too in a lot of ways, a rude awakening of sorts. He had astounded you in more ways than one, tearing you from normalcy and forcing you from your comfort zone in the process. No longer just floating through life while your mind hummed with restless noise. Perhaps that was why, despite every anxious part of you that wanted to run away from him, a deeper, unheard part refused. You’d regret it, wouldn’t you? Walking away from him, vowing to never see him again. You’d regret it almost instantly no doubt, the tick of your apartment’s clock taunting you as it reminded you where you should’ve been on the day of your cancelled appointment. Your mind would trap you again, filling your head with thoughts of what could’ve been, should’ve been, if you’d just pulled yourself together.

That was of course without mentioning that you indeed remained uncured. You were still very much afflicted with the same inability to get yourself off no matter how hard you tried. You’d done it once, you so foolishly believed from that moment onwards it would be easy. It was not. Even with the vivid memory of that night playing over and over in your mind like a song caught in a loop, you were back to square one. You needed the dark to find the light. How true that had turned out to be, how unfortunate that your infatuation for your therapist was turning out to be more practical than whimsical. You really did need him.

The timing of your appointment meant that within moments of your arrival, the doe-eyed receptionist was already hurrying off for her lunch break, insisting that you wait for Dr Bang in his office instead. Dr Bang, hearing her say it almost pulled a laugh from your parted lips; what a suitable name for someone in his profession. She didn’t join in with your amused half-chuckle as she gathered her purse and coat. You didn’t blame her, you were sure she’d heard the stifled laughter a million times before. Thanking her one last time as she motioned you toward his office, you pushed open the door expectantly.

Immediately your eyes fixed on the black oak desk situated in the foreground of the furthest wall. The room was empty, no muscular figure tucked behind the neat workstation, nor situated in the same leather chair he had been a month prior. You breathed out a sigh, your throat finally releasing a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding until you accounted for his absence. You made your way inside, letting the door close behind you with a clack. It felt eerie being in the infinite silence of his abandoned office. Not even the sound of the AC lulled in the background as you wandered throughout the space, taking in the details as if it were your first time being here, and in a way, it was.

During your last visit you’d been so distracted by Chan you’d been unable to focus on much else, let alone the intricacies of his office. The much too large windows were the first thing you’d noticed, both today and the last. Unlike a month ago they were covered by enormous blinds, the afternoon heat so unbearable today that having the sun exposed would be as sweltering as standing on a shadeless street corner. The lack of AC left the office tepid, and the vacancy of natural light shadowed the once bright room. You felt as if you had stepped into the embrace of a warm hug; one that sucked all the sound from the atmosphere until all that remained was the thumping of your heart.

You could hear it now; your heart. It beat with uncertainty as your eyes trailed across the shelves upon shelves of awards and personal photos behind his desk. You felt like you’d snuck into a secret place you weren’t supposed to be, taking in every detail of someone’s life without an inkling of what any of it meant. One frame held a picture of a smiling boy, a younger girl tucked under his arm in a near chokehold. Judging by the look of disdain on her features, and the mischievous expression on his own, you figured they were siblings. Another picture captured an older version of that boy, one that now more closely resembled Chan. He knelt on the grass, a dog, who’s white fur was blotched with copper-tones, smiled up at him, pink tongue spilling from its mouth. You knew Chan’s life hadn’t started when he met you, but it still felt strange to see it all play out in front of you now.

The office door opened with a clatter, your body spinning round at the intrusion; trusty tote bag slipping from your arm in the process. You caught hold of the strap before it could fall from your rigid limb completely, eyes settling on Dr Bang himself. He seemed frozen in place, palm clutching the door handle with bleached knuckles. His nervous disposition suggested he’d been preparing himself for this moment, to no avail, and if that were true, you were thankful. At least then you’d be in the same boat. In a second, a mere tick of a clock’s hand, he was back to his usual self, pushing a large smile atop his pillowy lips.

“Hello, y/n. How have you been?” His voice was soft as he closed the door behind him, the hand that wasn’t clutching a stack of papers flicking on a second set of lights. In an instant the room was engulfed in pale yellow hues, your eyes blinking to adjust. He walked the distance from the door to his desk, letting the pile of papers fall down with a dull thud.

“Could be better, could be worse.” You murmured, still feeling like a deer in headlights. He nodded at this, almost as if he silently understood, agreed even. You didn’t know whether you should stay rooted beside his desk or take a seat, body itching for another of his commands. You hated how badly you wanted him to tell you what to do and how to do it, no matter if it were a simple seating arrangement or one of his filthy, guided masturbations.

“That’s a start, hopefully by the end of the session we can turn it around?” He spoke, tone as level as it had always been, though you noticed how quickly his eyes seemed to wander. It had been impossible last time to look anywhere but him, that intentional and scrutinising stare holding yours for what felt like eternities. His gaze was scattered now, moving from your face to his desk and back again, fingers re-arranging his already neat desk as if attempting to regain control.

But, regain control of what? His thoughts, his racing heart, his body? You wanted to know. You wanted to crack him open, let the secrets spill from him like yolk. You wanted to study his mind the way he studied you. It was intoxicating, the mystery that still surrounded him. So intoxicating that you were starting to find you didn’t need to get lost in the shadows of his stare, only needed to be close enough to feel the palpable energy, the magnetic charge, that radiated from him like the sun’s unbearable warmth.

“Should we get started?” He asked, brown eyes leaving the surface of his immaculate desk to search your expression. You nodded, pushing a smile atop your lips as you moved toward the leather chairs, slouching into yours right away.

You noticed he wasn’t wearing that same dark suit this time, instead he wore a crisp white dress shirt with a few too many buttons undone at the top. The bottom part of it was tucked half-hazardly into a pair of tight ebony trousers. It didn’t remain that way for long. With a raise of his hand–fingers combing through dark curls–one side fell from its confines, a slither of pale skin meeting your hungry gaze. You swallowed, drawing your eyes from his figure as it drew nearer to you, stopping only when he reached the chair opposite you.

“Shall we start with an update?” He questioned, taking a seat while his hand tightened around that same large ipad. “How have you been doing, did you manage to climax again?”

“No.” You admitted right away, head shaking in disappointment. It was hard to hide how frustrating it was, even more now than before. At least prior to your first happy ending you were none the wiser to how much greener the grass truly was on the other side. Now you’d grazed in it, tasted it, felt it between your fingers and toes. How could you ever return to astro turf after you’d experienced the real thing?

“No?” Chan looked surprised at this, chin tilting to the side as he drank in your expression. You were sure you looked anything but pleased, brows furrowed as you shook your head no once more. “Okay, did you follow the routine?”

“I did, yeah.” You mumbled, digits playing with the pleats in your skirt.

“What do you think was different?” He asked, looking genuinely curious by your dilemma.

“Do I even have to say it?” You released a huff of air, heart jumping nervously behind its skeletal confines.

“It would help if you did. Guessing games can lead to miscommunications.” HIs smile was back, dimples pressed prettily against his plush cheeks. How badly you wanted to cup them, how badly you wanted to let the pads of your thumbs brush against the indents that dotted them. How badly you wanted him.

“I just… I feel like I need your help, you helped so much that time… ever since I haven’t managed it, I mean, what does that tell you?” You asked, heart racing a little faster now, hands growing clammy; thoughts scrambling as you felt your frustration grow. Your situation felt so hopeless, so entirely unfixable. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It always would.

So many past relationships flashed across your mind, so many times when you’d watched the partners in your life walk away. Their promises that you’d never be too much, that there was no storm you couldn’t weather together, ground to dust beneath their retreating steps. There had been other issues that ended the relationship of course, not this one, never this one. Yet it still seemed so unbelievably ironic how, try as they might, they never could fix this little problem. How laughable it was that Chan had managed within hours of meeting him.

“You- you need my help with climaxing?” He seemed taken aback, his innocence almost sending your eyes rolling. How could he be so surprised? Had he not been on that phone call with you after all, had that all been a vivid dream?

“I think so, yeah.” You opted to speak instead, fingers still playing lazily with your clothing in search of some relief from the awkwardness of the conversation.

“I’m sure you just need a little direction and practice.” He shook his head, ever the dismissive party out of the two of you. But you knew better now. You’d heard the way he fell apart, heard the things he’d said when all resolve had vanished. He was just as depraved, just as desperate and needy but he hid it well. He cowered behind fabricated boundaries, crossing one and then inventing another. He pushed, and he pushed, but he always found a new way to hold back. You wanted to test that, wanted to make him snap. Was that bad?

“I’m twenty-five Chan, I think if practice was going to do it I’d have done it by now.” You shook your head, tone uncharacteristically sarcastic as you let your frustrations slip. He winced at this, taken aback by the change in your tone. Easily your annoyance dampened, sigh falling from your lips as quickly as your apology “I’m sorry, that was– I’m just– I feel defeated.”

“It’s understandable, you don’t need to apologise.” Chan offered you a comforting smile, eyes glimmering with a patient understanding that had you thawing instantly.

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, tell me what to do. Like give me some direction or something.” You asked, trying to pry more solutions from his all-knowing brain.

“Like on the phone?” He questioned, palm gliding across his thick thigh as he spoke. You couldn’t help the way your gaze followed its movement, long fingers instantly taking you back to that night. You pictured them wrapped around his length, the wet sound of his desperate, thrusting grip, too much to think about right now. You squirmed in your seat, thighs pushing together in momentary distress.

“Yeah like then, is there more I can do?” You asked, trying to hide your growing weariness behind another frustrated huff.

“Perhaps you need to focus on finding ways to relax, maybe you have a problem switching off, moving from one task to the other. If you’re still tense when you’re masturbating then it can be hard to let yourself go.” He was so composed, seemingly so unaware of the way you were breaking down internally. How did he do it? How did he look at you with such easy indifference after that night. Maybe he was just that; indifferent. Maybe you’d been looking at this all wrong.

“Okay.” You shrugged, barely listening by now.

“You don’t look happy with that.” Chan pushed for an answer, clasping his apple pen a little tighter in anticipation of your response.

“I’m not patient enough. I guess I just hoped that it was fixed. But, now I have to get used to the idea of this being some long healing journey as if I haven’t had enough of those. As if I haven’t–fucking–read enough–fucking–self-help books or listened to enough ‘all you need is recharged rose quartz and you’ll be fine’--fucking–influencers.” You felt your hands grip at your forehead in defeat, palms attempting to erase the tension that settled there through half-hazard motions. You wanted to laugh at the way you got so easily wound up, but the idea of starting yet another ‘healing era’, felt suffocating, impossible even.

How much more growing was there to do? Some people say it never stops, but you’ve had a lifetime of it. A lifetime of people pointing out your flaws, telling you what was wrong or what needed fixing. You’ve had a lifetime of changing everything about you until something felt right, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. A lifetime of trying to do everything right just to be told you were doing it wrong, anyway. You weren’t emotional enough, then you were too emotional. You were loud, then too quiet. You were rude, then you were compliant. It took reaching your twenties to realise you didn’t really care who you were, or how you acted, as long as you were happy with yourself.

It felt freeing, so entirely exhilarating to feel as if you were done changing, morphing and growing into someone else’s idea of a normal human woman. It matched you well, but it was also tiring. You’d grown to be independent far younger than you probably should’ve, your therapist said it built character, you thought that was stupid even at ten years old. Having a childhood built character, having healthy relationships and good role models; that was what you needed. People’s incessant criticisms had felt like the only freedom from your independence for so long; the only time you weren’t thinking for yourself. Bittersweet was the lingering feeling that remained for a few years after your new found self-assurance.

It was stupid, to crave something that had been so toxic, but that was just so unequivocally you. Hate something with every fibre of your being when you had it just to miss it when it was gone. Didn’t matter how much it hurt you, didn’t matter that it damn nearly killed you, only the good parts of it remained in its absence. The ghosts of memories even your unrelenting, self-sabotaging brain forgot. Were those the causes of your dissociation? The fragmented memories of times gone by, the missing pieces still stashed away in some untravelled corner of your mind?

“These things do take time, yeah.” Chan pulled you from your thoughts, tugging a sigh from your lips as you shook your head in defeat.

“Fuck that, there’s gotta just be something in me that doesn’t work, right? Like there’s just a part of me that can’t do it and I’m gonna have to just live with that.” Your arms raised in exasperation, frustrated rambles not phasing him in the slightest. You figured that shouldn’t surprise you, despite everything that had transpired between you, despite how unlikely it sometimes seemed, he was a therapist. A person you were paying to listen to you speak. A person you had essentially paid to make you cum. Jesus.

“But you did.” He countered.

“No, you did.” You reminded him, his brows rising at the implication.

“That was all you, I just helped.” He shook his head, dismissive once more.

“Can’t you help me again, then? Just tell me what to do, show me. Make that part of me wake the fuck up and realise it has a job to do. Fix me again.” You murmured helplessly, searching his mind for something, anything that could ease your anguish.

“You want that? You want me to teach you? You want me to fix you?” He spoke after a beat of silence, plump mouth emphasising your latter sentiment. A switch had seemingly been flipped in him, reminding you of his faltering resolve from a month ago. You were sure it was your imagination–after all he was so quick to collect himself–but that was expected, you didn’t know him well enough. You didn’t know how badly he yearned to ‘fix you’.

There was a saying that went along the lines of this; therapists need therapy the most The first part of their adult lives were dedicated to learning the secrets of the mind, just to spend the rest of it fixing other people’s. The perfect distraction; fix others so you don’t have to fix yourself. Yeah, that was him. Finding distraction after distraction to avoid the complicated mess in his own brain. But that wasn’t just it. No, Chan was a people pleaser, a man so desperate to be needed that he put his heart in danger every single fucking time.

He’d lost count by now, the amount of times he’d run in blindly; falling for a pretty girl with pretty problems. A pretty girl with a pretty smile and a pretty big hole in her pretty heart. He did it every single time. He’d never mixed work with self-sabotage though, this was unchartered territory. But that was then, one slip up, one mistake made in the heat of the moment. How could he not? You were so pretty, sounded so pretty pleading for him to help you. Not even he had the patience for that.

“Yes.” You breathed out, eyes turning wide and expectant beneath his weighted retort. There you were again, looking hopeful, as if he really did have the power to cure you. But he didn’t, Chan had learned that again and again; he couldn’t change the last girl, or the girl before, or the girl before that and he couldn’t change you. Not like this anyway, not through lust or–heaven forbid–love. Growing attached, letting them be dependent, it was bad in the end; always bad, never good like he’d intended.

“I can’t, you’re not broken.” He assured you, not a drop of insincerity mixing with the honey sweet tone of his soft voice.

“Then pretend I am and fix me anyway– break me just to put me back together again– I don’t care, just please do something to make it stop.” You felt a little frantic now: he wasn’t giving you the answers, wasn’t providing solutions. Was it really that hopeless? Were you really this cursed? Knowing that the cure was right in front of you, within arms reach, but too far to hold. Too distant and closed off, too unwilling to give you what you know you needed.

Were you crazy for thinking he wanted it to, were you delusional for thinking you could see the fire in his eyes every time you reached for him with words? The air around you didn’t lie though, did it? Or were you the only one feeling that constant chemical reaction that surrounded you both. That fizzle and burn, that electric fever that drove you crazy; depriving you of clean, pure air with every breath. It was filling your lungs with hot embers, you could feel it, could feel the way it choked you of all sense and left only desire in its place. Could he really not feel it too?

“Make what stop, love?” The nickname wasn’t lost on you, its presence sent a ripple of hope across your skin, igniting goosebumps in its path.

“I don’t know, everything I guess. The boredom, the anxiety, the noise, the frustration, the emptiness; all of it went away that night and I’ve been trying to get back there ever since.” You admitted, teeth gnawing at your lip, brows scrunched together in frustration. Chan thought you looked utterly pitiful in the hottest way. Was that possible? To look pathetic and undeniably attractive all at once. Yeah, it was; you were.

“I can’t cure you, you know that right? You have to do that on your own.” He insisted. It was true, wasn’t it? Historically speaking, practically speaking. People can’t change other people, that was how it worked right? They had to change on their own, grow alone, love themselves before they could learn to love someone else. If they didn’t, they’d be forever codependent, clinging to the sun that helped them grow into a fully flourished person. But the sun went down, it didn’t stick around forever; he couldn’t stick around forever.

“But what if…”

“I can’t.” He was quick to cut you off, not wanting to fill your head with pointless sentiments of hope. Whether he wanted to or not, whether you wanted to or not, you had to stand on your own two feet. He knew this to be true more than ever when it came to your own pleasure. You couldn’t depend on him for that; he couldn’t fill the void. He’d fall in love too easily, catch feelings in an instant. How could he ever make it out of that alive? It wasn’t right, you deserved better. Deserved to know your own body, how it felt, what made you feel good.

“Try?” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide and pleading.

“I can’t.” He huffed through gritted teeth, jaw stiff with useless restraint.

“Please?” You looked at him as if he held the world and all its mysteries in his grasp, ready to hand them over if only you could wear him down enough. It wasn’t not working, he hated to admit.

“Don’t… don’t do that.” He shook his head, eyes dipping to the ipad in his grip as he drew mindless patterns across its slick screen. It was enough to distract him for a moment, but not long enough.

“So, I just, I just go home and try the same shit again then is that it? Another month of nothing? Or can I call again, would you pick up if I did?” Your words had his cock twitching, palms growing clammy. That night haunted him. It felt so wrong, so completely fucked up. He lay awake for nights after that wondering if he should resign, turning his dream of owning a successful therapeutic clinic into a distant memory with the same stroke. But more than that, he wondered if you’d call again. Would you need him some more? Would you lean on him a little longer? Was it really true that he was the missing piece? That only he could make you cum.

“You know I would.” He responded in an instant, too quick in fact. “I’m surprised you didn’t call, to be honest.” He chuckled, attempting to seem unaffected. As if he hadn’t been waiting by the phone every evening, as if he hadn’t checked and re-checked for missed calls when sleep didn’t come to him easily.

“I wanted to try on my own; I’m really trying.” You half-whined and that sound alone was enough to have every noise from a month ago flooding his mind at once. His hips shifted, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“I know, baby, you’re so good.” He sighed, resolve slipping; gaze darkening along with it. You saw it happen right in front of you, pupils dilating, mask slipping from his handsome face. “How about this… You show me how you do it at home and I’ll see if there are areas for improvement?” Chan suggested, against what he knew to be his better judgement. Fuck it, though, right? He could cross another line, just one more, find a new one to draw between you to keep you at arms length. You’d seen right through him in that regard, knew exactly how he justified each gradual crawl toward your eagerly awaiting form.

“You want me to… now?” You blinked, fireworks erupting in the pit of your stomach signaling an internal celebration of what you were almost sure was a triumphant victory.

“Isn’t that what you want? To make a mess of my chair? To cum again?” His words sent a jolt of something electric and sweet straight to your core. Your teeth felt like blades, threatening to draw blood from the plump flesh of your bottom lip as you nodded wordlessly, too turned on at the prospect of getting to climax again to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Why don’t you lift that little skirt of yours and show me how you pleasure yourself.” His voice was low, impossibly dark gaze studying you with an almost predatory stare. Your nerves stood alert like the hairs of your arm, hands moving at their own accord. You moved the hem of your skirt up the meat of your bare thighs, his eyes following your motions closely before fixing on the sheer fabric of your damp panties.

You felt like an imposter in your own skin as you spread your legs, circling the pads of your fingers across your clothed clit in compliance. You tried to stop the heat from rising in your cheeks, from pulsing through your blood like lava, the molton toxicity wetting your panties even more. You were helpless to it; the growing intensity of your lust. It was strange, the combination of embarrassment mixed with desire. It felt like a dangerous cocktail, one destined to leave you with a hangover unlike any other you’d felt; a banging headache, a sick feeling, a desperation for a wellness you could never reach without it.

Was that what this was? A growing addiction? An inability to feel better without him, or an unwillingness to find an alternative cure? You pushed the thoughts from your mind, easily too with the help of his sultry voice, though all the same the bubbling of nervousness remained.

“This is how you do it? What’s rule number one? What did we do last time?” He asked, too put together considering the pornographic movie that was playing out in front of him. His eyes told a different story though, hungry and feverish as you moved your fingers clumsily.

