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paarksunghoon · 3 months ago

Note

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #kpop x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #kpop imagines #sunghoon #my writing*

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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Wash His Hair

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you wash leon's hair and try to help him unwind (fluff) (also, a tad hurt/comfort)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: inspired by this post from @peachscentedcandle cause it made me laugh. this post does reference the movie good will hunting, if you haven't seen it you should watch it! (after you read this of course ;) it's really good. but anyways, thank you so much for the support on my last posts (kissing u thru the phone if you reblogged or commented). as before, comments and reblogs are appreciated :) also, the divider is from here!

Leon had been exhausted lately. He tried to play it off, but you could tell. He was so much quieter since coming home from his last mission. He didn’t say much about it, but you knew it had been rough. It stretched longer than expected, and while it was a success in the end, there were some complications along the way that you knew he blamed himself for.

He’d walk around the apartment slower than usual with distance in his eyes. You tried getting him to talk about it, but he’d deny anything was wrong at all. It wasn’t like he wanted space though. You asked him if he’d like to do something to maybe get his mind off it, but all he wanted to do was relax in bed with you. Normally, you’d never complain about that; however, when you knew he was hurting, you couldn’t just push it aside. His avoidant nature was a little frustrating after a while, and if it was anyone else, you’d probably be fed up. But you knew he didn’t do it to be malicious.

You lie in bed with him, softly running your fingers through his hair. His cheek is pressed to your shoulder, his eyes staring at your bedroom wall. You try to watch him without being too obvious with your staring. Your hand on his head slides down to rub his back. You just wanted to help. You try to think of literally anything that might help get him out of this slump. You sit up a little in bed and he looks up at you to see the reason for your movement.

“I’m going to take a shower. How about you join me?” you say, breaking the silence.

It’s like you can see the excuse rising in his throat. The way he tenses a little and his eyes flit away. You could hear the thoughts in his head telling him to pull away and close the walls. Before he can, you speak.

“Please,” you say softly, trying to avoid sounding demanding, “It’ll let you unwind, Baby. I just want to help you. It will be quick and painless, I promise.” You give him a small smile, hoping to lighten his mood if only a little bit.

He looks at you for a moment more, the excuse sinking back down and the anxiety in his mind receding, before he nods. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees quietly.

It wasn’t a completely enthusiastic reaction, but it was a step in the right direction. Your smile widens, and you give him a quick peck on the forehead before you both roll out of bed. The air felt cool after being enveloped by blankets and Leon for the last few hours. You walk into the bathroom, turning the lights and the shower on. You rummage in the cabinet beneath your sink for anything that could make this even more relaxing for your boyfriend who undresses to the side of you as the water heats up.

Finally, you see a bag of shower steamers in the back. After taking one of the chalky pellets and placing it beneath the pouring water, you peel your clothes off. Leon’s gaze is fixed on your body, but there’s no lust in it right now. It’s pure adoration. The love you feel from his eyes causes heat to rise in your cheeks. You extend your hand to him, feeling his firm grasp as he takes it. The two of you step into the shower. You take a deep breath and inhale the fresh scent of oranges rising with the steam. He uses some of the hot water to push his hair back and out of his face. It may have been wishful thinking, but you would have sworn you could see his features already relaxing a bit.

Your eyes are soft as you look into his. You reach up to stroke his cheek a little, and you can feel him leaning into your touch as the warm water sprays over the two of you.

“C’mere,” you whisper and pull him into a tight hug. Your head rests where his heart is as your arms lock around his torso. You plant a kiss on the slippery skin of his chest and slowly start rubbing his back. “It’s not your fault.”

He doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, you worry you may have upset him. But he doesn’t move. His arms stay wrapped around you with his chin propped on top of your head.

“Just have your Good Will Hunting moment, Babe. It’s not your fault,” you say again, trying to reassure him a bit without it being so much that he’d pull away.

He amusedly exhales and squeezes his arms around you tighter. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but that’s okay with you. The shower continues pouring down on you and the steam clouds the air further.

“I love you,” he says simply. His voice sounds less deflated. The subtle improvement in his tone makes your heart glow.

“I love you too,” you say, slowly nuzzling his chest. You kiss his collar bone a few times, trying to elevate his mood further. Even though the progress was small, you could feel the shower washing away the gloom that had been surrounding him since he came home. “Let me wash your hair now,” you offer.

You reach for his shampoo, but he stops you, gently grabbing your wrist. He pulls it across the shelf in the shower to where your things sit. “Use yours,” he says softly.

You beam at the request and kiss his cheek. His eyes were starting to lose the fog of exhaustion. He still looked tired but not beaten down. You grab your shampoo and squirt the liquid into your hand. He didn’t care if it wasn’t good for his hair type or anything like that, he just wanted your smell on him.

You rub the shampoo over your palms into a soapy lather. Leon tilts his head down to give you a better angle. You run your hands through his hair, lovingly scratching his scalp as you work the bubbles through his blonde locks. He shuts his eyes and nearly purrs while your fingers massage his head. You press tender kisses to both of his cheeks and nose before directing his head under the shower head to rinse.

The stress and guilt melt away under the hot water and your affection. You’re nearly petting him as you guide the soap out of his hair. He lets out a deep breath after inhaling the steam. He zones out as you start conditioning his hair. He only comes back as he feels you rubbing a wash cloth over the muscles of his chest and arms. His eyes slowly open and watch you spread the soap across his body.

You smile up at him as you move to his abdomen. “You still with me?” you say with a little teasing in your voice.

He hums in response and shuts his eyes again. You soothingly wash the rest of his body and then rinse him off. You quickly take care of yourself as he continues to relax under the flow of water. When you’re done, you give him a sweet kiss to bring him out of his stupor and shut the water off. The two of you step out of the shower hand in hand. You pass him a towel and you both dry off. He starts for the closet, but you take him by the arm and lead him to your bed.

“Don’t get dressed yet. Just sit back, take it easy, and let me help you really relax,” you say before kissing him yet again. He watches you as you get your lotion and begin rubbing it into your palms. You work the cream over his body, paying extra attention to the places you could feel his tension. The smell fills the air and puts him further at ease.

You glide around so you’re kneeling on the bed behind him, kneading the muscles of his shoulders and back. You kiss and nuzzle his neck. He lets out a soft noise of pleasure.

“There you go, Baby. Let it all go. There’s nothing to worry about right now,” you coo as you continue your soothing caresses. He’s like putty in your hands as you continue loving on him.

You finish your makeshift massage once you felt his skin couldn’t be any smoother. The two of you dress in fresh clothes before climbing into bed, getting comfy between the pillows and blankets. You tangle your limbs with Leon and kiss his head. “See, this feels even better than before, right?” you whisper.

He nods and shifts his position so that he’s nearly on top of you. He kisses your neck softly. He was so soft and smelled like you. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“No thanks needed, my love,” you say and return the kiss to the side of his head.

“But I want you to hear it, need to make sure you know,” he whispers.

You run your hand through his clean hair and cradle his head in the crook of your neck. “I know. You don’t have to worry about that either. I like doing this,” you reassure, “Just try to get some real rest now.”

