#and he looks so so stunning its unbelievable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satoruhour · 1 year ago

Text

YES 2 HEAVEN

a/n: continuation of this. ARRRGHHH also i swear i couldve written this better i kinda hate this lol / tagging @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @crysugu @valberry @lov3rbody ✶

wc: 4.1k (got carried away again ! lord help me)

warnings: dad!gojo, fem!reader, he is enamoured with you, dom!gojo, calls you ‘mama’, also like slight daddy kink, sex while pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, implied f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, pet names, spitting, mating press, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

✶ dilf!gojo . . .

. . . who, when you were pregnant, could never get enough of your glow. sure, you’d look tired and worn out half the time but gojo thought you never looked better cradling your belly whilst you took your afternoon nap, or when you’d do some light chores around the house (you won over gojo trying to stop you). not to mention, your breasts were fuller and heavier with milk, soaking through your slip dresses often that he’s had to hide his hard-on more and more.

. . . who, on more than one occasion has had your tits caged within his hand: watching television, in naps, sex, he was unbelievably obsessed with the way the fabric around your nipples would leak and darken in colour. all he wanted was to knead them as he eats up your delicious moans, sucking hickies into your throat and holding your baby bump with his other hand. and then when satoru first peels the dress off of you, he whimpers, admiring the way your tits lactate and leak milk from its tip.

“s—satoru—” you’re sat sideways on his lap like the sweet girl you are and the first contact of his tongue around your nipple makes you let out a long moan. the sensitivity is all too much for you together with the heaviness of your belly and your hormones spiking and your husband simply smiles into your skin. he slurps at the liquid that drips from your tits, groaning into your breasts and the vibrations makes you clench your thighs together. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him when he’s got his hand between them, playing lazily with your clit and he presses a little harshly into your bundle of nerves and it draws such a beautiful cry and a spurt of your milk from your nipples right into his mouth. satoru cleans up well, noises similar to when he’d eat you out, “mmh… such perfect tits, mama, leaking so much milk just f’r me.” ✶

. . . whose hands look more rugged than he was young, fingertips a certain roughness to it from the boxes of the furniture of the nursery he’s carried to the training he still partakes in for young sorcerers. but they look especially pretty when he cuts up strawberries and bananas for your pancakes and later on, a teacup that barely makes its appearance in his hand from just how large he was in comparison to your baby girl’s tea set. your eyes also like to trail his hands as they skillfully weave your girl’s hair in a braid, hypnotised in which he uses his teeth to drag the hair tie to his fingers. satoru has a different opinion — he likes to see it on your belly when he wants to feel the baby kick and on your plush thighs when he’s teasing you, so close yet so far to your uncomfortable cunt.

. . . who uses your badly shaven job against you when his lips graze along your still full breasts and down to your torso. you can feel him drag the stubble against your inner thighs and it’s like he’s relishing in the way you squirm and thrash around on the bed, but the gojo below you is the culmination of multiple years of missions and caring for a baby girl. he looks so damn stunning between your legs as he usually does, except his features are more wrinkly and lenient and gentle, white strands turning just a little silver — it may just be the trick of the light.

but the way he eats you out has never changed — he’s already gone past making you beg for it. a hand on your inner thighs, caressing the skin and letting him do his damage, but it’s usually not long that gojo needs to hear you. “i heard you like this?” he laughs as he uses his teeth to pull at your underwear as he lifts your hips like you weigh nothing and his eyes are fixated on the way you’re leaking so much that there’s a string of arousal that connects your panties to your pussy. “’toru . .” you’re whining, grasping at nothing ’cause your belly was just too big. he finds your hand easily and twines your fingers. “yeah, angel?” with your legs propped up, he can appreciate the glory of your soaking pussy, and he thinks your tummy just looks divine, carrying a whole new life within it and still looking beautiful as ever. you preen when his mouth licks a stripe up your cunt and you can practically feel the stubble along your pussy lips. “mmh— was made to eat your pussy out, mama.” it’s no different from before. gojo eats you out with his skillful tongue, lapping at your folds and clit messily. you’re squeezing his hands at the intense sensations and he squeezes right back, other hand slowly drawing circles around your clenching, needy hole.

“look at ‘er,” gojo moans softly in awe as his finger parts your folds and he eases it in, your cunt automatically clamping down. you were right — they did feel rougher, bigger — it’s like you can feel the pads of his fingers and the lines on his digits. “so damn wettt . .” gradually he adds another and starts pumping them, moaning alongside you as your filthy husband nuzzles the bottom of his face into your sex and the prickle of his facial hair is so prominent — you just have to grind your hips onto his face. “careful of the baby, darling.” he lightly warns, fairly muffled, but he lets his little wife continue whatever she’s doing. “’toru, ’toru— needa c-cum . .” you’re whimpering, looking like a greek goddess as you’re dripping, dripping, all over satoru’s chin. “yeah? give it to daddy, baby, c’mon.” he moans into your clit, slurping up your juices mercilessly as his fingers reach so deep in you. “that’s right, that’s my girl— oooh fuckk . . . so much cum for me—” you’re cumming with a loud cry, plump thighs squeezing his head and he only presses his tongue deeper into your core as flood his tongue with your juices. he smacks his lips together and shoots you a smirk, “what a sweet thing my lil wife is — sweetest pussy too.” ✶

. . . who has to fuck you at least once while you’re pregnant, but he hadn’t imagined he would get so addicted to the look of your body rocking back and forth, so limp and pliant for him, especially with how he could easily do anything to you with how strong he was and yet you’re surrending everything up to him. satoru who has you in all sorts of positions where he can look at your supple breasts bounce as you cradle the baby in anxiety with one arm and the other is lining his back in red. and he hadn’t expected you’d be so horny too.

. . . whose dick you just can’t get enough of, pouncing on him once he’s gotten home from missions all sweaty and out of breath and your heart gets caught in your throat. guiding your hand to your little cunt when you wake in the morning to his toned chest and the look of soon-to-be-father looking so good on him. sending him little voice notes as you go on appointments by yourself (gojo hates himself for having a mission clash), but the contrast of your husband’s tear-filled apology before your needy audios is a stark contrast, fingers rubbing at your clit in the hospital toilet, unsatisfied. high-pitched whines whenever his cock would kiss your cervix juuust right and moaning how you want his cum in you, again

your husband throws his head back when he first sinks into you, but not before he slaps his cock along your folds, already soaking the sheets from the four times he’s made you cum. “f—fuck, so warm in here, baby.” gojo presses your hands to his lips and lays multiple kisses along it, even licking at your fingers and keeping his eyes locked on you while plunging them into your mouth. the gesture is sensual, hips rocking into you while his tongue glides over your fingers; he brings it to your clit after, helping you and satoru hopes he wouldn’t cum too early. especially when your hair is all splayed out with that glow along your cheeks. the position accentuate the curves of your body and your swelling stomach, and fuck, if he could paint, the image of your anatomy would be burned into his brain. “s’full, daddy.” he simply caresses your sore belly, “yeah? is it now?” he’s buried all the way to the hilt and the deepness sends a chill up your spine, “takin’ me like the good girl you are.”

“satoru, satoru, mmhhfuck,” your hands are holding into his forearms so tightly as he rocks into you, legs wrapped around his waist to trap him with your pussy and you truly wish your baby bump would be bigger so you didn’t have to look at your husband’s fucked out face and sweaty locks, grunts leaving his mouth as he continues to fuck into you with firm, solid thrusts. “w-what is it, sweeth— s-shit, this pussy’s too fuckin’ good.” you mewl at the words, staring up at him through hooded lids and a lax jaw. “tell me what— fuucck— you want, baby,” your words are beyond comprehensible, so you only can moan louder and babble over and over again, “cum— wan’ your cum, wan’ your cum, ’toru!” and gojo has a full blown aneurysm at the way you beg even when you were already knocked up. gojo’s breath and hips stutter at the way you hold onto his arm and plead, cumming straight into the warmth of your cunt with a loud groan. “don’t know how much i love your cunt, sweets.” ✶

. . . who, once you give birth to your baby girl, has never stopped thirsting over you, but he’s a little more considerate in letting your body rest. most of the time he’s pleasuring you just as you were with your baby bump, always the quickest to stand up and run to the nursery when he’d hear the baby’s cries or pass off him being between your legs as just wrestling as your darling girl gets another terrible nightmare. satoru has put you first, always, but lately the chivalrous acts that he’s been doing is landing you in a position of a dilemma — between decorum of a mother and the filthiness of a wife whose husband is just too hot.

. . . who stands out to you more with his new found love for tight black shirts and low riding sweatpants, always prancing around the penthouse with it glued to his body and accentuates just the best parts of his body. you weren’t sure if it was the post pregnancy hormones doing its job or whatever, but there are many times where you can see yourself staring a little too much: on movie nights when he manspreads and adjust his hips, one hand tucked behind the sofa and you can see the muscles in his arm moving. all gojo asks is “take a picture. it’ll last longer, baby,” and you just roll your eyes, but not before one more glance to his inviting lap. when it’s the morning and you’re already up tending to the baby, bouncing her around and breastfeeding her before your head snaps to the low, raspy greeting and you’re blessed with satoru and his arm up on the doorframe, watching you. he’s yawning and scratching at his torso while the sweatpants ride low, showing a peek of his v-line and happy trail. he’s giving you the sweetest, yet somehow sexiest smile as he saunters up to you, surrounded by his toned body and strong arms.

. . . who knows what he’s doing when he sees your distracted stares to the point your baby girl has to drag your hand full of food to her mouth; or in times of sleepiness in the dawn where all he wears are boxers and he has the gift of hearing your not so quiet gasp when you see him emerge from the bathroom after his morning skincare. what really seals the deal though, is the day you had a reunion with the students of jujutsu high, a nice little picnic out near tokiwa bridge and gojo just had to show his girls off — what was meant to be a wholesome day turned into thoughts of your husband’s physique as he challenges nanami to a “carry-off”, the still stoic sorcerer not even bothering to participate as gojo swoops you both into his arms. your daughter on his right and you on his left, and you’re scrambling to grab his shoulder. it sinks into you like an anchor: just how fit he was, the lines of his tense arm, the cheeky wink he sends to you while you’re up there. you only hope he can’t feel your pussy throb from that.

“you alright, darling?” your baby’s asleep comfortably on your chest, and your eyes can only burn holes into the hand that’s resting on your thigh, swallowing before facing your husband who only seemed to get hotter the more he ages. when you turn to him he’s already looking at you, a lopsided smile on his face before he breaks eye contact and steps on the gas when the traffic light turns green, letting out a loaded exhale when you grab his hand and twine your fingers.

that two person carry has been etched onto your mind long after you’ve reached the penthouse along with everything that’s been going on, but you’re interrupted when satoru squeezes your hand, pulling you into his embrace while keeping your darling girl asleep. he’s skilled at that, as he is with his lips, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can feel your stomach turn with anticipation, tasting his gloss as he whispers “should we order takeout tonight?”

you hum, “i can cook, ’toru.”

his hands feel hot on your waist, “rest today, baby. we did spend a whole day in the hot sun,” they draw circles on your lower back, “plus, we have that event tomorrow, don’t wanna tire you out.”

“the event’s at night you goof,” you laugh, a slow hand stroking your daughter’s hair. stark white and striking as always.

“still.” he grins and winks like there’s some ulterior motive, leaning in to kiss you again before your girl rouses and yawns.

“good morning, my love.” satoru coos as she finds her bearings, looking around in confusion and only being able to focus on her father’s hand on her hair.

“na-na-min?” the awkward plea in her voice would drive gojo to burn the world down, to call nanami right now to meet up again, but he knows all that would only warrant annoyance. he could call yuji, but he did mention something about having dinner with his partner tonight.

gojo feels bad to be breaking her heart like this, “no, darling, ’m sorry.” his heart breaks even more when she breaks into a slight cry and he attempts to quell her sobs by baby-talking her.

“c’mon, why don’t you let papa carry you, and mama can head off to take care of herself, hm?” he suggests with a big grin, mood changing instantly as he plucks her out of your arms, again emphasising his strong arms when they hold her on one side and curl another around you. “go clean up first. i’ll settle dinner for her.”

but the shower seemed to be a bad idea at the time, emerging from the steamy bathroom to see your husband with his shirt off and the baby already all cleaned up and fed. she was swaddled in her most comfortable blanket, the fabric of it peeping out from the side as your eyes focus on the rippling muscles of gojo’s back. he bounces the baby gently as he burps her, muttering little praises and sounds.

“oh, baby—” he catches sight of you in the doorway in a towel and he only smiles, not knowing how you were trying to digest just how broad his shoulders were and how small his waist was. had he always been so fine?

“heard about skin to skin contact with your baby,” he whispers, “says it increases our bond.”

and if you could, you’d drag him back to the chapel all over again to renew your vows, because you didn’t expect him to be such a sap. you also didn’t expect him to read you so well. the baby’s asleep and it’s well past midnight, masking yet another shaky sigh when your body sinks more into his side.

“satoru—”

“yeeess . .?”

you stand up with vigour you didn’t think you have, plopping yourself down onto his lap and all he does is smile slyly. the way his bare body moves as he leans back is enough drive for you to shut him up.

“haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“oh? you have a crush on me?”

so infuriating as always. you roll your eyes and grind down on him, igniting such a familiar and archaic feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time: his bulge against you, the soft groan he lets out. he’s always been treating you time and time, and yet he puts his own needs on hold. a perfect husband like him waited only for you to initiate things, and yet you wonder why it took you so long. maybe it was the baby taking up most of your time, maybe it was him being on missions and coming home dead-beat tired.

maybe you knew you’d never turn back if you indulged yourself — pushing out a whole baby wasn’t exactly easy. but you’ve missed him. on you, in you.

“we’re married, you dumbass.”

“still in disbelief, my bad.” gojo laughs, “is there anything you wanna tell me?”

you sigh, pulling him to you so your foreheads would touch. you breathe onto his lips — “please take care of me.”

oh, gojo satoru did take care of you and more, burying his face between your legs and making you cum over and over. he made your voice hoarse and your thighs ache, juices soaking the sheets from just how wet you were.

“oh, you needed this, huh?”

“shut up.” gojo moans when you push him back onto your cunt, already having orgasmed thrice just from his tongue. he was skillful and he knew it, just as much as he knew just how tight you’d be when he smeared your cum all over your pussy and pushed past your folds. satoru whines at the tightness, at having missed your cunt wrapped around him for so long that he can tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“f—fuck . . so fuckin’ good, s’tight . .” you’re not that well off, either, thinking the shower was a waste of water as your sweaty stomach heaved in anticipation while he bottomed out. gojo cries out in a choked moan, “you feel so g—good, mama.”

“w-who’s needing it now?” you breathe out, fingers digging into his shoulders so harshly it hurt. you catch a glimpse of satoru’s smile and a shake of his head — you’d need to be carried tomorrow, for sure.

he pulls out and slams back in so accurately you let out a loud moan, insides turning to mush after so long. the feel of him filling you up is like none other, pussy gripping onto him like a vice. you can’t remember the last time you let him take you.

“so p-perfect for me—” gojo rasps out, looking at you drunkenly. the mother of his child, his wife, it weighs on him and he just thinks he needs to fuck you until you know how much joy you bring to his life. your body rocks as your lover fucks into you, hovering over your body and looking so ethereal. his hair falls into his eyes that you just have to pull him down, crashing your lips against his. the moans he lets out against your face is lovely and you can feel his cock twitch as your legs wrap around his waist.

“‘toru— shiiitt . .” your back arches off of the bed, body caving into satoru like second nature. he lets out babbles against your lips, room filled with the sounds of his balls slamming into your ass, coupled with your weeping pussy, coating his length with all that you can give to him. “so deep—”

“that’s ’cause you’re suckin’ me in, baby—” he laughs breathlessly, cutting off your answer with another kiss, feeling the brush of pelvic bone against your clit. it’s all you need to cum hard, still sensitive after so long and your pussy clenches around gojo’s shaft even tighter; it gets gojo whining into the kiss before he reaches his high too, spilling into you with wide eyes and stuttering hips. you moan at the sensation, eyes pleading your husband for more, more, more.

“forgot how much i loved doing that, f-fuck—” gojo hums as he removes your legs from his waist, pushing you into a deep mating press and you squeal when you feel his cock barely hit your g-spot in this new position, “yeah? ya feel that?”

you nod mindlessly, hands now holding onto his forearms before his hips start moving again and you’re left to whining like a slut. your thighs dig into your chest as gojo folds your body in half, rutting into you messily. there’s so much cum, mixed in filthily as your words only descend into incoherence.