“Umm, take my clothes off?” You managed between huffs of impatient air, wanting nothing more than to skip to the part where your toes were curling, head tipped back in reticent ecstacy. You moved your hands away from your clothed cunt, starting to remove the tight fitting crop top a strap at a time. You watched his jaw grow slack at this, your confidence growing in place of the initial uncertainty.

You put on a show for him, suddenly abandoning the idea of being taught the ways of your pussy in favour of winding him up. Both straps fell past your shoulders, the rough material of your tiny top grazing your perky nipples as you dragged it down your chest, letting your plump breasts spill out from beyond its fabric confines. His brow twitched, lips faltering along with it as he watched the bounce of your tits.

“Mhm and start with your nipples, make them feel good, work yourself up.” Pulling your top off completely, you followed his demands, fingers tugging at your hardening buds. You remembered his advice from the last time, making sure to wet your digits with your tongue in a slow sinful motion. This earned a half moan from the man, his body shifting as he hid his faltering confidence behind a closed fist. With his chin resting against it, he gazed at you through his lashes, watching every pinch and tug with a hawk-like intensity.

“I’m already so worked up.” You groaned, unable to hold his heated glare any longer. You lulled your eyes toward the wet patch growing in your panties, pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of it.

“I make you worked up?” He mused, leaning forward in interest. Leveled as his voice remained, his restless form gave him away; dilated pupils darting between your hard nipples and your soaked underwear. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, moan designed behind a cough at your response.

“Yeah, so bad.” You mewled, one hand traversing the expanse of your smooth skin until your fingers met with the pool of sticky wetness between your thighs. You pulled at the band of your panties, sighing at the feeling of the tight fabric squeezing against your sensitive clit. You watched his expression as you drank in every movement, the obvious stiffness mounting in his crotch area not going unnoticed by you.

You wondered what it would take to have him desperate for his own release again, enough to disregard every one of his frivolous boundaries until his head was too clouded with intoxicating lust to draw a new line between you.

“Don’t focus on me, focus on yourself and your body.” It was almost like he knew, as if he could read your mind; could sense the way it reeled with thoughts of him and him alone. You tugged at your panties again, focusing on the movement of your fingers as they swirled around your excited nipple. “That’s good, don’t be shy now, you weren’t shy last time.”

“You couldn’t see me last time.” You murmured, the tips of your ears and apples of your cheeks the same shade of crimson.

“You’re beautiful, don’t be embarrassed.“ Chan shook his head, shifting in his seat once again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable, not when the growing ache in his pants became harder and harder to ignore. “Now do what we did last time, feel what works best for you, take your time.”

“This?” You questioned, fingers pulling your panties aside as strings of sticky cum followed suit. You touched your bare clit with care, jolting and wincing with each caress. You were so sensitive, so turned on by the intent stare he fixed on your soaked cunt. You traced a finger down the seam of your pussy, rubbing the thick, juicy substance across your bundle of nerves in a clockwork motion.

“Yeah, that’s right, feel yourself.” He drew a breath, tongue darting across his lips, hands not sure what to do with one another as he watched the sight play out in front of him. “That’s good, does that feel good?” Chan questioned, slouching back in his chair as if the increased distance would afford him some alleviation from your mesmerising performance.

“Yeah, I think so.” You retorted, repeating the back and forth between your clit and dampening folds. You teased your entrance with the gentle prod of your fingers, tight clenching accompanying each experimental push.

“Do what makes you feel good, learn what you like.” It was unbearable how calm he was, a whine leaving your lips as his professional tone.

“How.” You murmured, the strumming of your clit increasing in speed as you felt a pleasurable sensation begin to wash over you.

“Try new things, keep touching yourself–why don’t you take those panties off and give your pussy a slap.” You nodded, eagerly complying with his wishes as you pulled your panties down your legs letting the sheer fabric pool at the base of your chair. You placed your skirt there too, completely bare save the pair of kitten heels snug around your feet.

“What?” The second part of his statement had you puzzled though, or perhaps it was just the intense feeling of being exposed in front of a person who was not only fully clothed but seemingly unbothered. Yeah, maybe that was it; that would be enough to have anyone confused and uncertain.

“You like it rough don’t you? Smack your pussy, give your clit a spanking for me.” His words had your hips shifting, a moan tumbling from your lips. Everything sounded better coming from his full mouth, the gravel tone interlaced with his thick accent–it was unbearable.

“Like this?” You questioned, landing a smack against your sensitive clit. Both of you moved in sync, hips shifting at the shrill noise your palm made abusing your sensitive nub. Your face screwed up at the feeling, the delightful sting accompanied by another wave of self-satisfaction.

“Harder.” He growled, moan mingling with his next words. “Yeah, you like that? I can see how wet you are, keep spanking your pretty little cunt.” You complied, strings of whines and groans following each harsh slap.

“You’re making me this wet.” You mewled, expression still contorted in pleasure. Chan wasn’t sure how he’d expected to make it through this entire ordeal, that had been foolish thinking on his part. He hadn’t expected you to be so brazen though, both nervous in your disposition but shameless in your filthy words and actions. His cock was impossibly hard in his pants now, hand itching to relieve the tension.

“Fuck don’t say that, gonna have to learn how to make yourself cum when I’m not around.” He insisted, though in truth you were saying all the right things to morph him into malleable putty, substance perfect for the palms of your hands; mass supple enough to wrap around your finger. “That’s good, yeah that’s good fuck you’re clenching around nothing.”

“Wanna be full.” You whined, pinching and rubbing at your clit with a rise and fall of your hips. You could tell the chair beneath you was drenched by now, the surface becoming slippery beneath your clammy thighs.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers, start with one and keep adding as many as your greedy little cunt needs to feel full.” His resolve was slipping, you could tell, could connect the dots from that night a month ago. It filled you with confidence, had your heart racing and limbs squirming as you rubbed your clit more furiously.

“Not gonna be enough.” You shook your head, hoping, so intensely, that he would just give up and finish you himself. You could practically sense it, the way his fingers would make you feel, the sharp rush of intense white light that bubbled up with every thrust of his skilled digits. How perfectly they’d fill your tight hole, stretching you open as if preparing you for his fat cock. You slid a finger inside, feeling empty despite the new intrusion.

“You just need to learn how to make yourself feel good baby, curl your fingers, do a scissor motion, whatever makes you feel the best.” He was still instructional in his method, but he looked anything but the calm teacher he’d been previously. Chan was leant forward now, tongue poking out his mouth, elbows propped on his knees as he watched you intensely.

“How?” You questioned, brows scrunched.

“How, what baby? Use your words.” He asked, his palms rubbing together in a useless attempt to distract his mind from the ache in his pants.

“How do I make it feel good, sir.” You elaborated, pushing another finger inside your convulsing pussy.

“Fuck, god, gonna make me crazy if you keep that up.” He run a hand through his hair, hips rising from the chair. His dark hair looked a mess by the time his fingers were done combing and tugging with restraint. You didn’t think it was possible for him to look any sexier, but his disheveled appearance proved otherwise.

“Please.” You implored, the steady back and forth of your fingers slowing to a standstill at his next words.

“You want me to show you, yeah?” He licked his lips shamelessly at you, hungry eyes awaiting your response with uninhabited lust.

“Yes, please, so bad.” You mused, squirming in your chair at the prospect of his fingers tucked snugly inside your needy pussy. You hoped this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t about to jolt awake to the shrill sound of your alarm clock.

“Beg, show sir how badly you want his fingers inside you.” He murmured, jaw clenching at the sight of your pussy as it squeezed around nothing. “Keep circling your clit, yeah, keep going.” He commanded you, and without hesitation you followed.

“Please, please, want you to fill me so bad, please sir- please.” You keened, fingers toying frantically with your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it baby, keep getting yourself off, you're doing such a good job on your own.” He licked his lips again, chest heaving with every circular motion. You pushed your fingers back between the snug walls of your cunt, moving your hips to accompany the thrust of your digits.

“I need more, please.” You wailed, the edge you’d wanted to revisit so badly gradually inching into view.

“You really want my help, baby?” He asked, almost as if he were undecided. That couldn’t be it, though. There was no conceivable way Chan could doubt your desire to have him, in whichever way he was willing to give. He wanted to hear you beg some more, didn’t he? Wanted to hear just how badly you needed him, as if seeing it wasn’t enough.

“Please.” You gave him what he wanted, putting on your best forlorn expression to better your chances. It worked, a little too well judging by the haphazard way he fell to his knees in front of you. Whatever glimmer of self-discipline he’d been clinging to, it was gone now, and in its place: a man starved.

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, can you do that for me?” He looked up at you with hopeful eyes, his final attempt at giving you an out. An insincere part of him hoped you would, that you’d be the one to grasp ahold of your better sensibilities and put an end to your affair. But you didn’t, of course not, you never would, would you? He doubted it, not when your gaze exuded a level of desperation he was sure he’d only seen in wild animals. Instead, you nodded, teeth claiming your bottom lip as you did so. “Good girl.”

Chan wasted no time sliding a finger inside your warm walls, a drawn out groan falling from his lips at the spongy grip that took a hold of his digit. His hips shifted compulsively as you tightened around him, a second finger inching its way in as he studied every rise and fall of your expression. Another moan from your lips–another half-grunt, half-groan from his own. He pushed his digits deeper, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace, letting his knuckles brush against your velvety clit.

“Ugh, that’s good.” You practically screamed out, head tipping back with a wide open-mouthed grimace; face contorted in unimaginable pleasure. How was it possible to feel this good? You thought you’d reached the maximum capacity for bliss that night, but Chan was showing you an entirely new palette of gratifying hues.

“Barely touching you, darling. So desperate, hmm? Not been able to get off without me? Need me that badly?” He mewled, lips pressing wet, desultory kisses to your shoulder and collarbone. Your body twitched and seized beneath him, eyes rolling back at the sensation of his plump mouth against your hypersensitive skin. Every nerve felt as if it were going haywire, every brush of his bony flesh against your clit feeling like a rush of adrenaline. It was then that he did something truly toe-curling, the sudden feeling of something prodding at just the right angle inside of your tight walls; it had your spasming wildly beneath him.

“Yeah I need you, need you to make me cum–need your cock in me, want you to stretch me out.” You sang in between moans, hands clinging to his clothed shoulders, nails latching onto him harshly.

“Fuck, baby, slow down. Gonna take my time; you gotta take your time.” He panted, dark eyes finding yours in among the thick haze of lust that consumed you both. It had you moaning even louder, the combination of his intoxicating stare and that unidentifiable sensation threatening to push you over the edge prematurely.

“Oh god, so much better.” You whined, tears filling your eyes, forehead shifting to press against his own as you clung to him for dear life. The warmth that radiated from his body was like a balmy embrace, the rousing scent of his cologne only adding to the numbing of your senses. He smelled incredible; expensive and masculine but with an undertone of something musky and thrilling. You wanted more of it, more of him. Wanted to taste him, to feel his cock pushed so far past your walls you could feel him rearranging your guts; the head of his member visibly prodding at the pit of your stomach. You wanted his mouth on yours, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth until he’d discerned every inch of you, top to bottom.

You felt safe beneath his strong body, the hand that wasn’t busy splitting your open prying at your thigh until he managed to hook a leg over his shoulder. You felt your head fall back again, eyes squeezing shut as he sped up his pace, the room filling with the sound of your drenched pussy. The squelching was so lewd, so loud that you were sure you’d cum from that alone. Could feel it in the way your cunt clenched again and again, sucking his digits in and refusing to let them free.

“That’s ‘cause I’m curling them. Feel the difference?” He murmured, tone the only thing calm about him now. Looking down at him, you saw the frazzled expression painted across his handsome face, the frantic look in his eyes underpinning that same predatory stare. “Mmm fuck– gonna find your g-spot; gonna make you scream.”

“Chan, fuck, please.” You wailed, hips bucking upwards in motion with his thrusts. He pushed you down with his free hand, cheek pressing against the meat of your leg as he watched you intently. His attentive stare didn’t last long, though, not when your pussy was putting on such a pretty show for him. His arm was soaked, the chair beneath you was drenched, juices pooling on the floor by your clothes.

“So hot–stay still for me baby, did I hit the spot?” You could only nod now, moans coming out in pitchy screams as you bucked against his firm palm, desperately trying to fuck yourself with his fingers. You couldn’t describe it, the pleasure that was building inside of you, the edge that was careening so close to your helpless, frantic body that you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah, think so, oh god, oh my god.” You found your words at last, whining disapprovingly when his fingers left your needy pussy empty in favour of pushing past his plump mouth. Your gaze drank him in as he did so, watching with narrowed eyes as he sucked on them. It was slow and erotic and downright torturous, a string of desperate moans tumbling from his glistening pink lips.

“Fuck you taste so good, let me taste you properly, please can I?” Apparently it was his turn to beg, his nose nuzzling against the inside of your thigh as he adjusted the leg propped atop his shoulder.

“Please, please, do whatever you want, own me.” You nodded frantically, wanting nothing more than to return to that blissed out state you’d been so caught up in.

“You want me to make this pussy mine, for real? Want me to fuck you rough like the slut you are?” You wanted him to mean what he was saying, but something told you he wasn’t. That was as a line you were certain he wouldn’t cross, not for now anyway, but you could live with that. A sentiment that rang even truer when you felt the rough texture of his tongue against your puffy, sopping cunt.

The reverberation of his moans only added to the intense wave of pleasure that overcame you, his frenzied ministrations causing your hips to buck, thighs closing around his head. He took it all, licking up and down your pussy as if lapping up your juices. Whatever lesson this was supposed to teach you about masturbation, you didn’t know, and you weren’t about to question him about it, not when you switched to burying his face in your leaking pussy, tongue fucking you with purpose as his nose prodded your swollen clit.

“Yes, please, sir–ruin me.” You grabbed ahold of his hair, earning another moan from the man as he continued devouring your drenched cunt. Every time he lapped at your sweet juices, more poured from your clenching hole, his tongue drinking up every last drop as he shifted between your entrance and your sensitive nub.

“Fuck this isn’t good.” He groaned, breathing out words in the short amount of time he spent away from your pussy; allowing him mere moments to suck in oxygen before he dove back in. “We shouldn’t be doing this, baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Ugh, that feels so fucking good.” This time he focused his mouth on your clit, lips wrapping around your bud as he pushed his fingers inside of you, thrusting in knuckles deep with a pace that bordered on animalistic. Your fingers gripped his hair just as aggressively, hips moving at their own accord as you felt the edge of your orgasm hurtle towards you.

“Good keep going, use my fingers fuck yes.” He moaned, breaths coming out in desperate pants against your sensitive clit. The gentle push of air paired with his relentless thrust of his fingers against your g-spot was enough to have you screaming, head falling backward, cunt convulsing as you felt that white light begin to encase you.“Shit you’re cumming so soon? Oh fuck, yeah, fuck, so messy.”

“Fuck, please, keep going– no why did you stop?” That feeling you’d been so frantic to chase, the bright, welcoming light that you’d been so ready to rush toward was ripped from you the moment his fingers exited your clamping walls. You looked at him in disbelief, body spent, skin aglow with sweat.

“It's your turn, do what I did.” He rejoindered.

“No, no please” You shook your head, tears welling over as you pleaded with him to give you release. This was bordering on mean, knowing how frustrated and desperate you were to feel that warm white release only to pry it from your begging hands.

“Come on pretty girl, you got this. Let me help you.” His palms ran comforting patterns across your skin, face still level with your pussy as his breath fanned across your sensitive core. You twitched beneath him, stare holding his own in hopes your beseeching eyes could reason with him.

“Not the same.” You murmured, shaking your head once more.

“Don’t be greedy now, come on.” He spoke, landing a slap against your clit in warning. Your hips jumped, sensitive pussy clenching around air as you greedily accepted your punishment. Despite your momentary disobedience, you followed his request, pathetic fingers moving down between you both to begin thrusting in and out of your weeping hole. “Good girl, keep going.”

“Need yours.” You sobbed, the feeling of your digits nowhere close to the pleasurable strokes of his thick, veiny hand.

“Hmm, why don’t we try a new toy? See if you can make yourself cum like that?” He suggested, and how he’d managed to maintain any semblance of his role as your sex therapist after annihilating your pussy with his pretty lips, you had no idea. Truly the man was a saint, he hadn’t even touched his hard cock once, too busy pleasuring you to even notice the impossibly tight feeling in his pants.

“Okay…” You agreed, body beginning to ache with fatigue.

“Keep playing with yourself, slap that pretty little clit around while I find a toy for baby girl to play with.” Chan commanded, and you obeyed.

You watched him walk the short distance to his desk, opening one of the cupboards to look over a collection of unboxed sex toys. The consistent branding told you it was probably a sponsorship deal, a collaboration of sorts. But you didn’t pay the toys enough attention to confirm this, no, instead you watched the way his back flexed, vein hands tugging at a box before returning it to its home. It was utterly unfair how even the back of him could drive you crazy; everything about him was thick, masculine and oozing sex appeal. Yet despite the plumpness of his arms, thighs and ass, his waist remained tiny beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. You wanted to see what lay beneath his tight-fitting clothing so badly, the thought enough to have your fingers speeding up in a newfound wave of ecstasy.

“What about this? Long like my fingers, that’s what you like right?” He returned with a different vibrator. Unlike the other one, this had some sort of vibrating node for your clit; making sure to stimulate every inch of you it could touch.

“Lemme show you how this works, okay? Gonna use it just like the vibrator, push it up as far as your little cunt can bear.” Chan grumbled, tongue licking his lips as he lowered himself to his knees again. Removing it from its packaging with ease, he pressed the velvety device against your desperate cunt, quizzical gaze searching for any signs of hesitation.

“I can take it all, please make me take it.” You were quick to retort, squirming in anticipation of what was to come. You hoped, no you prayed, that this time he’d make you cum, not stopping till your body was limp and spent, eyes rolled back in your head and screams so pitchy not a sound came out. You wanted that, you wanted that so bad.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re all wound up baby, you sure you want that?” His voice was low, free hand coaxing your leg back over his shoulder as he peppered kisses to your inner thigh.

“Please, pretend it's your cock. How would you fuck me?” You whined, hands shifting to pinch at your nipples desperate for any form of release.

“No, no you can’t think like that baby.” He shook his head dismissively, using the toy to push up and down your gushing pussy, chuckling wickedly every time your body twitched.

“You want it too, don’t you? Wanna know what it’s like to fuck me? So do–” You couldn’t even finish getting the words out before he was shoving the toy into your needy hole with force, a dark expression atop his faltering features. “Yeah fuck, like that.” You screamed out, your pussy barely able to sheath the toy with how puffy and swollen your walls were.

“That feel good, baby?” He growled, teeth gritted as he pushed the device in and out of you with fever.

“So good.” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna have to take over, you need to learn for yourself.” He reminded you, your head shaking in an instant.

“Not yet, keep going please.” You sobbed tearlessly, moans coming out in broken, melodic strings of half-cries and curse words.

“Haven’t even turned the vibrate on and you’re already clenching like a whore.” He tutted, tongue spilling from his lips as he got lost in your pleasure. It looked like he enjoyed this almost as much as you did, his brows furrowed in concentration as he took in every change in your expression.

“Can I touch you?” You whined out, hips bouncing in time with his expertly timed thrusts. Your hands reached out, starting to undo the buttons of his dress shirt with a growing desire to see him naked and exposed like you were. He didn’t show any resistance, even shuddering beneath the graze of your nails against his bare chest as you opened the unbuttoned top. He looked delectable; toned muscles flexing with every thrust of his arm.

“No, then I really will wanna fuck you.” He murmured, setting another boundary you had every intention of crossing; his forehead leaning down to press against yours, bodies as close as they could possibly be given the current position. His lust-filled gaze sparkled in the shadowed confines of your close faces, the soft whimpers and laboured breaths that left his parted lips sending your body into overdrive. You leaned forward to connect your lips, mouth ghosting over his for a nanosecond before he moved his face away from yours. You whined, aching to chase after him but opting to pry a little more instead.

“Will you touch yourself when it’s my turn then?” You questioned, hungry eyes searching his for any signs of defiance.

“You want that?” He whimpered, free palm pushing you down against the soaked leather chair once more, trying to keep your quivering body still beneath him.