He hums and gives you one more kiss before shutting his eyes. You feel him drifting off above you, at peace for the moment.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil fluff #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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thatweeboverthereisthirsty · 3 months ago

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May i request this but with jack, jamil, and trey? (If u can leona too but if not im totally okay with those three cuz i simp for them so hard lol) gn! Pretty plz and thank you :D

I actually think it's been over a year since this ask appeared in my inbox... I have been considering shutting this blog down but at this point I think it's dead in the water anyways 😭... um enjoy?

Jack is a pretty large guy so that being said he doesn’t shirk his responsibilities when it comes to taking care of his partner

Not only is he extremely careful before and during the act, he is incredibly attentive to your needs afterwards

He always takes care of you first and himself afterwards no matter how uncomfortable it may be

Jack always starts with asking you how you are feeling and what-if anything-you could possibly want or need at that moment

Only then does he start futsing around the room looking for stuff and cleaning up

He wants to give you a second to just rest afterwards and he’s tired himself but as soon as he comes off the high all he can see is his partner looking tired and disheveled and he immediately wants to fix that

After waiting patiently and somewhat painfully for you to come down and finish resting he quickly swoops in and does all the rest for you

Bath? Check. Cozy towel large enough to drown you in? Check. Fresh bedding and blankets so you can rest again when clean? Check. Clothes in the laundry? Check. Fresh comfy clothes ready for you in the bathroom? Check.

This man is so shy he gets the bath ready for you and then leaves, telling you to lock the door as if anyone could get past him

It’s almost like he didn’t just see you fully bare

You have to ask him to come in and wash your hair otherwise he will wait outside to make sure you feel comfortable and that you have your own privacy

All in all: a big softie who loves you too much to put into words

Trey is another softie when it comes to aftercare

He is one of the most considerate and kind individuals you will ever meet (at NRC that is)

Regardless he is exceptionally thoughtful and would NEVER let you go without some sort of care after doing it

Trey prefers to move you off the bed for aftercare because he doesn’t want you to sit in the potentially dirty sheets for too long

He thinks it’s very important that you clean yourself off thoroughly after sex

He will run a bath or start a shower or whatever you prefer and ask if you would like his help or some privacy

If you ask for help he will be very respectful as if your body doesn’t affect him at all (although you know better) and carefully soap up a rag and wipe you down\

He is the kind of man that has chemical free soaps for situations where you might have to wipe down more intimate areas to avoid potentially irritating them

And you will clean those intimate areas as he will clean his as well, not because he is a germ freak, he just gets concerned about infections: your health is always the most important thing to him

His next step will always be changing the sheets while you are still showering or bathing, he wants you to be able to relax on a fresh bed while he pampers you

After that? It’s all up to what you are interested in, a massage, reading, watching tv, just relaxing? You got it

Of course he will have a sweet treat prepared along with a second glass of water (cause you know he made you drink one immediately afterwards)

You have to get some sugar and energy into your system after exerting so much energy and he is firm in this belief no matter how energized you feel afterwards

Overall he is a 10/10 in and out of bed

Jamil is less flexible when it comes to aftercare, not in a bad way, he is just very set in what he believes you need and will require that you let him take care of you that way or he WILL refuse further intimacy

(He’s manipulative like that)

All that said it’s really all because he’s used to dealing with Kalim who doesn’t take his own health into consideration nearly enough as he should and his controlling tendencies typically make themselves known when it comes to aftercare

He has very specific steps that he follows and really you should just let him because they are all catered to your needs and health

Everytime you guys are together he has some level of preparation: there's a snack and water on the bedside table and a rag in a dish of warm water, and a clean dry one to follow

He will wipe you down nearly immediately afterwards no matter how tired he is, he cannot allow you to be sticky or get an infection

You are allowed to relax and rest with him in bed after that but only afterwards

But not for too long because Scarabia is very hot and if you guys are in his room he wants to change the sheets as soon as possible and he does this by running you a bath in his private bathroom

He adds a sensitive-skin chemical-free bath bomb and allows you to just relax for a hot second while he cleans up his room

Of course he checks in with you every few minutes because Kalim fell asleep in the bathtub once and now he fears you might do the same and accidentally slip under

When he has finished cleaning the room he turns his full attention to you, making sure you are washed and dried with gentleness and accuracy

His special form of aftercare though is something completely unique to him

He wants to do your hair

It doesn’t matter what color, length, type at all he will know how to take care of it and will do so with surprising care

He uses a quiet blow dryer/diffuser and combs out your hair till it's perfectly untangled

He uses scalp oils and hair mousse and anything else he feels the need to add and afterwards sometimes depending on how he feels he will add little braids and charms

Jamil misses doing his own hair every morning before he learned how to do it with magic, it was how he relaxed and prepared himself for another long day at work. It was something he could take his time in and be as controlled or as free as he wanted with it, so of course he wants to give you the experience he loved do much

Another 10/10 with aftercare and general caretaking but that was to be expected from someone as prepared as Jamil

Ok don’t get me wrong, Leona cares a ton, he just has no clue what he is doing at all

He is still ridiculously sweet in his own gruff “I’m pretending I don’t care about you but if you so much as wince I’ll carry you everywhere for a week” sort of way

Definitely did not pay attention in Sex-ed so he doesn’t know squat past the basics of the actual act

He is naturally prone to foreplay to some degree so it’s not so bad the first few time you do it

After that one time you disappeared into his bathroom for a while and confessed that you were a little sore the next day he freaked out…on the inside

He maybe sort of gently refused sex for a little while out of concern and confusion

Once he realized he couldn’t just ignore the problem and wait for it to go away he resigned himself to researching aftercare methods

He was hesitant to try them out at first but still made an effort

Started with having some water by his bed for you or offering to let you take a bath and slowly but surely got better

His care is still pretty minimal though, it pretty much consists of getting you clean and comfortable and then cuddling with you until he decides it's acceptable for you to leave

Despite this, he is always careful with you even when he is being “rough”, he wouldn’t admit it but you are his world and if he ever did anything to you by accident, he would be devastated

Side Note: Ruggie refuses to change Leona’s sheets unless paid now so he always teases you afterwards but doesn’t really mind cause he’s getting something out of it lol

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover #trey x reader #twst jamil viper #twst trey clover #jack howl x reader #jack howl #twst jack howl #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar #leona x reader

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seelestars · 10 months ago

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Slow dance with Aventurine plz 👀🙏🏻

SLOW DANCE W/ AVEN… except the two of you are on an undercover spy mission ♡

a/n : ik this wasn’t related to the og req, but his bp icon got me thinking… and then out came this spy mission idea _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): hope u still enjoy tho ! had to google vids of slow dancing for this only to end up not being so descriptive abt it

you and aventurine were tasked with the objective of gathering intel on some people that ran the current planet the ipc wanted to conquer. except—it was specifically requested that you two harvest the information in a way that didn’t involve violence.

which is why the two of you were attending a banquet hosted by your targets as spies, wearing clothes that were equally as fancy as the attire of everyone else attending.

the place reeked of expensive champagne and luxury, couples inviting each other for romantic dances. it made you feel out of place, since you had nobody to dance with. you supposed it could make you and aventurine stick out like a sore thumb among everyone else—being some of the only people that were currently not dancing.

somehow, aventurine must have read your mind, because what he asked of you next was exactly what you were just pondering about.