“yes, yes, yes!” are all you can manage as gojo grunts from above you: his stubble, his broad shoulders, his matured face, they all look beautiful in the cold night. he’s so focused on the way your cunt sucks him in, hips stammering when your hand comes into view to rub your clit. “give it all t’me, daddy.”

there’s a small growl that leaves his lips at that, pace reaching an animalistic one as he angles his hips. “open y’mouth.”

satoru is driven crazy when you obey silently, and he has to push deeper into you to reach your mouth, making you falter and pull your brows together — you recover fast enough to catch the spit hanging from his mouth, dribbling slowly into your mouth even when gojo’s hips never stop their assault.

“attagirl,” he praises, smiling softly at the way your pussy twitched at that. he knows you’re close by the look in your eyes, grasping aimlessly at his shoulders.

“gonna let me cum in you again? hm?” gojo’s thrusts are sloppy now, fuelled by the squelch of your drooling cunt, “gonna let daddy put another baby in you?”

you mewl at that, “wan’ that— want all of it—” intoxicated on his cock, they hit the deepest parts of you; you know and love the way his tip hits your sweet spot, you know and love the way the shaved pubes of his pelvis brush up against your clit so well.

“take it then—” gojo grunts, holding your legs up and meets your eyes and the simple call of his name has him shivering. he cums deep, shooting his load so white and hot in you that you’re moaning loudly at the feeling, hand on your clit increasing in pace before your fifth for the night, legs trembling in his grip and your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

gojo thinks you’re god. “that’s it— shit, take all of my cum, mama.” you can barely see blue, rather seeing spots of white that fill your vision and you get dizzy and overstimulated, groaning finally when he removes his cock from you. so much cum spills out, pussy pushing it out and satoru bites his lips at the sight.

but you both know you’re far from done when gojo lies on his back, ulterior motive fulfilled when he sees you climb on top of him and drag your pussy along the base of his dick. with you like this, stretch marks and plumpier breasts, you still look as beautiful as you did before the baby, letting you interlock your fingers with his.

your mouth falls open in a soft “satoru” as you sink down onto his still hard, leaking cock and he never wants to look at anyone else ever again, lest he misses even one second of witnessing a goddess like you at work.

gojo cannot resist sitting up to meet you halfway in a soft kiss (“thank you, ’toru. you always take care of me so well.”) and it gives him all the confirmation he needs when your hips first move and the moans and the lewd sounds of your cunt sound more heavenly than all the choirs in the world.

“it’s what you deserve, baby. only the best.”

#I WROTE SM BYE #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader

6K notes · View notes

slytherinsmuse · 2 months ago

Text

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Frigid Waters | Mattheo Riddle ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem! Reader

Warnings: characters are 18+, not canon, anger

Summary: Angst, Fluff | Through jealousy and regret, Mattheo finds redemption in an unexpected embrace.

Word count: 10262- needs adjusting

Mattheo Riddle and you had always shared a relationship that teetered on the edge of something that felt almost volatile. From the very beginning, something about him managed to set you off, and it seemed that every interaction you shared was a battle of wit, will, or pride. Your mutual friends were well accustomed to the tension that clouded the room whenever you were both present, a strain that had grown from minor annoyances to full-blown arguments over the years.

Yet, despite all the friction, Mattheo had always been there. He was sharp, observant, and insufferably bold, a combination that left you equally irked and intrigued. But of all the things Mattheo was, critical seemed to be his favourite when it came to you. He had an uncanny ability to notice things most people missed—especially when it came to the people you chose to surround yourself with.

One of the most explosive arguments between the two of you had taken place a month ago, over something as mundane as a date you’d gone on with a boy from Hufflepuff. You’d met him in Charms class, and although he wasn’t particularly flashy or bold, he’d been sweet, the kind of person who made you laugh without trying too hard. You’d looked forward to the evening, finding the simplicity of his company refreshing compared to the guarded, often intense personalities of your Slytherin circle. After the date, you’d returned to the Slytherin common room, feeling lighthearted and content.

But Mattheo had been waiting, sprawled casually on the common room couch with a book in his lap, his gaze fixed on you the moment you stepped through the door. His expression had darkened instantly, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, he’d spoken up, his voice cold and heavy with disdain.

“Really, Y/N?” he’d drawled, not bothering to mask the bitterness. “Him?”

Confusion furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

He’d sat up, his dark gaze sharp and accusatory, as if your mere presence was an affront. “That Hufflepuff boy.” he’d said, smirking slightly, though it lacked its usual charm. “I can’t believe you’d waste your time with someone so… bland.”

For a moment, you’d been stunned, caught between surprise and irritation. “Since when do you get a say in who I spend my time with, Mattheo?”

He’d shrugged, a casual, infuriating gesture that only added fuel to your frustration. “I don’t. I’m just saying it’s pathetic. You, out there with someone who doesn’t even know half of what you’re worth. Not to mention…” he trailed off, scoffing, “his personality is as thrilling as a leaking cauldron.”

The condescension in his tone had hit a nerve, and you’d felt a surge of anger you couldn’t quite suppress. “Unbelievable.” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, though your voice rose in volume. “Who I choose to spend time with is none of your business. Maybe I actually like spending time with people who don’t spend every moment judging me.”

He’d let out a dark laugh, low and mocking, and it echoed in the common room, reminding you of just how alone you were in that moment, facing off against him. “Is that what you call it?” he asked, his words like a challenge. “Enjoying time with boys who don’t even see you? You think that’s the kind of attention you deserve?”

The comment cut deep, and you could feel your frustration bubble over, mingling with a hurt you tried to mask. “At least he doesn’t spend his days acting like he owns everyone around him.” you shot back, voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. “You think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it? Newsflash, Mattheo—you don’t own me, and you sure as hell don’t get to decide who’s worth my time.”

His smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing with something unreadable, and for a brief moment, you thought he might back down. But he’d held his ground, his gaze flickering with a hint of something darker.

“Fine.” he muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the couch, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Go ahead. Waste your time with boys who don’t care enough to look deeper. But don’t come crying to me when you realize what you’re missing.”

The argument had ended there, with one of your friends stepping in to mediate, and you’d walked away, fuming and hurt, questioning why his opinion mattered to you at all. But the resentment had lingered, sinking into the very fabric of your interactions with Mattheo. Every conversation, every glance, and every comment held an edge, a simmering tension that had only grown since that argument. It felt as though an invisible wall had been built between the two of you, brick by bitter brick, and neither of you was willing to dismantle it. Each time you found yourself in the same room, you could feel the air grow thick, every word exchanged like a match threatening to ignite the powder keg of emotions that seemed to follow you both.

You were tired of it—tired of the constant back-and-forth, the pointed comments, and the way he always found a way to inject himself into your life. You couldn't understand why he cared so much, why he seemed so invested in your choices, especially when his words were rarely anything but critical. More than anything, you were tired of his scrutiny, the way he seemed to hover, watching and waiting, like he was constantly assessing your every move, every interaction. It was maddening.

In moments of quiet, when you could think clearly, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. You’d never asked for his opinions or his presence in your life, and yet he was always there, inserting himself uninvited, and treating each of your decisions with a disdain that felt far too personal. Whatever his reasons, you didn’t care anymore. You were done with him.

And yet, for the sake of your friends—the people who were as much a part of your life as the air you breathed—you tolerated his presence. You gritted your teeth through his criticisms, bit back your responses to his sarcastic remarks, and did your best to act as though he was nothing more than a nuisance in the background. It was exhausting, forcing yourself to stay civil when all you wanted was to tell him exactly where he could shove his opinions. You could barely stand being around him, yet every shared friend outing, every party, and every late-night study session in the common room meant enduring his presence.

There were times when your friends would exchange wary glances, sensing the tension between you and Mattheo, and you could tell they were hesitant to take sides. They’d become skilled at diverting conversations before they could escalate, quick to step in whenever your arguments grew too heated. Even Draco, who usually enjoyed a good spectacle, seemed to tread carefully whenever you and Mattheo began to clash. But despite your friends’ best efforts, the strain was there, undeniable and ever-present, a weight that neither you nor Mattheo seemed willing to ease.

Every time you saw him, the resentment flared anew. You’d see that familiar smirk, that cocky glint in his eye, and it would all come rushing back—the anger, the frustration, the complete exasperation of dealing with someone who seemed determined to get under your skin. You found yourself questioning whether he even cared about anyone other than himself, if he found amusement in your reactions, in the little fires he set just to watch them burn.

And yet, there was a small, infuriating part of you that wondered if his interference wasn’t just born of spite. You pushed the thought aside each time it arose, telling yourself you were done wasting energy on him. But even as you tried to ignore him, as you tried to dismiss the meaning behind his constant criticism, he was always there, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know existed.