“Yeah wanna hear you moan again.” You yelped, clenching again and again around the silicon toy, wanting more than anything to replace it with his meaty cock.

“Does that turn you on?” Chan asked, proud grin on his lips.

“So bad.” You murmured, head rolling back as you felt him graze against your g-spot with the tip of your new device. “Wanna watch your cock make a mess– oh my god I’m so close Channie~” He didn’t let you finish, turning the vibrator on mid sentence. The sudden change in sensation caused you to shake and convulse beneath him, creaming the toy with every pointed thrust he offered your greedy cunt.

“Yeah? Take over for me baby, fuck yourself like the depraved slut you are.” You could barely think straight, eyes glazed over with unadulterated, carnal desire.

“Fuck you’d break me open so good, want your cock so bad.” You mumbled, taking the toy from his grip to try and match his relentless pace. You weren’t even close, too tired, too rigid to compare.

“God, bet you do, never enough for your greedy little pussy is it? Just want more and more.” Chan mused, the sound of his belt clattering drawing your attention to his lower half. You watched eagerly, excitement growing with every push of his hands. He pulled his cock out hurriedly, leg still propped over his shoulder as he fisted the base of his cock.

You whined at the sight, free hand clawing at his half-clothed chest before gripping the meat of his upper arm. You hoped, pointlessly so, that the feeling of his toned muscle beneath your hold would ground you, keeping you steady as you worked yourself with the toy. The sight of him jerking desperately at his leaking cock, though, was far too compelling. Moans fell from his mouth, curse words interjecting every sinful noise.

You’d thought his pointed gaze was enough to hypnotise you, but the image of his stiff member as it oozed pre cum transfixed you in an entirely new way. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear your eyes from his thrusting hips and eager fist as it worked its way up and down his length. You were sure you’d not seen a cock quite as pretty as his, either. It wasn’t overly large but it was thick and veiny with an angry red tip that you knew would prod your cunt in all the right ways. You wanted it, you wanted him so bad. You were salivating at the thought, mouth gaping wide open at the prospect of it.

“Bet you’d fuck me dry, so desperate you’d milk my cock of every drop.” He groaned loudly, hips bucking into his first with an air of impatience.

“Yeah, want that so bad sir.” You could feel your high approaching once more, the edge coming into view in new and improved shades of technicolour bliss.

“That’s it, good girl, you’re doing so well.” He praised you, head lulling back as he hissed, teeth clenching, face scrunching; the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. His adams apple bobbed, thick neck glistening with sweat as he squirmed, face falling to rest against your leg.

“Cum on me, in my mouth.” You pleaded, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts, imagination fixing on the idea of it being him fucking you like this.

“Fuck that’s so hot, you’re so fucking hot.” He instantly complied with your wishes, hand abandoning his cock momentarily in favour of getting to his feet. He gently lowered the leg once propped atop his shoulder as he did so, discarding his trousers and underwear properly when he was stood. He was frantic in his motions, wanting nothing more than to dump his load on your pretty face.

Hovering over you, he watched as you eagerly opened your mouth, head angled to allow him to aim the tip of his length toward your lips. He hummed at the sight, face scrunching again as he began to fist at his cock. The wet sound of his cum streaking the length of his member had you keening, tongue darting out to lick at his tip desperately. He bucked his hips at the new sensation, shoving his cock closer to your mouth in the process. You kept lapping at his head, enjoying the salty taste of his cum as it hit your tongue–the bitter flavour pulling pornographic moans from your throat.

“Oh god that feels amazing. Yeah, keep doing that baby.” He too moaned, pumping his cock relentlessly while you leaned closer to him, sucking the head of his twitching member feverishly. “Such a good girl, yeah, your lips look so pretty around my cock baby.”

“More.” You begged, the initial taste of his salty cum enough to have you craving more. You wanted all of it, wanted to feel his mushroom tip abuse the back of your throat, wanted to choke on his fat cock until breath became a necessity. You were positive you’d see the white, orgasmic light then, when you were deprived of all air, forced to take in every inch of him until he was done using you for his own pleasure.

“No, don’t be greedy. Take what I give you and say thank you like a good slut.” He landed a slap against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting and fuck it felt incredible.

“Mmm, thank you sir.” You whined, complying instantly, pussy clenching around the toy still thrusting in and out of your numb cunt. Your arms were in a similar position, movements growing sloppy and slow as you tried to chase your high through till the end.

“Good, now you gonna cum for me?” He asked, fucking his fist with the same fierce pace he’d gifted you. “Yeah, fuck you’re so hot.” He moaned, watching you struggle to pleasure yourself, movements ragged and desperate as you became unable to control your limbs.

“So close, so so so– please.” You cried out, riding the toy with one final push of determined energy.

“That’s it, keep fucking yourself. You’re so close, baby don’t give up now.” He moaned out, his own high building with every snap of your hips, the noises your mouth and pussy were making so sinful it had his eyes rolling back. He resisted though, keeping his well-trained eyes on your abused cunt. You were struggling, he could tell, something in you not quite snapping the way you clearly wanted it to. It wasn’t your fault, he’d tired you out by now; he blamed himself for that.

“Come on, you can do better than that. Like this baby.” He abandoned his own pleasure again, hand leaving his cock to replace yours. His pace was exactly what you needed, your body convulsing the moment he replaced your sloppy grip.

“Oh god, yes, please keep going.” You cried, almost scared he’d deny you again.

“Yeah? You gonna cum? Look at the mess you’re making pretty girl, fuck, I bet it tastes delicious.” He growled, pushing the toy as deep as your puffy cunt would allow, angle directed toward the extra-sensitive spot you seemed to love so much. “You’re taking it so well, such a good little slut.”

“I’m gonna cum.” You wailed, hand gripping his, half-reacting to the sudden feeling of overstimulation that washed over you, the part of the vibrator pressed against your clit sending you into spasms with every hard thrust.

“That’s right, come on baby, good girls cum– you’re my good girl aren’t you? Gonna cum like sir told you to?” He growled, the possessive tone that had overtaken him sending shockwaves across your limbs.

“Yeah, yeah fuck! I’m-” You didn’t have time to respond to his pleas before you were thrown from the edge, same white light blinding you in the process. You lost all feeling, all consciousness as you came, the explosions errupting throughout your spent body going unnoticed by your fucked out mind. Your chest heaved as you started to come to, hand still clamped around his now motionless wrist as his voice broke through your heavy breathing.

“Shit, you squirted everywhere baby. Fuck that’s so hot.” You whimpered, scrambling to sit up in embarrassment. You looked at the chair first, the leather slick with your release, but it wasn’t until you gazed at Chan that you saw the extent of it. His white shirt was dotted with wet spots, looking almost like the splatter of something colourless. His hand and arm were soaked, chest glistening too.

“Sorry.” You frowned, suddenly embarrassed by the mess you’d made.

“Shh, don’t be sorry, you did so well baby; look at you, so messy, so pretty.” He was quick to assure you, abandoning the vibrator in favour of cupping both your cheeks. You took each other in for a moment, no words spoken between you as your eyes lowered to his lips. One of his hands moved toward your chin, tugging our gaze upward again; not letting you linger with the thought of kissing him.

“Lemme make you cum.” You spoke after a beat in time.

“No, no lovely girl, you need to rest a second.” He smiled, pad of thumb caressing your plump bottom lip before he shifted, seemingly ready to clean you up and send you on your way. You weren’t ready for the moment to end, though. Couldn’t bear the thought of not getting to see him like this again for another month, or, god forbid, longer.

“Then use me to finish.” You reached for him, grabbing ahold of his wrist before his back could straighten, reaching his full height.

“Baby, fuck.” He moaned, clearly battling with the idea of you crossing yet another of his lines. He couldn’t blame you, not wholly anyway, he let you do it easily every time. Deep down he knew they were nothing but silly justifications; a safety net to fall back on when he broke every rule in the book.

“I want you to.” You assured him.

“This is supposed to be about you.” He shook his head.

“Then do it for me, use my mouth.” Your persistence seemed to be enough for him, still-hard cock twitching excitedly at the prospect.

“Get on your knees.” His eyes darkened, turning to face you properly as he watched you position yourself on the floor, obedient as ever. “That’s it, good girl.” He swallowed thickly, guiding you toward his painfully hard length. He tapped your outstretched tongue with the tip, wordlessly ordering you to open wide.

“Tastes so good sir.” You mewled as he slid the base of his cock along your tongue, moaning at the texture of your muscle against his veiny member. His patience, or whatever was left of it, was slipping away with every messy lick of your tongue, his hand shifting to grip your hair.

“Squeeze my thigh if it's too much, okay?” Your nod was enough to have him pushing his length past your parted lips, cock giving you no time to adjust as he pushed his hips forward. “Such an obedient little slut, aren’t you? Touch your clit for me, want you cumming with my cock shoved down your throat.” He growled, pushing his length as far down your throat as your tight mouth would allow.

“Oh fuck yeah, yeah, yeah that’s so– ohmygod you feel amazing.” You moaned the moment he afforded you a few seconds to breathe. Your fingers toyed with your clit just as he’d requested, but you were far too focused on swallowing his member to focus on the tingling feeling between your thighs.

“Bet your pussy feels better though, doesn’t it baby? Filled all the way up with my fat cock.” He grunted, grip in your hair tightening as he thrust his length past your lips harshly. You squealed at this, sound muffled by the back and forth of his cock as he used your throat to chase his own release. It was hard to focus his gaze as he pushed his cock all the way to the base, your nose pressing against his toned flesh as you gagged, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Are you crying? Yeah? Sir giving it to you too rough? This is what greedy girls get–a throat full of cock.” He growled, any hints of his prior softness dissipated with the tightening of your throat around his sensitive length. He started setting a pace, no longer mindlessly pushing you down his cock. Rather he pulled out of your swollen mouth, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he thrust in, repeating that motion again and again with a frenzied persistence. If he had any doubts about your feelings on the matter, your soaked cunt gave it all away.

“God your pussy is drenched, sounds so good. Does it feel good, baby? Getting mouth fucked while you play with your little cunt for me?” He moaned, fucking your face with a new found fever, his approaching high numbing his senses until all that remained was the sound of your wet pussy clenching around nothing and the feeling of your tight throat seathing his desperate cock. In all of the blissful chaos though, the man couldn’t help but take pity on you; the tears streaming down your cheeks, drool coating your chin, was enough to have him pulling out. You instantly gasped for air, forehead falling against his thigh as you caught your breath.

“Sit up baby, spread your legs. Gonna paint your pussy with my cum–gonna make it mine.” He instructed, helping you back atop the chair when you looked at him with pleading eyes. Your chest still rose and fell, gaze glossy with fresh tears as you whimpered, barely able to register the possessive way he wanted to claim you beneath your heavy fatigue.

“You gonna cum for me too, yeah? gonna fuck my cum inside you with my fingers while you play with your clit.” He was back to those sinful rambles, an apparent sign of his impending orgasm as he worked his cock, hovering above your spread legs while he watched you circle your clit violently. “Good girl, good girl, fuck.”

“Yeah fuck, mine, my good girl, looking so pretty for me.” His pace picked up, abs tensing with every twitch of his cock. His tip leaked with presumptive release, small bouts of thick cum running down the head, aided in its journey by the drying slick of your spit. “So useless without me aren’t you baby? Can’t do anything without me, need me so badly.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh god.” His words had you quickly barreling toward the edge again, consciousness slipping as you fell in and out of subspace.

“Say you’re mine.” He growled, face contorted in the hottest expression you’d ever seen. He looked determined, the first that fucked his cock thrusting at such a frenzied pace you wondered if it was painful. “Mmm” Was all you could manage, before a harsh slap to your cunt was enough to jolt you away from the fucked-out state you found yourself in.

‘Say it, slut.” He insisted.

“I’m yours, all yours; only yours. No one else can make me feel like this, not even me, this pussy belongs to you.” Your words were all it took, his entire body shifting, twitching and shaking at the sudden onset of his climax. His knees almost buckled, the half-awkward position causing his muscles to burn and tense as he milked his cock of its stringy cum. Moan after moan fell from his lips as he watched it splatter against your lower half, your hungry cunt clenching as the warm liquid painted your clit and abdomen.

Lowering to his knees again, he kept his promise, pulling your hand away from your puffy clit in favour of collecting up all the cum that settled on your skin, sticky substance coating two of his digits as he shoved it inside your overworked pussy. “Cum for me, come on. Don’t make me spank you again.”

You moaned out, shrill noise almost awakening his cock once again as he drilled your cunt with his fingers, pushing his cum as far into you as your swollen walls would allow. “Good girl, that’s a good girl; such a good little cum slut.” He cooed as you lost all control, body seizing beneath the weight of another orgasm; the wave of ecstasy so sudden and unexpected it stole the air from your lungs, the noise from your voice.

Chan rode you through your high, pressing kisses to every inch of your inner thigh, fingers slowing to a halt inside you. Sweet praises filled the air as he pulled his digits from your defeated cunt, palms rubbing soothing patterns against your skin. He kept this up until the ability to move seemed to finally return to your aching limbs, your body shifting to sit upright. Your breathing was laboured as his eyes leveled with yours, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

“Are you okay?” He asked, fingers back to tracing your skin affectionately; an action that felt just a little too sweet considering the events that had just transpired. You nodded, still not quite able to form words as you moved forward, pulling him into your embrace, desperate to lean on him for support. He let you, of course he did, arms wrapping around your fatigued body as he pulled you against him. Your head fell to the crook of his neck when you lowered from the chair, awkwardly positioned atop his kneeling form until he shifted to accommodate you.

For a moment you stayed like this, the sounds of your breathing the only thing breaking through the heavy silence. It gave you both time to think, to come down from your post-orgasm bliss and retrace the events of your appointment.

“Fuck, what are we doing.” Chan was the first one to speak, a heavy sigh pulled from his downturned lips.

“I don’t know but I don’t want it to stop.” You whispered, neither of you making any attempt to put distance between you.

“We have to.” His response was instant but insincere, there was no denying that now. Not even your anxiety could trick you into believing that Chan didn't want this.

“But do you want to?” You asked, making the first move as you pulled back to look him in the eyes. Maybe his mouth lied, but his gaze never could.

“...No. do you?” He said after a beat in time, large gaze studying you just as you did him. His palms moved to grip at your bare waist, a single hand shifting to run up and down your right side, tracing the curve of your hips as he waited expectantly.

You smiled, the fireworks that erupted behind every one of his caresses giving you the answer you'd been looking for: “Never.”

“Never?” Chan stared at you dubiously, hand stilling at this.

“Never.” You didn’t hesitate, head shaking. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, eyes flicking from feature to feature in search of any insincerity. He found none, only a flourishing of adoration that threatened to grow tucked behind your gaze.

He decided to believe you. You decided to believe it too–hoped so badly for it to be true–wanted so badly to have finally found the cure. Needed so badly for him to be the cure.

<< back to dash // next episode >>

taglist @mangojellyyy • @diekleinesuesse • @bahablastplz • @jeonginnieswifey • @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 • @yaorzu-blog • @skzreader25 • @sseungmongi • @swaggylili • @geni-627 • @fun-fanfics • @channiesluvrclub • @iambangchanswife • @bluesungology

A/N: jfc i nearly didn't finish this in time oopsies! semi-unedited again so apologies for any sloppy writing in places. thank you all for 200 followers!! next chapter is due for release at the 350 milestone <3

1K notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months ago

Text

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun.

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights.

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it to his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers; your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you.

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs.

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto fluff #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff

925 notes · View notes

house-of-lovin · 2 years ago

Text

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess.

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already.

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it.

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go to work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this.

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet.

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand.

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin.

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron.

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks.

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate.

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming.

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?”

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long.

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room.

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand.

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…”

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.”

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.”

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone.

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?”

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud.

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad.

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch.

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy.

“What are you doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video.

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco?” She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.”

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.”

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room.

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled around and gathered her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.”

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall.

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile. “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps faltering when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes she finds her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island.

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug.

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look.

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you.

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?”

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on.

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you.

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.”

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption.

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction

“And this isn’t me trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words.

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking.

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious.

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes.

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to form a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

taglist is closed

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @the-oblivious-writer @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmore @orang3-ish @friedryes @nahnahnahwhat @be-missed @jjuncidio @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @omega-horus @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon123 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern @noooodlessstuff @vstblrblog @godsfavouritelesbiann

#legally binded #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix

2K notes · View notes

luxtrys · 2 years ago

Text

a hundred and ten percent ready.

your first time with anakin skywalker (18+, smut noshy. innocent!reader, cocky asf ani (a warning in itself) size kink. )

you couldn't hear the dramatically aggressive slam of the door to yours and anakin's apartment over the soft music flowing out of your record player. you hummed to the tune, swiping your hand through the chocolate you had used all your muscles to chop into the pot of boiling heavy cream.

anakin watched lovestruck, leaning his head on the kitchen door frame as you let out an excited squeal to yourself while mixing the steaming pot of hot chocolate on the stove. ani was confused the first time you had brought up hot chocolate to him, on the first conversation you ever had might i add. the way you talked about it with so much care and love he thought it was a childhood pet your parents just let you name. you added in the espresso powder and vanilla essence before stirring it with the heart spatula ani had gave you on a random sunday.

once you noticed a few to many bubbles rising to the surface of your beautiful creation, you quickly bent down to be eye level with the stove. as you slowly changed the size of the flame under your pot, you felt a strong arm snake around your waist, pulling your ass into the persons crotch. squealing, you straighten your back instantly as the familiar smell of smoke, sandalwood and cologne enters your nose. "what'chu makin baby?" anakin rasped, bending down to rest his head on your shoulder.

you looked up at him, mustering up the most annoyed face you could. he knew what you were making, you made hot chocolate at-least twice a week without failure. "oo baby don't look at me like that, gonna make me cry" he smirks, leaning down and catching your lips in a heated kiss. you indulge for a few seconds before pulling back, moving your attention back to the pot on the stove "i added espresso powder this time ani! i read it on that blog i like, it said it really brings out the chocolate flavour and i'm so excited to try" he scoffed at how quickly you just ignored the make out session you had just, rubbing your stomach with his hand and shaking his head.

it was only a few minutes before ani was pouring the steaming chocolate liquid into the matching mugs you made him for valentines day, your names etched on each and bunnies and hearts decorating the white cups. anakin always did that job, banning you from it after you accidentally poured the hot chocolate all over your hand and he had to sit in the ice cold shower with you to calm the burning for over four hours, holding you close to his bare chest as you sobbed.

you sat down on the kitchen stools, tapping your acrylic nails onto the marble surface in excitement. "what sprinkles tonight baby?" he asked as he grabbed the whipped cream out of the fridge, he knew the answer because you picked the same every-time, but he asked anyway. "pink and white hearts please ani" you answered, glancing out to the lively city of Coruscant through your endless high windows.

"thank you ani!" you exclaimed as he placed the hot mug filled with hot chocolate, a mountain of whipped cream, small pink marshmallows and little heart sprinkles into your hands. he took the seat next to you, holding his mug filled with only hot chocolate, no sprinkles, marshmallows or cream, you almost broke up with him for that when you first started dating. the whipped cream and marshmallows you got, but the sprinkles? no way.

he wrapped his hand over the back of your chair, effortlessly pulling your chair closer to his so you were touching. you stared at him as his slid his hand over the top of your bare thigh, snaking it up and down before gripping the inside of your thigh, way to close to your heat. all while just staring absent mindedly in front of him and sipping his mug.

you were starting to feel those tingles inside of you, that you coincidently only got around ani. you and ani had done stuff before a few times after you came to him at the first feeling of tingles rising inside of you. he smirked at you then and patted the space on the bed beside him, telling you it was normal and he would help you out. he always helped you out, and you felt like it was time to return the favour. he never told you that you had to though, never making you feel like he deserved something in return, but you were ready. ready for sex.

you stared down at your mug, the little pink marshmallows drowning in the chocolate as the cream melted away into nothingness. you would never pass down a hot chocolate, never. but as you looked between your boyfriend and your mug, you realised you didn't crave hot chocolate. you craved anakin.

the loud screeching of your chair as you pushed it back and your socked feet hitting the floor alerted anakin of your state. your pupils wide and palms sweating as you pulled at the fabric of your - his - shirt. glancing over to see your mug untouched, ani was just about to pull you into his chest and console you at whatever got you worked up this time. but before he could, he heard words that made he nearly spit out the hot chocolate in his mouth.