“my lovely partner, why don’t we share a dance together? your envy is too obvious whenever you look at the couples here.” aventurine snickers, a fox-like grin on his lips as he extends his hand towards you. he had even decided to use a more affectionate term to refer to you, causing you to immediately perk up. it was quite amusing to him to watch you avert your gaze shyly whenever he acted more affectionate towards you.

“…no need. we’re not here to dance, aventurine. we’re here to do our job.” you decline, shaking your head. you couldn’t just let him distract you two from your main objective here… even though you would really like for him to distract you if it meant he would dance with you.

“oh? are you sureeee?~ after all, it’s a one in a lifetime opportunity to dance with *the* aventurine.” aventurine clicks his tongue playfully, teasing you. “besides, it’s only for a bit anyway. im sure it’s no harm if we get a bit sidetracked, no?” he doesn’t try overly hard to convince you anyway—he was sure you’ll give in without much persuasion. that’s how you always were when it came to him, unable to resist his charm.

“…fine. I suppose we can afford to get a bit sidetracked, just this once.” you sigh softly, a small smile on your lips as you inevitably give in to his desires. with slight reluctance, you take his gloved hand in yours as he begins to guide the two of you into a slow, romantic dance.

before you knew it, you were caught amidst an intense dance with aventurine. your gazes locked with each other as you carefully make sure not to step on his feet, as does he. you were sure your cheeks were very flushed currently—but he was right. it wasn’t everyday someone got to dance with someone like aventurine, who was the type of person both the ladies and gentlemen yearned for. so, you made sure to savor this precious moment.

aventurine then delicately guides you to do a twirl, letting out a soft chuckle once you do. “hehe, we should definitely dance like this more often, my lovely partner. we make for a good pair, don’t we?” he grins, smug that he managed to secure a dance with you. to him, you were so gorgeous that if there weren’t so many couples in this banquet already, everyone would be asking for a dance with you.

“…mm. we’ll see about that.” the way you smiled and looked at him made it quite obvious you would allow him more opportunities like this in the future. sure, this may have been a completely unnecessary distraction—but it was a pleasant one. a pleasant distraction that you wouldn’t mind happening more often if he was the cause.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader

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keehomania · 4 months ago

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Girl I've read ur recent work and u write for mark soooo well omds likeee 😫😫 LIKE SOME OF THEM REALLY GOT ME LIKE DAYUMMM THAT HAPPENED?? but anyways, may I please req a mark smut oneshot but he's hitting it from the back infront of the mirror 🫶 oddly specific but ykkk 🤭💗

PRACTICE — MARK LEE (마크아) (DRABBLE)

✧°, 18+

the rhythm of the music pulsed through you, each beat sending a ripple of energy that moved your body like an extension of the sound itself. every click, every snap, every bend of your joints matched the tempo flawlessly. you moved effortlessly, gliding through the practice room as if the floor was an ocean and you, the tide, crashing and retreating with perfect fluidity. your legs carried you across the glossy surface, only for you to slide down with your hips, feeling the friction against the ground as if the music itself was guiding you lower, pulling you into the depths of your own expression.

this was how you preferred it. alone, without the prying eyes of an audience, no need for applause or recognition. just you, the music, and the space to let it all pour out, unfiltered. in these moments, you felt free — more so than anywhere else. every emotion, every thought, channeled through your body as it moved to the rhythm that only you could hear. but peace never lasted forever.

your ears caught a sound—a click that didn’t belong to the music. it was subtle, but it jarred your senses, breaking the delicate trance you had been in. you didn’t need to turn around to know what it was. your eyes shifted upwards, catching the reflection in the wide mirror that lined the walls. there he was. leaning against the doorframe, his figure half-shadowed by the dim light filtering through the hall. his eyes were locked onto you, dark and intense, watching your every move as if he had been there for a while. how long had he been standing there? the thought sent a wave of heat to your cheeks, and not from the workout.

rising from the floor, you felt a sudden rush of embarrassment flood your chest, your breath still heavy from exertion. you hadn’t expected an audience, especially not your boyfriend. the vulnerability of being caught in such a raw, unguarded state sent a shiver down your spine. “you should try knocking,” you joked, your voice trembling with a nervous laugh as you tugged at the hem of your shorts, adjusting them in a futile attempt to regain composure. but mark didn’t respond, didn’t even crack a smile. his gaze remained steady, a quiet hunger in his eyes, the kind you’d never seen before. it wasn’t just admiration—it was something deeper, something that sent your heartbeat skittering beneath your ribcage.

“mark?” you called, hoping to snap him out of whatever trance he seemed to be in. but again, silence. he pushed off the doorframe and started towards you, his movements slow, deliberate, the air between you charged with an intensity that made your skin prickle. had he been disappointed? did he expect more? the doubt clawed at the edges of your mind, but the way he was looking at you told a different story. his silence wasn't disdain—it was something else entirely. he closed the distance between you with a quiet, predatory grace, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin, taking in the way your shorts clung low on your hips, exposing the hem of your panties, how your shirt stuck to your sweat-slicked skin.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding louder than the dying music in the background. “please, say something,” you tried again, your voice soft, almost pleading. but before you could finish, he was there, just inches away, his presence overwhelming, his gaze smoldering. it silenced you, that look. a heat bloomed across your skin, his nearness amplifying the tension between you.

“you did so good,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry purr that sent a tremor down your spine. his fingertips grazed your cheek, tucking away the damp strands of hair that clung to your face, his touch light, but charged with unspoken intent. you tried to laugh it off, even as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably. “nothing special,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just practice.”

his eyes darkened at that, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. he hated when you said things like that, hated how blind you were to your own brilliance. “have you seen yourself?” he asked, his tone sharp, though not unkind. the mirrors surrounded you, reflecting every angle, but somehow, you always seemed oblivious to what he saw. what everyone saw. you blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his stare, his words echoing in your mind. prove it? what did he mean by that? the question lingered in the air between you, heavy and unanswered, until it was replaced by something else—something far more tangible.

your knees gave way before you could even process what was happening, your body responding to the soft, unexpected pressure of his lips on yours. it was sudden, startling even, but the moment his mouth touched yours, all your questions dissolved into nothing. you knew better than to resist, better than to pull away. mark had always had this effect on you—the ability to unravel you, to strip away the composure you wore like armor, leaving you exposed in a way that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

his lips moved against yours with a practiced ease, a perfect synchronization that felt almost too natural, too right. He tasted you slowly, deliberately, savoring the salt of your sweat, the rawness of the moment. and that’s how he liked you — raw. no filters, no performances, no masks. you didn’t have to pretend around him, didn’t have to put on a show like you did for the others. for mark, you were enough just like this, messy, sweaty, stripped of all pretense. that’s when he wanted you most—when you were vulnerable, laid bare to your very core.

the aftershocks of your embarrassment still pulsed through you, a hum of unease that made your heart race. but he thrived on that, thrived on seeing you in this state. his fingers brushed your jaw, the touch gentle, almost soothing, but there was something darker beneath it. something that made your stomach flip, a wave of heat crashing over you as his lips moved with more urgency, his tongue pressing insistently at your lower lip. it wasn’t a request—it was a demand. a demand you surrendered to without hesitation, parting your lips for him, giving him what he wanted. he devoured you.