That night by the lake, though, had finally pushed things too far.

~~~

The chill of winter had fully settled over Hogwarts, frosting the castle grounds with a glistening layer of snow and ice. It was nearly Christmas, and excitement for the holidays was palpable, building up to the night’s event: an all-house winter party, held just before everyone would leave for the break.

The professors and students had transformed the gardens into a dazzling winter wonderland. Evergreen garlands and enchanted holly bushes lined the pathways, their leaves glistening with a delicate layer of snow, while enchanted fairy lights sparkled from tree branches like clusters of stars, casting a soft, magical glow over the gathering. Giant wreaths with shimmering silver and gold accents hung at intervals, each adorned with deep red ribbons that fluttered in the crisp evening breeze.

To ward off the cold, tall iron torches were scattered throughout the gardens, their warm flames flickering and casting inviting glows across the snow-covered ground. The flames danced in shades of orange and gold, wrapping the chilly air in a cosy warmth that lured people to linger and chat.

Tables were set up with steaming drinks, both alcoholic and non, ready to warm the hands and spirits of the guests. There were enchanted goblets filled with mulled mead, spiced cider, and warm butterbeer, each drink casting a sweet aroma into the air. For those wanting to stay sober, there were mugs of hot cocoa with floating marshmallows that danced like tiny clouds, as well as steaming herbal teas enchanted to change colours with each sip.

You’d dressed carefully for the night. Under the glow of the torches, your outfit was striking against the wintery landscape. A fitted black dress hugged your figure, reaching down just above your ankles with a modest side slit. The high neckline and long sleeves gave it a touch of elegance while offering some warmth against the cold. Over it, you’d layered a thick, cropped black jacket, plush and luxurious, the hood large enough to shield your face from the breeze. The jacket’s soft, rich texture contrasted with the smooth fabric of your dress, creating a look that was both stylish and cosy.

On your feet were short black winter boots—simple, soft, and insulated to keep out the biting cold of the snowy ground. They grounded your look with a casual touch, perfect for wandering through the winter gardens while still keeping your toes warm.

You sipped on a cup of warm mulled mead, the sweet, spiced flavour settling pleasantly in your stomach, allowing you a moment to simply enjoy the festive air around you. Snowflakes drifted gently from the sky, and laughter and chatter filled the air as students huddled in groups, swapping stories and celebrating the season.

It should have been the perfect night.The fire crackled warmly in the nearest torch as you stood with Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, exchanging stories and laughing as you all nursed your warm drinks. The group was relaxed, leaning into the cheer of the season as the chill of winter nipped at your faces, kept at bay by the heat of the torches and the laughter that filled the air.

Draco had just finished recounting an exaggerated tale of a recent Quidditch practice, his voice taking on a dramatic edge that drew a laugh from Pansy, who shook her head and rolled her eyes. Blaise chuckled, tipping his glass to Draco in mock admiration. “I’m not sure that story would hold up in court, Malfoy.” he teased, grinning.

“Of course it would.” Draco scoffed, feigning indignation. “If anyone else had been there, they’d tell it the same way.” His gaze swept around the circle, daring someone to challenge him.

Daphne smirked, giving Draco a knowing look. “I was there, remember? You barely dodged the Bludger.” she quipped. “And I believe you squealed.”

The group erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t help but chuckle, taking a sip of your mead as the warmth from the drink spread through you. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else—the tension, the drama, and even certain people.

Yet, despite the relaxed atmosphere, there was one member of your group who didn’t join in on the laughter. Mattheo was standing off to the side, nursing his drink in silence, though his gaze occasionally flicked toward the conversation, intently listening to every word exchanged. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set as he raised his glass to his lips, eyes lingering on you each time you laughed or smiled.

You tried to ignore the slight discomfort his gaze brought, though it was difficult to fully enjoy yourself under his intense scrutiny. Every time you made a joke or responded to one of your friends, you could feel his eyes on you, watching, observing. It was as though he was silently taking note of every word you said, every interaction you had with the others.

Pansy nudged you with her elbow, a smirk on her lips. “You must be cold, Y/N. You’ve been huddled by the torch all night.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’re just trying to hog all the warmth?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Can you blame me?” you replied, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “I’m just trying not to freeze.”

Theo chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “It’s a good look on you—frozen chic.” he joked, earning a playful swat from you as the group laughed again.

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed slightly at the playful touch, his fingers tightening on his glass. Though he remained silent, the tension radiated from him like a second winter chill, barely hidden under his relaxed posture. The others didn’t seem to notice, caught up in the conversation, but you felt it keenly, an invisible string pulling tighter with each passing second.

Despite his silence, you knew Mattheo’s attention was focused entirely on you, every bit as intense as if he were speaking aloud. It was as though he was waiting for something, watching you with that familiar, infuriating mix of disapproval and something else you couldn’t quite place. You tried to brush it off, to stay in the warmth and cheer of the conversation, but his presence lingered in your mind, a shadow that refused to be ignored.

As the laughter in your group faded, a new voice cut through the conversation. You turned to see a boy from Ravenclaw—Ethan, a friend of yours from Charms—grinning as he approached, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was tall and easygoing, with a quiet confidence that made him likeable, the kind of person who could effortlessly strike up a conversation. You’d been chatting with him on and off over the past month, enjoying the calm normalcy he brought compared to the relentless drama that seemed to follow your Slytherin circle.

“Mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?” Ethan asked, directing his question at the group but his gaze settled on you with a friendly warmth. The others exchanged glances, but no one objected, and you flashed your friends a quick smile before allowing Ethan to gently pull you away from them.

As the two of you wandered toward the lake, the cold seemed sharper away from the warmth of the torches. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you followed the winding path, laughing at something Ethan said as he kept the conversation light and easy, a welcome distraction from the evening’s underlying tensions.

Behind you, however, things were far from calm.

Mattheo watched you go, his gaze darkening with each step you took alongside Ethan. He took a long, slow drink from his glass, his jaw tight, every nerve in his body tense. As you moved farther away, something in him snapped. His hand clenched around his glass, his usual quiet intensity boiling over into something dangerously close to rage.

“Mate, calm down.” Draco murmured, noticing the shift in Mattheo’s demeanour. He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Mattheo shrugged him off, his expression twisting into something fierce and unrestrained.

“Did you see that?” Mattheo’s voice was rough, almost a growl. “She just… left with him.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, exchanging a wary glance with Pansy, who looked equally concerned. “She’s just talking to him, Riddle. It’s not the end of the world.”

But Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you and Ethan, his face contorted with an emotion that seemed to go beyond anger. It was possessive, a raw jealousy that pulsed through him with every breath. He could feel the alcohol heightening every sensation, every twisted thought, and in his drunken state, he found himself unable to control the wave of emotion that crashed over him.

Pansy stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “Mattheo, you’re overreacting. She’s allowed to have friends, you know.”

But her words only seemed to make him angrier. He glared at her, his fists clenched. “Friends? He’s been sniffing around her for weeks. And now he’s taking her out to the lake?” His voice was thick with bitterness, his eyes narrowing as he watched you disappear further into the distance with Ethan.

Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Look, you’re drunk, and you’re not thinking clearly. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to Theo, his voice filled with venom. “Regret? The only thing I’ll regret is standing here while he gets to play the gentleman.”

Despite their best efforts, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo found themselves helpless to stop him. With a final, determined glance at the group, Mattheo shook them off and stormed toward the lake, his pace quick and purposeful, his eyes blazing with fury.

They exchanged uneasy glances, understanding that nothing good could come from this. Daphne sighed, folding her arms as she watched him go. “This is going to end badly.” she muttered, worry etched across her face.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

But even as they watched him disappear into the darkness, they all had the sinking feeling that Mattheo’s jealousy had finally crossed a line—and that whatever happened next would be impossible to undo.

Mattheo reached the edge of the lake, hidden just out of sight among the trees. His breath was shallow, each exhale mingling with the cold night air in faint clouds of mist, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on you and the Ravenclaw boy, his vision tunnelling in as he took in the scene.

You were standing close to the Ravenclaw, your breath fogging the air as you laughed softly at something he’d said. The sound of your laughter, so genuine and relaxed, hit Mattheo like a slap in the face. He felt the jealousy simmering in his chest twist and morph into something darker, more raw. He was close enough to catch snippets of your conversation, each word feeling like a fresh wound.

Ethan leaned in, his voice low and playful. “I can’t wait to see you after Christmas. Maybe I’ll even get to see the whole package this time.” His tone was teasing, the kind of flirtation that felt comfortable and familiar, yet full of suggestion.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played at the corners of your lips. “Oh, is that right?” you replied, your voice equally teasing.

Ethan’s hand reached out, gently taking yours, and Mattheo’s fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He watched, barely breathing, as Ethan lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, lingering just long enough to leave no doubt about his intentions.

And that was it.

The last threads of control snapped within Mattheo. His vision went red, his mind clouded by a rage so fierce he couldn’t see past it. Every fibre of his being screamed that this was wrong, that no one else had the right to touch you, to make you laugh like that. To him, this wasn’t just jealousy; it was betrayal, a bitter confirmation of his worst fears. Without a second thought, he stormed forward, his footsteps heavy, crunching over the snow-laden ground as he closed the distance between himself and the two of you.

Your laughter died as soon as you heard him approaching. You turned, eyes widening in surprise, and saw Mattheo stalking toward you, his face twisted in fury, every line of his body tense and seething. Ethan quickly dropped your hand, glancing between you and Mattheo with a mixture of confusion and mild apprehension.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mattheo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his eyes fixed on Ethan like he was a mere insect to be crushed.

Ethan straightened, clearly taken aback but trying to hold his ground. “We’re just talking, Riddle?” he said evenly, though his voice held a slight edge.

Mattheo took another step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Talking?” He laughed, though it was a dark, humourless sound. “Looked a lot more than just talking to me.”

You stepped between them, your expression both confused and frustrated. “Mattheo, what’s your problem? We’re just having a conversation.”

His gaze shifted to you, and the intensity of it was enough to make you take a small step back. “A conversation? He’s been hanging around you for weeks, trying to get close, and now he’s…” Mattheo’s voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think so.”

Ethan huffed, glancing at you, as if silently asking if Mattheo was serious. “Mate, you don’t own her.” he said, his tone turning defiant. “Y/N can make her own choices.”

At that, Mattheo’s control snapped entirely. He reached out, grabbing Ethan by the front of his coat, his knuckles white with tension. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

“Mattheo, stop it!” you shouted, your voice sharp with both anger and fear. You reached out, grabbing his arm to try to pull him back, but he barely seemed to register your touch.

Ethan managed to push Mattheo off, stumbling back a few steps, his expression turning to one of frustration. “This is insane. Y/N, I’ll see you later.” He shot Mattheo a disgusted look before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness.

As soon as Ethan disappeared into the shadows, Mattheo whipped around to face you, his chest heaving with the barely controlled fury that flickered in his eyes. The intensity of his gaze was like a storm brewing, wild and unrestrained, and you felt your own anger rise to meet it, every nerve in your body taut with indignation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and rage. Your fists clenched at your sides, barely able to contain the fury building inside. “You had no right to do that!”

Mattheo scoffed, a bitter, scornful sound as he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing into a glare that cut through the cold night air. “No right?” he echoed, his voice laced with venom. “He was practically drooling over you, Y/N. And you were just standing there, letting him.”

Your anger flared white-hot, each word he threw at you only stoking the fire within. “So what if I was?” you shot back, your voice sharp as glass. “I can talk to whoever I want, Mattheo. You don’t get to decide that for me!”

He stepped closer, his face only inches from yours, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You really think he cares about you?” His tone was laced with a cruel edge, his words hitting like daggers. “He’s just another fool trying to get close because he thinks you’re easy.”

The insult was like a slap across the face, and you felt a surge of hurt and fury twist inside you, your vision blurring with the intensity of it. “How dare you?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage as you began moving towards him, attempting to remove yourself from the situation. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

But Mattheo barely registered your intentions, his drunken anger blinding him to your actions. Instead, he pushed you hard, his hand colliding with your shoulder with more force than he realised. The ground beneath you was slick with ice, and your footing slipped, your balance vanishing as you stumbled backward.

It happened in an instant—a heartbeat, a single, breathless moment where the world seemed to tilt. You felt yourself falling, your heart lurching in your chest as the lake loomed closer, and then, in a flash, the freezing water swallowed you whole.

The shock of the cold was like knives piercing every inch of your skin, stealing the air from your lungs in a harsh, unforgiving grip. The icy darkness closed in around you, pressing in from all sides as you sank below the surface, your body seizing in panic as the freezing water pulled you deeper. Every inch of you was numb, the biting cold sinking into your bones as your mind reeled, frantic and disoriented.

But you weren’t about to stay in the lake a second longer than necessary. Desperately, you forced yourself to kick, pushing toward the surface, your arms clawing against the freezing water as you fought to break free. The cold clung to you, slowing your movements and making each breath feel laboured, but sheer willpower drove you upward. Your head broke through the surface, and you gasped for air, the icy sting of the wind hitting you like another wave of shock.

With trembling limbs, you pushed yourself toward the shore, your movements clumsy and desperate. Your fingers reached for the slippery rocks along the edge, but the icy coating made it impossible to get a firm hold. You slipped, the slickness of the rocks pulling you back toward the water’s edge. Panic surged through you again, but you gritted your teeth, fighting against the cold and the fear as you scrambled forward, slipping and stumbling with every movement.

Through your water-blurred vision, you caught sight of Mattheo standing on the shore, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. He didn’t look panicked; in fact, he seemed disturbingly calm, his face set with a strange intensity as he observed your struggle. His posture was rigid, unmoving, as if he was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on you, every step you took seeming to hold his full attention.

You hauled yourself forward, every inch of your body aching with the effort, until you finally reached the bank. The moment your hands touched solid ground, you pushed yourself up, crawling onto the frosty grass, your breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Your fingers and toes felt numb, your soaked clothes clinging to you, cold and heavy. You didn’t even have the strength to stand yet; instead, you knelt there, shivering violently as the cold seeped deeper into you.

Still, Mattheo didn’t move. He just watched you, his gaze unwavering, his face shadowed and hard, as if this was some sort of lesson he was waiting for you to learn.

Anger flared within you, cutting through the numbing cold, and you forced yourself up, stumbling as you took a shaky step toward him. “What… is wrong with you?” you choked out, your voice thick with rage and exhaustion. You could barely form the words through your shivering, but the fire in your eyes was clear. “Are you… insane?”

He tilted his head, his gaze steady, unbothered. “You’re the one who keeps making reckless choices.” he replied coolly, his voice calm, unfeeling, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d just plunged into the freezing lake.

The sheer indifference in his tone sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over you, and you staggered forward, your teeth chattering as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You pushed me in.” you hissed, your words trembling as much as your body. “And you just stood there… watching.”

He shrugged, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “You got out, didn’t you?”

The casualness of his response stunned you into silence. He seemed unaffected, almost as if the entire situation was nothing more than an inconvenience. But as he looked at you, his expression softened—just barely, a flicker of something that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze, anger and hurt warring within you. It was like you were seeing him for the first time, the dark, cold part of him that lurked beneath his usual intensity. The silence stretched between you, brittle and bitter, before he finally took a step closer, his voice dropping low.

“You were with him.” he muttered, as if that was supposed to explain everything.

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and fury in your voice. “So that justifies this?” you spat, gesturing to your soaked, shivering form. “You’re a coward, Mattheo. You don’t get to act like you care and then do… this.”

He clenched his jaw, but for the first time, his steady gaze wavered, a flicker of something almost like regret crossing his face. He didn’t respond, simply standing there as you took a shaky breath, your body trembling from the cold and anger alike.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to walk away from him, each step an agonising struggle as the cold cut through your soaked clothes, leaving you shivering violently. Every muscle in your body ached from the freezing lake, and you could barely catch your breath, but you refused to let him see you stumble. Your anger was the only thing keeping you upright, fueling your determination to put as much distance as possible between you and the boy who had caused this.

As you pushed yourself forward, Mattheo stood frozen, watching your retreating figure with a dawning sense of regret and confusion. The gravity of what he’d done settled over him like a weight, each step you took away from him sinking the realisation deeper into his chest. He’d let his anger, his jealousy, get the better of him, and now he was left in the wake of his own reckless actions, unsure how to fix the mess he’d made.

But as he saw you growing smaller, disappearing into the shadows toward the castle, something snapped inside him. Panic flared in his chest, and without thinking, he rushed after you, his heart pounding as he stumbled forward, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Y/N, wait! I’m sorry!” he called, his words cutting through the quiet of the night.

You ignored him, your jaw clenched as you quickened your pace, not sparing him a single glance. All you could think about was getting inside, getting warm, and getting as far away from him as possible. You could hear his footsteps pounding behind you, his voice echoing as he continued to call out.

“Y/N, please—stop! I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracked, filled with an edge of desperation, but you didn’t care. You felt nothing but fury, the cold seeping into your bones and mingling with the anger boiling in your veins.

As you neared the garden, you could see the party still in full swing, warm lights and laughter filling the air. The students around the torches were unaware of the storm that had erupted by the lake, oblivious to the anger and hurt that now trailed behind you like a shadow.