"i want to have sex with you anakin"

out of all things anakin guessed you were going to say, those words were not one of them. you were shy, even after dating for more than a year, you never just said what you wanted without taking 5 minutes to stumble over your words. and you definitely didn't say words alluding to any sort of sexual activity unless ani teased you to say it after working you up with his fingers buried in you for way too long. "what? can you say that again princess i think i heard you wrong"

"i- pfft- ani you know what i said" you whined, still standing at least 5 feet from him, because if he were to touch you near there again, you might just explode. "nope. i need you to say it again, or you're getting nothing." ok. now he was just being mean.

you always oddly noticed that though. that anytime you guys would do anything down there, ani was just a bit mean. he was always in control, powerful, dominating, but in the bedroom it was like those present qualities were maxed out to 1000.

a flush spread across your cheeks as you huffed. "i- i want to have sex with you anakin" you voiced. that signature annoying cocky smirk spread across his features as he approached you. his combat boots still on his feet from jedi duties and his biceps bulging out of his thin black short-sleeve shirt, you thought you were going to faint.

you noticed again as he stood infront of you how fucking massive he was. he was at least a foot taller than you and could literally crush your body with a single arm if he wanted to. he left goosebumps on your delicate skin as he trailed his fingers up and down your arms making you shiver. he continued on his painfully slow attack of his soft touches before running his hands to the top of your thighs and hooking his thumbs on the sides of your lacy pink underwear.

he stared down at you, biting his lip and all knowing that your underwear was completely soaked because of him. you noticed he was stalled, not making another move and deep in thought. "ani whats wrong?" you asked, no, whined.

"you know this is a big thing baby, i'm fine with helping you out as long as you need me to ok? i don't want to rush you angel. i need you to be very sure you want this." he said softly, drawing circles with his fingers on your thighs.

you weren't exactly sure if it was because you were so horny or just so in love with him, but those words could make you break down and cry.

"im sure ani." he smiled down at you "ok baby, just-. are you 100 percent sure, because not to alarm you but if we start, i'm not sure ill be able to stop" you leaned into him, your forehead resting on the soft fabric of his shirt. "i'm a hundred and ten percent ready ani, promise."

at those words he quickly gripped your ass, hoisting you up into his chest so your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms swung around his neck. your squeal made him even more giddy as all he could feel was you, his thoughts echoed with your giggles and moans and he could practically smell you soaking through your panties.

his dick was straining in his pants as he set you on the soft pink blanket you insisted on putting on your bed. he kneeled down onto his knees pulling you by your feet so your legs dangled off the end of the bed as you squealed. he could feel the need to protect, pleasure and destroy you rise in his body as he reached under the shirt that swallowed your body entirely when you wore it, which was almost always.

he went as slow as he could as he ran his fingers up and down your folds through your panties. you threw your head back at the contact, biting your lip and whining his name. he chuckled at how little he had to do to have you melting in his hands.

as much as he wanted to tease you, he just needed to see you so bad it hurt. he gripped the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, the site of your bare chest almost making him bust in his pants. "shit baby you gotta stop doing this to me, won't fucking last. you're just so pretty." he had a slight groan to every word he said, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking, making you mewl.

he looked into your eyes as he kissed all the way down your stomach before making it to the waistband of your panties. the cold air hit your sensitive clit as ani peeled of the underwear, staring at the wetness he had created and throwing them somewhere in the room. he licked a thick strip through your folds, gripping the insides of your thighs with both of his massive hands, stopping you from wriggling as he ate you out.

"fuckin' hell baby, this pussy 's gonna be the fucking death of me. taste so sweet" he said, his breath on your clit making you squirm. he needed to be in you, now. but there was no way he was fitting in you without stretching you out first, and he needed to fucking hurry.

he sucked his fingers, teasing your hole before sliding two fingers in at the same time. you gasped, looking down at him shocked, he never did two fingers first. "i know baby, you're alright. just need to get you stretched out ok? you're alright."

you nodded franticly as he pumped both fingers in and out of you, the pain quickly subsiding into pleasure. anakin didn't know how he was going to fit inside of you, because judging how hard your gripping two fingers, he wouldn't even fit three in and he was way bigger than three fucking fingers.

he finally decided to enter the third finger into you, slowly working his way through the resistance in your pussy "n-no ani, it's to much" you were blinded by pleasure, stars clouding your vision as all you could see was anakin.

"you're ok. quit whining and take it" his tone was rough and jagged, and you could not be more turned on in that moment. you whined, struggling under him as he brought you to your first orgasm of the night. you came all over his fingers with little warning, whining into your bed sheets as you gripped and pulled at his hair.

you almost let out an objection as he got up from his spot, but judging by the clouded, stern look on his face, that probably wasn't a good idea. he pulled his top off of his body swiftly, his toned, tan chest muscles straining as he ripped of his shoes. in that moment you noticed how venerable you were, you were lying in front of him stark naked, aside from your frilly pink socks, and he still even has his massive dumb combat boots on.

you slowly gripped the pink blanket under you, about to cover the bottom half of your body before a large hand halted your actions immediately. "i swear to god princess, stop or it'll be the last thing you ever fucking do" he spat, running his fingers up and down your folds again.

you noticed that now he was only in his boxers, his hard on showing through the thin material. as he slid his boxers down his legs, his length sprung out and made you gasp. you had never seen a penis before, but the way your friends crudely described it to you, you did not think it would be this big.

"what baby? you're gonna make me insecure if you keep staring at my cock like that" you huffed at his language, wondering how long it was. you stared at it for another few seconds before deciding it had to be at least 10 inches long, or even more and thick as well. safe to say it scared the shit out of you.

"ani, are you sure its meant to be that big?" he only chuckled at you, making you regret you ever asked that question. "hope so princess, had it all my life"

you reached your hand out, touching it for a moment before you heard ani hiss and pulled back instantly. "no baby its ok, i'm just to fucking horny right now, here" he gripped your hand, bringing it up to your mouth and telling you to spit. you did reluctantly and watched as he brought your hand to his dick.

"ani, thats not gonna fit down there.." you say, looking down to your pelvic area. "we're gonna make it" he smiled sweetly, a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"and just bring it right here" he instructed, guiding you to the base of his dick. you tried to wrap your hand around it, before releasing your hand didn't reach fully around the width of his cock. he groaned and threw his head back, watching as you shyly pumped up and down the shaft of his member. "here, squeeze a bit harder yeah? its not gonna break if you add a bit of pressure baby, promise"

you nodded shyly, tightening your grip on the heavy dick resting in your hand. as he was watching your movements closely, you kept eye contact and you brought your lips down and kissed the tip softly.

"fuck this" he exclaimed, manhandling you to be in the middle of the bed as he followed closely behind you. his dick slapped against his stomach, raging red and dripping with precum.

"you're doin great, bein' such a good girl for me, yeah? just need to be in you right now" you nodded frantically as he used his hand to hold the base of his dick, positioning in right infront of your pussy.

"ani is it gonna hurt?" you ask, his expressions changes from desperation to his soft loving face, lulling his head to the side as he looks straight at you. "just for a bit baby, then it will feel good, ok? you just gotta trust me on this. but if it hurts to much you tell me to stop ok? pinky swear it" you nodded as he quickly brought his pinky up to yours, inlacing it tightly before kissing your finger and letting go. "im just gonna put the tip in first baby, ok?" you nod again, a switch seems to flick in his face and he looks mad, really mad. "fucking words baby" he says before you whine "yes ani" he smiles sweetly, jesus these facial expressions are giving you whiplash.

he interlaces your left hands together as he pushes his thick tip past your walls, you mewl in pain and pleasure, the other hand you have resting on his bicep gripping so hard you're drawing blood.

"ow ani! i thought you just said the tip!" you whine, scolding your boyfriend. "that was just the tip." he states, your comments feeding his already oversized ego as all the blood rushes to his dick. you sit in that position for about another minute, until you announce for him to start moving again.

he enters his dick slowly into you, inching more until he's about half way through your walls. "s-stop. how much more to go?" you feel like his dick is the size of a fucking lightsaber, stretching you out father and father till you feel like you're simply just gonna split in half. "halfway baby, i can stop here for today. dont have to go any further angel" you looked up at him, god, you loved him to much. "kiss?" you asked softly, releasing you haven't even kissed him this whole time in the bedroom.

ani smiled sweetly, bending down and kissing your lips softly. once he pulled away, you looked at him, and then down at his length impaling you. "keep going ani"

he nodded quickly, not even having the might to protest. you breathed through your mouth as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. it hurt, it hurt like fucking hell but with every inch he pushed inside you, you felt pleasure pulsate through every part of your body.

you let out one last squeal as he bottomed out inside of you, falling into you as he moaned in pleasure. "knew you could fucking take me baby, such a good girl" you beamed at his compliment as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you.

he was amazed how he hasn't cum yet, but he needed you to before he could. he knew you were close, he studied your moans and your facial expressions long enough to figure out when you were cumming.

"ani g- gonna cum" you moaned, feeling him in every-part of you. "go on baby, right behind you". you could feel his dick empty out in you as you came all over him, scratching up his toned back.

"i love you so much ani" you breathed, pulling and tugging at his hair, his breath tickling your shoulder as he answered. "you don't even understand how much i love you baby, no one will ever understand."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker drabble #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #so not proud of this sooo :(#anibear

1K notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 9 months ago

Text

Write Me In

Part Four

Leo was surprised that he slept at all, but when he woke up the next morning, the light was bright through the gauzy curtains and he sat up feeling like he was forgetting something. It was a trade off he’d learned to deal with. Either his insomnia kept him up all night, or he crashed hard and woke up wondering if he’d been asleep for a week. Or maybe it was just this place. He’d left a window open and the smell of the ocean was so heavenly that Leo nearly fell back into his pillows and basked in it. Until he remembered. Then he fell back into his pillows and tried to figure out what had happened last night, and what might be waiting for him out there.

He listened.

Guitar. Soft, beautiful guitar.

Maybe it had even been what had woken him. That, or the smell of coffee. Leo had seen about five different ways of making coffee in that kitchen and he tried to calm himself by seeing if he could figure out what they were using. It was probably impossible—it was just coffee—but he tried anyway. French press. Espresso. Stove top. Coffee machine, like the one Finn had forgone all of the fancier equipment for back in New York. Maybe he preferred it. What did Logan prefer?

They had wanted to be with him last night. Even worse, Leo had wanted to be with them last night. He could have been waking up in that master bedroom he’d caught a glimpse of. Logan and Finn’s suitcases both disasters on the floor. Now, the bed would be unmade. Had they stayed up late by the fire or followed Leo inside soon after? Leo had forced himself not to listen. He’d counted sheep. He’d counted waves down below. He’d counted his own breaths and heartbeats and all but forced himself to sleep so he wouldn’t count the ways that conversation could have gone or how that night could have ended.

And now Finn O’Hara was playing guitar in the main room—it was Finn. Logan picked it up sometimes but he wasn’t as nimble with it as Finn. So, maybe Logan was making coffee. Or it was only Finn awake with coffee and music and Logan was sleeping in as usual. He clicked on his phone. Eight-thirty. If Logan had his choice, he would still be sleeping. Leo tried to fight the twinge that came with the warm feeling that he knew that.

Leo forced himself to get up. He went to the bathroom, ran wet fingers through his hair, and looked at himself in the mirror. This tedious, nervous feeling didn’t reflect in his face. He looked rested and like he’d gotten some sun. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and regarded himself. He didn’t workout much. He liked the classes he went to with Cassie. He was usually the only guy, but he didn’t mind. They laughed as much as they worked but Leo always left drenched in sweat so he figured it was worth it. He looked like he’d always looked to himself. Maybe not as defined as Finn and Logan with their drumming and back-stage push ups, but he’d always been tall and lean.

He went to his suitcase and looked at his options. They’d walk into town today? They’d go to Logan’s nice restaurant? Would they swim and he’d change before dinner?

Were they going to send him home after he’d refused them? He needed to write.

Finn’s voice, muffled, filtered to him through the door, and Logan’s replied. So, they were both up. At the thought that they were waiting on him, Leo threw on a pair of light wash jeans—cool enough, he supposed—and a white t-shirt.

Everything you want, then Logan had said. Leo ran his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes. He wanted quite a bit, and none of it had to do with clothes.

He opened his door slowly and the guitar got louder without the wood blocking it. Leo paused, trying to recognize the song.

“—open doors,” Logan was saying. “And…hm. And open doors…”

“And admit that we won,” Finn replied, talking in a meter that wasn’t quite singing. “Begun, won. Not quite a perfect rhyme, but that’s…”

“Non, that’s good. I like that. When you sing it, it’s a perfect one.”

Leo’s heart picked up.

They were writing a song.

He was tempted to stay hidden and listen, but that felt like a betrayal somehow. Rude. This was private.

Finn began to sing, actually sing, if not a little quietly for Leo’s benefit, just as Leo rounded the corner.

“We tried to fight it off with—oh, hey.” Finn was looking at him, a hesitant sort of smile on his face. “Hi, hi, good morning.”

“Hi,” Leo said.

There was a pause. An obvious one. One that made Leo panic, just a little. Finn’s eyes were a soft, worried brown and Leo didn’t know what to do with that. Logan saved him.

“Salut,” Logan said. He was standing by the stove in a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and holding a stovetop espresso pot. He looked so tan against the white shirt, his hair wet and curlier than usual—from a swim in the ocean? It was pushed back from his face like Leo had seen it that first day at their apartment in New York. Leo glanced back at Finn, who was already looking at him. The expression on his face seemed to say I know, right?

Logan held up the silver pot and Leo made himself study that instead. It looked well-loved. Stained, the metal changed from the heat.

“Coffee?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yeah, please.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Finn asked.

“Was everything—” Logan began to ask, then registered what Finn said. “Oh, ouais, yeah, did you…yeah.”

Finn laughed and gave him a helpless sort of shrug and it made Leo relax a little. They didn’t seem upset. Or like they wanted him gone. They seemed nervous, too.

“I did,” Leo said. “Sleeping with the window open and hearing the waves is so great.”

“I know,” Finn said. “Soothing.”

“I put a little bit of sugar,” Logan said. He nudged an espresso cup across the counter. “Because it’s good.”

“How much is a ‘little bit’ of sugar in your world?” Leo asked—Because it seemed like it might crack some of this worry between them, brittle and crystalized as sugar itself.

Logan’s smile proved him right. “I guessed at what your 'little bit’ would be.” Logan tilted his head. “I think I did good.”

Logan wanted to take them into town for breakfast. Leo wondered if the same car was going to come and pick them up, but it turned out Logan had other plans. He led them through a door—Leo honestly, at this point, wasn’t even going to try to map the house. It sprawled in directions he couldn’t even clock. This time they ended up in a garage that had two cars covered in crisp white sheets.

“Pick a color,” Logan said. “Yellow or green.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said. “Logan.”

Logan just smiled and shrugged. “Yellow or green, Leo?"

“Green,” Leo said instantly and Finn gave him a smile.

Logan strode forward, took hold of the closer sheet, and yanked it off in one flourish. Beneath it sat a pristine, gleaming Porsche. It was an older model, vintage looking with a low roof and a bumper that looked like a smile. It’s velvety dark green color was sleek and spotless.

“Wow,” Leo said faintly. “I mean, yes. The obvious choice for a ride to breakfast.”

Finn laughed loudly and it echoed in the room. “I know, right?”

Logan took a pair of keys off of the wall and tossed the other to Finn. “You’re yellow, Coeur.”

Leo blinked and saw a flash of Finn’s lips on Logan’s skin last night. Logan had just called Finn heart.

It was perfect. He and Logan zipped along narrow, cliffside roads in their green car with the bright racer yellow of Finn’s behind them. Besides the colors, they were a perfect match. Leo felt like he was in a movie with the engine in his ears. They couldn’t talk over the roar, not to mention the wind. Logan rolled all the windows down—literally. The card had cranks not buttons. The salty wind whipped at their hair and Leo knew that he might look insane when he got out of the car, but he didn’t care, not with Logan’s strong hands to study. He had one easy on the steering wheel, and dropped the other periodically to change gears. It was a little like the way he drummed. Just a different sort of rhythm.

They didn’t speak until Logan had to slow down because they’d entered a small town. A market was in full swing and everyone seemed to know Logan’s cars—and Logan himself. He waved out the window at two small kids as he pulled into a parking spot. They were jumping up and down and each holding a peach that was dripping down their arms.

Oh, Leo wanted to shop here. He clicked his seatbelt off and looked at Logan.

“Hi,” Logan said. “Fun?”

Leo nodded. “Fun.”

As they walked around, it became clear to Leo that he was going to have to add an entire section to his article that was just about Logan being here. Even his body moved differently. Leo and Finn walked a few paces behind him as he was greeted by nearly every vendor. They all exchanged kisses on both cheeks. Leo sort of wanted to see Logan kiss Finn on both cheeks.

“Beautiful, right?” Finn leaned over and whispered to him. He was in a white t-shirt like Leo’s, and soft looking blue shorts. Exactly which part of the scene in front of them he was referring to, Leo didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His yes applied to all of it.

Leo was about to buy a few of the peaches he’d seen the kids holding when Logan appeared at his side and dropped coins onto the vendor’s table.

Before Leo could even protest, Logan was guiding him away with a hand on his back and holding something out to him in a flat palm. It was a small pastry nestled in parchment. It looked lemony, or maybe it was an almond paste. On top were two perfect raspberries.

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever eat,” Logan said in French. “I promise.”

“Big promise,” Leo said.

Logan laughed. “It’s true. I dream of them. I could write a song about them.”

“Oh,” Leo said. “Well, in that case.” He picked up the square sweet and took a bite. He’d been right about the almond. It was a sweet, nutty burst in his mouth beside the raspberries. The pastry felt like a thousand thin layers of crisp and butter. Leo closed his eyes and nodded. “Ouais. Yeah, it’s perfect.”

When he opened his eyes again, Logan was still there, gazing up at him with a bright, satisfied grin.

“Let’s get another,” Leo said.

“They sell out fast,” Logan said. “This was their last.”

“Did you get one?”

Logan shrugged. “I wanted you to try it.”

Leo frowned at the half pastry remaining at his hand.

“It’s okay,” Logan said. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

But Leo held out the other half. “Non. Tu en rêves.”

It was maybe one of the best parts of being here, seeing Logan’s face when he spoke French to him.

“You like it,” Logan said. “I can tell.”

Leo mimicked Logan’s shrug. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, then smiled. Eyes on Leo, he leaned forward and took the rest of the pastry between his teeth right from Leo’s fingertips. Leo hadn’t been expecting that. He could feel color rise to his cheeks as sure as he felt the sun on his neck.

“Just like you remember?” Leo asked to try and draw attention away from his red face. It came in a double force, though, when Logan raised up a thumb and brushed a crumb from the corner of Leo’s mouth.

“Better,” Logan said. The French word’s soft double L sound gorgeous in his mouth.

Leo self consciously touched where Logan had touched his mouth. He sort of wanted him to do it again.

“Will you write about this?” Logan asked. “I hope you write about this.”

“Our week’s almost up,” Leo said. “Pretty good finale, I’d say.”

Logan’s face fell.

“Mais…the week we agreed on maybe,” Logan said softly. “Or that was agreed on. By others who didn’t know that we…”

Logan dropped his gaze and Leo was right back in last night, the heat of the fire on his face. Finn and Logan’s open expressions and hopeful eyes. Leo glanced around for Finn and found him talking animatedly to a man at a stall of books. Finn O’Hara, Leo thought. He didn’t look like the rock star, or the heart throb, or the dream talk show guest. He was this sweet boy trying his best to meet that man halfway with bad French and hand gestures. Who got called heart by his boyfriend, who had a boyfriend, who wanted Leo’s voice to help them tell the world about each other.

“Would you…” Logan huffed. He looked around and then took Leo by the hand and tugged him towards an old set of narrow steps in the shade of a sweet smelling tree. Leo let him maneuver them into sitting, squeezed next to each other.