the kiss deepened, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, slow and deliberate. you felt his warmth, his breath mixing with yours as his hand tilted your chin up, angling you just how he wanted. your knees threatened to buckle again as his tongue slid over your teeth, tangling with yours, coaxing a soft gasp from your lips. the sound only seemed to spur him on, his movements growing bolder, more possessive, as if he wanted to claim every part of you.

you let him. you let him take what he needed, let him devour you in the way only he knew how. saliva pooled between your lips, spilling out in messy streams as he finally pulled away, breathless and satisfied, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. his thumb brushed the corner of your lips, wiping away the remnants of your shared kiss, his eyes dark and heavy with want. “you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his voice low, thick with desire.

of course, you knew. anyone would know. you didn’t have to hear it to understand the effect you had on him. it was clear, undeniable, from the way his body responded to yours, the way his breath hitched and his hands lingered, unwilling to let go. you felt it, too—the hard press of his dick against your bare thigh, showibg just how much power you held over him. even though he was clothed, you could feel him, feel the subtle way he rutted against you, seeking some kind of relief. it was subtle, but not enough to escape your notice. you never missed a beat—not when you danced, and certainly not now.

his hand traveled down your neck, tracing the line of your collarbone before dipping into the neckline of your shirt. his touch was feather-light, teasing, and it had you squirming. his thumb brushed against the swell of your breast, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “what are you playing at, mark?” you whispered, the words thick and heavy with anticipation. you knew what he wanted—what he always wanted—but you liked hearing him say it. you liked the power that came with making him admit it.

mark’s smirk grew, his eyes gleaming in the soft light. “i wanna watch you cum,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very air around you. it was so blunt, so raw, that it stole your breath away. your cheeks flushed, and you felt the heat pool between your legs, your body already responding to his words. “want you to watch yourself cum,” he continued, his hand cupping your breast fully, squeezing it gently. “want you to see what i do to you, what only i can do to you.” his hand never left your tits, even as he flipped you over. it didn’t take much manpower to turn you onto your knees, your eyes now locked on your fucked-out reflection.

you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut as his thumb circled your hardened nipple. his other hand slid down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, hinting at what was to come. the thought was overwhelming, but you didn’t dare stop him. instead, you leaned into his touch, letting his fingers play with the sensitive peak, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until you couldn’t take it anymore. “yeah,” you breathed, your voice shaky. “yeah, i want that, too.”

his hand slid lower, his fingertips dancing over the fabric of your panties, feeling the wetness that had soaked through. the pressure grew, the anticipation a coil tightening in your belly. and when he finally dipped his fingers beneath the elastic, touching you, you thought you might shatter right then and there. his touch was electric, sending sparks shooting through your body as he began to stroke your clit, slow and methodical. “keep your eyes open,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “i wanna see your face when you come for me, baby. i wanna see every second of it, every twitch, every drop i coax out of you.”

his voice was a command, and your body obeyed. your eyes snapped open, meeting his in the mirror. his gaze was unwavering, a promise of what was to come, and you couldn’t look away. you watched as he worked you, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm that had you gasping for air, your thighs trembling as they slid past your sticky folds. you felt the heat building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment. and when it did, it was like nothing you had ever felt before.

you threw your head back, a silent scream escaping your lips as the orgasm washed over you, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that seemed to drench every nerve ending. your body arched, your back bowing, as he continued to work you through it, his strokes never faltering. you felt your muscles clench around his fingers, desperate for more, even as your legs gave out and you collapsed against him. he held you up, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. he was needy, desperate for the way your swollen lips parted for him, the way your eyes glazed with tears at the feeling of his mere fingers fucking you open for him.

his touch was like fire, searing and intense, leaving no part of you untouched. your chest heaved with every breath, your eyes wide with shock and desire. and there you were, in the reflection, a picture of pure carnality—messy, wanton, and utterly exposed. your cheeks burned with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment, but the thrill of it only served to make the moment more potent.

mark’s hand slid from your jaw, leaving it to hang slack as he stepped away from you, his eyes still glued to your reflection. your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breaths shallow and uneven as you watched him move behind you. you felt the cool air kiss your skin as he slid your panties down your legs, your knees shaking as they made contact with the floor. the sensation of being so bare, so open, was almost too much to handle.

his breath was hot against the back of your neck as he whispered, “now, watch me fuck you. i want you to see just how much i own you, how much you crave this, how much you need me to fill you up and make you scream my name. don’t look away, baby. not even for a second. this is just for us.” and with that, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock nudging against your wetness. your eyes remained locked on the mirror as he pushed inside you, inch by inch, filling you to the brim.

you watched as his muscles tensed, his face a mask of concentration and desire. his eyes never left yours in the reflection, holding you captive with a gaze that seemed to strip away every last shred of your modesty. the sensation was almost too much to handle—his cock stretching you open, the sound of your wetness, the feeling of his hands digging into your hips as he pulled you back onto him, harder, deeper. your eyes glazed over, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you and the rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

his thrusts grew more forceful, his hips slapping against your ass with a steady, punishing beat that had you gasping for air. your palms were flat on the mirror, slick with sweat, your body trembling with each impact. your cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, your mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure. you could feel another orgasm building, the pressure building like a storm in your core. his hands spread your ass apart, his thumb digging into the tight hole as he leaned over to spit. his thumb spread his spit all over your clenching hole as he eased it into you, but his eyes never left the mirror. your eyes searched his in the mirror, pleading for relief, for the sweet release that hovered just out of reach as the sting from your ass being coaxed open mingled with the pleasure of him splitting your pussy in half.

mark’s grip tightened on your hips, his movements growing more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants. “you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with effort. “so wet, so perfect for me. tell me how much you love it, baby. tell me how much you want me to fill you up, to make you cry.” his words were a dark symphony, a sweet torment that had your body singing in response. you felt your voice crack as you whispered, “yes, yes, i love it, i need it, please don’t stop, mark, please—”

his eyes never left yours, the intensity in them making your knees wobble. he leaned down, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he murmured, “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you? just like a good girl. i wanna feel it, wanna see it in those pretty eyes of yours. cum for me, baby, come on.” with the tip of his throbbing cock inside you, it was too much to resist. the coil of pleasure grew tighter, your muscles clenching around him, your body begging for more.

you watched in the mirror as he picked up the pace, his strokes growing deeper, more deliberate. every thrust sent a shock of pleasure through you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the palms of your hands. your breasts bounced with the force of his movements, your nipples hard and sensitive. mark’s hand slid around your body, his fingers finding your clit, playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly as he drove into you from behind, hips snapping against your the flesh of your ass, every movement catching light in the mirror.

you bit your lip to keep from crying out, the need to watch him fuck you too strong to break eye contact. your cheeks were stained with a deep blush, your eyes wide with lust and a hint of desperation. your breath came in pants, hitching in your throat with every thrust. his hand on your jaw was a constant reminder of his control, his dominance, and it only served to fuel the fire building inside you.

suddenly, the dam broke, and you were cumming, hard, the orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire. your eyes squeezed shut despite your best efforts, your body convulsing with pleasure as he pounded into you. you felt his grip tighten, his own release following close behind. the sound of his grunt, the feel of his hot breath on your neck, sent shivers down your spine. when he was finished, he pulled out slowly, the wet squelch of his sticky cum making you whine.

his hand remained on your jaw, keeping your head tilted up, your eyes on the mirror. he stepped back, letting you collapse onto the floor, your legs giving out beneath you. you were a mess—sweat-drenched, hair a tangled mess, and your makeup smeared. but in that moment, you had never felt more beautiful, more wanted, more alive.