You pushed through the edge of the gathering, your soaked clothes clinging to you, your hair dripping, your teeth chattering as the freezing cold seeped into every part of you. Conversation ceased abruptly as heads turned in your direction. Draco, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne all looked up, their expressions shifting from casual interest to wide-eyed shock as they took in the state you were in. Their gazes flickered from you to Mattheo, who was only a few steps behind, his face stricken with a mixture of panic and regret.

“Y/N!” Pansy’s voice was the first to break the silence, her tone laced with concern as she took a hesitant step forward, but you didn’t stop. You pushed past them all, barely registering their looks of confusion and worry. Your only thought was to get to the Slytherin dormitory, to get somewhere warm where you could be alone, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares.

“Y/N, please!” Mattheo’s voice grew more frantic as he called after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to keep up. “Just… just let me explain! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

You whirled around for a brief moment, your voice laced with fury as you yelled back, “Get lost, Mattheo!” The words echoed in the garden, slicing through the stunned silence that had settled over the party. Your friends watched, unable to mask their surprise as you turned back toward the castle, ignoring the looks, ignoring the whispers, and ignoring him.

You stormed into the castle, the warmth of the hallways doing little to soothe the bone-deep chill that had settled over you. Behind you, Mattheo’s calls continued, his voice carrying through the corridors as he followed, each step echoing with the sound of his regret.

“Y/N!” he yelled, desperation thickening his voice as he followed you up the stairs. “Please… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry!”

But you didn’t look back. You kept your head down, refusing to let him see the hurt mingling with your anger, the betrayal stinging far deeper than the icy water that still clung to your skin. You didn’t stop, didn’t let yourself falter, even as his voice grew louder, pleading, a raw edge of panic breaking through his usual confidence.

Finally, you reached the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, muttering the password through chattering teeth. The door swung open, and without a second glance, you slipped inside, letting it close firmly behind you, shutting out Mattheo’s voice and the cold night air.

The second you stepped into the Slytherin dorm, you felt the weight of the night crashing down on you, the cold from the lake sinking deeper into your bones with each passing second. Your clothes clung to you, soaked and heavy, and a shiver ran through you, violent and unrelenting, as you forced yourself to move. Your mind was a haze of anger, hurt, and disbelief, but the only thing that mattered now was escaping the chill that had rooted itself in every corner of your being.

You stumbled into your room, tearing off your wet clothes as quickly as your frozen fingers would allow. Each movement was stiff and jerky, and the soaked fabric clung to your skin, making you feel even more trapped in the freezing memory of the lake. Once your clothes lay discarded on the floor in a dark, damp heap, you wrapped yourself in your thickest towel, fighting to regain even the smallest bit of warmth.

You made your way to the shower, barely able to feel the handle as you twisted it, letting the water pour down in steaming torrents. You stepped in, and for a moment, the heat was too much, biting at your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. The warmth seeped over you slowly, each drop thawing the numbness that had settled in your muscles, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how high you turned up the water, no matter how long you let it pour over you, the bone-deep chill remained, lingering stubbornly as if it had become a part of you.

You stood there, shivering beneath the stream, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders, but the anger and hurt refused to dissipate. Your mind kept replaying the scene by the lake—Mattheo’s cold, scornful expression, his sharp, unforgiving words, the sensation of his hand pushing you with that brief, reckless force. It all circled in your thoughts, twisting into a knot of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Eventually, you turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in the thickest, warmest clothes you could find—a soft sweater that felt like a hug against your still-chilled skin, thick socks, and an oversized pair of sweats. You wrapped yourself in a blanket, but even then, the cold persisted, gnawing at you from the inside.

Your room was too quiet, too empty, the walls feeling like they were closing in around you. Despite the layers you’d piled on, you couldn’t shake the chill or the anger simmering just beneath the surface. The heat from the shower hadn’t worked, and you needed warmth, real warmth, something solid and grounding to erase the traces of tonight.

Reluctantly, you made your way to the common room, hoping the fire there might finally drive away the cold. As you descended the stairs, the crackling warmth from the hearth grew stronger, and for a brief moment, you felt the tiniest bit of relief.

But as soon as you entered, you saw him.

Mattheo was there, pacing in front of the fire, his face drawn, his shoulders hunched with tension. The sight of him, standing there as though he were waiting for you, sent a fresh wave of anger through you, burning hotter than the fire in the grate. He noticed you immediately, his eyes snapping to yours, an expression of regret flashing across his face.

“Y/N.” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You held up a hand, cutting him off before he could finish. You couldn’t bear to hear his apologies, his weak attempts to justify what he’d done. Without a word, you turned away from him, heading straight to the fire, sinking down onto the floor in front of it. You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring into the flames, letting their warmth seep into you as you tried to block out his presence.

But Mattheo didn’t leave. He hovered nearby, his footsteps slowing as he stopped his pacing, watching you with a look of guilt and desperation. “Please… just listen to me.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You ignored him, keeping your gaze firmly on the flames, focusing on the warmth radiating from them, feeling it ease some of the chill from your skin. But it didn’t touch the cold that had settled in your chest, the bitter feeling of betrayal that refused to fade. The fire was warm, but it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the lake, the shock of the icy water, the memory of what he’d done.

“Y/N…” Mattheo’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and filled with a raw, unguarded pain that you’d rarely heard from him. He took a hesitant step forward, as if drawn by something he couldn’t control. “I know I messed up. I know I went too far. But… please. I’m sorry.”

Still, you didn’t respond. The anger simmered in your veins, a fierce, unrelenting heat that fueled you, keeping your silence intact as he stood there, fumbling for words that could never make up for what he’d done.

He moved closer, stopping just a few steps away, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “Please, just say something.” he whispered, his voice raw. “I can’t stand this silence.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth from the fire start to thaw your fingers, though your heart remained cold, guarded against his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought, to give voice to the storm of hurt and anger inside you. But another part, the part that was exhausted and worn down by the events of the night, didn’t have the strength for another fight.

You shook your head, focusing on the crackling flames, willing him to leave you alone. But he stayed, watching you, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching out to you.

“Y/N… please.” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

Without thinking, you finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a cold, unwavering stare. “Sorry isn’t enough, Mattheo.” you said, your voice low and steady. “You crossed a line.”

He flinched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a desperate sadness as he struggled to find a response. But there was nothing he could say to fix this, no apology that could erase what he’d done.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, swallowing any attempt at words. For the first time, you saw Mattheo’s usual mask of arrogance and control slip, his expression turning raw and exposed, like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. His eyes held a helplessness that made your heart ache, even through the anger and hurt that weighed you down. He seemed utterly lost, each second of your silence stripping away his defences, leaving him with nothing but the heavy weight of his own regret.

After a long, shaky breath, Mattheo glanced around the common room, his gaze landing on a thick blanket draped across one of the couches. He took a moment, seemingly gathering his courage, before reaching for it. Moving slowly, as if afraid of breaking the fragile quiet, he wrapped the blanket over his arm, then walked around to sit behind you. You felt his presence press close, your breath catching as he settled in, his legs framing yours.

Before you could react, he gently placed the blanket over your shoulders and pulled it around both of you, wrapping you in its warmth. He shifted, his body pressed against yours, solid and grounding, and as he leaned forward, you could feel his arms around you, hesitant but steady, his hands holding the edges of the blanket close.

The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric, a stark contrast to the lingering chill in your bones. You wanted to push him away, to reject this unexpected closeness, but something stopped you. Perhaps it was the way his arms encircled you so carefully, or the softness of his breath against your neck, barely audible but full of tension and regret. Whatever it was, a small voice inside you whispered not to move, to let the silence and his presence speak for him in a way that his words couldn’t.

He held you there, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the warmth radiating from him slowly melting away the last remnants of the lake’s cold grip on you. His body was tense, as if he was bracing himself for rejection, yet he stayed, unmoving, simply allowing you to rest against him.

The anger simmering inside you softened slightly, the edges dulled by the unexpected comfort of his embrace. You felt his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slightly on the blanket as he shifted, drawing you closer. His arms around you felt secure, steady, as if he was trying to hold together what he’d nearly shattered.

He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a rawness you’d never heard from him before. “You’re freezing.” he murmured, and you could feel the tremor in his tone, the guilt that seeped into every word. “I didn’t… I didn’t realise…”

The words hung in the air, unfinished, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud what he already knew—that he’d pushed too far, that he’d let his emotions cloud his judgement in a way that had hurt you. His hand shifted, pressing gently against your arm as he felt the lingering cold beneath your layers, a physical reminder of his mistake.

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions—a part of you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt he’d caused, but his touch, so careful and remorseful, made it harder to keep your walls up. You stayed still, your heart beating a little faster as you leaned back, just slightly, allowing yourself to rest against him, his warmth a balm against the remaining chill.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. “For everything… for letting things get so out of hand. I was angry, but that doesn’t make it right.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rested his chin gently against your shoulder, his closeness grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to explain it.” There was a vulnerability in his tone that you’d never heard before, a crack in his usual confidence that left him exposed.

You swallowed, feeling the last of your anger wane as you listened to him, sensing the weight of his remorse. His head rested against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as if he was willing you to feel the sincerity in his words through his touch alone.

For a moment, the common room was silent, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the soft, even rhythm of his breathing. You sat there, wrapped in the blanket, cocooned in his warmth, and felt the chill finally start to fade, replaced by an unexpected sense of peace.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a question weighted with all the confusion, hurt, and disbelief that had built up over the night. You felt his arms tighten around you, his grip growing more secure, as if he could keep you there simply by holding on a little closer.

Mattheo took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling slowly behind you. His hesitation was palpable, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and strained, as if he was forcing himself to admit something he’d kept buried for far too long.

“I can’t bear seeing someone else touch you.” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “It drives me insane. I want to be the only one to… to be close to you.” He paused, and his hand gently pressed against your arm, as if to make his point clearer. “The thought of someone else being the one you look at, the one you laugh with... I just can’t stand it.”

A quiet sigh escaped him, the sound soft but laced with regret. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, his touch lingering with an intensity that held all the things he struggled to say. “I know I went about it all wrong. I know I hurt you.” His voice dropped, quiet but steady. “But I don’t know how to… how to want you and not ruin it.”

You took a shaky breath, his words sinking in, a strange mixture of relief and frustration settling over you. “If that’s what you wanted…” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of sadness, “then you went about it in the worst way possible, Mattheo.”

He nodded, his head dipping against yours, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek. “I know.” he whispered, his tone filled with a raw honesty that made your heart ache. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the remnants of your anger softening as you sensed the vulnerability in his words, the way his grip on you seemed to hold a quiet desperation. For all his flaws, for all the anger and tension that had passed between you, there was a part of him that wanted to make things right, even if he didn’t fully know how.

Slowly, you shifted, resting your head gently on his shoulder, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting weight. You turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes meeting his in the flickering glow of the firelight. His expression was guarded, but his eyes held a depth of feeling, a storm of emotions he could no longer hide.

He stared at you, his gaze intense and searching, as though he was trying to understand what you were thinking, what you were feeling. His eyes drifted down, and he bit his lip softly, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that revealed his uncertainty. His fingers tightened their hold, pressing into your arm gently but firmly, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

The tension in the air was thick, and your heartbeat got a little faster, each beat echoing in the silence that had settled between you. You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips, the faintest glimmer of hesitation crossing his face before he met your gaze again, something unspoken lingering in his expression.

He swallowed, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I don’t deserve this chance… but I want it.” His hand gently traced the curve of your arm, his touch both hesitant and possessive, as if he feared losing you yet couldn’t resist the urge to hold you closer. “I want… us.” he whispered, barely above a breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the vulnerability in his words, the fragile hope beneath the weight of his regret. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, made it hard to hold onto your anger, to resist the quiet yearning in his expression. With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, letting your forehead rest against his, feeling his breath mix with yours in the small, shared space.

“Then show me.” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “If you want this, show me that you can do better. Show me that you can be the one… without hurting me.”

A spark of determination flickered in his eyes as he held you close. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw and unsteady, carrying a weight that seemed to settle in the space between you. His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he cupped your face, his touch warm and grounding. He held you there, close and steady, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet, unyielding intensity that left no doubt—he meant every word.

Ever so slowly, he leaned in. His eyes never left yours, as if giving you a moment to pull away, to say something, to stop him if you wanted to. But your breath caught, and despite every instinct in your mind screaming for you to pull back, you stayed. You could feel his warmth, the softness of his hand cradling your cheek, the gentle brush of his lips as they closed the distance, capturing yours in a kiss that was tender, hesitant—almost as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

Your heart pounded, a rush of emotions flooding through you, a confusing tangle of anger, longing, and vulnerability that left you unsure. Part of you wanted to pull away, to hold onto the walls you’d built to keep him out, but another part, buried deep, wanted to melt into the kiss, to allow yourself to feel something other than the hurt he had caused.

His lips moved softly against yours, patient and unhurried, and the gentleness of it surprised you, easing some of the tension in your body. You felt his hand tighten ever so slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart ache. There was a vulnerability in his kiss, an unspoken apology in the way he held you, and you felt yourself caught between wanting to give in and wanting to guard yourself from any more hurt.

The conflicting emotions churned within you, and your mind remained torn. Every rational thought warned you to pull back, to protect yourself from him and the mess he’d made. But as his lips lingered on yours, soft and sincere, you found it harder to resist the pull, to ignore the gentle urgency in his touch that seemed to plead for forgiveness, for something new.

For a heartbeat, you allowed yourself to lean into him, letting his warmth melt away some of the bitterness and hurt that had settled between you. His other hand moved to rest on your stomach,his touch grounding you, his kiss growing deeper but never forceful, as though he was waiting for you to decide, to choose whether to close the distance or pull away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you shifted, adjusting your body to angle more toward him, opening yourself just slightly, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. The tension in your chest eased bit by bit as you deepened the kiss, surprising him. You felt a subtle, almost inaudible gasp from him, a momentary pause, as if he hadn’t expected you to respond with such openness.

But he didn’t resist; instead, he welcomed you, his hand tightening slightly on your stomach, pulling you closer. His lips softened, responding to the shift in your movements with an eagerness that was barely restrained, as though he, too, was savouring each second, afraid it might slip away.

His fingers brushed gently towards your jaw, trailing down to your neck as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the warm, shared space. The world around you faded, leaving only the steady beat of his heart against you, the warmth of his hands, and the gentle, growing intensity of the kiss.

You could feel the weight of his feelings in every touch, each small movement laced with something raw, something real that left you both vulnerable and secure. The hurt and anger that had kept you guarded all night seemed to dissolve with every lingering moment, replaced by a fragile trust, a quiet hope that maybe this was something worth holding onto.

As the kiss deepened, his thumb brushed against your skin in soothing circles, his touch tender and sure, in a way that made your heart race and calm at once. You allowed yourself, for the first time, to let go of the hurt, to let yourself trust the sincerity in his touch. And as you pulled him closer, you felt the edges of something new taking shape between you—an unspoken promise, a chance for something real.

The warmth from the fire, combined with Mattheo’s steady embrace, chased away the last lingering traces of the cold that had seeped into your bones. The biting chill of the lake was a distant memory now, completely overshadowed by the comforting heat radiating from him. Slowly, you felt your muscles relax, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to you as you leaned against him, your head nestled against his chest. His heartbeat was a gentle rhythm, soothing in its constancy, and as your eyes fluttered shut, you surrendered to the quiet peace that had settled between you.

Mattheo stayed perfectly still, his arms steady around you as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm you’d found together. His hand moved lightly, his fingers tracing a soft, calming pattern on your arm as he watched you begin to drift, your breathing slowing with each passing second. He didn’t say a word, his gaze softening as he took in the peaceful expression on your face, a stark contrast to the tension and anger that had filled the air just an hour ago.

As he felt you lean more heavily against him, he realised you’d fallen asleep, your breath warm against his chest, each exhale slow and steady. For a moment, he simply held you there, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment, a sense of protectiveness rising within him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. The thought of you being hurt, of you feeling even a fraction of the pain he’d caused, stirred something deep within him, something he wanted to make up for, to mend.

With a gentle touch, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could cradle you more comfortably. He moved with the utmost care, sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you slightly, guiding you so that you rested more fully against him. Slowly, he pulled you up onto the couch, his movements tender, cautious, as he settled you on his lap. The blanket was still wrapped around both of you, cocooning you in warmth, and he adjusted it so that you were completely covered, nestled close to him.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, shifting to settle into him more comfortably, your head resting against his shoulder, and he instinctively tightened his hold, cradling you gently. His hand came to rest lightly on your back, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sweater in a rhythmic, soothing motion.