Logan fixed him with his bright green eyes. “Would you want to stay?” Logan asked. “You just got here.”

“You…You want me to extend the story?”

“I want you to stay.”

There was a whole landslide of other halves to that sentence. Leo couldn’t have guessed at a single one.

Leo smiled a little. “You know, I didn’t think you liked me when we first met.”

“No one thinks I like them when we first meet.”

The paper bag of peaches was cool on his lap. Logan had a bag, too, and when he caught Leo looking at it, he uncurled the top. Croissants, chocolate and plain.

“I was nervous,” Logan said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like you. I was worried about the story. Mostly, I was worried you wouldn’t like us.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“I knew you in the way you knew us,” Logan said. “Through your writing. Non, we don’t know-knoweach other, but we know each other. You can’t write without some truth. Can you?”

He had him there. “That’s true. No, that’s true. Okay…”

“Leo,” Logan said more seriously. He pushed their thighs together harder where they were already touching. “Will you stay? Only if you want to, of course, but…please. We want you to stay.”

God, did he want to. He wanted months of whatever this was. Whatever they were dancing around—because it was something. God, it was something. Leo didn’t sleep much but he had already dreamed about it. He just wished there was a way to tell them that he wouldn’t say it first. He couldn’t say it first. Right now, he was in charge of the most important story of their careers. If something soured—and Leo knew better than most how quickly things could sour—he didn’t want any more tangles than necessary. They had each other. They already had each other.

“I’ve told you how much you’ve meant to me,” Leo began. “And for how long.”

Logan nodded.

“And I’ve told you that you’ve helped me through some bad people and experiences.”

“Ouais. But we got interrupted.”

“We did, yeah. Yeah…” Leo sighed. “Well, the bottom line is, you’re not the first, um…”

“Le sujet,” Logan offered, then winced.

“Subject. Sure. You’re not the first subject who’s wanted to…” There was no better way to say it, honestly. “Sleep with me. That is what was happening last night, wasn’t it?”

“First, we would have wanted to kiss you.”

They both looked up just as Finn sat down, sitting sideways on the step below them so they had to lift let their legs go over his. When he smiled and pushed his sunglasses up on his head, he was Finn O’Hara for a second. It looked like a Vogue cover shoot. And then he tipped Leo’s bag to poke inside and he was Finn again.

Kiss you. He’d surely walked into some far-fetched dream of his own making. But, no, there they were. They were both touching him somehow. Knee against knee. Finn’s knuckles kept brushing his ankle. It was comforting.

“You wanted it to go somewhere last night,” Leo repeated. “Kiss, more…but that’s what was going on. I’m not wrong?”

“You’re right,” Logan said. He was blushing. Sweating a little, pushing his hair back. The market was loud and oblivious around them, and Leo wasn’t sure why this conversation was happening here, but it was.

“We didn’t just want to sleep with you,” Logan said.

“Okay…” Leo shook his head and looked at Finn. “The kissing your boyfriend in front of me didn’t really give me any clues farther than fucking.”

“Yeah…” Finn was rubbing at one of his eyes. “I think maybe we’re a little rusty on the flirting side of things.”

“There is no way your flirting is rusty,” Leo said, laughing a little. “Believe me, I think I’d know. I’ve been watching you for a week, you flirt with everyone.”

“No,” Finn said. “Nu-uh. I make everyone think I’m flirting with them. I make whole crowds think I’m flirting with them.” He turned to face Leo. “I flirt…or try to…with you.”

“We weren’t just trying to—” Logan looked horrified. “Là, what, quoi, have sex then goodbye?”

Finn dropped his forehead on Leo’s knee. “We were trying…” He looked up at Logan. “We should have just asked him out to dinner, like, obviously!”

“I did ask him to dinner!” “No, like, ask-ask. That’s not the same thing!”

“Okay,” Leo held up a hand, heart wildly trying to beat against his ribs. Everything inside of him hurt. He couldn’t tell if this was real or not. Mostly, he couldn’t see the infatuation. The short lived lust. Not here. With Finn and Logan, he just couldn’t tell. They both seemed—well, a little nervous, actually. Leo didn’t think he’d seen them so flustered. Ever.

“My job is to make the people I’m writing about feel comfortable,” Leo said. “And it’s been mistaken for attraction before. That’s just…” Leo held up a hand. “I’m just putting that down.”

“You weren’t just making us feel comfortable,” Finn said firmly. “Do you know how many journalists we’ve been around? God, so many and a lot of them are awful. They call my brother behind my back hoping to get some dirt or jealousy. I’ll turn around and they’ve opened one of my fucking notebooks. Leo, you are so different, you are so…” Finn looked at Logan for a moment. “I’ve loved your writing for so long. I read it to Logan, even your pieces from that blog you used to run.”

Leo flushed. “Oh—oh my God, what?”

His blog. When he’d been desperately trying to get clips to big magazines. Finn O’Hara—Read it to—

“You slipped right into us,” Finn said. “You’re gorgeous and you’re so smart and articulate…I think I could talk to you for hours. Nothing felt like an interview, you felt like we’d known you forever.”

“Forever,” Logan agreed.

Leo wanted to shake them. “Finn, that’s my job. I’m really fucking good at my job.”

“Yeah, but how often do you forget you’re doing you’re job because you’re happy, too?” Finn fired back, but then his eyes softened. He put a hand on Leo’s knee. “You felt it, too. You can’t tell me I’m wrong about that.”

“Yes, I—” Leo closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. Yes, of course I did. I did.”

He really could have talked to them forever. Sometimes he’d even forgotten there was a show to perform when they’d been laughing and talking in their dressing room beforehand. He could have listened to them forever. Logan’s little French mumbles. The way he closed his eyes when he practiced a song. They way his fingers drummed on every surface—they were twitching on Leo’s other knee now. The songs Finn sang around hotel rooms and apartments—not his own songs. His favorite songs. Leo wanted to know all of Finn’s favorite songs and why. They way they watched him cook. The way they showed their appreciation. The way they kissed each other. He wanted to brush his teeth beside them and crawl into bed and talk after turning the lights off until they were too tired. What a fantasy.

“Look,” Leo said. “I’m not just protecting myself here. Do I think you’re both—God, so gorgeous I can’t breathe, and sweet, and funny, and talented, yes. But I thought that even before I knew you. I’m trying to separate my skills from myself for your sake, and I’m trying to separate your stardom and your selves for my sake. And yours. Guys, you don’t want someone who wants you because you’re famous.”

“You don’t,” Finn said. “I know what that looks like.”

“We both do,” Logan said.

“I—okay. Of course you would know. But even still.” Leo sighed, heart heavier by the moment. He didn’t know if he was wrong here or if they were just good at trying to prove him wrong. “You have each other. You are asking me to write about your love for the first time in public and that’s a big deal. You two are going to get so much attention, it’s insane. And you’re telling me you like me, and you feel something for me, but there is going to be literally zero room for me when not only does your album come out, but this article. If you even still want me then.”

Leo was so out of breath it made his heart pound and stars appear at the edges of his visions. Those last words had come out a whisper. He’d said it, though. All of it. He’d needed the words and the words had been right there for him to arrange. Even more, Leo and Finn were both completely silent, completely still, and listening.

“I’ve been the thing that someone keeps in the dark before,” Leo said, keeping his eyes down. He felt Logan’s hand tighten on his knee. “Literally. He wouldn’t even keep the lights on when we kissed.”

Logan’s other hand appeared. Or Finn’s? They were all but holding whatever part of him they could reach now. Leo couldn’t push them away. Maybe right now he could explain to them why he thought he should be saying no, but he didn’t want them to let go.

“Am I very attracted to you both? Yes. Was it very hard to say no last night?” Leo’s laugh was half groan. “God, yes. But am I going to be kept in any sort of darkness ever again?” Leo swallowed hard, throat tight, and shook his head. “No. I’m…I’m sorry, but no.”

No sooner had Leo finished that sentence than did one of the little kids that had been practically hanging off of Logan’s body earlier launch itself over Finn’s legs and straight into Logan’s lap. She started talking a mile a minute—even Leo couldn’t quite keep up. Logan just stared. He held the little girl, nodding, smiling, but in a daze. Leo didn’t know if Finn knew his hand was on Leo’s calf, tightening and loosening, maybe as he tried to think what to do. What to say.

Leo was just beginning to suspect maybe he had said too much when the girl’s mother called her away.

They were still quiet. Leo could pick out each of their breathing. He looked at Finn, because his silence meant he still wasn’t convinced. Leo didn’t really want him to be.

“Logan told me that he thinks about the way he used to miss you, and misses you sometimes even when you’re asleep right next to him.”

Finn looked at Logan, lips parting. He didn’t look surprised, exactly. Just like it hurt to hear it again.

Leo covered Finn’s hand with his, drawing his eyes back to him. “That’s love. That’s what you have.”

Finn didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe we have more to give.”

Leo stared at him. Again—what were they doing, tucked away from the crowds in this little set of steps, talking about this?

Logan was so quiet, had been so quiet the whole time, that Leo had to look at him. Logan Tremblay. In what world did Logan Tremblay look at him like this? Like he was about to sing the chorus of I See Red, or leave the stage for Rooftop. The expression on his face looked real enough. Leo had to admit that.

“I don’t trust people,” Logan said under Leo’s gaze. “But I trust you.” When Leo went to speak, Logan pressed a palm to his chest. “Don’t tell me what happened on the balcony was your job. It wasn’t.”

“No. That wasn’t,” Leo said softly.

“How about this,” Finn said. “Stay long enough to get everything for the piece.”

“And we haven’t played you any of the new album,” Logan cut in.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Finn said. “Hey, that’s in the contract for your piece.” He smiled. “You get to hear three songs.”

Leo couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Are you bribing me with your music?”

“Not bribing,” Finn said. “I want to know what you think. Always.”

“We.”

“We want to know what you think,” Finn said. “And we never said a word to your editors about this being more than just a music story, so…” Finn tilted his head. “Technically, we can all renegotiate and you…You can ask for more time with us?” He looked so, so hopeful. “And maybe, just maybe, we can show you that we’re not under some love-sick spell cast by your outstanding professionalism.”

Leo’s laugh was real this time, and so sudden that he covered his mouth. “Cast my by professionalism?”

Finn grinned and untangled himself enough to stand up. He offered them both a hand. “Come on. Let’s take our time.”

God. Finn O’Hara and all of his perfect words. “Time sounds good.”

It wasn’t a hard sell. The second Finn and Logan’s people told Leo’s people just how big this story would be, Leo was basically told to stay put for now, and Finn and Logan were told to only talk to Leo about this until the story was out and couldn’t be leaked. Essentially, they were told to talk, work, write, and not leave.

That had been five days ago. Leo was now thoroughly sunned, oceaned, and thinking a whole lot about Logan’s hand on his chest, Finn’s on his ankle, and kissing.

They went to the market nearly every morning. Leo had made a, if he could say so himself, perfect peach pie with the fruit he’d bought—Logan had bought. They’d been to Logan’s raved about restaurant and Leo had gotten his cheeks kissed by no less than six waiters. Logan had been right. He’d never tasted food like that.

They’d walked down Logan’s cliffs and spend hours lounging in the shade and sun and diving into deep, clear water. Leo had tried not to stare at Finn’s marble-pale chest in the sun. Logan’s tan-line that drew itself oh-so low on his hips. In his notebook lay the phrase couple of fucking mermaids that wouldn’t make it into any sort of writing but it was true.

Each night, Logan built a fire and Finn brought out a special wine—now Leo had seen him spend a good forty minutes with the man who owned the wine shop in town. Apparently it was a hobby of Finn’s. The other night, Finn had brought out a small bottle that was sweet and amber colored—and his guitar. Leo had gotten his first new song.

“Okay,” Finn had said. “So, this is called—wait, do you want your notebook or anything?”

Leo, feeling like Christmas morning, shook his head. “No. I just want to listen.”

“Cool.” Finn bit his lip. “Okay, cool. Cool. So it’s called…” He was looking at Leo, hand flexing on the neck of his guitar. “Um.”

“Rouge,” Logan said, sounding bewildered.

“Counting,” Finn burst out, laughing a little. “No, it’s called Counting. Sorry. Okay. Here we go. It’s about—” Finn waved his pick at Logan. “That one.”

Leo laughed. “That one?”

Finn shook his head, grinning down at his guitar as he gave the strings a small twist to make sure it was in tune. “That stupidly handsome person right there.”

Logan rolled his eyes and leaned towards Leo. “Imagine it with big drums. Sounds soft now, that’s how he wrote it, but on stage, on the album, I’m all in.” Logan grinned at Leo and he looked like he did on stage when Finn made him laugh into his mic.

“I think I can do that,” Leo said.

Finn began to sing.

One big game of hide and seek.

Count to ten and come find me.

I’m in here waiting patiently.

Tucked away and so ready.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

We’re okay just still counting.

I’ll hold you and you hold me.

Strike a match so we can see.

Don’t worry baby, I would count it all for you.

I’d count the miles, the minutes, the ways tried and true.

Five and six and seventeen,

I’d count mountains, towns, and streams,

Sneaking cracks on dark ceilings,

Motes of dust in sunlight gleams,

I would count most anything.

Leo forgot about the glass he was holding. He had to set it down. He leaned forward, towards the warm fire. Finn was perfect in its light. His dark red hair, the orange glow, the tan, scuffed up wood of his guitar. Leo spared a glance at Logan, who was already watching him. He didn’t look nervous like Finn. He looked relieved. As Leo watched, he let out a breath and nodded, biting back a smile. Finn’s eyes were closed, fingers quick on the guitar, the heel of his palm standing in place for what would be Logan’s beat.

Days

And months

And years

Of him,

Skin

And laughs

And sinking

In,

There a first for everythin’,

Listen up, he’s mine.

He’s

The Sun

I’m basking in

Crash

Into

His waves and swim

Fills me up right to my brim

If I overflow it’s fine.

Listen up, he’s mine—

I could build a shrine

I would pour the wine

Worship till I die

The god I recognize.

Leo was more than used to feeling breathless at Finn’s music, but this song sucked all the air from his lungs. He knew that counting. He knew the feeling of striking that match. He didn’t know what it was to be with someone through it, but he certainly knew.

Finn settled his guitar carefully on the couch when he was finished. He was all nervous energy, rubbing his hands together and fidgeting. He rose briefly and poured Leo more wine before settling back on the couch.

“So, there’s—yeah. What do you…” Finn trailed off.

“It’s beautiful,” Leo said. “It’s…If I overflow, it’s fine. I love that. I really love that, you—and the counting, that’s just perfectly true. That’s so true…” Leo felt his throat closing up and took a slow breath. “God, Finn. Both of you…It’s—I’ve always thought you walk this perfect line between sweet and…”

“And?” Logan asked when Leo trailed of.

Leo had only done so because he’d realized what he had been about to say. He’d already written about it, though, which meant Finn had already read it, so he might as well. “Well. Just—epic. It’s an epic love, it’s—sexy. That’s how you write it.”

“Hm.” Logan looked pleased.

“I hoped you would understand,” Finn said. “I mean, I knew you would.”

“This is your first song using him,” Leo said. “No French girls met on tour, no room for misunderstanding.”

Logan grumbled something about French girls into his wine cup and Finn reached over and pulled him into a sloppy sort of kiss. Logan let his face be smushed into an equally joyful kiss on his cheek.

“None,” Finn said. “No more of all that. We want to be clear. On everything.”

Leo sat back against the cushions. “Everything.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “Everything.”

Nearing the end of their second week, Leo and Finn were swimming. Finn kept diving down and bringing Leo little treasures from the bottom. He had this funny pair of goggles that he wore to do it. He’d push them down around his neck and show Leo shells and interesting rocks before tossing them back under. His body looked cool and pale under the surface.

Finn kept surprising him. Maybe that showed on his face because, as they tread water, talking, Finn tilted his head and asked.

“What?” Finn said, dipping his mouth low into the salt water before rising again. “What’s with the face?”

Leo brought his legs forward to float more on his back, laughing. “Oh. Nothing.”

Finn splashed him. “What?” He swam closer until Leo could pick out new freckles on his slightly sunburned nose. “What, what, what?”

They were near the rocky ledges and Finn pointed out a spot that he probably knew well, where two people could sit on a natural ledge just beneath the water. The stone was rough, but it put them in the shade and the calm waves lapped around their chests.

“You’re just…” Leo pressed his lips together, smiling.

“Okay, I’m gonna like, dunk you or something if you don’t—”

“You’re kind of a—” Leo shrugged. “A dork.”

Finn’s face was too good not to laugh at.

“I’m a what?”

“A dork,” Leo said. “Completely.”

“Excuse me.” Finn leaned closer. “I am not.”

“A dork,” Leo sighed. “Pop star dork.” Finn squinted at Leo in the sun, smiling. He still had the goggles around his neck and Leo reached forward and hooked a finger in them. “See?”

Finn hummed noncommittally. He’d let Leo’s hand nudge them closer together.

“Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

Finn skipped his hand along the water’s surface. It was almost too bright to look at directly with the sun coming off it like that, and Leo leaned back against the rock and the shade, keeping his eyes on Finn instead.

“So—possible article question for you,” he said. “If it’s all right?”

“Go for it.”

Leo touched a sparkling vein of mineral in the rock, tracing his finger down it. “What’s it like when you first play Logan a song like that one you played me?”

“Like…what? A love song?”

“Well, yeah, to put it lightly. But…Listen up, he’s mine, I could build a shrine, I would pour the wine, worship till I die, the god I recognize. Love song…does that begin to cover those lyrics?”

Finn laughed. “Wow. I played that for you once.”

“You’re pretty unforgettable.”

“Shucks.”

Leo drew one knee up to his chest. “It’s…There’s something like I See Red to it.”

“Logan wrote that mostly.”

“I know. Exactly. The way you talk about each other. It is like…intense, I don’t know. I just mean—here. I’ll ask it this way first. What went through your mind when Logan played I See Red for you the first time?”

“Mm.” Finn smiled at the memory. “You mean what happened after he told me he wants me all over him?”

Leo tried not to show how hot his body flashed, burning, even in the cool ocean. He rested his chin on his knee, then his mouth, just to hide the wavering sort of inhale he took.

“If—whatever you want to tell me,” Leo managed.

Finn mirrored Leo’s position—knee up, hands locked around his ankle. “How would you feel if someone played a song like that for you? About you.”

“That’s my question.”

“You first.”

Leo rolled his eyes.

“That’s right,” Finn said, propping his chin on his knee like Leo with a sly sort of grin. “I’m a difficult little rock star.”

“Oh, are you writing an article?” Leo laughed.

Finn’s brown eyes stayed sincere and playful. “I don’t write articles.”

Leo stared at him. Finn was visibly holding himself back, even if he was leaning forward and kept looking at Leo’s mouth. Leo had to remind himself that he’d asked him to. Finn wanted him. Finn still wanted him, that was obvious. His brown eyes were a little bit of fall right there in the summer sun. Leo kind of wanted to be kissed on this ledge in the ocean.

I don’t write articles.

“What’s that mean?” Leo asked faintly.

Finn considered him for another moment. “You said you’ve had…clients fall for you before.” Finn looked especially handsome asking a question in his little melodramatic way. Leo didn’t know what it was, but he did. “Ever had a song written about you?”

Okayokayokay. “No…”

“Hm.”

“Not that I know of.” Leo swallowed. He tasted salt on his lips. “Now you. You have to answer.”

“You didn’t answer.”

Leo sighed, smiling. “I…” He tried to clear his head. A song. Lyrics that were so all-consuming. “I would feel…”

He didn’t know. It was almost unimaginable.

He hesitated for long enough, cheek pressed to his knee now, that Finn copied him in that, too, and helped him.

“Timeless,” Finn said.

That gave Leo a word. “Immortal.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Leo watched the sunlight play on Finn’s freckles. He was the picture of a high noon sun, and he was looking between Leo’s eyes and his mouth.

Neither of them saw the wave.

They got a face full of water to splutter through as it’s gentle crest went nearly over their heads, lifting them from their seat.