✧

a/n: thank you for requesting, u seem like such a sweetheart! i hope this was okay!!

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sports-on-sundays · 11 months ago

Note

Can request one where y/n is the sister of a f1 driver ( u can choose) and they find out she is dating either Fermin,pedri,or gavi because she appears at one of the games?!

found us out / Fermín López

Summary: Fermín x Sainz!girlfriend!singer!reader - Things don't blow over well with Carlo Sainz when you're caught dating a Barcelona player.

Warnings: censored cussing, a little bit of Spanish, reader being a singer isn't really important at all- i just made it a fact in order for things to tie in together and made more sense, mention of nausea, this ended up being pretty long

Requested?: Yes.

Author's Note: Boy, what a crossover! As I was reading this request I literally started giggling in excitement to write this because I knew how fun this would be. I think it's clear that this has to be the sister of Carlos, though. Always good when there's a little bit of drama.

You exhale, fiddling with your fingers under the table as you listen to your father and your brother discuss plans.

You wish that exhaling would release not only the carbon dioxide from your body, but also all the unnecessary stress building up in your chest.

The plans they're discussing are for a small party. Of course, it's a little party that you're expected to go to. It is an entire family event. Or so you've heard...

On the surface, having a family gathering surrounded around Real Madrid playing a literal fourth-tier team (Arandina) in the Copa del Rey sounds really lame. And secretly, you do think it's really lame. But the point is looking forward to watching them slaughter the underdogs. Which is fair enough.

Suddenly you interrupt: "Isn't El Derbi next week? Wouldn't that be better for a family get together?" You're sure they've already thought of that, but if there's any possible way you could get out of this, you'd love to find it.

"Haven't you been listening?" your father questions. "Carlos has plans already. He needs to leave Monday morning, and won't be back until Friday. That won't work."

You clench your jaw. No, you weren't listening, because you were stressing out about your plans for that weekend.

You figure if you're going to tell your brother and father, right now is just as good a time as any other time. You sigh and say, "Well, I'm busy on Sunday, actually..."

Both pairs of brown eyes snap to you, and Carlos says, "What do you have going on? And the Madrid game is on Saturday, anyway- shouldn't it be fine?"

Really, why shouldn't it be fine? What lie will you come up with? Because you can't really say what you're busy with on that day. You manage out, "Some friends... we planned weeks ago to go out that day. Have some fun, you know... Sorry. I guess... Would it be fine if... Surely I wouldn't be missed...? The, uh, thing he have planned is... for Sunday night...."

Carlos sighs, leaning back. "Come on, Y/n. You can't cancel? Family over friends, right?"

But you shake your head as you finish your meal. You stand up with your plate, knowing that if you stay any longer, you'll be guilt tripped into doing what they want you to do, despite what you want to do. So you say, "What's done is done. You can still have the party without me." And you walk out of the room.

Hours later, you're laying in bed. You should be sleeping, but instead you're staring up at the ceiling and thinking.

'Family over friends, right?'- Carlos' words from earlier play through your head in the exact tone he had said it. Yeah, family over friends, Carlos. You've been seeing him and the rest of your family on and off frequently for the past month. But the one you really want to see? You haven't seen him in over a month, and you miss him, dearly. You just want to be able to see him. To surprise him.

And you know he misses you, too, by the constant text messages he sends you.

And, with perfect timing, your phone buzzes on your bedside stand next to you. You pick it up right away and smile to yourself when you see it's him. Telling you he can't sleep. Asking if you want to face time.

You don't even respond, and just call him first.

A smile immediately sneaks up on you when you see your boyfriend. His golden brown hair is all messed up, as he's leaning on a soft pillow, and he has a blanket pulled up all the way to his chin. His brown eyes look even deeper in the dim lighting, but they light up when they view you across the phone. "¡Hola, mi corazón!"

Immediately you feel butterflies fly up in your stomach at his little pet name. "Hey, Fermín," you say, much more casually. "How are you doing?"

He shrugs, and his eyes flutter down a little. "I can't sleep... I wanted to hear your pretty voice. And see your pretty face."

You smile softly, but ask in concern, "Why can't you sleep?"

But a cute little grin appears in his face, and he laughs a little. "Because I'm thinking about you."

"Oh!" you chuckle. "I see..."

You continue chatting together softly for who knows how long. But this is what you do. One of you calls and you can't help but just chat for minutes or hours or however long.

You just love the sounds of each other's voices and the sparkle in each other's eyes.

Saturday evening, just as family member are starting to arrive at the house, you walk to the door, pulling your hair into a ponytail, about to walk out. Your brother stops you, saying, "So you are really going?"

You turn, meeting his eyes as you grab your black long coat. "Yeah, I am. I'm sorry, Carlos..." you add when you see the disappointment in his big brown eyes.

He shrugs, and says what he always does: "Alright. Well, just be careful. And have fun. When will you be back?"

You hesitate. This is the very question you didn't want him to ask. "Uh... Probably Monday morning... I'll text you, though."

His eyebrows knit together even further. "Monday morning? I thought you were just having a night with your friends."

"One of them suggested we could stay at her house and spend the following day doing something else," you lie, nearly effortlessly now."

"Why not just come home?"

You sigh at the question. The truth is, you booked a hotel so you could catch Fermín as soon as possible in the morning and spend more time with him, since you'll have to get to Madrid right away again afterwards. You just want to get going. But you know Carlos only asks questions because he cares. Being nine years older than you, he's always been very protective of you. Too protective. But you know it's just because he cares.

He just cares too much, and it makes you angry. It's hard to keep secrets from his honest eyes.

"Because I was invited to hang out more and I haven't seen this friend in a while!" This one is only half a lie.

"Oh..." he slowly nods. "Well... where does this friend live, then? Far enough for you to just stay there, or... I mean, you haven't seen this friend in a while, so I'm assuming they don't live in Madrid?"

"Nothing- er, yeah, we, uh... she lives in, uh, Sigüenza! Yeah, Sigüenza! And, well, you know, she just moved there and there's uh, you know, it's Sigüenza! The cool stuff there, in... Sigüenza..." You've lost it. You're literally pulling sh*t out of thin air now.

And Carlos can tell. "You're lying. Where are you really going?"

"No, no! I am going there! My friend just moved there! There's castles and sh*t she thinks is cool and she wants to show me! And like go around like I think there's a restaurant she likes and... yeah! And then we'd probably just maybe go to a club for an hour or two or something tonight and then go back and hang out at her house!"

Carlos looks thoroughly unsure. "Is it good for you to go to a club...? Be careful..."

"Oh, come on!" You're speaking too quickly. "There'll be a few of us, and we're not stupid! You know that, Carlos! Don't worry about it, we'll be fine! I'm an adult, for God's sake!"

"Well..." he murmurs, "I hope you're not lying to me. I hope you wouldn't do that."

You swallow, but nod, and feel terrible as you say, "Of course I wouldn't. Why would I lie about something like this?"