He let out a quiet breath, his gaze lingering on you with an expression of pure tenderness that he’d rarely allowed himself to show. The walls he’d built, the armour he wore, all of it had faded in this moment, leaving only the raw, unguarded feeling of wanting to keep you safe, to make up for the hurt he’d caused, and to hold you as though you were something precious.

For the first time, he understood just how much you meant to him, and as he sat there, with you asleep in his arms, he made a silent promise—to protect this fragile trust, to be better, to be the person worthy of the trust you’d given him tonight.

He stayed like that, unmoving, his own heartbeat slowing to match yours, as the fire crackled softly beside you. The night stretched on, quiet and peaceful, and he held you close, letting the silence speak for him, his heart holding the words he couldn’t yet say.

The warmth of the fire wrapped around you, lulling you deeper into sleep as you lay comfortably in Mattheo’s arms, his hand resting protectively on your back. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on you, every inch of his attention focused on the gentle rise and fall of your chest. The common room was peaceful, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft murmur of your steady breaths.

But the quiet didn’t last.

The heavy door to the common room creaked open, and Mattheo’s head snapped up. In came Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, their voices low but filled with curiosity and concern as they stepped inside. They seemed to be in mid-conversation, muttering about the way you’d rushed off earlier and Mattheo’s strange behaviour at the party.

As soon as they saw the two of you on the couch, however, they fell silent, their eyes widening as they took in the sight: you, fast asleep in Mattheo’s arms, wrapped up in a thick blanket with his hand resting gently on your back.

Pansy’s mouth dropped open, her eyebrows shooting up as she nudged Draco, who looked equally stunned but managed to mask it with a small smirk. “Well, isn’t this a sight.” she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Blaise exchanged a quick look with Theo, both of them looking thoroughly amused. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Blaise murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “Riddle actually being… soft?”

Mattheo shot them a warning look, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he tightened his hold on you protectively, silently begging them not to wake you. But Theo, never one to let a good opportunity slip by, leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Did we miss the part where you finally confessed your undying love, Mattheo?” he whispered, barely able to contain his laughter. “Or was this just a spur-of-the-moment cuddle session?”

Mattheo’s face flushed, and he shot Theo a glare, his voice low and firm. “Shut it, Theodore.” he muttered, his fingers gently tracing your shoulder, as if reassuring himself you were still asleep.

Daphne, usually one to tease, softened as she took in the sight of you nestled peacefully against him. She stepped forward, offering him a small, understanding smile.“It was about time you two figured this out.”

With that, she placed a hand on Pansy’s arm, guiding her toward the staircase. The others exchanged a final round of amused glances, Blaise giving Mattheo a playful salute as they turned to leave, their footsteps fading up the stairs.

Once they were gone, Mattheo let out a quiet sigh, his gaze returning to you. His hand resumed its gentle tracing along your back, his expression softening as he took in the calm, content look on your face. Despite the teasing, he felt a rare sense of peace, as if, for the first time, everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

He leaned his head back, pulling the blanket tighter around you both, and let the warmth of the fire and your presence lull him into a quiet calm, the world around you slipping away, leaving only the unspoken promise he held in his heart.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

#mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #hogwarts #fanfiction #harry potter fandom #slytherin boys imagines #one shot #mattheo riddleone shot #mattheo riddle x female reader #slytherinsmuse #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #not canon

433 notes · View notes

ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 8 months ago

Text

Time for today's silly Merlin au! This time featuring himbo Arthur!

I think that the show should have leaned into the whole "Merlin's technically a creature of magic" aspect, both in terms of being magic incarnate and kin to the dragons, and I think Arthur should have also been forced to come to terms with it as well. However, this is Arthur we're talking about, so of course he wouldn't come to the right conclusions right away.

In this scenario, around season 5-ish, there's an evil sorcerer seeking revenge against Camelot for the purge who puts a spell on all of the humans in Camelot, one that would weaken them and cause such fatigue that no one would be able to even stand up after a while. But it's a powerful and taxing spell to cast, so the sorcerer can only afford to target the humans in Camelot to keep the number of targets as low as possible. Besides, what could the livestock in Camelot do to stop him anyways?

So everyone in Camelot is falling under this spell, and Arthur and the knights are rushing to prepare for battle against the sorcerer to make him lift the spell. However, with each hour that passes, everyone grows weaker and weaker.

Merlin does, of course, know that this spell has been cast and what it does, but he doesn't feel its affects and assumes that his magic is protecting him. He acts like he's growing weaker so he doesn't fall under anyone's suspicions for the wrong reasons. However, after Merlin summons and talks to Kilgarrah for advice on how to break the spell, Kilgarrah informs him that Merlin wasn't protected by his magic, but rather by the fact that he isn't truly human.

And Merlin decides to unpack the implications of that some other time, because he's got a kingdom and a prat to save.

Fast forwards to the knights getting their asses kicked by the sorcerer and the evil sorcerer preparing to kill Arthur, who's lying on the ground with his eyes closed. All the other knights were knocked out by a blast from the sorcerer, but Arthur's still barely clinging to consciousness, yet he's too weak to even open his eyes. All he can do is listen helplessly as the sorcerer prepares to kill them all.

But then the sorcerer yelps, as if he were hit by something. Arthur's hope skyrockets as the sorcerer yells "You! How are you even still awake?! Every single human in Camelot should be feeling the full effects of the spell by now!" Arthur thinks for a moment that one of his knights has found enough strength to overcome the spell and fight back, but that hope is quickly dashed when he hears Merlin's voice responding like he isn't tired in the slightest, saying, "Well it's a good thing I was never really human then."

Merlin decided to say that to throw the sorcerer off-kilter enough to distract him and give Merlin an advantage in the fight. Besides, Merlin can see that all of the knights, including Arthur, are knocked out on the ground, so there's no harm in admitting it to this sorcerer who he's definitely going to have to kill.

Arthur, meanwhile, is still conscious and completely reeling from Merlin's words. What the hell did he mean he wasn't human?! Has some vile magical creature taken Merlin's place?

After the battle (which sounded to Arthur like a bunch of grunts, pained yelps, and a final, wet gurgle), Arthur could feel the effects of the spell lifting, letting him open his eyes with a gasp. He frantically looks around to make sure Merlin's ok, but Merlin's only a few steps away from him, while the sorcerer lies dead on the ground with a sword buried in his chest.

Hearing Arthur's gasp, Merlin turns to him with a relieved smile and helps pulls Arthur to his feet. Arthur, meanwhile, is too stunned to even ask how Merlin of all people managed to kill a powerful sorcerer by himself, but Merlin's giving some unbelievable explanation that involves distracting the sorcerer and then getting a miraculous opening and stabbing the sorcerer. Arthur's nodding along, but inside, he's really searching man who might be Merlin or might be some magical imposter posing as Merlin, as awful as that is for Arthur to consider, for any signs that he's truly Merlin.

If he's an imposter, Arthur has to give him credit, he plays his part well. The man in front of him looks exactly like Merlin, talks like Merlin, walks with Merlin's lanky gait, and seems to know everything Merlin knows, even their inside jokes. Still, Arthur needs to be sure, so after they get back to the castle, Arthur goes down to the vaults and grabs a secret object that Uther used in the purge that could detect illusions and glamor magics. It was a simple clear crystal in the shape of a sphere and small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand, but if someone or something that was using magic to alter their appearance came into contact with it, the crystal would glow with a bright light.

Arthur plants the sphere in his chambers and disguises it as a new paperweight. The next day, Arthur pretends to accidentally knock it off his desk, sending it rolling across the floor, and orders the maybe-Merlin to pick it up and bring it back to his desk. Maybe-Merlin rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of Merlin and walks over to the crystal. To Arthur's shock and relief, the crystal doesn't glow when Merlin picks it up, so he definitely is the true Merlin.

But then that leads Arthur to a horrible conclusion: the Merlin he knew wasn't a human, and never was. And the only creatures with the ability to look convincingly human were creatures of magic.

Oh god, Merlin was a creature of magic.

Arthur decides that, in order for him to plot an appropriate course of action, he needs more information. Namely, he needs to know what exactly Merlin is.

So, Arthur sneaks into the library and secretly takes some of the bestiaries, searching for what manner of creature Merlin truly is. Arthur tries not to jump to the worst possible conclusions, but all of the creatures of magic that can take human form that Arthur knows of are horrible monsters that prey on humans. Take the sidhe and the lamia for examples!

But people don't randomly go missing or turn up dead from monster attacks very frequently in Camelot, and Merlin cries when Arthur so much as shoots a bunny, so if Merlin's some sort of monster that kills and eats humans, he's doing a piss poor job at being one. So, Merlin must be some sort of creature that doesn't hurt humans, which certainly narrows down the list.

Arthur eventually finds a list of peaceful, human-like creatures of magic, and he starts trying to narrow down what Merlin is. He couldn't be an elf, since his ears were huge and round, not pointed. He couldn't be a gnome, he was too tall and gangly. He couldn't be a nymph, he spent too much time indoors to be a nature spirit. He couldn't be a leprechaun, he didn't have a beard or an affinity towards gold. He couldn't be a fae or a sidhe, he doesn't make deals with anyone (besides when he goes gambling at the tavern). And he certainly couldn't be a dragonlord, they were all dead!

Arthur was just about to give up when he finally found what he was looking for! The book's passage on fairies described them as benevolent relatives to the fae who would often disguise themselves as humans and would bring good luck and fortune to whoever befriended them, while sometimes engaging in some fun mischief! That must be Merlin!

Come to think of it, Arthur did have some great moments of luck, some of them almost miraculous! Morgana's magic failing her the day of a battle, defeating a dragon single-handedly, surviving the questing beast's bite, and of course defeating monsters that were said to only be killed through magic. And Merlin had been there for all of those events!

The book also describes fairies as creatures that love all living beings and are closely connected with nature, which makes perfect sense considering how much Merlin hates hunting! And fairies could see into the true hearts of people, which was how Merlin always knew if a person was untrustworthy!

It all made so much sense! This even explained Merlin's random "visits to the tavern", when Arthur knew that Merlin rarely ever drank. According to the book, fairies could only maintain their human forms for so long before they needed to spend some time in their smaller winged forms.

The book even addressed how fairies could be born from a union between a particularly powerful fairy and a human, which even explained why Merlin never knew his father and how Merlin could be a creature of magic while having a human mother!

Now that he knew the truth, Arthur felt so much relief! His best friend wasn't some diabolical monster, he was just a playful and friendly fairy trying to live as a human! It made so much sense!

And now all Arthur had to do was prove it. All evidence pointed to Merlin being a fairy, but he needed concrete proof before he could take any action. According to the book, the blood of a fairy in a human disguise sparkled under the light of a full moon. So, Arthur devised a plan to take Merlin out on an overnight hunting trip the day before the next full moon and "accidentally" cut Merlin's arm with one of the crossbow bolts. Arthur would then bandage the cut for Merlin and, after a couple hours, insist on changing the bandages, and pocket the first bloodied bandage.

Sure, Arthur felt guilty about purposely cutting his friend, but this was Merlin's fault for keeping the fact that he wasn't human a secret over their ten years of friendship! So, Arthur goes through with his plan, and when he held the used bandage up to the moonlight after Merlin had fallen asleep, he has to hold back a gasp as the red blood on the cloth shimmers and turns a bright golden color. Well, the book was right, the blood certainly sparkled!

(It was a shame that Arthur never read into warlocks, and how the magic in a warlock's blood made their blood turn gold under the light of a full moon.)

Arthur then turned to look at his peacefully sleeping friend, and swore that he would do everything he could to help his friendly little fairy.

Shortly after that revelation, Arthur starts actively noticing all of the strokes of luck he has. Bandits can never land a hit on him because they're too busy getting knocked out by tree branches or tripping over roots, his baths and meals are always the perfect temperature no matter how long he waits, and his injuries all heal at near-impossible rates. Hell, Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he got sick with something as small as a cold!

So Arthur tries to do little things for Merlin to show him his appreciation, like giving Merlin flower crowns (which fairies are said to like and Merlin absolutely adores), giving him a shiny silver mirror (fairies are supposed to like shiny things, and Merlin's never had a proper mirror before), and giving Merlin parts of his own meals as a food offering (which Merlin of course isn't about to turn down).

(Arthur's also kinda frustrated at the lack of information about fairy courting rituals lol!)

But Arthur isn't the best at keeping secrets, so the knights of the round table eventually catch him trying to set up a nice little fairy ring for Merlin in the garden, and they also "figure out" that Merlin is a fairy, and it all spirals from there until the entire castle is trying to show their appreciation for their fairy friend.

Merlin's very confused by all of this (since Arthur's terrible at actually communicating, Merlin doesn't know that Arthur thinks he's a fairy), but he's not about to turn down all of these lovely gifts!

And there's lots of different directions the story could go from there! A pretty funny scenario would be some rival king catching wind of how Camelot's great victories are all because of their king befriending a kind fairy, so he kidnaps Merlin in an attempt to make Merlin grant him such great luck and victory in battle. However, all they do to imprison Merlin is pour a circle of salt around him (since they firmly believe that fairies cannot cross a barrier of salt).

Merlin's just kinda raises an eyebrow and thinks that this is the weirdest kidnapping ever, steps over the salt, and escapes back to Camelot.

Thank you for reading through my rambling! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin au #himbo arthur #merlin prompts

914 notes · View notes

darlingdekarios · 1 year ago

Text

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

i7nn8a · 27 days ago

Text

Synopsis: When Sukuna seems to have issues with your cat, or when Salem, your cat, proves to be relentless when it comes to you.

Sukuna never liked cats. Seriously. He’s a total dog person. But he never realized just how much these creatures unnerved him—until you arrived. His new concubine.

It’s been six months since you showed up. Your village offered you in exchange for mercy after some villagers angered the King of Curses. You were practically in tears when you came to him, begging—no, pleading—to bring your precious cat along. Salem.

If he’d known then, he’d have never agreed. But it was too late now. How could he get rid of the cat just because he was convinced the little demon hated him? The cat was huge, about the size of a small pig, completely black. Its eyes were yellow, almost orange. No, eye. The demon was one-eyed, with a scar running across its right side, nearly covering its entire face. It was utterly terrifying. But you loved it.

Nobody could understand why Sukuna indulged your every whim. And nobody could understand how you were the only one who didn’t notice. Nobody could explain why, since your arrival, he’d stopped visiting any of the other concubines, calling only for you to join him in his chambers. He even ordered your books to be brought to his property, giving you an entire room just for them. He let you bring the cat, which caused nothing but chaos—sneaking into the kitchen during meal prep, claiming parts of the castle as its territory, and refusing to let anyone near. It even brought you dead animals as gifts, something Sukuna secretly found amusing while you thought it was adorable. Yet, he said nothing. It was unbelievable.

Things seemed to escalate, however, when Salem became overly possessive of you, refusing to let anyone near—not even Sukuna. He couldn’t comprehend how such a small creature could annoy him so much. It started innocently enough, unnoticed by most.

One evening, you were in the garden, reading, with Salem lying beside you, unaware of the curse watching you from the shadows. Sukuna could swear he’d never seen a more beautiful human. Silently, he approached until you noticed him and stood to bow.

“Lord Sukuna, do you need something?” you asked, oblivious to the yellow eye glaring at you as you rose.

“What are you doing out here? I’ve told you not to leave the castle this late” he said flatly.

“I’m sorry, my lord. It’s just the moon…” You didn’t finish, interrupted by your cat climbing onto you, meowing so loudly it—according to Sukuna—sounded like a dying duck.

“Salem… Salem! Stop that!”

“Tch, just go inside, woman. Don’t irritate me further” he said, turning away, leaving you and your cat behind.

The moment Sukuna walked off, the cat stopped its antics and resumed peacefully resting beside you.

But Salem had crossed the line now. Not just by refusing to let others approach you but by actually drawing blood from the curse. After dinner, when Sukuna reached for your arm, the cat lunged at him with its sharp claws, slicing his wrist. Everyone—everyone—including you, was stunned. No one dared even look Sukuna in the eyes, let alone harm him.

Fearing for your cat’s life, you turned, ready to scold it, but the moment you moved, a wave of dizziness hit you, and you would have collapsed if not for Sukuna catching you. Forgetting the little demon for a moment, he quickly ordered Uraume to fetch the healer and carried you to his chambers.

When you woke, your head throbbed painfully as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Salem was locked in a cage with Uraume nearby. Sukuna, the four-armed king, leaned against the wall near the door, while the healer you’d seen a few times before examined you.

“Ah, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” the healer asked kindly.

“My head hurts” you replied weakly

"Well, you just fainted. It’s normal to feel some pain. I’ll leave some medicine for you, but I don’t recommend using it too often.”

“Why? Does it have side effects?” you asked, confused. You’d never been this sick before, and the medicine in your village rarely had any downsides.

“Not for you, but for the baby” he said calmly, packing his tools.

“B-baby? What baby?” you stammered, shocked.

“Wait... you didn’t know?” He looked between you and Sukuna. “You’re pregnant. Congratulations" he said with a small smile.

Your panicked gaze turned to Sukuna, who wore a blank expression. Fear crept in as you waited for his reaction. Finally, he turned and asked the healer, “When do you think it will be born?”

“Well, the pregnancy seems to be around three months along. Likely in another five to six months” the healer explained. “The fainting spells may get worse, so I recommend she rests for a while.”

“Leave" Sukuna ordered. The healer left quickly, followed by Uraume.

“I’m so sorry, my lord! I must have been careless. I didn’t mean for this to happen" you began apologizing.

“Be quiet, woman. You’re carrying my heir now” he said, stepping closer. “I can’t believe that damn cat figured it out before I did.”

“Huh? The cat?” you asked, still trying to process his reaction. He wasn’t angry? Why didn’t he seem angry?

“That must be why that furball’s been so possessive lately” he muttered, smirking slightly. “You’ll have to deal with it. That cat isn’t keeping me away from you or the child.”

“But... you’re not upset?”

“Should I be?”

“No! No, my lord” you stammered, lowering your head. “I just thought you might not like this.”

“I need an heir. It seems the time has come for one” he said, turning away. “I’ll have your food brought here. Rest and handle that abomination. Or I will” he said, glancing at the cat.

Maybe, just maybe, Sukuna didn’t hate the cat as much as he claimed.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #true form sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x y/n

186 notes · View notes

lalal-99 · 10 months ago

Text

Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people.