“They say every tenth one is the biggest,” Finn laughed. He put his goggles back on, grinned at Leo, and held up two thumbs up. “Lunch?”

He felt tan, and cool from the water as they made it back to the house. He didn’t bother washing the salt off his skin, just threw on a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He only realized when he glanced at himself in the mirror that he and Finn must have swapped on accident at the water’s edge. Instead of his plain white t-shirt, this one was white with a faded NASA logo on it. Leo’s pulse kicked up. He’d seen Finn wear this. On stage. Many times. It was famous on Instagram and Twitter. Replicas had been made. Girls wore copies of this t-shirt to their concerts.

Leo was standing here, wearing the original.

He took a breath before going back out to the living room.

Finn went off to write somewhere with his guitar, but Leo fixed him and Logan sandwiches and they settled in the living room, all of the doors flung wide. Logan was doing a puzzle. Leo had his notebook on his lap with a little section dedicated to transcribing the little murmurs of French Logan said as he worked. Not for the story, just for him. No, not there. This stupid blue. Wrong color. Ah, yes, here. This fits.

Leo sighed and dropped his pen, flexing his cramping hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked from where he’d been frowning over two puzzle pieces. Leo was still getting over the sheer sweetness of the intense-on-stage-Logan he had known sitting in front of him for an hour and putting a puzzle together. Leo wasn’t sure what the picture would end up being. Logan refused to look at the box lid for reference. It was face-down beside him. Again, Leo sort of wanted to laugh at how he’d thought it would be an all-night party every night. Nope. Late morning coffee, farmer’s markets, cocktails, and puzzles. Much more his speed.

“Yeah, good,” Leo said. “My hand just cramps up if I write for too long. Hand write, at least.”

“Hm.” Logan set the pieces he was holding down and pushed himself up onto his knees. He walked himself over to the couch that way and sank back on his heels at Leo’s feet. He held out his hands. “Give to me.”

“I—what?” Leo asked.

Logan just made an impatient sound and reached for the hand that Leo had been stretching out. He arranged Leo’s hand palm up with his fingers flat but relaxed. Then Logan’s strong thumbs began pressing into the heel of Leo’s palm, smoothing down towards the inside of his wrist. He pressed near his elbow too—Leo hadn’t even realized it hurt there.

“It’s all connected, the wrist, the fingers, it goes all the way to the shoulder,” Logan said. His accent got a little stronger here and Leo almost wanted to ask him to say all that again. But then Logan was kneading at Leo’s shoulder just below his collarbone and—

“Oh,” Leo said faintly. “That feels…”

Logan smiled. “Je sais. Finn is even better at it, I make him do it to me all the time.”

Leo thought about the way Finn liked to come up behind him or Logan, and the way he squeezed their shoulders. If he was putting effort and purpose behind that…Yeah, it would be heavenly.

“I like your shirt,” Logan said teasingly.

“I guess we swapped.”

“Mm. Guess so.”

Leo just tilted his head to the side and let himself relax in Logan’s hands as he worked out the soreness. He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed until he felt Logan’s fingers slowing. Finally, they stilled, both cradling Leo’s hand again. He opened his eyes to see green staring back. Logan had settled very close on the couch, but maybe Leo had drawn him there, too, unconsciously pulling him closer to where it hurt so that he could make it better.

Logan rested a hand on his chest, just as he had at the market. His eyes darted down to Leo’s mouth. Logan had a perfect cupid’s bow. So perfect. Leo wanted to take it in his mouth and feel its dip.

He’d wanted that in the ocean, too. Finn had a freckle on his lip, just at the border where pale skin met pink, and Leo just…God, he wanted it.

“Leo,” Logan whispered.

“Yes,” Leo said, hearing the question Logan hadn’t yet asked.

“Just one,” Logan said. “Please. Is it okay?”

What else would Leo do other than nod. He was running out of willpower. These boys. These shell-diving, wine-enthusiast, puzzle-doing, grumpy in the morning boys. He worried he was smiling a little too much and tried to take a breath. Tried to steady himself. Logan pushed himself up onto the couch, kneeling with on knee down so that Leo’s body angled towards him. One of his hands went to Leo’s thigh, bunching the fabric of his shorts.

It was the softest kiss Leo had ever been given. Logan lingered in it, though. A soft, giddy intake of breath and the lightest of tugs at Leo’s bottom lip.

Leo’s hand went to his waist, to the very spot he had been dying to touch. Near the tattoo. And the cupid’s bow, he could feel it. And the way Logan held himself perfectly still, as if letting Leo control the whole thing. The problem was, Leo’s mind was forgetting almost everything he’d said just a few days ago.

Here, they were just two boys.

Logan made a soft sound in his throat when Leo tilted his chin up to kiss him harder. It parted his lips and Leo tested gently, but Logan let him right in. He tasted the mint tea Logan had been drinking—seemingly the only thing he took without sugar. Logan’s fingers curled and held onto Leo’s t-shirt. Finn’s t-shirt.

Here, there felt like there was all the room for him in the world, even if he didn’t understand why they wanted him to begin with.

Here, it didn’t seem to matter that he was a journalist and they his subjects.

Logan broke the kiss gently, but stayed close. The string that would break Leo’s resolve hadn’t snapped, but oh, was it ever threadbare. Logan could probably feel how fast Leo’s heart was pounding beneath his hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked faintly.

Leo had to swallow hard to find his voice. “Mhm.”

Logan nodded, the motion bringing their foreheads to rest together. He shifted and let out a sigh.

Leo realized he’d tucked his hands up and under Logan’s shirt and he just had to look down for a glimpse of that tattoo.

He got a lot more.

Logan’s shorts were straining around his hips. Leo got turned on so fast, stars sparked around his vision. The shorts were linen. White. Barely anything. They buttoned, not zipped, and those buttons were trying to hold on.

“Sorry,” Logan whispered.

“No,” Leo managed to say. He sounded weird to himself. “It’s—you’re fine. Very fine.”

“I just…” Logan laughed a little. He cupped a palm to Leo’s face briefly before pulling away. He flashed him a bashful smile as he turned back to sit on the couch. “Là, I mean, look at you. I’m…d’accord. I don’t mean to…”

Leo needed to say something more. He needed to say something not stupid. Something other than I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming right now.

“We’re taking our time,” Logan said. He took Leo’s hand and squeezed.

“I—no, we are,” Leo said. But if you wanted to sit on my lap right fucking now—

“Ouais,” Logan said. He was breathing slow, like he was trying to will himself to calm down. “Okay, so I will—be right back?”

They both kind of dissolved into laughter at that. Logan sat next to him, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Merde. Does this go into the piece?”

Leo had to stop laughing long enough to say, “In the middle of doing a puzzle, Tremblay had to be right back—”

Logan let out one of his free laughs and reached over blindly to shove at Leo’s knee. “Hey, take a look at yourself. You’re just as bad.”

Leo was trying very hard not to think about himself.

Logan rose, face flushed, and jerked his head towards the puzzle. “See if you can figure out that hellish thing over there.”

Leo watched as he disappeared through the doorway. Leo didn’t know if he was going to find Finn to help or go somewhere on his own to—well, fix it or calm down. Both thoughts sent Leo’s body aching. He had to lean his head back on the couch and breathe. He reached down and tried to make himself more comfortable, but it didn’t help.

He picked his notebook back up. He flexed his hand and picked up his pen. No use. He closed his notebook. He looked at Logan’s puzzle.

He took a deep breath, slid himself to the floor, and set about fitting a couple pieces into place.

Leo got called back the next morning via an email with airline tickets attached for the following morning. Apparently endless time equated a week more. Rather, Leo would be sent back out to a show when their tour started back up to write a follow-up snippet on what it was like playing shows as a couple.

But it left Leo a little frantic and disoriented. It left Logan and Finn staring at him with faces that were almost mournful when he broke them the news over morning coffee.

Logan punched Finn’s arm. “Be a difficult little rock star.”

Finn arched a brow at Leo. “Can I?”

Leo smiled, tempted to take Finn up on it, but he knew it was probably no good. He was supposed to be with them for a week. It’d been almost three. His boss would want their story polished and published, and Leo back in the office.

Only now here he was. His last night in this perfect place, unable to sleep.

The sleeplessness wasn’t new to him. He’d had insomnia ever since he could remember. It was only that it was here. He’d never slept so well in his life as he had these past few weeks.

It could have been worse. At least with all the extra space and the crashing waves, he didn’t feel worried about waking anyone up as he made himself some tea in the kitchen before trying to lull himself back to sleep by proofreading. Nothing exhausted him like proofreading.

He rubbed at his eyes as the kettle heated. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t feel like he had an old life. This felt like his life. Waking up and Logan making him that perfect bitter sweet espresso. Finn’s music all day long, soft plucks on the guitar, humming as they read together on the dock. Finn coming to peak over his shoulder while he was writing, stealing his pen out of his hand and adding seemingly random words. Blue!! Sunny!! Dazzle!!

The morning markets. Logan’s almond pastry. Puzzles and movies and how did he get here? Oh God, how did he love the hours of the day so much?

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Leo jumped hard, eyes flashing open as he turned. Finn was standing there in a well-loved t-shirt that said New York Rangers. He had his hands in the pockets of his cotton pajama pants and was smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Leo laughed, hand on his chest. “No, me. I mean, I’m sorry. You startled me. What are you doing awake?”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“Lord, am I a hopeless sleeper,” Leo said. “I’ve been getting up at one in the morning and staying awake until three for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Finn frowned. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it. What about you?”

Finn shrugged. “I think I heard you.”

“Fuck.” Leo felt his shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Finn said. “I was kind of already awake.” He paused and leaned his hands on the cool stone counter between them. “Was thinking about you leaving.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Me too.”

“You really have to go?”

“You have to go, too,” Leo said. “You’re kind of on a world tour, you know.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Finn said. “Sorry, I’ve been doing more important things lately.”

Leo smiled. “Oh…I don’t know about that.”

Finn gave him this unconvinced look as he rounded the kitchen counter. He looked like he was on stage all of a sudden. Something about his walk. The daring look in his eye. Like he was about to say something to a crowd that was sure to get a reaction.

He stopped right next to Leo and crossed his arms, looking at him. Unlike Logan, they were almost eye-to-eye. Finn’s smile brought heat from Leo’s chest to his hips.

“I hear Logan got a kiss.”

That heat spread out farther. His cheeks. His neck. Finn’s eyes darted over his face like he was watching it.

“He did,” Leo said. Oh God, please kiss me.

Finn clicked his tongue like it was a shame. “Would’ve liked to see it, gotta say.”

Leo laughed a little. “Honestly, me too.”

Finn bit his lip. He was sort of smiling, but there was something else there, too. It was half hidden in the dim kitchen.

“Is it…Is it that you like one of us better?” A flicker of insecurity. “Because if—”

Leo pushed his hands against Finn’s chest. Stopping him. Holding him there. Brown eyes, bed-head, skin still salty from the sea. Leo had always loved Finn O’Hara. But Finn. This Finn was something else. This Logan… All of those fans didn’t even have a clue.

Leo couldn’t stand that hurt look on Finn’s face. He curled a hand behind Finn’s neck and pulled him closer. Like he’d wanted to in the ocean. Like he’d wanted to every time he heard him sing.

“Finn, I like both of you so much, it scares me.”

“Then…” Finn leaned closer, dropping his voice to hardly a whisper, so quiet that Leo more felt the words brush his own lips than he heard them. “Don’t I get a kiss, too? Before you go? Feeling a little left out over here—”

Leo didn’t let him finish. He pushed forward and kissed him.

His world went perfectly silent.

Oh. Leo grabbed onto Finn’s broad shoulders. Oh, oh, oh, Finn O’Hara could kiss. Oh, Finn could kiss, he could kiss, he kissed Leo like he would never breathe again and Leo felt himself sink. His chin tilted up, his body fell into Finn’s, and Finn took it. Finn held him.

He pressed harder against Finn’s body. Finn made a soft sound when his back hit the counter and his hands smoothed down Leo’s back, cupping his hips.

Finn managed to get out, “Are you—” before Leo was kissing him again.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yes, yes…”

This was not Logan’s restraint. Not a single kiss. This was the sugar in Finn’s songs, the sugar that always applied to Logan in Leo’s mind. But Finn’s kiss was so all-consuming that it occurred to Leo that some of that sweetness had to belong to him. God, what could Logan do when he wasn’t holding back?

It took Leo a moment to figure out what sound was pulling at his mind and interrupting him. A strange, high-pitch—

“Shit,” Leo mumbled. “Tea, tea, tea.”

Finn didn’t even break away, though. He reached out a hand and flicked the stove off to stop the kettle from whistling.

The renewed silence rung in Leo’s ears. Finn’s palm was rubbing up and down Leo’s back.

Suddenly, Finn was hugging him tightly. His chin was tucked into Leo’s neck and Leo’s hand went to his hair automatically. That famous hair. Red and thick and soft. Leo turned his nose into it.

“You have our numbers,” Finn whispered. “And you know where we’ll be.” His brown eyes looked pleading when he pulled back. “You will choose a show, won’t you? Choose a show and come see us. The article will be out. I know there’s the follow up but—We’ll just be three people.”

Just three people. Leo thought of those little dressing rooms. That New York apartment. This place. But the fear was still there. Three people. Leo didn’t care what strangers thought. He cared about the aftermath of losing them, though. If he lost them…

Finn read it all on his face and he took Leo’s cheeks in his palms. He kissed him—this was closer to Logan’s gentle kiss.

“Come to a show and find out how much I want this,” Finn said. “Okay? Promise me. Or do I have to wake up grumpy and get him to tell you because he’ll probably just burrow in and not let you leave. Ever.” A brush of Finn’s nose against Leo’s. “He’s all about that kind of thing these days.”

Leo’s laugh spilled out, too much and too giddy for the night, but he didn’t mind. When he made to pull back, just a little, Finn took his arms and put them back around his neck. Leo couldn’t help his shiver as Finn’s palms ran down his sides and Finn pressed another smiling kiss to his mouth.

“If you wake him, I really will never leave,” Leo whispered. “And I do have to go.”

“Then promise me.”

Leo closed his eyes. He was so sure he’d be able to sleep just fine if Finn kept holding him like this.

“I promise.”

#write me in lumosinlove #o'knutzy week 2024 #finn o'hara #Leo knut #Logan tremblay #pop star au #rock star au #lelo #finnlo #sunfish #summmerryyyy

127 notes · View notes

lagunaseca2013 · 25 days ago

Note

❄️ or 🌪️ for the ask game!

hiiii arrow! thanks for playing :)) here’s an excerpt from choke yourself out, my reconciliation white whale that i write approximately one sentence of every six weeks lol

—

Valentino is wrestling with the espresso machine in his boxers, his gray-streaked curls flattened on one side of his head from when he’d pulled out of Marc that morning, soft and overstimulated, and unceremoniously collapsed right back to sleep. He’d startled awake an hour later, a little sweaty, and dragged Marc into the kitchen to conquer la bestia. La bestia was shiny and chrome, and had mysteriously appeared in the kitchen four days into the two weeks Marc had spent getting reacquainted with Valentino post-dramatic-Argentina-situation, and neither of them have successfully managed to operate it without Luca’s help.

It was entirely unclear to Marc if Vale knew that his pet espresso machine shared a nickname with Enea Bastianini and simply didn’t care, or was maybe making some sort of convoluted joke about Marc taking his seat a few years back. Between all the fucking, and the strange liminal space both of them had been trying to avoid leaving, he hadn’t really bothered to ask.

The beast was so ridiculous and complicated that Vale had sheepishly ended up calling his brother to teach him how to turn it on, Marc trying not to laugh too loud at the stupid faces Vale was making at him from across the island. Something about the tan slope of his shoulders as he hunched over the contraption, Luca’s annoyed instructions going mostly ignored in favor of pulling levers and pushing buttons, had Marc’s cock twitching with interest.

He glanced down at himself, trying very hard not to think about how he was wearing the same sleep shirt Vale had lent him the only night he’d ever spent at the ranch before. It’s tattier now, the paint cracking enough that CHE SPETTACOLO was only visible if one squinted and already knew what they were looking at.

Ten-some years later, Marc thumbs the uneven hem and locks eyes with Vale as he slowly inches it up. He can tell the exact moment Vale realizes that Marc is getting hard. His blue eyes narrowed into familiar slits, the gaze of a predator.

Marc swallows hard, his fingers still twisting the hem of the borrowed shirt, suddenly unsteady. Valentino is watching him, expectant, his hands braced against the counter like he’s ready to push off and cross the room at a moment’s notice. The espresso machine hisses as it finishes heating up, but neither of them pay it any attention. Then, from the phone still clutched loosely in Vale’s hand, a tiny voice pipes up in the background of Luca’s call. A little girl’s giggle, high and sweet, followed by Luca’s half-distracted, “Sí, sí, un attimo, bambina.”

Marc blinks. He hadn’t even known Luca had a kid. He hadn’t really thought Luca was the type, considering how much time Luca had spent inside of Pecco over the course of the past season, but—well. That’s none of Marc’s business, is it?

Vale stalks over, bullying his way between Marc’s thighs until he’s practically spread eagle on the counter, nipping at his jaw and then his earlobe, which makes Marc shiver and gasp. Then, his phone buzzes in his hand—Luca, still on the line. For half a second, he hesitates. Then, without breaking eye contact, he presses the button and hangs up. Marc’s breath catches, something sharp and hot curling low in his stomach.

“You,” Vale says, with the same laser intent focus he gives his bike, his hands tightening against Marc’s jaw, “are trying to distract me.” Marc hums. “Is it working?” Vale’s eyes flicker down, taking in the way Marc has been inching up his stolen sleep shirt, showing off the smooth slope of his thighs, the telltale half-chub he’s not even pretending to hide. Vale’s thumb swipes across his jaw, a slow drag. “Barely,” he lies.

Then, he pulls away—just long enough to yank open the drawer by the stove, retrieve a blister pack, and dry-swallow the little blue pill inside. Marc snorts, “You could at least pretend to have some restraint.”

“I could,” Vale agrees, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "But where’s the fun in that?"

The espresso machine lets out a sudden, jarring beep. Vale glances over his shoulder, and then back to Marc, his head tilted expectantly. “Allora,” he says, tracing his thumb against Marc’s neck, applying slight pressure when his eyes flutter shut. “Maybe we try again tomorrow.”

#fic talk #ask game #arrow mail #choke yourself out #this is the first motogp fic i ever started which is funny bc it’s the one i’ve made the least progress on since talking about it on here #someday i will lock in on it but today is notttt that day #rosquez #motogp fic #my writing

50 notes · View notes

clarkeyhill · 5 months ago

Text

☁️She's like a shot of espresso| Arthur Hill

[When you met Arthur he was known for having a temper, quick to react at any simple given moment, but since you've been dating his temperament has changed, he's more calm, laid back and less hot headed]

It was quiet in the flat, Arthur was out practising for his upcoming tour, you had nothing to do so you decided to make some dinner for when Arthur returned, you made a basic sausage casserole, it was a cold autumn night and you couldn't think of anything better than a hearty meal. You decide to live stream on TikTok as you cook, something to pass the time by; you engaged with your followers as you did Arthur's, some filtered through to ask about him and you responded, feeling like you'd made a family through the screen, someone asks a personal questions and you are reluctant to answer it.

"Do you think Arthur will ever stop being quick to anger, he seems hostile in recent his videos"

You study the comment with a dry throat, you knew he'd been having a stressful time and didn't want to discuss him personally, so you brush past it. The comments pops up again and you hesitate "I've seen the comment and I'm going to choose not to discuss my boyfriend in that context, he's a great person and I love him dearly, please don't comment it again" you smile, not wanting to sound rude. You leave the casserole to simmer as you say bye to the viewed and end the live. You set the table, waiting for Arthur to come back.