"I can think of lots of reasons, but I won't get into it." Carlos says with that look of concern still in his eyes. "Well, be careful. I can see you're impatient to go, so I'll let you. Have fun. Te amo, Y/n."

"M-hm!" you say, and rush out the door. You didn't want to be leaving this late, but you figure you'll just have to hope you get there at a reasonable time.

Fermín nods as João (Félix) discussing the upcoming game with him, watching the Portguese man's eyes as he speaks his thoughts. So he catches it when João raises his eyes, looking over Fermín's shoulder.

You grin, bringing your finger to your lips as you walk down the hall towards the two, behind Fermín's back, making eye contact with João. João subtly nods, makes eye contact with Fermín and says, "Nothing. I was just seeing things."

You thoroughly appreciate João's playing along. And his good acting.

"Seeing things?" your sweet boyfriend asks his teammate. You reach Fermín just as he's turning around to look anyway. He he lets out a confused, "Uh- oh!?" noise when you pull him into a hug, before (pretty much) yelling, "Wait, Y/n?!"

You giggle, and nod your thanks to João, who's smiling and practically chuckling himself. He nods and gives a small wave, before turning to saunter away, a smile on his lips. "So, how's my Fermín?" you ask softly.

Your boyfriend hugs you so tight, it slightly hurts, but you don't complain. You're probably hugging him tighter. He's giggling, and starts showering your cheeks with kisses, before exclaiming softly, "Very good, now that you're here! But why are you here, huh? ¡Mi corazón!" He's so adorable about your little surprise arrival. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"So it could be a surprise! And so I could see you acting all cute and surprised like this!" You grin up at him, your hand on his chest.

"Stop that!" he laughs, touching his nose to yours, holding you close. But then he gets a little more serious. "How long of a drive was it? I'm assuming you were in Madrid?"

"Madrid to Barbastro? It wasn't so bad. I would drive any difference to get to you, though..."

This makes him chuckle and give you those soft little lovey-dovey eyes that you love to see. He strokes your hair as you rub his back a little, before murmuring, "You were staying with your brother? What did you tell him?"

You smile at this question. Fermín- he always thinks deeply about a situation- especially if it's involving you. He always worries and makes sure everything went well with you. He really cares. "Just told him I'm staying with a friend," you chuckle and add, "In Sigüenza!"

"Sigüenza? Have you ever even been there?" He smiles, clearly amused.

"Uh, maybe, like, once. Not sure if he completely believed me, but I got out of there. So that I could come here and see you! Figured a game like this would be better for me to come to. You know, maybe since it'll be such a small stadium, it'll be actually easier for me to just get in and hide in the crowd."

Fermín nods, gently stroking your cheek, looking into your eyes and says, "If you think so." He's just so focused on taking in your presence.

He leans in and kisses your cheek again, when (of course) Ferran Torres turns the corner, slaps Fermín on his back, and says in a teasing voice with a chuckle, "Got to get going, Fermín. Glad you're having a good time with your girlfriend, but-"

"Oh, Ferran!" you snap, pulling away from your boyfriend to glare at the older man. "Would you shut up?! We haven't seen each other in forever. But I guess you wouldn't get how it feels, since clearly you could never pull-"

"Hey, hey!" Fermín laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder. But he's grinning. He loves your spunk. "Leave the poor guy alone. He's right, corazón. I do have to get going now."

Ferran just waves as he walks off, giggling mischievously. You roll your eyes and turn back to Fermín. "So annoying." But you're grinning. You hug him a last time, peck his lips, and murmur, "I'll go to my seat now. I'm excited to watch you do great out there, mi chico guapo."

He grins and says as he starts to turn to walk the way Ferran walked a minute earlier, "You just watch. I'm going to go out there and score a goal. For you. Okay?"

You grin back and nod as you pull on your mask, hat, and sunglasses- hopefully enough to hide your face from cameras. "I'll be watching for it."

He nods, that lovely adorable little smile on his face, waves to you, blows a kiss, and walks away from you.

Adrenaline fills every cell of your body as the ball hits the back of the net. A goal. But not just any goal.

Your Fermín's goal!

Your muscles send you to your feet, and you cheer, clapping your hands together, watching your boyfriend. You're sitting in a seat very close to the pitch, and you know that if he wanted to, Fermín could come over and hug you right now. But he knows he can't. He understands and respects that you can't be being pointed out. It has to stay a secret.

So, instead, he eyes you, with all the joy in the world.

You grin back, nodding at him. You can't help but giggle.

After the game, you return to Fermín's arms immediately, as if there's a magnetic force between you and him. "Hola, mi prícipe azul," you mutter softly with a little chuckle, before squealing and saying, "You did so good! What a goal! You're amazing!"

"Stop..." he murmurs back, but is clearly loving your praise.

You smile and lean up, about to kiss him, when suddenly your phone starts buzzing and ringing in your back pocket. You hesitate, eyes locked with your boyfriend's, before sighing and leaning away. You slip your phone out of your pocket. "Oh..." you stare at the screen. "It's Carlos."

Fermín nods understandingly and leans away. "I'll keep quiet. I know you have to answer it."

You nod, sending him a grateful smile, before leaning against the wall and answering the phone with a bubbly, "¡Eh, Carlos! ¿Cómo te va?" You hope you don't sound so cheery that is sounds like you're faking it. Well, it's not like you're not happy. You are!

Carlos completely ignores your question, cutting right to the chase. "Where are you?"

"Uh...? I'm at my friend's house. In Sigüenza. Why?"

"Really?" Carlos asks slowly. "How far of a drive is it from Barbastro to Sigüenza? Because I doubt it's under fifteen minutes."

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, and you lean more heavily on the wall behind you as your knees start to shake. Fermín sees this and takes a step toward you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you prevent that with simply a shake of your head. You swallow and put on a confused voice as you respond to your brother, "Sorry...?"

"You heard me. Y/n, what the hell? Why the hell did you lie to me? Why the hell are you in Barbastro? Why the hell are you at a Barcelona game, instead of on the sofa next to me right now?"

"Listen-" you cough, nervousness pounding in your head. Your eyes sprout tears, but you wipe them. Fermín- bless his heart- puts a hand on your shoulder, and gives you the eyes that seem to say, Just say the word, and I'll stand up for you.

You give your boyfriend another quick nod before responding into the phone, lies coming to your brain naturally, on the spot, "Listen, Carlos. I'm sorry for not telling you. My friend in Sigüenza I guess is a fan, and she thought it'd be so fun for us to all go to the game together. So, you know, there wasn't much I could argue with when someone buys you a ticket to a football game. You... You know? I'm sorry for lying. I really am. I just didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset. You know, about me going to FC Barcelona's game instead of staying home with my family and watching Real Madrid's the night before. I really am sorry, Carlos. I hope you'll... forgive me. But... How did you even know I was at the game... Carlos?" You swallow, waiting for the answer. Fermín takes your hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"The television showed you. Over and over. The commentators were pretty fascinated to see Y/n Sainz at a Barcelona game. Especially the one in Barbastro."

"Oh, f*ck that!" you snap. "My f*cking disguise didn't even work! Why don't they get their stupid cameras out of my life for once! Ugh!" you say angrily. Fermín gently rubs your shoulder, which is at least some ounce of comfort. "So, what? How did you see it, anyway? Have you just been caught red-handed watching a Barcelona game, too?"