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving—another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

544 notes · View notes

titanic-angel · 2 years ago

Text

мιgυel o'нara х ғ!reader

◥︎ 『 coғғee ︎pт.2 』︎ ◣

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

ѕυммary ➞︎ мayвe мιgυel lιĸeѕ нιѕ тнιngѕ ѕweeтer тнan нe wanтѕ тo adмιт.

warnιngѕ ➞︎ none

noтeѕ ➞︎ нιgнly reqυeѕтed ғollow υp, ι cannoт eхpreѕѕ нow тнanĸғυl ι aм ғor тнe ѕυpporт on тнιѕ мιnι ѕerιeѕ ❤︎ this is the final installment :)

↽︎ parт 1

︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

“And he drank it?”

You nodded, sipping at your morning cup of coffee. The sweetness stuck to the roof of your mouth, caffeine slipping into your chest. You watched as Peter B ran his hand through his hair, eyes wide in curiosity and shock.

“Every time I put chocolate in mine he looks at me like I killed someone!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s because no one does that, Peter.”

He scoffed, puffing out his chest and shifting his baby strap, where Mayday bounced contently. “Well Mayday seems to like it!”

As if on cue, the red head purred, giggling at her fathers exasperated sigh.

“Do you think his exhaustion is getting to him? Miguel…isn’t the open minded type.”

You thought back to the night before, his soft brown gaze making your cheeks turn pink. The feeling of his lips under your thumb, and his-

“Well there is one more thing,” you said, eyes drifting to your coffee cup, “he…well he smiled.”

Mayday and Peter both went silent, faces blank. You shifted, awaiting the eventual explosion from the two of them.

But it never came. Peter closed his mouth, as if all the air and words has been caught at the back of his teeth, sucking in a sharp, stunned breath.

“Miguel…smiled? Like, a happy smile. Not a fake one? Or a sarcastic one?”

You shook your head, taking another absent minded sip of your coffee. Was it truly an unbelievable, impossible sight? Was the idea that Miguel could smile so foreign and strange that one of his closest acquaintances couldn’t conjure the image?

Mayday crawled out of her fathers carrier, cooing at you and reaching for your arms, as if you distract you from your wandering thoughts. You gladly took the grinning child, who curled into your arms, eyes fluttering in comfort.

“No. I think it was genuine.” You finally replied, smiling down and letting the little girl grip your fingers.

Peter sighed, tone calming at the sight of his happy daughter in your arms. “Well, consider yourself lucky. Even Mayday struggles to bring out a smile in that man.”

You laughed quietly, bouncing the girl in your arms. “Well now that’s just unthinkable!” She hummed happily in response, head leaning into your chest.

“What is?”

His voice had retained some of its evening whisper, but under its assured stature, laid a raspiness that was undeniably tiered and stern. It captivated attention even in its subtlety, abstrusely spoken in a manor that made you shiver.

You greeted Miguel with a smile, looking up at him as Mayday squealed, enthralled to see his shadow, casted by the morning light peaking through the windows in the coffee room.

“We were talking about how no one couldn’t like this sweet girl,” you tickled her stomach with your fingers, making the smile she had gotten from her father crinkle her eyes, “not even you.”

Miguel huffed, shoulders shrugging in mock offense. “I don’t dislike her- she’s just,” he looked down at the blubbering child, face softening for a moment before regaining its usual scowl, “unpredictable.”

Both Peter and you laughed, sending each other a knowing look. Nothing was predictable enough for Miguel, much less a child.

Mayday moved out of your arms and onto your shoulders, looking up at Miguel with an insistent, giddy smile. He sighed, extending his arm so she could crawl along it, resting on his shoulder and fiddling with his disheveled hair. Both you and Peter smiled at the endearing scene, Miguel grumbling frustrated, incomprehensible Spanish under his breath.

You took a sip from your mug before sending a guilty look at the empty machine. “Sorry Miguel, we’re all out of coffee this morning- we finished off the last bag of grind,” you paused, your eyes darting between Peter, your cup, and then Miguel, “but you could finish my cup. I’ve had plenty this morning.”

Miguel sent you an incredulous look, instantly aware of the game you were trying to play. “I wouldn’t want to take-“

“Please I insist.” You lifted to cup to his chest. He sighed through his teeth, taking the creamy, light liquid from your hand. You smiled sweetly at him, which he returned with a warning stare.

“This was a nice break- and always lovely to see you, Mayday,” you poked her shoulder, the giggling menace still happily perched on Miguel’s broad shoulders, “but I’ve got plenty of work to do. Including getting some more grind from the storage.”

You sent a final look to Miguel, and a message through your eyes. He rolled his, bringing the warm mug to his lips.

You got to see Peter B’s mouth drop before you closed the door.

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

You walked triumphantly down the stark white halls, that similar heat simmering in your chest. You welcomed it with a quiet sigh, your shoulders light with the reminder of it all.

You and Miguel were close, in the loose term of the word. Being one of the few early members of the society, you had your fair share of adventures and fights together- but labeling the dynamic between you two is difficult.

Peter B would always be his right hand man- his confidant. Jess was probably the closest thing he would ever have to an older sister, despite her being a little less than a decade younger.

But you and Miguel didn’t have a category. You sat in the natural, comforting, almost familiar air that surrendered itself in your presence. Begrudgingly, you’ll admit that for as long as you’ve known him, attraction always fizzled in your ribs when his voice said your name, or his skin met yours. But for just as long you have decided it was ridiculous, even in the moments he looked at you with that endless brown.

“Why did you do that?”

There it was again- that subtle raspiness and the shiver that followed. You can’t say you’re surprised that he followed you, after all you did tease him.

You be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure why you took so much joy from making Miguel surrender to your wit. You knew that not many get the luxury of making him flustered, and that you’ve always taken advantage of your…affect on him. But as to why? It stumped the both of you.

You sent Miguel an innocent look. “Do what? Give you my coffee?”

Miguel pressed his lips together, torn on whether he should retort or agree. “…yes.” He decided.

You took a left, starting to remember the route to the storage room. It was massive, but because you’d rarely ever paid it a visit, its location remained misty in your mind.

“Well, you seemed to like it last night,” You sent a look to his empty mug, and then to him, “and clearly this morning.”

He huffed, setting the cup down on the nearest table, embarrassed he had been caught.

“You look like you need a boost, anyway.” You replied with a smugness in your voice, that was almost undetectable. Almost.

You took a turn around the corner, following the graphic signs to the storage room, grateful they placed markers to navigate the maze that was the Hub. Miguel had stopped behind you, but you still felt his looming presence down the hall.

“You told Peter, didn’t you.” He narrowed his eyes to punctuate his accusation.

“Tell him what? That you like my coffee?” You finally reached the storage doors, pressing your thumb against the scanner, hearing the programmed beep vibrate the scratched plastic screen, “Maybe.”

Miguel pinch the bringe of his nose, whispering, dios santo, me estás matando. sharply under his breath.

The gigantic doors slid open slowly, revealing the shelves stacked with an assortment of inventory. It had everything- everything, but organization. You went left, trusting the foggy memory of the storage map and where it placed the grind. You made yourself more sure as you counted the aisle numbers, cold air making the hairs on your neck prickle.

It was that, or Miguel’s presence behind you, demanding attention.

“He didn’t need to know.”

Your laugher echoed off the shelves, making the cans and bags shake in their spots. You turned down aisle 7, pleased (if not a little proud) at the sight of tan bags with “New York Grind” written in a typewriter font sitting at the middle of the aisle.

“What? Does cream and sugar stain your reputation?”

He was hot on your heels. “Yes!” He nearly wailed.

You stopped, facing to him with a playful smile drawn on your cheeks.

“Miguel, have you ever considered that people pay more attention to your pursuit of a coworker all the way down to the storage room and less to what’s in your coffee cup?”

Miguel paused, eyes roaming the steel shelves, as if he had just become aware of his surroundings. You shook your head, your smile still wrinkling the sides of your eyes.

You stopped in front of the coffee grind, now looking much higher up than it did only seconds ago. You stood on your toes, swiping with out success to the bags that sat a tantalizing, teasing, fingernail away from your grasp.

“Really, Miguel. I didn’t mean to ruin whatever mysterious, solemn image you built for yourself here,” you let out an exasperated sigh, straining your legs to no avail, “but I just think it’s sweet that you enjoy sugar and cream in your coffee.”

Hot breath fanned on your head, and your eyes watched as a large hand clasped over the bag of coffee. Your breathe hitched, suddenly very aware of the warm, familiar feeling that enveloped your shoulders.

“You think I’m…sweet?”

He said it with so much confusion, that your brain barely processed the underlying tones of hope that resided in the question.

You froze, replaying your words with a clarity that made your jaw click. He handed you the grind, but didn’t step back. You felt frustration building in your center (either from his clear attempt at intimidation, or how much it was working). You sighed harshly, turning while opening your mouth to say something.

It quickly closed, at the sight of overwhelming brown.

You were finally able to place the emotion that made itself home in his irises when he looked at you, and the mere thought that you might be correct made your heart leap into your throat, silencing every quip or retort you had prepared.

You weren’t trapped. His hands rested comfortably at his side, giving you the option to escape in any direction that wasn’t forward.

But not even the animalistic part of you, the survival instinct, wanted to escape. It felt more alive being exactly where you were.

“I am not…upset you told him about last night. It’s just that….” You turned to face him, the beat of your heart thriving tension that existed between the small space that separates your lips. His brows casted a shadow of contemplation on his eyes, concealing they’re hue.

You weren’t sure if you wanted them to be brown or red- but you knew that it was ecstasy to have him this close.

“Just that…?”

He sighed, the corners of his mouth neutral. You hated that his features were a perfect mask, never giving anything away- while your reddened cheeks, shaky breath, and gaze trained directly on his lips did.

“I wanted that to be between us.”

You shuddered at the thought. “…why?”

He looked at you, and his pleading gaze told you two things.

You knew exactly why.

And you were right about what was in his eyes.

Your mouth felt dry. “Does…does that also stain your…reputation?” You said, all of the bite in the response dead in your whisper.

He had leaned in, the brown so close you felt as if you could be sucked in. “Yes.”

Chills ran up your spine, eyes drifting to his lips, remembering the white cream that once lined them. You swallowed, fingers tracing the smooth plastic of the bag in your hands.

“That’s too bad.”

You held your breath, eyes not drifting from his lips. His hum rumbled in his chest, the sound making your knees weak.

You dropped the bag, the memory of why it was in your hands instead of him was now a distant and feeble mumble. He stiffened at the sound, watching you as if you were just as unpredictable as Mayday.

However, the way you’re eyes had refused to look at anything but his lips was a dead give away.

Miguel did things slow and small. It was one of the (many) things you appreciated about him. His energy was the essence if not the pure definition of subtle. Even if his loom made shivers crawl up someone’s spine, or his shadow alone made the opponent cower, nothing in his actions called attention on purpose. He used that subtly to his advantage, his goliath shadow speaking for itself to the enemy- his intimidation silent.

But you were no enemy.

In fact, you were the only force that he didn’t want to fight- he was completely fine embracing you instead.

And so he did.

The kiss was all of his subtly and more. It was soft, from the gentle movement of his lips against yours to the way he placed his hand shyly against your lower back, leaning you up against the cold metal shelves. You struggled to think straight, but the first thought that whispered in the back of your mind was that you were completely right about what you though his lips would taste like.

Coffee.

It was chaste, and as you pulled away every fiber in your body prickled at your skin and in your muscles, craving to collect in your lips. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, gleaming and foggy.

He was smiling, that beautiful crease in the valleys of his jaw making the wires in your brain spark and circuit. When he opened his eyes, he looked dazed, as if he felt as though he had just woken from a dream.

Their color didn’t really matter to you now.

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

That evening, you assured Jess you could take her coffee shift, promising her that you could handle him for another night.

Her rough laugh and weary eyes thanked you, and you were left to walk the cold, empty hallways alone.

But when you reached his platform, smiling gently at him, the absence of Lyla (most likely by his doing) louder than the smile he returned, you felt like you were anything but lonely.

You handed him a coffee. It was lighter than his usual, the murmur of sugar and cream deep in its caffeine. However, it was darker than yours, different than the overwhelming taste of sweet.

He took the cup, sending you a gentle, knowing look. You returned it, placing a hesitant hand on his.

“Let’s start small.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

I wanted to thank everyone for the overwhelming support I got after I posted part 1, you genuinely mean so much to me. I hope you enjoyed!

special thanks to the following (aka taglist): @myownsimp (your message made me cry ty legit touched my heart) @vxxxb (thank you for your message abt the way I write miguel ❤︎) @cooch1ecruncher (your so sweet and ur arts adorbs) @blue-raven-universe (TYYY) @miggyoharaswife (thank you for the support on pt.2) @abyemayiamay (your compliment means sm to me ty) @iwatobiswimbros (I’m feral for him to tbh) @lilithandherharlots (honestly same but for him? anything ❤︎) and @mochi46106 (ILY TY)

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #across the spiderverse #spiderverse atsv #into the spider verse #spiderverse itsv #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

2K notes · View notes

blackhairedjjun · 9 months ago

Text

the yearning club - c.bg

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, only a little bit of angst, misunderstanding trope, implied university au (if you squint), best friends to lovers, kissing in the rain | word count: 921 | warnings: none, this is just unbelievably cheesy lmao

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - RAIN: sender reveals their love for the receiver while they’re both standing outside in the pouring rain. (requested by @boba-beom: “a misunderstanding(?) trope where you and gyu were becoming distant because you thought he was seeing someone but it was just a friend and he confesses to you outside your house in the rain”)

author's notes: hi smiles! this request is so classic romance aaaa sdklfjksldf i got a little carried away w this! but this was very fun to write, i hope you like it <3

the rain pours unceasingly outside your bedroom window, the sound like white noise. it nearly drowns out the playlist you’re listening to through cheap earbuds, the music itself already muffled from the duvet you wrapped around yourself in bed. still, the noise doesn’t drown out the thoughts you’re trying to distract yourself from.

it’s useless to worry, your rational side says. beomgyu and yui would have canceled their plans anyway because of the rain.

but what if they decided to move their date indoors? your heart objects. or they could be dancing in the rain together...

you curl up into yourself and screw your eyes shut, listening to the playlist beomgyu made for you. though you try not to imagine your best friend 一 the same best friend you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember 一 dancing in the rain with the friend who said she would ask him out, the mental image is hard to erase. it feels more real than anything you’ve imagined. even as you shut your eyes more tightly, you can practically hear beomgyu’s voice.

the voice is a little too real...

“y/n!”

you jolt up from your bed when you realize that you can, in fact, hear beomgyu screaming your name through the downpour. you rush out of your room, forgetting to grab an umbrella, and throw your door open to find him indeed out in the street, so drenched that his hair and clothes cling to his form.

“beomgyu?!”

“y/n! you heard me!” despite being soaked and shivering in the rain, beomgyu looks radiant. his smile spreads across his whole face, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“are you crazy?! it’s raining! you’re drenched, gyu!”

“i’m sorry, y/n! i couldn’t wait any longer! i 一 i have to tell you something!”

“you couldn’t just call me?!”

“no, this is important!”

you run out into the street yourself, not caring about the rain soaking every inch of your skin and clothes, and grab beomgyu by the shoulders. “whatever it is, you can do it insi一”

“i love you!”

he’s still smiling like a lovestruck fool. the rainfall does nothing to hide the shine in his eyes, nor the blush that starts to spread across his face. somehow he’s shimmering in the rain, and despite the wet locks of hair clinging to his forehead he looks beautiful.

“i love you,” he says again. his voice is quieter but somehow louder that the torrent pouring down on the both of you.

you blink and your eyes go wide. you’re so stunned that his confession doesn’t even register in your mind properly. you hear i love you, i love you, i love you echoing in your head, but it takes a few moments for its meaning to sink in.

“b-but... yui... your date...”

“date?” beomgyu tilts his head at you.

“i heard her say she would finally ask out the guy she’s in love with. i thought that guy... was you...”

he tilts his head back in a long laugh, not mocking but relieved. your heart stops for a moment at the sound. the rain soaks his hair and face even more.

“no, she asked out that guy in her sociology class. y’know, the one she’s actually in love with.”

“so she doesn’t...”

“of course not, y/n.” beomgyu steps closer to your and pushes away a wet lock of hair clinging to your face. your heart stops again, and you find yourself gazing into his eyes. “yui and i, we called ourselves the yearning club. we made a bet that we would confess to the ones we loved at the end of this week, so today’s the last day.” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “and the one i loved... is you.”

you let out a giggle that turns into laughter, then just as quickly turns into sobs of relief. your tears mix with the raindrops, nearly blurring out your vision. “gyu... i really thought...”

“sorry i was too shy to tell you.” his smile is smaller now, reminding you of the shy smile he had when you first met. “i didn’t know if you一”

“i love you too.”

you wipe your tears away with the back of your hand, useless as the gesture is, and meet beomgyu’s eyes again. at that moment it becomes clear to you: the shine in his eyes is his affection.

your best friend’s eyes go wide and he takes another step towards you. his forehead rests on yours. “you love me...?”

“i love you.”

“y/n...”

you can do nothing more but nod and lean towards him.

your lips part and he takes the invitation to kiss you. his lips are soft, and you taste both his lip balm and something saltier 一 is it the rain, or did he cry too? 一 and you feel firm hands bringing you closer still. despite the rain soaking both of you, you feel warm, both from his body enveloping yours and the new feeling blooming in your chest.

he pulls apart from you just to gaze at you, and you feel your face grow warm at the way he admires your every feature. then he pulls you back into his embrace and the two of you sway in the rain, with you smiling into the crook of his neck. each raindrop now seems like a blessing from the heavens themselves.

you’ve never loved the rain more than you did at that moment.

#txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt x you #beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #beomgyu fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

346 notes · View notes

wildemaven · 11 months ago

Text

strangers : fog | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 5208 chapter warning's: 18+ blog: established relationship, workaholic Dave, soft Dave, miscommunication, Smut (slight exhibitionism, dry humping, orgasms, keeping kind of vague for the sake of not giving things away), implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), Dave’s phone makes an appearance- shocking, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, conversations with bestie, reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, this is au- no Carol (at least not canon Carol) or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: I kind of struggled with the end of this one. It felt very flat and blah, but thankfully @gnpwdrnwhiskey Is a gem and helped me, and it feels good now. So grateful for all of you who’ve been following along. Xoxo

strangers masterlist | previous | next | playlist | inspo board

It’s sweet.

But not the kind of sweet that aches and destroys your addiction.

It’s perfect. Just enough.

The kind of sweet that falls somewhere in the middle. Satiating that deep seeded craving that burns through your every fiber.

Like a glass of ice cold tea under the Texas sun, sweetened to perfection. Each tantalizing drop coating your tongue, idly encompassing every single taste bud with refreshing pleasure.

You're greedy. Reveling in your consumption. Take. Take. Take. Because it’s all you want and everything you’ve been needing.

Finally.

You feel him everywhere. The weight of him is substantial, pressing you into the side of the pool. A secure grip onto the ledge, the swell of his biceps flexed as he does his best to keep you both suspended and unmoving from your secluded spot.