Just as you were stirring the food your phone rings "hey love, I'm on my way home, what're you doing?" He says softly "Im just stirring tea, you hungry?" You reply "you're an angel, it's just what I need right now, see you soon, love you" he says "love you too" you reply. The door turns and Arthur's home "that smells amazing" he says kicking his shoes off "how was practise" you say hugging him "it was good, I got a little bit annoyed because my throat was scratchy but it was a start" he says, the comments flickers in your mind as he mentions the word annoyed; he notices your face shift "what's wrong?" He says looking at you with concern "oh nothing, just a comment on my live from earlier" you say "what was it?" He furrows his brows "someone just mentioned that you were hostile in your videos and they asked me if I thought you'd ever not be angry" you say frowning, "oh.." he says, your heart shatters as he walks away from you "Arthur the content was filmed before we met, they will see how much you've changed" you say with reassurance "yeah, maybe" he says with a sigh. "Look forget the comment, let's eat and snuggle in bed with a movie" you say "i can't, I need to go somewhere" your brows furrow again "after food right? Where?" He gets up and walks to the corridor, slipping his shoes on "I just need..some air" he says walking out the door. Your face drops, you felt a wave of guilt as your stomach drops, you turn the food off and leave it on the stove.

You decide to text George incase he appeared at the flat.

You: "hey George, if Arthur comes by will you let me know, he's walked out and I'm not sure where he's got to"

George replies instantly: "yeah sure, is everything okay?"

You: "I'm not sure, I brought up a comment someone made about his temper and he just..left"

George: "that's strange, I'll let you know if he comes over"

You: "thanks George"

You pace round the flat, 20 minutes go by and you receive a text from George "he's here and he's stressed"

You heart sinks as you grab your keys, rushing out the door, you make your way over to the flat. You knock on the door as George opens it, you see a frantic Arthur pacing in the background "hey" you say sighing as you walk in the door.

"Artie" you say as he looks at you "y/n, please I just want to be alone right now" he says, you eyes become heavy "baby I'm on your side, let me in please" you say pleaing, George leaves you two to talk as he heads to his room "take all the time you need" he says as you smile at him; Arthur clutches at his knuckles, his anxiety was hitting a high, you rush over to him and grab him tight; he tries to resist but you squeeze him so hard if you squeezed any tighter you'd pop. When Arthur has the episodes, you use your body weight as an anxiety jacket, clutching him to shield him. "Please y/n" he grunts, wanting you to get off "Arthur you know I'm not hear to hurt you, just hug me back" you say he tries one more push but fails, he gives in and his arms lock around you. His body went from tense to soft almost immediately, his face sinks into your shoulder as he lets out a few sobs, you rub his head "let it out baby, let all the stress out onto me, I know you're trying your hardest and we're all here for you" your words wrap his heart like a bandaid, healing his ache. You both slide down to the floor as his emotions flood out of him, he was stressed, tired, run down and his brave facade had to fade at some point.

"I'm trying y/n, I really am" he sobs "I know baby, we all know, the comment was stupid and that's why I didn't answer it, you're making progress and the only people that matter are me and your friends" you see George poke around the corner as you wave him in, he kneels beside you both. "You're doing a great job pal, you've nothing to hold back when you're hear and you know that, y/n is in your corner 100% just like all of us" George says patting him on the back. You all have a small heart to heart as Arthur calms down, the stress radiates out of him with every little bit of release of words; communicating with you both about the stress. After a while you leave George, thanking him for letting you know he was here. You wave him goodbye as you go back to your flat, Arthur still puffy faced you link hands as you get to your home.

You walk inside and turn to him "I made casserole" you say smiling, he looks up at you with heavy eyes "Thankyou baby, I'm sorry" he looks at you with sad eyes "you have nothing to be sorry for artie, your feelings matter the same as anyone else's and I'm glad you could get it out, now let's eat and get tucked in bed, okay?" You say holding out your hand as he takes it with no hesitation. You finish your food as you place the bowls in the sink, you both scooch over to your room as you put on you pjs and put a Netflix series on. You sit up as Arthur burys his head in your chest. He lets out a big sigh of relief; "you okay?" You say stroking his curls "I'm fine now I've got you, you've really helped me throughout this and I can't Thankyou enough, even though I try to push you away" he says kissing your hand "I would never let you push me away, I know you don't mean to, we love you baby" you say kissing his forehead "you know, come to think of it, you're like my shot of espresso" he says sitting up, "how so?" You reply looking at him "you motivate me, put a kick in my step and make me feel..alive" he says cupping your cheek "oh artie" you say hugging him "I love you baby" you add on "I love you to pretty girl, thanks for being my rock" you smile into his shoulder.

🫶🏻

#youtube #george clarkey #british youtubers #george clarke #arthur hill

61 notes · View notes

write-tama · 1 year ago

Note

I need more of Francis Mosses x reader fluff tbh and I enjoy reading some of your works with him so here's my request: Reader is stressed about life, college or something of your choice and needed some comfort from him 🥺🤎 thank you in advance aaahshqhs 😭 (tbh I don't see much sfw works of Francis on this app, maybe I'm not searching enough?)

"rest a little-- for me at least.."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ francis mosses x student!stressed!reader

sypnosis ; reader and francis have been hard at work trying to achieve their ultimate goals for the future. but lately, reader has been burning themselves out, and its up to francis to help realize how tired reader is.

containing ; exhaustion, reader is a college student, francis works double shifts, francis and reader are high school sweethearts (in this au anastacha is not his daughter), francis is worried about reader, TOOTH ACHING FLUFF RAGH

author’s note ; eee thank u anon! also dw, i also experienced the same problem trying to find sfw for francis 😭😭 its lowkey the reason why i had to crawl out of my hiatus hole LOL but ya really hope u enjoy :]

04.15.24 | 1.4k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Five shots of espresso from the cafe across the block could not fix how fucking exhausted you were.

You and Francis have been together since your highschool days. You have always dreamed of going to college to become a forensic scientist to work in the police force for super interesting crimes— but holy shit— were you tired from the projects and the essays.

You haven’t seen Francis in a few days either, despite living in the same apartment. He’s been working shifts in the morning and night just to make ends meet while also saving up for a house that you two could buy together. It was exhausting, but it was all a part of the plan. You worked a little side job as well delivering papers early in the morning just as a quick cash grab, but that also meant you barely spent mornings with your boyfriend. It’s not like you guys had the time anyway. He had to work in the morning too, which made it all the more frustrating.

After finally reaching your apartment, you immediately kicked off your shoes and threw your bag to the nearest corner before flopping down on the couch. A loud groan rumbled from your throat, finally giving your exhaustion a voice. You looked up from the couch, too tired to even turn on the TV. From the corner of your eye though, you saw in the kitchen a pot on the stove with a bright yellow sticky note on the top of it. Out of curiosity, you lifted yourself from the cushions with all your strength before heading towards the kitchen.

You waddled over to the pot with a curious tilt to your head as read the sticky note:

You left for work before I could tell you, but I’m coming off my shift early today and I’m not working tonight. Here’s some lunch I prepared this morning. Love you honey, get some rest. -Fran

Your grin stretched from ear-to-ear as you opened the lid to be welcomed with the smell of fresh spaghetti and meatballs. You turned on the gas stove to heat up the food, and used a clean wooden spoon to stir the food gradually. As you did, you couldn’t help as yawns escaped your mouth. You thought about taking a nap after your meal, seeing as how later today you needed to take some notes for an upcoming exam.

Your need for success never gave you the permission to give yourself a break every once in a while. In fact, the only times you did take a break was when Francis was sick and he needed someone by his side to take care of him. Other than that, you were always academically focused. Every once in a while, Francis would voice his opinion, telling you that you shouldn’t be burning yourself out so fast, but it was your determination and your vision of a perfect future with him that fueled you. Was this safe for your own mental health? Absolutely not. But you were aware of the consequences, and you pushed yourself anyway.

You felt your body grow increasingly heavy. You quickly jolted your head up, not even realizing that your eyes were fluttered close and you had stopping moving your spoon for a few seconds. You shook yourself awake, quickly grabbing a plate and helping yourself to a serving. You made sure to turn off the stove as well before throwing the spoon in the sink and grabbing a clean metal fork to enjoy your meal. It was best to hurry on and sit down before you became a danger to yourself.

You placed your food down on the coffee table before curling up on the couch. Maybe some TV would wake me up, you thought to yourself. You picked up the TV remote and browsed through the channels, eventually settling on a random game show that was airing live. Feeling a bit more energized, you placed a pillow in your lap before resting your food on top of it.

After each bite you felt your eyelids getting heavy. Your body started slowly giving in, despite your protests. The host’s voice soon turned into muffles as you felt your head nod a little. Each time you felt yourself falling, you immediately jolted up, not wanting to succumb to your body’s need for rest. What you really needed to do was to finish those essays and projects, and to also greet your loving boyfriend once he comes back from work. Your mind started dragging along little plans on how you would be able to accomplish everything before sleeping, but without realizing, your eyes had fallen closed as you leaned back in the couch.

Francis came back home about an hour later, tired from his work. As he placed his work bag down, he barely realized that your bag was set in the corner as well. “(y/n)?” He began to call out, but as soon as he turned around, he noticed your sleeping figure on the couch curled up with your pillow and food next to you. “Oh, (y/n)..” he mumbled, smiling a little in amusement. Francis walked over you, noticing the running TV and the half-eaten food. He first turned off the TV, making sure to not make too much noise to wake you up. He took your plate as well and covered it with a napkin before storing it in the fridge. Once Francis made it back to the living room, he sighed in relief, noticing that you still haven’t woken up. He rolled up his sleeves before carefully sliding his arms under your body, being as gentle as possible as he carried you to the bedroom.

“Mm..” You mumbled, half asleep. “Franci..?” You croaked out, burying yourself into his chest.

“Mhm..” He hummed. “I found you asleep on the couch.. I’m just moving you to the bedroom if you don’t mind..” He chuckled a little. You groaned a little in response, tugging a little at his button-down uniform.

“No..” you protested. “I have work to do.. I have projects due soon..”

Francis laid you gently down onto the soft mattress. You sat up a bit, realizing that you were still in your casual formal clothes you wore for school. You looked over to Francis, who had changed out of his work clothes, but kept his undershirt on and threw on some pajama pants. “Franci, can you—”

“Here you go.” You looked up, not even realizing that he was already handing you your midnight clothes. His tired eyes gazed upon you, but even then, his eyes were dilated with genuine care. You smiled up at him before taking the clothes and changing on the bed, throwing your clothes in a corner.

You sighed a little as you straightened out your shorts, looking down with a wearied face. “You know I need to get back to work.” You quietly muttered. Francis looked at you with a frown as he stood over the bed.

“You can’t just keep working day and night.” He lectured softly. You scoffed a little before looking at him, only to immediately falter to his puppy-eyed look. “Just rest with me this evening, please, dear?” He asked, folding his arms behind his back as he leaned down.

Your face heated up, flustered at how desperate Francis seemed to be just wanting to have a few minutes ago. You smiled softly before reaching up and caressing his face with your hand. “You know I hate it when you look at me like that..” You whispered.

“Well, it's the only way to get you to agree.” He mumbled back, sinking into your embrace. The two of you were locked in eye contact as Francis slowly climbed into the bed. His hands straddled either side of you as you leaned back against the headboard. Gradually, his lips pressed against yours, and immediately you melted. Your hands snaked around his neck, holding him as close as you could. His touch filled you with the warmth you longed for so long after drawn-out lectures and pressure-inducing assignments. All you wanted was him.

He wrapped your arms around your waist before resting himself on your chest— a sigh escaping his nostrils. “I miss this.” he muttered. “When was the last time we got to hold each other like this?”

You ran fingers through his hair, carefully tugging out knots. “Only heaven knows..” You whispered back. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled your ears as well as the occasional vehicle rushing down the road in front of your apartment complex. Your chest rose and fell as you breathed as Francis buried himself deeper into your embrace. “I-I’m sorry I’ve been a little difficult lately.” you apologized, feeling the guilt prick at your skin. “I’ve just been so stressed with school lately.. All I could think about is work and it's ruining us—”

“Please don’t apologize for that.” Francis was quick to cut you off. He lifted his head up and now sat up properly in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked at your gentle figure. “Please.. Just don’t. I understand you’ve been working so hard lately. I have been to. But this is all for our future, remember?” He grabbed your hand, holding it with both of his hands before kissing your knuckles. “Mmm.. I miss our evenings together too, I truly do, but what I’m concerned about is your wellbeing. You need to give yourself a breather every once in a while. At least promise me that.”

Your body felt weak with each work he uttered. Your head rushed with stars, remembering that its moments like these that make you want to work so hard. You want nothing but blessings for this man, because if anything, he was your savior. Tears pricked at your eyes, sniffling a little as you nodded your head.

“I promise..” You said in a shaky voice. A sincere smile curled Francis lips as he reached down to kiss your forehead.

Everything is going to be okay, you thought to yourself.

Everything is okay.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thats it! hope you enjoyed :3 sorry i procrastinated on this for a while im def gonna clutch on up writing after school ends (which is end of april). lowk so glad this bc ive been stressed w college work as well so rereading honestly felt SO comforting 😭😭 but anyway ya--

reblogs, likes, even replies are soso appreciated and i hope you enjoyed this story :]

#thats not my neighbor #tnmn #that's not my neighbor #milkman #francis mosses #thats not my neighbour milkman #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader #tnmn milkman

296 notes · View notes

aspenmissing · 4 months ago

Text

ꜰᴀꜱᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 1172 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏ/ɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴏᴋ ᴅɪꜱʜᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ—ʏ/ɴ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴅɪꜱʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ'ꜱ ʟᴀᴛɪɴᴏ ʜᴇʀɪᴛᴀɢᴇ, ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴅᴇꜱꜱᴇʀᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏ/ɴ'ꜱ ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴀɴ ʀᴏᴏᴛꜱ, ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ

The soft hum of jazz filled the kitchen as the evening sunlight slowly faded, casting a warm glow over the countertop. The scent of fresh herbs and spices mingled in the air, mixing with the comforting hum of the stove. Y/N and Jayce were deep in their culinary challenge, each determined to master a dish from the other’s culture. It was a rare evening where they were both focused solely on cooking, an unspoken challenge to see who could bring the most flavour to the table.

Jayce was on a mission. He had grown up with food that was rich in bold flavours, spices that could light up your soul. Tonight, he was diving into the world of Italian cuisine, attempting to master tiramisu, a dessert Y/N had introduced to him not long ago. He had heard about it for years but never thought he’d get a chance to make it himself. Now, with Y/N by his side, he was determined to do it justice.

“You sure about this, Jayce?” Y/N asked, leaning on the counter with a teasing smile. She watched him carefully measure out the espresso, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Jayce grinned, his dark eyes gleaming with confidence. “I’ve got this. You’ve seen me make tamales. I’m just as good with sweets.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see,” she teased. “Just don’t blame me when it turns out to be a mess.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I think I can handle this.” He began dipping the ladyfingers in espresso with the precision of someone who had spent years perfecting his craft. The strong, earthy scent of the espresso filled the kitchen, adding an unexpected richness to the air.

Y/N was still unconvinced. She was used to watching Jayce in the workshop, tinkering with complicated designs and fixing machines with his usual ease. But cooking a dessert, especially one from her culture, was a different kind of challenge. However, she admired his willingness to step out of his comfort zone and dive right into something new. She trusted him.

On the other side of the kitchen, Y/N was in her element. She was making tamales from Jayce’s Latino culture, and she took this challenge seriously. She had always been an excellent cook, but there was something special about preparing a dish that was a vital part of Jayce’s background. As she mixed the masa, her hands moved with practiced fluidity, the right amount of salt, chili powder, and cumin added to the dough. Her heart swelled with the joy of making something for him, something that was rooted in his traditions.

“Don’t forget the chicken!” Jayce called out, his voice muffled by the low hum of the music.

“I know! Just making sure everything’s perfect,” she replied, smiling to herself. She placed the seasoned chicken into the tamale mixture, her mind racing with thoughts of how this moment was more than just about food—it was about bonding, about blending two cultures in one place.

Jayce watched as Y/N worked. The way she moved in the kitchen was mesmerizing to him—focused, yet calm. He loved how comfortable she was with everything she did. He could see the pride in her eyes as she skilfully formed each tamale, folding them with the care and precision of someone who had learned the craft from generations before. She was giving a part of herself to him, and it made him feel even closer to her.

As Y/N wrapped each tamale in a corn husk, Jayce felt a spark of inspiration. He needed to step up his game with the tiramisu, especially after seeing how dedicated Y/N was to getting the tamales just right. He turned back to the counter, carefully layering the mascarpone mixture into the dish. He was determined to nail the balance between the espresso-soaked ladyfingers and the rich, creamy filling, just as Y/N had explained. He wasn’t about to let her have the upper hand.

“How are you doing over there?” Y/N called from the stove, keeping an eye on the steaming tamales.

Jayce turned and gave her a confident grin. “I think I’m almost done. It’s coming together.” He finished the final layer of mascarpone and began dusting the top with cocoa powder, a detail he knew was important.

“You’re starting to look like you know what you’re doing,” she teased, her tone light but affectionate.

Jayce flashed her a grin. “I told you I was a quick learner. Just wait until you try it. It’ll blow your mind.”

Y/N chuckled, though she felt a small sense of pride swelling in her chest. She was glad he was taking this challenge seriously, and she couldn’t wait to see how his version of tiramisu would turn out. And even though she was a bit nervous about her own tamales, she trusted herself and the generations of cooks who had come before her.

After Jayce placed the tiramisu in the fridge to chill, the two of them turned their focus to the tamales, carefully checking the steaming pot. The savory aroma of the filling mixed with the scent of the corn husks, creating a mouthwatering smell that filled the kitchen. Jayce couldn’t resist stealing a bite of one as soon as it was done, the hot, tender masa bursting with flavor.

“Okay, you’ve won this round,” he admitted, his voice full of admiration. “These are amazing.”

Y/N beamed with pride. “I told you,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “It’s all about balance. And a little patience.”

Jayce laughed, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’ve definitely got that part down.” He pulled out the tiramisu, now chilled and firm, and set it on the table. “But you’ve got to try this. You’re going to love it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took a bite of the tiramisu. Her expression softened, and she let out a small, contented sigh. “I’m impressed,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “It’s perfect.”

Jayce grinned, his chest swelling with pride. “I knew it. The challenge wasn’t as tough as I thought.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied with a playful look, “but don’t think you can get away with it so easily next time. I’ll be coming for you.”

Jayce laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. “I’ll be ready. But for now, let’s just enjoy this.”

The two of them sat down at the table, sharing bites of the tamales and the tiramisu, savouring each dish that the other had painstakingly prepared. As the evening wore on, the soft jazz continued to play in the background, and they found themselves talking about everything and nothing at all, their laughter filling the room.

For Y/N and Jayce, this evening was about more than just cooking. It was about sharing a piece of themselves—each dish was a story, a cultural exchange, and a memory in the making. The tamales and tiramisu were just the beginning of what they would continue to build together, one dish at a time.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce x y/n #jayce talis x reader

39 notes · View notes

ryuyukawa · 8 months ago

Text

─Warm Latte

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x reader

✦ Genre: Fluff?

★ Warnings: None

✦ Summary: With the thoughts that kept you up at night, you decided to call him. I guess you do have plans for the weekend now.

Note: This is a part 2 of cold espresso!! and thank you soo much for 60 notess on theree!! I hope you enjoy this one!!

The morning sun filters weakly through your curtains, painting your apartment in pale, washed-out colors. You wake up with a weight on your chest, the events of yesterday replaying in your mind. Fidds’s words linger, the almost-confession hanging between you like a half-finished sentence. You sit up, staring at the empty space beside you, the silence of your apartment amplifying the doubts that creep in.

Was it real, or were you both just caught up in a moment? What if he changes his mind? What if this ruins everything? The ache of uncertainty is a familiar one, but this time, it feels sharper—more personal. You’re not just risking a friendship; you’re risking the one constant that has always been there, the person who knows you better than anyone else.

You try to shake off the thoughts as you drag yourself into the kitchen, but they cling to you like the bitter taste of stale coffee. You placed the kettle on the stove, boiling it; but even then, the comforting sound of brewing can’t quiet the unease bubbling inside you. With your coffee done, You pour half a cup of milk; you finished brewing your coffee. The steam swirling like your scattered thoughts, as you stare at the phone that was mounted on the wall. You had a thought, should you call him? The missed opportunity, the half-formed words, and the weight of unsaid things hang in the air.