"No. I was flipping channels, and there you were. But there's still something that's not making sense." Your eyebrows scrunch together as your grip on Fermín's hand tightens. Was there a hole in your lies that you missed...? Then Carlos asks, "Where were your friends?"

The lump in your throat grows larger. "What do you mean?"

"You were sitting next to some fat old man with a jersey from twenty years ago and a bunch of snotty kids on the other side-" Carlos has never been one to go out of his way to compliment anything associating with football club Barcelona. "-so where were your friend sitting, then?"

It feels as if all the muscles in your body flex at this one. Your mind goes blank, desperately searching for yet another lie to save yourself from telling your older brother the truth. It's like you've dug yourself in a hole that you're desperately trying to climb out of. It feels like you've nearly reached the top-

but your hand just slipped, plummeting you straight back down to the bottom, where you started.

And you break.

Tears stream down your face, and Fermín immediately tries to grab the phone from you, but you pull it away, swallowing as you blubber into the phone, "I don't know, Carlos... Okay... I don't know..."

There's a second or two of silence on the other end, before Carlos says, now in a more tender, less interrogating voice, "Y/n, all I asked is where your friend are. Is everything okay? Are you alright? Y/n, you're worrying me..."

"Please, Carlos... I'm fine... Just... Please..."

"Can you please just tell me the truth?"

"No..." you sniff, leaning into Fermín more and more. "I can't, because you'll be mad at me... It will ruin our relationship..." You don't know if you're talking about your relationship with Carlos or your relationship with Fermín.

"This is ruining our relationship! You keeping stuff from me! Y/n, you're my little sister! I don't want anything bad to happen to you! Just tell me what's wrong, and I can help!"

"You're the one making it all wrong. If you'd just leave me alone-"

"No. Y/n, you need to be honest with me right now, okay?"

"No, I don't. I don't, and I f*cking won't." At this, you hang up and fall into Fermín's arms.

He holds you there, close to his chest, before whispering, "I'm sorry..."

You look up slowly, sniffing, and wipe your eyes. It doesn't do much, since your tears are still coming. "For what?" you whisper. "You've done nothing wrong... It's just... Everything is messed up. Nothing went how I wanted it to... Fermín, I'm scared."

His eyes are tender, and he strokes your cheek. "My Y/n... I hate to see you cry. There's nothing to be scared of." He puts his arm around your back and starts leading you down the hall. "If Carlos finds out, Carlos finds out. He loves you, and you know that. I know you've spent all your energy hiding this, but mistakes happen, okay? I'll be by your side, but what's done is done." You nod, wiping up your soaked face with your hands, and let him lead you, until you get to the street. He sighs and murmurs, "F*ck. Missed the bus back to the hotel..."

"Oh..." a wave of guilt washes over you. "Fermín, I'm sorry... Isn't your team worried about you?"

"No, no. Don't worry about it. Either they completely missed my absence, or they got the memo that my girlfriend has just arrived and I might have other plans. Let's hope it's the second one, because that would be just a tad bit too silly if they just flat out forgot about me." There's a teasing tone in his voice, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Make you feel better. "You drove here? Where is your car?"

"Oh... yeah, right..." you sigh. After all the rush and emotions, you completely forgot you had your car here. You glance to Fermín, and catch in his expectant eyes a glint of excitement, too. You smile softly, understanding completely what this is from. You roll your eyes. "And no, Fermín. I didn't pull up in a Ferrari. That would draw too much attention." You can't blame him for being excited. You have driven a Ferrari before, (and many other super sick vehicles) and you know Fermín would love to go for a spin in one (or another of the insane sports cars you've driven.)

Fermín thinks they're cool, and as the daughter of Carlos Sainz Sr. and the sister of Carlos Sainz Jr., you tend to be able to get your hands on some pretty luxurious cars, it just so happens. And it's not like your family (especially your brother) won't jump at the drop of a hat to lend you something like that. You're Carlos's baby sister, and he'd do anything to treat you. So when you take advantage of that, every so often Fermín gets to go for a ride.

And you suppose Carlos has no idea of that.

Yet.

And just like that, you feel nauseous again.

When you arrive at Fermín's hotel room, you immediately both put on pajamas and get into bed. All night, he holds you close, never letting go. You lean your head against his chest, basking in the comfort. He knows it's hard. He understands what you're going through.

"Te amo," he whispers, just as you're drifting off to sleep. You never get a chance to say it back, because you're asleep before you can.

"I'm coming back to Barcelona with you."

"Lo siento, ¿qué?" Fermín asks, his head whipping up from tying the drawstrings of his sweatpants as he exits the hotel bathroom. His light pink lips are slightly parted as he stares at you, eyebrows raised.

"You heard me. I'm coming back to Barcelona with you," you repeat, locking eyes with him.

Fermín crosses the room and slips onto the hotel bed next to you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "Mi corazón..." he mutters. "Of course I would never complain- I would love it if you came back to Barcelona with me. But don't you think that's not the best idea? Don't you have things to deal with back home in Madrid?"

You hesitate and mutter. "Sure I do. But I'd rather come with you back to Barcelona."

He frowns, nodding. "When are you going to go back to Madrid? And what will you tell your brother?"

Suddenly you snap, slipping out of bed, "I don't care, Fermín! And I don't plan to tell my brother anything! I know he'll call, but he can't make me pick up. I'm sick of him pretending like he's in charge of my life!"

"Y/n, come on. We both know he just cares about you. You know how worried sick he'll be if you randomly cut off communications and don't even tell him what happened to you. You can't do that to him. I know if my sibling did that to me, I'd be worried sick, too, and you and Carlos are very close. And he's much older than you. You know how he thinks of you. You can't do that to your brother," he tries, looking for eye contact. But you continue looking down.

"Fermín, no." You speak quietly, but firmly. "I won't. I'm scared, and I don't want to deal with him right now. And I know you said you'd be by my side, but I know you can't be. You can't possibly come to Madrid with me, and then get back to Barcelona."

Fermín sighs, and takes your chin, forcing you to look him in his eyes. "I understand you want to avoid your brother, but you can't have him worrying like that. It's just not right. He's only so concerned and protective because he cares, Y/n."

Your jaw clenches. You try to look away, but he doesn't let you. You swallow, looking at him, and murmur, realizing there's not much you can do, "Alright. Can we compromise?"

Fermín looks a little surprised at your sudden giving in, but nods. "Maybe. What are you thinking?"

You sigh. "I come back to Barcelona with you, but I still text Carlos. But I tell him I won't call, and if he wants to talk to me, he has to come to Barcelona himself and do it."

Fermín's immediate reaction is to protest with, "You expect him to drive from Madrid to Barcelona? You know how long of a trip that is!"

"Well, too bad, Fermín!" you snap. "It's what I'm willing to do! If he cares enough, he'll drive up. And trust me- he does."

Your boyfriend frowns, considering this, and finally nods. "Okay, then... I guess it's fair enough." And that's that.

You sit between Fermín's legs on the couch, watching the television as you munch on buttered popcorn and Fermín plays with/braids your hair. It's been three weeks since when Barcelona faced off with Barbastro, and since then all you've communicated with your brother is that if he wants to discuss anything with you, he's got to come to Barcelona and do it himself.