He’s a blistering summer heatwave, one you’re fully hydrated and prepared for, but still stunned by its sultriness.

“You think they’re watching us right? All of them so fucking jealous at how good I’m makin’ you feel.” You don’t bother to take a look when he says it, your head angled back and eyes closed as his lips work their way up your neck, your only concern at the moment.

“Mmhmm— I honestly don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see how good you’re taking care of me— fuckbaby!” Your train of thought derailed when his hips jerk up with a little more eagerness than you expected.

The cool water laps rhythmically against you both. The tiniest of splashes to your exposed skin as it surrounds your bodies, relieving the heat that’s burning through you.

“Ahh!” You gasp at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Nipping and pulling. The gentle glide of his tongue soothing over the pleasant sting.

“Sorry—“ He manages to get out. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, but also been wantin’ this so fuckin’ bad.”

His lips seal over yours again, groaning where he can feel you grinding against him, discreetly hidden below the surface of the water. Your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, holding him as close as possible.

He’s unbelievably hard. Cock nudging against your aching core, the water aiding in the flow of your hips moving over him in search of relief.

“I’m definitely not complaining in the slightest. If anything, I’m entirely enjoying the roughness— wouldn’t be opposed to more of it.” You say smiling against his swollen lips.

Your words lure him back in, driven by a deeper sense of want forging beneath the water. Lashes fluttering shut as every bit of him consumes your senses. All tongues and teeth, tracing over every ridge and fleshy surface. A sweet delicate dance of unbridled emotions.

It's a slow building, intensely breathtaking. Your body ignited by self-indulgent energy, so hell-bent on seeking out unrivaled satisfaction, but you don’t seem to care. Focused solely on how each and every nerve lights up because of him, desperately wanting a release. A natural response to the way he’s holding you, kissing you, his determination to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck— that feels so good!” Breathless and anchoring yourself to his warm body.

“Yeah? You think you can come like this?” One of his hands settles on your hip, helping your unfaltering movements, hitting that ever so desirable spot just right. “There you go, gorgeous— just like that.”

“ohmygod!! I’m so close— don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.“ Your grip secure on his taut shoulders, unmoving even under the wet conditions. Your head falling onto his forehead, noses nudging, exchanging desperate wordless breaths.

“I’ve got ya.” He whispers, nodding softly as your body writhes against him. “Come for me, Baby.”

“Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh fuck— I’m coming!” Everything dissolves into pleasure. Tense and blissed out as your cunt contracts around nothing.

“Open your eyes, Baby. Let me see you come undone.”

You pull back just enough to see him. He’s beautiful, framed in a hazy white vignette. His patchy beard is both rough and soft beneath your fingertips, tracing over every little detail of him while you still can. His rich brown eyes now a golden hue as the light hits them from the reflection of the water.

“Fuck— Joel!”

You’re floating. Further and further away. Every detail of him slowly dissolving into nothingness.

Your body jolts awake, Oh god, That felt so fucking real. Quickly sitting up, your hand to your chest feeling where your heart is frantically pounding.

The dry air from the vent billows out from above you, cooling as it skims over your tacky skin.

The remnants of last night's headache still remain. Though it wanes in intensity, the throbbing pain continues. Rubbing at your temples, the added pressure doing absolutely nothing.

There’s a faint familiar ache that catches your attention from below the sheets, prompting you to throw them off, finding a pillow still tucked tightly between your legs. The experimental squeeze of your thighs around the pillow sends a fresh ripple of pleasure from your fading orgasm, causing you to inhale sharply. Your palms clamping over your mouth, breath more constricted than the last as a strong feeling of shame begins to surge through your veins.

The hotel room feels paralyzing, especially with Dave sleeping beside you.

The beach.

Needing some fresh air and some time to collect your irrational thoughts, away from this confined space where everything seems to be closing in on you. Hastily, you manage to pull on some warm clothes and sandals while throwing your wallet and phone in your purse without waking Dave.

You know the minute he wakes up to find you gone he’ll panic. It will take only minutes to have all his agent buddies pulling maps and running background checks on anyone who lives within a mile radius of the hotel. You’re already annoyed with his distant behavior, you don’t have it in you to deal with the added disgruntlement that will ensue.

Grabbing for the monogrammed hotel stationary, you scratch out a note to leave on this nightstand for him to find when he does wake.

Good Morning, Babe Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk down to the beach. I have my phone. Will be back in a bit. Love you Xoxo

You two his phone screen, noting the time at the bottom— 8:00 am —a little tactic Dave had ingrained in you for matters as such, giving a starting point in the case anything were to happen to you, taking the guessing game of when out of the equation.

A New Message glows on the screen, came in sometime last night after you both got back from dinner, he must have fallen asleep before seeing it.

Double checking, you peek over the mound of blankets that is Dave’s solid body— still sleeping. The side of his face buried into his pillow and his plush lips parted. No worry lines etched across his forehead. No tension pulling at his jawline. His perfectly groomed hair, all disheveled and twisted in all directions.

Your heart blooms at how handsome he is, his truest self on full display. A running joke between you, how others would be disappointed to find out his grumpy exterior is all a show, only reserving his softer side and big heart for you.

Refocusing back to his phone, you tap the message to preview it— a message from his mom.

Mom: Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then.

Did she find out? Find out what?

The beach isn’t far from the hotel. Grateful for only a few hellos and forced smiles exchanged on the shared path on the short walk.

The air is crisp the closer you get to the water, a light breeze blows over the shoreline bringing tiny bits of sand crystals through the air. You can feel the salt already crystallizing against your cheeks.

The lingering fog adds a bit of gloom to the atmosphere as you look out over the horizon in front of you. The white caps of the waves slowly roll over into the next, pushing their way through until they’ve reached the shore. The water fanning out as it moves, blanketing over the sand as it reaches where feet are planted firmly, now surrounded by the frigid sea water. Then it slowly slinks back out, leaving you numb as you wait for it to return.

Good Morning! Are you busy? No. Are you okay? Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to. One sec!

It takes a few flicks of the small metal dial for the flame to ignite, cupping your hand around to shelter it from the light wind threatening to squash your attempt at some sort of relief.

It’s instant when it hits the back of your mouth, swirling and stinging about as it creeps up the back of your throat. That burn is all too familiar, no longer a regular occurrence, but definitely not forgotten. It takes the edge off momentarily, it always does. You imagine blowing out all your pent up anger as your release the smoke into the oceanic air.

The cigarette sits between your fingers with ease, secure against those first knuckles as you bring it back to your lips for another desperate pull. That dedicated drag of your favorite menthol smokes had once been a regular part of your daily life in your college days. Getting you through long days of studying and working late hours, barely keeping your head above the water. Pack after pack. Light, smoke, tension gone, repeat.

Eventually it was downgraded to a social practice before finally kicking the habit all together. Something Dave never pushed for, but was proud of you nonetheless.

Your phone screen illuminates and buzzes simultaneously, a picture of Jacey double fisting some beers at last year's Fourth of July party pops up. The image alone already makes you feel better.

“Mmm… Hello?” You can tell she just woke up by the way she garbles her words into the phone.

“Hey, Jacey. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Mhmm— Kind of but it’s okay— had a bit of a late night, but it’s fine. How are things going?”

“Fine. Good. Things are good.” Trying hard to keep your voice even without giving away too much— but she knows you too well.

“I’m calling bullshit. You’re seriously the worst liar ever. Spill.”

“Ugh. Where do I even start?” You tell her, audibly groaning into the brisk pacific air.

“I’ve got some time.”

Jacey has always been this way. Available whenever you’ve needed her, at a moment's notice. Connecting with her in college, your friendship has been a steady source of support and encouragement through the years. She stood by you when you married Dave— having her now makes you feel less alone.

“Well, if it’s not one thing it’s another. There were some high hopes for sex when we got in the other night, then he passed out— which is fine ‘cause traveling and what not. But I got in my head, questioning shit about myself and our relationship. Like maybe it’s me or something. He did try to initiate the next morning but I just kind of wasn’t feeling it— so we didn’t. Plus he had phone calls he needed to make so he wasn’t worrying about them the rest of our time here.”

“Hey, it’s not you at all. Don’t ever think that. You’re a catch— Dave knows that too.” She says, her reassurance firm but delivered sincerely.

“Thank you. I mean, we kind of fooled around at the pool yesterday.”

“Ooooh!! I love this for you.”

“Well, then he ran off right before I— you know.”

“Fucking men, I swear.”

“Only to find him on the phone when he said he wouldn’t be. Then he was all jealous over this stranger I was talking to. We got back to the room, things seemed a little tense— we still went to dinner. Don’t really remember much after that, because I kept ordering dirty martinis at dinner.”

After hearing the beginning of his phone call, the shower didn’t do much to help. You didn’t want to make a scene, deciding to just leave the hurt bubbling inside of you back in the room and make the best of the rest of the night.

Dave seemed pretty much his normal self going into dinner. Conversation was lighter than it was earlier in the room. You both caught up on things that you hadn’t really talked about in a while— details about his latest assignments (within reason), your own latest work projects, random tidbits about things —things felt normal.

There was a slight shift in the evening, when he was checking his phone more often than usual. Glancing at the screen between bites of his steak then trying to figure out where you left off in the conversation.

You hadn’t even planned on drinking, but the chilled cocktail in front of Dave had been taunting you, begging to help obliterate your lingering thoughts. Then it was I’ll have another, Maybe one more, Suuuuure another sounds grreat. The dim restaurant turned into hazy fractures of light. The steady buzz of alcohol had you feel giggling and sleepy, slumping back into the velvet cushion of the intimate booth. Dave cut you off before things turned into a wild evening, shifting from your introverted self into a very lively and friendly drunk.

You don’t even remember getting back to the room, just brief glimpses of Dave undressing you and helping you into one of his shirts, then tucking you into bed.

“Hold up. Rewind— you fucking hate martinis! What the hell happened?!” She knows you so well.

“Jacey, you’re my best friend. Someone who will be straight with me no matter what. I think— Do you think Dave is cheating on me?” You ask meekly, inhaling another minty pull from your nearly finished cigarette.

“What?! Babe, why would you think Dave is cheating on you? Did something happen?”

““No— I mean yes. I think so. Fuck! I don't know what to think. We got back to the room after the pool yesterday, talked for a little bit then I went to get ready for dinner. I guess he thought I closed the door or something but I could hear him talking to someone—“ You try to keep your voice steady, finding it hard to blink the tears away as the wind whips around you.

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cheating on you. It could have just been more work shit he said he wasn’t going to do. Maybe he figured he could squeeze it in before dinner— not wanting to upset you.” Jacey is all about layout the facts and details before jumping down dark rabbit holes.

“Ashley— Her name is Ashley. I heard him say her name.”

There’s a beat of silence on the line before you hear her sigh.

“Oh— what else did you hear?” She says, sounding a little more somber than before.

“Nothing. My brain kind of went blank after that and I just got ready for dinner like I didn’t hear anything. Hence the abundance of martinis I drank my way through. Which also explains the slight headache I woke up with this morning.”

“Okay. So whoever he was talking to—“

“Ashley.” Details Jacey.

“Right, Ashley. We don’t really know much, aside from that. So it could be anyone. Could be work related— Ashley could be a last name too. You know how they always do that last name first thing for whatever reason.” Somehow she always finds a way to get you to back away from the cliff, especially when your feet are over the edge.

“Yeah, probably.” You say softly in agreement. A flock of birds catching your attention, their wings moving in unison as they fly overhead.

“Look, like you said before— I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think Dave is cheating or would ever cheat. That man loves you. Sure, he’s kind of been a little too invested in work, which is affecting things with you. I don’t think there’s someone else. I promise. But I do think you both need to talk instead of this weird dance you both are doing, that way you’re both on the same page.”

“Okay. Yeah— you’re right. Thank you, Jace. Last thing— Does it make me a bad person if I had a dream about another man last night?” You ask, feeling a bit embarrassed as you voice it out loud.

“I have those all the time— especially with that cute actor from that narcos show we love. Dreams don’t equate to real life.” She only slightly laughs at your confession.

“What if it was with a guy I met at the pool who’s staying in the hotel, who listened to me spill my life away about how I’m not sure if my husband wants kids or not now— and how marriage feels like a mess.”

“Oh! Pool guy was cute— No, I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. It was a dream. You’re fine. Hey, I hate to bail on you— but I’m umm, getting another call. We will chat soon, then you can give me more details about the cute pool guy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Jace. Talk soon. Bye.”

The call clicks out. Waves crashing onto the shore brings you back to the beach. Your cheeks cold and feet stinging as the water recedes again.

It's nearing 10 am now, deciding to head back before Dave does in fact worry that you’ve been gone for too long. You snuff out the smoldering cigarette in the wet sand and stick it in your bag to dispose of later. The added nicotine now mingles poorly with your lingering hangover, body in desperate need of water and a strong pain reliever.

On your way back to the hotel, you take every bit of what Jacey said and truly let it sink in, even as hard as it is to not let your mind wander into dark territory. She’s right though, it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on situational events if you have zero proof of anything. That doesn’t mean that you’ve written off your uneasiness completely, just simply tucking it away for the time being.

The sweet bellmen welcomes you back with a friendly smile and a wave as he holds the door open for your return. The lobby now bustles with more guests than earlier. Some checking in for their stay, others enjoying the picturesque ambience of the hotel.

In the time that it takes to get up to your room, you’ve run through several different scenarios in your head. All feeling immensely overwhelming at the thought of talking with Dave about how you’ve been feeling since he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the subtle inklings that there’s been a definite shift in your relationship the past few months. You’re not really sure you even want to have the conversation now, let alone here— not wanting to ruin the rest of the vacation in the chance things don’t go as smoothly as you want. You ultimately decide to wait, once you’ve settled back in at home, finally address everything with him.

You can hear Dave’s voice muffled outside the door of your room as you search for your key card in your bag, sounding as if he’s talking to someone on the phone.

The room is bright as you enter, the curtains pulled open allowing the sun to shine through the large windows. The bed is somewhat made with the pillows stacked neatly and sheets straightened in an orderly Dave manner.

Food had already been ordered and delivered, set out on the small table on the balcony. Your favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and toast along with a fresh pot of coffee. Dave’s usual eggs and bacon sit untouched, waiting for your return to enjoy breakfast together.

Dave’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the scenery with his phone to his ear, but the sound of you entering the room has him turning towards you.

His hair is freshly washed, combed up and out of his face. Wearing his favorite blue jeans snug around his hips, a white patterned shirt just barely buttoned to reveal enough of his slightly burnt chest to make your mouth water. It’s his beaming smile, arguably his best accessory, that makes your chest flutter, drawing you in closer to where he’s standing.

“It’s my mother.” He whispers, covering the phone with his hand as she continues to talk into his ear.

Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. Still wondering what her vague text message meant.

“Yeah, Mom. She just walked through the door.” You hear her mention your name through the speaker. “My mom says hi.”

“Hi, Carol.” You say sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek before turning to place your bag on the ground near the dresser, leaning back on the wall, watching Dave as he finishes the rest of the conversation.

“Okay, sounds good…Tell dad hello for us and we’ll talk to you later… Love you, too… bye.” The screen of his phone goes black and he tosses it over to the bed.

Grabbing a glass and some small pills resting on the dresser, closing the short distance to where you’re standing and holding the water and pain reliever out to you.

“I figured your head is probably killing you this morning.” Dave says smiling at you, no sign of annoyance in his face.

“Thanks— Sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Tossing back the pills back, gulping the water down quickly, your focus on the remaining drops of water sliding down the side of the glass, pooling together at the bottom.

Dave takes the glass from you, setting it over on the top of the dresser. One of his hands settles on your hip as the other tilts your chin up so your gaze is now directed at him.

“Did you have a good walk?” Dave asks. One of his warm hands now cupping the side of your neck, surely he can feel the way your pulse is quickening, elevated just by a simple touch from him.

“Yeah. It was nice— foggy, but beautiful. We should go again before we leave.” Your hands migrate to his shirt, fingers absentmindedly toying with the top abandoned buttons and soft silky fabric.

“Umm— I can smell the smoke on you. It’s fine, I don’t mind that you were— but is everything okay?” He knows, senses something is off, because he knows you don’t just smoke to smoke these days. Senses there’s something that triggered your need for your old vice, something to dull out whatever is silently bothering you.

Yet somehow you have almost forgotten about the cigarette until now when he asks. Feeling a bit of shame for the second time again this morning, though you don’t pick up on any sort of judgment when he does ask about it.

“Everything is fine. Just sounded good so I bought them on my way to the beach— don’t think I’ll even finish the pack though. I’m good.” Liar. You hate the way Dave winces at your answer. He knows there’s something simmering below the surface, but he doesn’t push for more.

“Okay— okay. There’s breakfast here and I was thinking afterwards we could go to some shops or something. I made reservations for tonight at 6, I thought you might want to find something new to wear. Maybe we can grab some lunch near the beach too.” He tells you, brushing off the small specks of sand cemented to your face.

You find yourself on the brink of tears, swallowing the little lump that started to form in your throat. Certain the next few days would be filled with worriment and noiseless vexation. There’s almost relief in hearing how he’s planned out the day, something he hasn’t done in months. Work and meetings always at the forefront of his planning lately, leaving little to no time for dinners or regular weekend getaways.

“Or we can stay in if you want.” His head tilts a little, brown eyes scanning over every detail of your face as you mull over his plans a little longer than he expected.

“No, that sounds nice. I brought some dresses that I can wear though, we don’t have to buy anything.” You shake your head in response. Pushing a few loose strands that had fallen out of place, his eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair.

“We can just look, and if you find something you like we can get it.” Dave suggests— a nice middle ground.

He leans in, his nose knocking against yours, humming as you continue to play with his hair.

“Okay.” You breathe out, his intense eye contact starting to ignite something within you.

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Offering you another opportunity to bare it all out for him.

His lips graze over yours when he asks, just enough to have you wanting more.

“Yeah. Everything is fine— promise.”

“Alright. Let’s get some food in you and then we can get ready to head out. And there’s coffee—” His thought abandoned, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss.