Maybe he’s already moved on. Maybe you’re just overthinking everything like you always do.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the button. You know you should say something, but fear grips you, tightening around your chest like a vice. What if he doesn’t want to hear from you? What if he regrets opening up? The latte’s warmth does little to thaw the icy grip of doubt in your heart. You bring the cup to your lips, letting the heat seep in, but it’s not enough to push you to action.

Finally, you take a deep breath, holding the phone as you let your thumb dial his number before you can even change your mind. The phone rings, each chime echoing your own heartbeat, loud and uncertain. You count the rings—one, two, three—each one heavier than the last until you hear the faint click and Fiddleford’s voice breaks through the static, warm and familiar.

"Mornin’, darlin’," Fidds greets, his tone light but a bit tired, like he’s been up thinking too. There’s a slight rasp in his voice, the kind that makes you think he’s been pacing his garage, lost in thought, maybe even wrestling with the same doubts that kept you awake. "Didn’t think I’d hear from ya this early."

The sound of his voice soothes and stings at the same time. You can hear the way he’s trying to keep things casual, but there’s an undercurrent there—a weight that wasn’t there before. You clutch your cup tighter, feeling a rush of nerves. "Hey, Fidds. I─ I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing."

There’s a pause, just long enough to make you wonder if he’s regretting yesterday. You picture him in his garage, tools scattered, the faint smell of motor oil and burnt circuits clinging to the air. You’ve seen that space a hundred times, but now it feels like a sanctuary you’re intruding upon. You almost wish you hadn’t called—almost.

"Aw, I’m alright," he replies, but there’s a crack in his voice, barely noticeable. "Been tinkerin’ in the garage. You know me, always got somethin’ to keep my hands busy."

You smile at the thought of him, sleeves rolled up, grease on his hands, lost in the creation of some new invention. It’s so quintessentially him, the way he pours himself into his work when he’s trying to work through something. But today, even that image doesn’t bring the comfort it used to. You can hear it in his words—the same uncertainty, the same fear of messing things up that’s been gnawing at you.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster some courage. "I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday. About what you said… and what I didn’t get to say."

There’s another pause on the line, heavy and charged, and you feel your heart drop. What if he’s changed his mind? What if this is all too much too soon? You imagine him, fidgeting with a screwdriver or wiping his hands on an old rag, anything to keep busy, to keep from saying what he’s really thinking.

"I’ve been thinkin’ about it too," he finally admits, his voice softer, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. It’s almost like he’s laying his heart bare, showing you the parts he’s always kept hidden, even from himself. "Was worried maybe I said too much, maybe scared ya off. But, truth is, I don’t regret it. Not one bit."

The knot in your chest loosens just a little, and you swallow the lump in your throat. His admission is raw, real, and it hits you harder than you expected. "You didn’t scare me off, Fidds. If anything─ if I'm being honest, I’m the one who’s scared. Scared of losing what we have, scared of taking a chance and it not working out."

He sighs, and you can almost see him running a hand through his hair, frustrated but hopeful. "I get it. Hell, I’m scared too. But if we don’t try, we’ll never know, will we?"

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling the last bit of doubt start to melt away. "You’re right. And I don’t want to keep wondering. I want to try, Fidds. I want to see what this could be."

His soft chuckle warms you from the inside out. It’s the kind of laugh that used to fill late nights with the soft glow of desk lamps and the quiet hum of old music playing on his radio. "Well, shoot, darlin’, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. How ‘bout we make it official then? A real date. You and me, no holdin’ back."

The tension between you evaporates, replaced by a lightness that feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. The reality of his words sinks in, each one planting hope where doubt had taken root. You smile, glancing out the window as the morning brightens just a little more. "I’d love that. Tonight?"

"Tonight," Fidds repeats, a hint of excitement coloring his voice. You can hear the smile behind his words, and it sends a flutter through your chest. "How ‘bout we make it somethin’ special? Don’t gotta be fancy or nothin’, but, y’know… somewhere that feels right."

You pause, thinking about all the possibilities. There’s a nervous thrill coursing through you—picking the perfect spot feels like the first step into something real. "How about that little Italian place downtown? The one with the fairy lights and the outdoor patio? I’ve been wanting to try it for ages, and I hear the food’s amazing.."

Fidds hums thoughtfully, and you can almost picture the way his face lights up at the suggestion. "Sounds like a plan, darlin’. I always knew you had good taste. Plus, can’t go wrong with some pasta and good company, huh?"

You laugh softly, feeling your nerves ease with his playful tone. "Guess not. I’m warning you though, I might order half the menu. I’ve been craving good Italian for weeks."

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Well, don’t you worry ‘bout that. I’ll keep up. Might even out-eat ya if we’re not careful. And hey, if it’s half as good as the company, I reckon we’re in for one hell of a night."

There’s a beat of comfortable silence before Fidds’s voice drops a little, more sincere. "Y’know, I’ve been lookin’ forward to this. Feels like we’re finally doin’ somethin’ we shoulda done a long time ago." His words tug at your heart, the weight of everything left unsaid still hanging between you. But there’s a new kind of hope there too, one that’s slowly outshining the fear. "Yeah… me too... I’ve always had a feeling that maybe we were just waiting for the right time."

"Guess it took us a while to figure that out, huh?" he says, a hint of laughter in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the emotion underneath. "But better late than never. We’re makin’ our own time now."

You feel a warmth spreading through you, a soft glow that makes the morning feel a little brighter. "I’m glad we are. I think… I think this is going to be good for us. No more ‘what ifs,’ just us, figuring it out together." Fidds’s voice softens, his sincerity coming through clearly. "Yeah. And whatever happens, I just want ya to know—I’m in this with ya. We’ll take it one step at a time, and if it ever feels like too much, we’ll talk it out. No pressure, no rush. Just us."

You smile, feeling lighter than you have in a long time. "Thanks, Fidds. I really needed to hear that. And don’t worry—I’m all in too."

There’s a comfortable pause before he speaks again, his tone turning playful. "Alright then, tonight it is. Seven sound good? I’ll make sure to wear somethin’ that ain’t covered in grease, promise."

You laugh, the sound carrying the kind of joy that’s been missing for far too long. "I think you’d look good no matter what, but I’ll hold you to that. Seven it is."

"See ya tonight, darlin’," Fidds says, his voice light, but with an underlying current of something more—a promise, a new beginning. "We’re gonna have ourselves a real good time."

You hang up, feeling the anticipation bubbling up inside you. Tonight isn’t just another dinner; it’s the start of something new, something that’s been waiting in the wings for far too long. And for the first time in a long time, you feel ready.

What do you thinkk?? Good? Bad?? Tell mee!! Ive been thinking what to do with this one.. not as creative but i like it!

Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome!

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fiddleford #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford x reader #old man mcgucket #fluff #─✦ ryuyukawa

101 notes · View notes

svnnyd4ys · 8 months ago

Text

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy:��A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

#svnnyd4ys #shut up sunny!!#long post #incorrect quotes #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson #pjo #jason grace #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #piper mclean #frank zhang #nico di angelo #leo valdez #rick riordan #rrverse #hoo

66 notes · View notes

ravencincaide · 1 year ago

Text

Happy unhappy home!

Summar: Soukou think you may be suffering from postpartum depression. Something you strongly disagree with. How dare they suggest you’re an incompetent mother and a threat to your children when they haven’t been around for months! Surely, they must have a different agenda behind their accusation?

Pairing: New parents! Dazai x Chuuya x Fem! Reader! (SKK x Fem! reader)

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 12: Chaste Kiss

Warnings: Cursing, Postpartum depression, light hint at maternal filicide, angst and disappointment, angst

Author note: An independent part two for Desperate times call for Desperate measures. Check that fic out if you’d like more angst, new parents and see more of what happened before this scene!

Enjoy

______________________________________________________________

The alarm was ringing.

It had been ringing for the past twenty minutes. A dull monotone sound that had reached its maximum amplitude sometime between minute five and eight, leaving the clock to just screech and nervously buzz closer and closer to the dresser's edge. Another loud ring followed by metallic duns as the clock jumped to its death off the bedside table, finally growing silent.

Slowly you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, forcing your eyes open. You ran your hands over your face, heaving a heavy exhausted sigh. You were literally keeping your eyelids open with your fingers to prevent them from shutting and falling back asleep inside the hard spare bed in the shoesize room. You felt so-so drained and yet you had gotten a decent six hours of uninterrupted rest last night. Without Dazai or Chuuya craving your attention or bringing the twins to you when they became too much.

Truly six hours of sleep was a miracle.

Though now that morning came all you felt was a dull frustration. At that moment you did not know what was worse; the fact that you had to get up and face the day. Starting with preparing breakfast for the twins and your lovers, or the mild annoyance of having to go and buy yet another bloody alarm clock.

At least the babies weren’t fussing. Yet.

With great effort you dragged yourself out of bed and haphazardly put some day-old clothes on. Hair up in a bun while on the toilet and a quick wash of your face with cold water and you were ready to get started in the kitchen. You needed to put up coffee, blitz some fruit and think about a more adult-suitable breakfast. Porridge was hated by both Dazai and Chuuya but approved by the babies, while omelet was liked by no one but you. Yet another day of sandwiches was out of the option. That left you with pancakes. Glancing at the clock in the living room on your way to the kitchen, you hurriedly picked up your pace.

Pancakes were doable- if you hurried up.

Once you got to the kitchen you let out a low groan of frustration. The sink was full of bottles from the nightly feedings wedged between midnight snack dishes and crusty cups of coffee that had finally made their way out of your partner's room and into the kitchen sink. The espresso machine was demanding a new water filter, and you did not even want to think what the splotches and sticky mess on the counter and kitchen table were.

For a second you didn’t know where to start- then as stress set in you felt your body come alive. You were practically tearing yourself between doing dishes, making the pancake batter and wiping the counter. When the two non-stick pans on the stove were warming up, you ran the cleaning program on the espresso machine. Then as the pancakes fried, you wiped the table and blitzed fruit for the babies. You set up cups, cutlery and plates in between flipping the pancakes.

Just as the first batch of pancakes were finished and the coffee machine was brewing the first cup, you heard the heavy shuffling of feet into the kitchen. You ignored them as you proceeded to whip up another batch of pancakes- realizing you made far too little to feed double black. Halfway through cracking the eggs, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

“You’re up early, Sweets” Chuuya yawned in your ear before placing a chase kiss on your shoulder.

“Morning” you replied dryly, moving out of the embrace. You were fully focused on flipping the pancakes with one hand while mixing the batter with the second. “Coffee’s ready I think” you muttered, out of the corner of your eye watching a zombie looking Dazai reach for the hot cup, muttering a halfhearted morning and thanks in one breath.

You heard Chuuya sigh heavily, disappointed, before going over to the coffee machine and brewing another cup. As the machine skimmed the milk and ground the beans, Chuuya got into a half bicker, half quiet discussion with Dazai about something. Not too long after, the two settled down at the table a few paces away continuing the hushed discussion.

They didn’t even bother to ask- let alone step up to help you. Jerks.

“Are you absolutely sure this is legit? And how the hell are we supposed to fill it in anyways” You heard Chuuya hiss at Dazai, making you turn your head in question towards them. You saw the two of them staring at what looked like a thick stack of papers between them- no doubt some kind of work-related report. Probably an evaluation of the new recruits or something.

“ Of course it’s legit- I’m not an idiot like you.” Dazai stated matter of factly pointing something out on the sheets of paper with a half broken- half chewed on ink pen.

“ Who the hell are you calling an idiot- you extra stuff that comes with bandages!” Chuuya snapped back but settled down the second he noticed your eyes on them.

You felt your lips turn down in a frown as you flipped another bunch of pancakes: So, fucking typical. With them it was either work or the twins. While you were still just this ‘something’ that did everything around the house with little to no gratitude or help. Right then you felt like the extra stuff that comes with babies. A ghost- boggart- in your own home.

You had just finished making pancakes when you heard a wail from upstairs. The babies had woken up. Instantly you turned off the stove: wiping your hands on a cloth you rushed upstairs to get the twins. After all, those picture-perfect fathers were not so perfect until after breakfast.

You returned a few moments later, placing the babies in their highchairs. Then you put small bowls with mashed fruits in front of them in different cups. Yet another attempt at introducing solids into their diet. Then back to the kitchen, returning a few seconds later.

“Here!” You dropped the two plates of pancakes in front of your so-called partners, not caring either about the loud clang the plates made against the wooden table, or the way the food slid off them. Or the way the twins clapped their hands in glee at the loud noise. You went back to the kitchen, moving things into the sink to make it easier to wash up later, while turning on the kettle for tea.

A hot cup of chamomile or melissa tea sounded heavenly at that moment.

Hearing the children's fuss, you abandoned both dishes and tea; rushing back towards the dining table, where Chuuya and Dazai mouths were stuffed with food. Their attention was divided between the stack of papers in front of them and the twins that were eagerly reaching for their fathers' pancakes. You felt another wave of irritation wash over you- a bitter kind of anger that you bit back before you said something you would regret. Instead, you fixed all of them with a warning look, making sure that neither Dazai nor Chuuya shared their breakfast with the twins. The last thing you needed that morning was to pull pancakes out of the children's noses.

“Sweetheart, aren’t you going to eat anything?” Chuuya asked suddenly, sounding concerned as he watched you come closer to the table and take a seat beside the children.

“I’m not hungry” you growled through squeezed teeth as you picked up the small plastic spoon and began trying to feed them mashed berries. After a few moments of screwed faces and the fruit going everywhere besides inside the children's mouth, you dropped the small spoon back into the colorful cup and looked up at the ceiling. You were blinking away tears of frustration. How fucking hard was this supposed to be?

Not hard if you were to ask the pediatrician!

“Here let me try Belladonna” Dazai gave you a small smile as he picked up the spoon you had carelessly dropped back into the mash. With some exaggerated motions and airplane noises, the children ate the mash without any issue. As if Dazai was feeding them formulas from a spoon. Soon Chuuya joined him, wiping their mouths and then burping them once the twins were done.

The sight warmed your heart, but it also made you feel self-conscious- a failure somehow. Why hadn’t you thought of doing that? Wasn’t it a mother's instinct to know what to do and how to care for her children? To have an inseparable bond. And yet it seemed Dazai and Chuuya were somehow closer to the twins- despite the fact that you were the one who did the majority of the nurturing duties. Were you perhaps- not equipped to be a parent?

The thought lingered in your head as they all finished breakfast. It lingered through the playtime with children and even as you put the twins down for their nap. When they'd wake up, you’d need to bathe them, then dress them and take them for a little time outside. And then–

“-Belladona?” you snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed that Dazai had been talking and trying to get your attention for the past minute or so.

“Oh sorry, what did you say?” You asked as you draped the covers over the snoozing twins and headed towards your partner who was lingering in the door of the nursery.

Dazai flashed you a nervous smile, one of his hands in his hair, trying to make himself look less awkward. “A moment of your time dalin?” he repeated himself. You frowned, unsure why he’d suddenly ask for your time so formally. Then as you saw him shift under your gaze you felt your eyes widen with realization and nodded quickly, eagerly and followed him back to the living room.

You sat down on the couch opposite your lovers, a hopeful feeling in your chest. They looked so nervous, bumping shoulders against each other, flickering eyes, silent motions for one or the other to start. To an outsider they would have looked like composed mafioso's- to you they looked like a bunch of nervous teenagers. You held back a giggle, the sight reminding you so much of when they first asked you to be with them- then once again when they asked you to start living together.

You almost felt nervous yourself. And excited. And anxious. Were they really going to finally–?

“Sweetheart there’s something we’d like to ask- no discuss with you” Chuuya started, clearly having lost whatever silent banter he and Dazai were having above your head. You felt the palms of your hands grow damp- sweaty. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Your mouth dry- your ears ringing. It was finally happening, wasn’t it? You could barely contain your grin:

“ You both know I’d say YE–” “– we think you might have postpartum depression”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Ice cold dread washed over you; making dark dots play in your vision. The disappointment on your face was clear. It seemed to throw both of them off guard for a moment. Like they couldn’t understand what it was you were hoping for- what you were so eager to say yes to. It took a moment for your mind to register what Chuuya said- but you certainly regained your composure quicker than either of them.

“What?!” You snapped, narrowing your eyes dangerously at the pair, daring them to repeat themselves. “What did you just say?”

They didn’t answer directly: Instead, they made a motion towards the stack of papers that they had been fiddling with all morning. They were laid out on the small table between you. Postpartum Assessment sheet with a bunch of ticked off boxes. You didn’t know what made you feel more insulted- that they assumed you had postpartum depression or the fact that they assessed you behind your back instead of coming and talking to you.

You scoffed in response

“We think you might have postpartum depression– it’s not uncommon. Especially in young, first-time mothers and–” You flew up from your seat silencing Dazai’s voice instantly.

“No you’re just saying that because You are not around. Either of you! so it's just fucking easier to blame all the shortcomings and inadequacy on me than look at your own failures!” You began pacing, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t believe it- that they could even think you were a threat to your own babies. To the children you birthed and raised and nurtured- stayed up nights and nights to care for. The ones you took to doctors and classes and sacrificed so much for. How fucking dare they even suggest that?!

“ Sweetheart it isn’t..” Chuuya started. He had moved off the sofa and closer to you, hands reaching towards you, palms up. Something between an awkward attempt at a hug and reassuring you, he meant no harm.

“No you’re right, it isn’t about that- is it? It’s cuz you want to take them away from me, right?! Want to take my babies away from me and start a partnership” Your eyes moved from Chuuya to Dazai who had remained awfully passive throughout your entire outburst. The fact that he was always absent with urgent work, then demanding Chuuya to come and help during missions suddenly made a lot more sense to you.

Just like your bare ring finger.

The thought stung. Instead of feeling anger however, you felt overwhelming sadness. A type of defeat that only came when you realized your own pitifulness- your own worthlessness. The naivety that those two would ever see you as their equal- a shared part of a whole. This realization left a bitter taste in your mouth; “You’ve gotten what you wanted- what you can’t create yourself- out of me and now you want to lock me up with a stamp of being incompetent? Forget it!”

Chuuya gaped, his brain trying to come up with something that wouldn’t aggravate the situation further. He seemed to have an idea, a thought, but the words got stuck in his throat as your eyes went away from Dazai and back to him.

Eyes full of icy fury.

“I’m not giving them to you, not without a fight!” you snapped just as you heard the twins stirring. Their wails awakening a protective and possessive motherly instinct inside you. Without another word you brushed past Chuuya, bumping his shoulder purposefully on the way out of the living room.

“That went brilliantly, simpleton” you heard Dazai’s voice but did not bother turning around as you headed upstairs to the twins. Out of the three of them you were the most competent to be a mother - a parent. If anyone was having ‘postpartum depression’ it was those two self-centered idiots.

Going upstairs you picked the crying babies up and began pacing with them around the room, your mind still a jumbled mess as you pressed kisses to each of the twins' foreheads. God what were you supposed to do if they made you out to be so sick and incompetent, so you’d lose your parental rights and — and— you swallowed then shuddered as you heard your so-called partners yelling at each other downstairs. In panic you hurried to retreat to the safety of the bathroom.

You made sure to lock the door, then barricade it.

You took a step back from it, your heart in your throat. The children sensed your fear and wailed loudly in your arms. You shushed them quietly before going further into the bathroom. There you set the children down onto the floor only long enough to turn on the water in the bathtub in a feeble attempt to block out the bickering echoing from downstairs. You made sure the water was perfect temperature, then you hurried to pick the twins up and hugged them tightly to your chest, rocking backwards and forwards. The sound of your so-called partners' loud voices only fueled your fear and sadness. How dare they suggest you were incompetent. How dare they attempt to take these babies away from you. As if they’d be able to do a better job than you. To protect them from this cruel, cruel world!

No, you were not going to let Chuuya and Dazai take them away from you. Your twins- your joy. Your purpose in life. But if they were truly serious about it– then you’d rather take yourself and your babies out of this world than risk putting them through the horrors of going even a day without their mother—. _____________________________________________________ Update: Check out the next part A hit beyond rock bottom

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #sweetober #desperate times call for desperate measures #bsd angst #bsd x reader #dazai x you #dazai x chuuya x reader #angst #new parents #post partum depression

344 notes · View notes