You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. Your head swirling with want, thrilled at the fact that he’s so keen to give you exactly what you’ve been craving. The scent of his cologne mixed with the musky smell of him fills your senses, making you weak for him even more.

His tongue explores your mouth, tangled together in a heated dance as your bodies grind against each other, arousal growing with each passing moment.

His hands roam freely over your body, stopping at your hips to pull you in even closer has you gasping into his mouth.

“Fuck— Dave!”

“Yeah— that feel good, Baby?” Dave’s hard almost instantly, pressing against you as you slowly grind on him. You're scorching from the friction of your bodies, the coil already winding in your lower abdomen, shivers tingling up your spine.

“Yes!! Oh god, yes!! So good, Dave!” You cry out. The heat between you unbearable, the need for release is all consuming—- more more more.

Dave’s lips fuse to yours again, dragging one hand down between your bodies. He slips under the waistband of your leggings, deft fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties, a sticky mess because of him. He’s enlivened by the way your body writhes as a result of his touch. Fingers circling over your clit in a deliberate frenzied manner, causing you to release a breathy moan into his mouth.

“You think you can come right here? I’m not gonna last much longer.” He says breaking the kiss. His eyes are filled with a burning desire as he looks at you. You nod, encouraging him to continue his ministrations, before he’s capturing your lips again.

You whine at the loss of his fingers moving over your aching bundle of nerves, your body in dire need of his touch now that he’s giving you all of it.

Dave’s hands slip under your top, fingers trailing over your pebbled skin as he pulls it up and over your head. You help him, tossing it aside, leaving you in only your lace bra and bottoms as you lean back against the coolness of the wall, chest heaving with need.

“More— pl-please, I’m almost there. ohfuckyesyesyes!.” His hands explore your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a new surge of want and urgency, his fingers trailing down your back to grip your ass and pulling you closer— sparks of pleasure blazing through you nearing a fiery release.

‘I know baby, I’ve got you’ murmured against your neck, his words riddled with assurance as he sucks on the sensitive skin there.

Your hands grip his shoulders as he continues to explore you with his mouth, caressing every inch of you as he makes his way down to your chest, pulling the fabric of your bra down, his fingers gliding over the tight skin. He cups the weight of your breast in his hand, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth gently nipping as you moan louder and louder, while his other hand fondles and twists at your other side.

“Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come—“ You gasp, arching your back, your nails digging into Dave’s shoulders has him clamping down harder on your overly sensitive nipple. The pleasing painful sting shoots straight to your core, your velvet walls pulsating, your climax within reach.

A pleasurable ache builds for the second time this morning, except this time it’s because of Dave. All your pent up emotions forging together, building into the most magnificent wave of arousal you’ve felt in a long time.

You pull his face up to meet yours, lips messily crashing against his in another bliss driven kiss. His hard cock straining behind the tightness of his jeans, tilting your cunt at the perfect angle while hoping Dave is reaping the benefits of your euphoric pursuit as you grind down on the rough seam of his denim that helps careen you over the edge.

It’s like a dream— except it's not, it’s better. Real and satiating. Your orgasm is forceful as it rips through you, taking every bit of residual tension along with it.

Dave’s movements become faster and more charged. His hips moving in a stuttering pattern— fuckfuckfuck —then stilling as a deep groan barrels through his chest. You wrap a leg around him as he collapses into you, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, holding him tightly to your body.

A breeze blows through the open balcony door, diffusing the layer of sexual haze wafting through the room. The air is welcoming, enveloping your bodies in the crispness that comes with being in close proximity to the Pacific.

It feels lighter. Less suffocating— even with the weight of your husband holding you against the wall. The low lying fog no longer a dense cloud looming over you, allowing the brightness to fully shine through.

The turbulent thoughts have settled, replaced with a mildness that seems more manageable for the time being. Your headache becomes a subsiding dullness, overpowered by the replenishment of a compelling desire.

“Shit— I came in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager. Couldn’t even make it to the bed.” He says, post sexual vibrato etched into his voice, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he lifts himself up to his full height.

Dave’s skin is glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening in the morning light. His cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, the muscles in his neck flexing as he worked to control his breathing. The silkiness of his shirt now damp and stuck to his chest.

“Hmm. I feel too good to even care. You have no idea how bad I needed that.” You smile at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing a few fallen strands of hair away from his face.

The corner of his eyes crinkle. He’s beaming, infatuated with you as he leans in, resting his forehead on yours and whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?.”

“Love you too, Dave.”

#Dave York #dave york x reader #Dave York x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

302 notes · View notes

loki-cees-all · 17 days ago

Text

I'm Dreaming of A White Christmas

Cee's James Conrad Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : James Conrad x Female Reader

Summary : After another long journey through the hot jungle with Conrad, you come to the startling realization that it’s actually Christmas Eve.

W/c : 2.8k words

Content / Warnings : Non-traditional Christmas smut, Non-traditional Christmas fluff.

Author’s Note : This fic is dedicated to Climate Change, for making me have to suffer through 20+ years of Christmas without a single fucking flake of snow to show for it 🙃

18+ Only - Minors DNI

━━━ · · ━━━ … ━━━ · · ● · · ━━━ … ━━━ · · ━━━

Sweaty would have been an understatement.

After two days in the jungle, after traipsing through endless amounts of grimy mud and sticky bushes and shouting yourself raw, it felt like no amount of cold showers was ever going to bring your body temperature back down to something reasonable.

Hell, it was damn near midnight now, and the outside humidity was still hovering well over 90%. But even in those conditions, the entire ordeal was worth it in the end.

You probably spent over half an hour in the shower once you made it back to the hostel. Just standing there, letting the water run down your scalp and skin, until your muscles were too heavy and exhausted to even reach for a bar of soap. Instead, your eyes fluttered closed while your mind replayed the dramatic events over the past two days.

Eventually you forced yourself to actually wash yourself and dry off. Conrad would surely be back soon, if he wasn’t already, and you wanted to be waiting for him when he finally returned. You wanted to hear about the look of joy on that poor mother’s face when her child was finally returned safely.

After dressing in what passes for clean clothes these days, you begin to sweat again before even making it back to the room. Cursing God, and Lucifer, and Jesus, and anyone else you could think of, you pushed open the door and flopped unceremoniously onto the stiff bed.

Christ, even the bedsheets were sticky and miserable. It’s a good thing you were so unbelievably exhausted, otherwise you might never be able to fall asleep tonight. And a sticky bed was way better than sleeping on the ground at least, but still - you’d absolutely murder someone just for the chance at a crisp, heavy snowfall tonight.

For a chilly, decadent Winter Wonderland, a fuzzy sweater, and a creamy hot chocolate. It’d been ages since you’d last felt a genuine shiver…

Groaning, you slowly push up to sitting and try to blink yourself awake. While rolling your shoulders to pop your neck, you glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It read half an hour till midnight, and your heart rate picked up a little bit. Only an hour had passed since temporarily parting ways with Conrad, and you already couldn’t wait to see him again.

To keep yourself occupied while waiting, you step gingerly over to the single table in your room and grab your canvas knapsack from the chair. Inside the bag, nestled between your empty canteen and a seemingly endless supply of empty peanut wrappers, is the journal you used to document your adventures with Conrad.

The journal has definitely seen better days. Its edges are bent and torn, the cover is littered with mud and water stains - but it was your most prized possession. Inside those pages were beautiful, tragic, tales of both wanderlust and wonderful lust. Traveling with Conrad was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, from midnight skinny-dipping to beach camping and stargazing.

You’d seen more marvels of the world than most people ever get to dream about. And the fact that you got to experience it all with such a stunning man was nothing more than a miracle.

In-between those special moments, there would occasionally be a less-than savory or even potentially dangerous mission to take on. They were just in order to fund your more pleasant adventures, but even the stress and peril was well worth it to you. Every moment with that tall, devastatingly handsome, perfectly muscular and very protective former soldier was a dream come true - snowy weather or not.

A warm breeze drifts in through the open window, charitably stirring the stagnant air in the room. It was a temporary reprieve, and just enough to get you to uncap your pen and begin writing.

Over the next several pages, recollections of the previous days’ events poured out seamlessly. The stop at this small village, just a day’s walk from Saigon, was supposed to be a quick one; just long enough to find a place to bathe and stock up on supplies for the final trek of your journey.

But as soon as Conrad heard a mother’s anguished screams of terror down the street, he literally dropped everything and took off running. By the time you managed to pay the vendor, gather the purchased wares from the street and take off after him, he had disappeared.

A few minutes later you finally managed to find him, down on his knees and comforting the distraught mother in broken Vietnamese while her neighbors and other children shouted additional information to him. Eventually, he was able to determine that the woman’s youngest child, a boy no more than 2 or 3 years old, had taken off suddenly - possibly into the jungle, and definitely terribly lost.

One look from Conrad was all it took to let you know that Saigon could wait; finding this missing child was way more important than any other task he’d ever been given. Only a monster would ever disagree with him about something like that.

Shortly thereafter, you were journeying back into the jungle with Conrad, alongside the woman’s brother and his two eldest children. All four of you walked from sunrise to sundown, meticulously searching every inch of the earth in widening, concentric circles - slowly venturing further and further into the jungle, looking for clues and desperately calling out the name of the missing child.

If it were up to Conrad, you knew he’d keep looking throughout the night, and that he was only stopping at sunset to give you and the others a chance to rest. But as soon as he thought you were asleep, he’d slip out of your tent and go off searching by himself all night, returning to camp just before sunrise and looking more weary than ever.

But eventually, you all did manage to find the child. When Conrad pulled that scared little boy down from the tree, you wept actual tears of joy. He was mostly uninjured, just frightened and starving and sporting a few more scrapes and cuts than before. And after getting a little bit of food and water into his belly, the former soldier dutifully carried him all the way back to the village.

He’d directed you to go straight to the hostel to get cleaned up while he returned the child to his mother, and that was where the journal entry concluded for now. Your eyes filled with happy tears once more as you skimmed over the words you’d just written; you’d never ever seen Conrad more pleased or relieved than in the moment when he finally located the little boy alive.

Finding people and reuniting lost loved ones was in his blood, it was woven tightly into his DNA. It was what he lived for most; the one thing he’d never been able to have himself.

With a relieved sigh, you flip back a few pages to check the date of the previous entry, and your breath suddenly hitches in surprise. Could this be right?! Maybe all the sweat was seeping into your brain and drowning all of your synapses beyond functionality…

But no. You double- and then triple-check. You count on your fingers, you write out each date individually in the margin of the page. The last entry, written the morning you and Conrad were due to arrive in the village, two whole days prior, was dated December 22nd. Making today…December 24th.

Christmas Eve.

Your heart flutters in your chest as a wave of excitement and painful nostalgia crashes over the room. Life is so much different now than when you were a kid; of course Christmas wouldn’t be any exception, no matter how much you loved the holiday. And it doesn’t feel right, sweating and feeling like you’re boiling alive on the day before Christmas - yet, here it is all the same.

Mercifully, the pain is short-lived as you sense the familiar thud of Conrad’s boots finally coming up the stairs. The sound of his voice, spirited yet exhausted, reverberates off your skin as he laughs with another guest of the hostel. You barely have enough time to bite your lip in anticipation before he’s bursting into the room, a lovely grin on his face and his jeans and knapsack covered in dirt and muck.

Like he’s Santa Clause, and he’s finally come round to you, bearing gifts of good news and his very own presence.

You hop out of your seat, matching his giddy grin with one of your own. “Kid’s back home now? Safe and sound?”

Before he can even finish nodding, you’re across the room and jumping into his arms. Luckily, Conrad is already quite adept with this maneuver and he catches you with ease, bracing his arms underneath your thighs as they wrap around his waist.

“Was that doubt I sensed in your tone just now, darling?” he teases playfully against your lips, his large hands shifting to grip your ass.

You laugh, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and shifting closer in his grasp to let your lips brush against his. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of doubting you…”

“There’s a good girl…” Conrad purrs before closing the distance between your lips, kissing you passionately and eagerly.

You moan into it, shifting one hand to cup his jaw as your lips part between his. Rushed and heated, his kisses taste like salt and sun and rain. Like home; a new one, completely the opposite of where you’d originally come from, but still somehow everything you’d ever needed.

It’s funny how things work out like that.

Before you can take another breath, he begins walking you both backwards, his hands squeezing your ass before you both go toppling onto the bed. As soon as you land and arch yourself beneath him, his kisses shift down your jaw to your neck, his teeth gently scraping against the delicate skin there.

“Christ, you smell incredible…” he groans deeply, his hands sliding up over your hips and underneath your tank top.

You let out a soft hum, grinning as he pushes the tank top up over your breasts, and then gasping as his lips find your nipple. Conrad was always a hungry man, but never more so than after a win like today.

“It’s called showering, Captain. You should try it sometime…”

His smirk grows exponentially after you tease him, devilish and intense as he crawls back up to let his lips hover just a heated breath above yours.

“Perhaps you should’ve waited for me…washed my back, while I washed yours…” he groans, the sound of it breathless and sinfully delirious already. For good measure, he rolls his hips in an enticing manner, slowly increasing the pressure against your throbbing clit.

As if you needed any additional reasons to want him this badly.

With each roll of his hips, you shudder in pleasure, the need at the apex of your thighs slowly drenching the fabric between you both. You need no further enticing and pull his face down, crushing his lips against yours in an even more desperate, more hurried kiss than before.

The next few moments are a flurry of breathless moans and needy groans. Two sets of hands work on one another’s clothing, pushing and pulling and stripping until you’re both as bare as the day each of you were born.

And then suddenly, Conrad’s inside you. That familiar stretch graces you once more, kindly blessing the ever-present ache that’s existed ever since you first laid eyes on him. Your back arches further, the heels of your feet dig into his hips and you both moan in unison as he sinks in, burying himself all the way to the hilt.

It isn’t the first time he’d had you, nor will it be the last, but it had been almost three whole days. Too long, practically a lifetime considering how good it always is - but even so, his pace is slow and languid, like he’s savoring it. He’s not a man drowning in a river after almost dying of thirst, but a man who’s been waiting patiently for a reward most definitely well-earned.

You can’t help the gasping laugh that escapes in a sudden rush of endorphins. Your heart lurches in your chest and your pupils dilate until there’s just a sliver of color left around them. This is a reward, yes, but it’s also more than that - it’s a gift.

Conrad, a dedicated and well-trained soldier until the very end, doesn’t miss a beat even after you laugh again and your arms tighten around his neck. He merely nips at your jaw while a curious smirk tugs at his cheeks, his hips continuing so smooth and fluid in their undulating.

“Something funny, dear?”

You gasp again as he punctuates that final word by slipping a large hand underneath your skull, cradling it gently and tilting it upwards. It’s a stunning move, making you feel so safe and small while he makes love to you. Your eyelids flicker, and he follows suit as you let out yet another breathless laugh.

“It’s Christmas…” you murmur, almost in a daze. You’re not even sure if the words are audible as a rush of light crashes over you.

“Is it now?” Conrad grins, mistakenly taking your statement as one of pure praise instead of just a reflection of today’s date. He thrusts harder, and lets out a deep groan as your muscles tighten in response.

You moan again and start to feel like you’re floating. Consistent breaths in and out are a thing of the past, but still, you manage a frenzied response. You want him to know the truth, to celebrate the special day with him.

“No - it’s…oh, God, fuck - the 25th! It’s the 25th…”

Conrad’s moaning along with you, drowning out any response in a sea of incoherence. His hips thrust deeper, the taut muscles of his back flexing and contracting in a quick rhythm underneath your hands. His forehead falls against yours, his gasps and exhales heavily washing over your cheeks and lips and nose. He’s starting to lose his mind, and the last thing you can see clearly are his eyes rolling back into his head.

It’s so incredibly hot when he loses control, the shameless passion he openly shows to you and only you. It’s the complete opposite of the winter wonderland you were dreaming of earlier. But when your thighs start to shake, he changes the angle of his thrusts - and then all of a sudden, it finally feels like Christmas.

Usually when you come, he makes you see stars, but not tonight. This time, you see Christmas lights - reds and whites and greens and blues all sparkling and dancing together in unison. The room instantaneously becomes a frigid, barren landscape and Conrad is the only warm thing left in existence, his fire crackling and popping against the deep and endless midnight sky.

Keeping you safe inside the great big dark unknown. A guiding light towards the brighter days lingering ahead.

You whimper as you come, from the sheer force of it, and Conrad tips right over the edge with you. His back arches to push himself deeper, his hips move frantically, pushing and pulling his cock over and over between your tight muscles like he just can’t help himself.

And why shouldn’t he? He performed a Christmas miracle yesterday.

It all feels like a dream, but eventually, Conrad’s hips slow, and he collapses on top of you. For a moment, neither of you can move, other than gasping for breath and whimpering with each uncontrollable twitch and spasm of every nerve and muscle. Slick skin marks both the mutual satisfaction and the need for another shower - and as long as you don’t pass out beforehand, this time you’d be honored to wash Conrad’s back for him.

Recovery takes longer than usual. Maybe it’s the culmination of the previous few days, the heat, the date; maybe it’s the reflection of the past year as a whole, or the hopeful promises of what the next one might bring. But when Conrad adjusts, and then tightens, his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking in a deep breath, you know it’s all of the above.

You hug him tighter in return. You press your lips to his ear, his jaw, his hair. Anywhere you can reach, anything that’s him. He’s made your year an incredible one, and you were sure that the next one was going to be even better.

Conrad lets out a deep, peaceful hum. One that reverberates deep into your heart and makes it skip a beat. He tilts his head and presses a deep, tender kiss to your cheek.

“Is it really the 25th?” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah, it is…” you laugh, turning your head and nuzzling your face against his. “Merry Christmas, Conrad…”

He chuckles and returns the sweet gesture, adding in a tender caress of your jaw. His eyes flicker up and then down your face, examining and completely mesmerized by everything he finds. Everything you feel about him, he returns tenfold, and it shows in every flicker of light in his eyes, mesmerizing and breathtaking.

“Merry Christmas, darling…”

━━━ · · ━━━ … ━━━ · · ● · · ━━━ … ━━━ · · ━━━

Click here to be added to my James Conrad fic tag list! 💙

#james conrad #james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad x reader smut #james conrad smut #james conrad imagine #james conrad fanfiction #james conrad x you #james conrad x y/n #captain james conrad #james conrad fic #captain conrad #captain conrad smut #james conrad fluff #conrad fluff #cee writes

59 notes · View notes