Do you miss your older brother? Yes. Yes, you one hundred percent do. Are you scared of your brother's attitude and reaction? Yes. Yes, you one hundred percent are.

As Fermín leans close, now stroking your arm with one hand, your phone buzzes in your lap. You give the bowl of popcorn to your boyfriend and pick up your phone.

You stare in shock at what you read on your phone. Fermín leans over and reads the text from Carlos along with you:

Carlos: I just arrived in Barcelona. I'm hoping we can meet somewhere in the morning, if you're not busy? I've been worrying lots

Fermín's hand gently moves to your waist, and after a few seconds, he whispers, "What will you do, my Y/n?"

"I don't know..." you sigh in hesitation.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

You look up at him from behind, meeting his eyes. You can't help but giggle at each other. He sighs, before turning serious again and saying, "Just send him my address and tell him to be around at 9:00 A.M."

"Fermín!" you snap, as though he's a complete lunatic. "You think we can just do it, just like that?!"

"Sure," he nods, cool headed. "I'm not scared of him, just because he drives cars fast and he's got big muscles. I run fast and... have slightly less big muscles than him." He grins, and you can't help but smile, too, at this. Fermín has a way of making serious things light-hearted. "Anyway, if you do it this way, I'll be there with you. Maybe it'd be easier to show him rather than tell. And I'll do the talking that you're still nervous to do. I will." He looks at you with sincere eyes.

You stare ahead, considering this for a while as Fermín slowly and absentmindedly rubs your thigh. Finally you sigh and mutter, "I guess that's the best thing... It's a shame it has come to this."

Fermín laughs softly, shaking his head, but you don't mind it. "You knew that at some point it would come to this. Y/n, you know this will be fine. It will be. I promise. Your brother loves you too much to do any of the stupid things you're scared of happening."

You frown, but then turn around hug him tightly. "Okay... Fermín." You look him in the eyes. "Okay. I know. It's still nerve-racking, though."

"I know, I know," he responds.

You sigh, take out your phone, and, despite yourself, text him.

Fermín gives your upper thigh a little pat.

You look up and study his handsome, lovely face for a few seconds, before kissing him all over. He lets you, chuckling a little. He always seems to laugh when you show him lots of affection, and you love it.

And before long, the two of you are fast asleep there.

When the doorbell rings at 9:01 A.M., your heart drops to your stomach. You knew it would happen. You prepared yourself. But you still can't help but shiver with nervous.

Fermín is trying making breakfast, and you're sitting at the island in the kitchen. He looks up from the food and is about to speak, but you say before he can, in a hurried tone, "I'll get it. You just stay here and keep making breakfast."

He hesitates for a moment, but then nods. "Alright... Call if you need me. And he's welcome to come in, too."

You nod and then head to the door. You exhale slowly, before opening the door.

Immediately, you're wrapped in a huge bear hug from your strong older brother, and he snaps, "What the hell? Why have you been avoiding me like this?! Are you embarrassed? It's fine! I've thought about it, and if you're dating a Barcelona fan that's fine... As long as he's a good guy, it shouldn't matter that much, right?"

You blink in surprise, leaning back, away from him, and meet his eyes, which are very similar to your own in shape and color. He's not stupid. Clearly he's tried to figure it out. But the concept of me dating an actual player for the club is so ridiculous, he just expects it's some random culer dude? Just this concept makes your heart (which was already in your stomach) seem to fall down to your knees. You swallow and awkwardly smile. If you could speak, you would, but no words whatsoever come to mind, and your mouth feels much too dry to form any words.

"So... I'm assuming this is his flat? Is he here? Can I meet him? What's his name?"

You allow yourself to breathe a little, and swallow. "Yes, this is his flat... And he's here... In the kitchen... You- You can meet him..." You open the door wide for him, and have to try a few times, before your voice finally allows you to call, "Fer- Fermín!"

"Fer...mín? That's his name?" your older brother asks. You nod slowly meeting his eyes again. You can't imagine that Carlos would know who Fermín is... right? It's not like a gives really any of his attention to any football club other than Real Madrid... Perhaps just the name sounds familiar? Well, it's not like Fermín has a super uncommon name or anything...

Your head is starting to hurt from all this overthinking. You swallow. "Yeah, yeah... That's his name."

You watch with dread (which you never though you'd feel at the sight of him) as your boyfriend enters the room. He has a smile on his face, but he's eyebrows are knitted together.

For a moment, the two stand there.

It's strange, for you. Here are (probably) the two people you care about most. The two people you spend the most time with, the two's whose opinions you value the most. Here they are, together. Two who you care about so much, but have always been separate. And you've always kept it that way.

It feels off, to have the two in the same room, right here, in front of you.

Their heights don't differ much, but Fermín's younger, gentler features contrast with Carlos. Fermín has lighter, nicer kept hair, while your brother of course has the same shock of dark hair you have, and right now, it's grown out a bit, curling at his ears.

You stare at the two.

You swallow as something like very vague recognition is reflected on Carlos's face. He says slowly, holding his hand out to shake Fermín's, "Hola... Have we met before...?"

You can't help but shake your head a little. Carlos, not recognizing a first team Barcelona player when he's right in front of him.

Or, pretty much first team, anyway.

A (cute) little nervous crooked smile appears on your boyfriend's face. He sends you a brief little glance with only those chocolate brown eyes, before looking back to Carlos. He shakes his hand as he swallows and says, "Well, you know, I... uh, I actually play for FC Barcelona."

Carlos opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. "Okay..." he says slowly. "That... It makes sense, now... that Y/n was at the game in Barbastro..." he seems to be talking more to himself. He glances to you, and his eyes linger, before shifting back to Fermín and saying, "Fermín... Fermín Gómez...?"

That crooked little smile appears on Fermín's face again. "López."

You watch as your older brother nods, and then looks to you slowly. "Y/n, can I...?" he trails off, glancing to Fermín.

Fermín seems to get the hint that you didn't even pick up and nods, saying, "I'll go finish making breakfast. Carlos and Y/n, you're welcome to just stay here in the living room." He gives a cute little awkward smile, and walks out of the room.

Now you don't want him to go.

But your brother gently takes your wrist and tows you to the couch, forcing your eyes to wander from the doorway that Fermín just left through. You look to Carlos and swallow. Those eyes. So incredibly earnest. "You're not... mad?" you murmur softly.

"Mad? I'm disappointed you hid it from me, and didn't trust me. A part of me doesn't feel right about you dating a Barcelona player, but it's not like the club someone is playing for decides how good of a boyfriend he is, or if he's meant to be with my sister or not. I'm shocked- I was expecting it's a Barcelona fan, not a player. But whatever..." He trails off, swallows, and finishes, "No. No, I'm not mad."

"Oh... Oh, okay... I'm... I'm sorry."

He nods, not looking at you. "I forgive you. I'm sorry, too. There had to have been a reason why you didn't trust me. So I'm sorry."

You say, "I forgive you," though you're not even one hundred percent sure what you're forgiving him for.

If you thought introducing just your older brother to Fermín was just terrible, introducing him to your whole family is like actual hell.

Fermín keeps his arms tightly around your shoulders as you sit on your couch. You feel stiff and rigid as Fermín manages the awkward questions and empty small talk. Your family is always so open, but with Carlos insisting everyone meet Fermín here, it's unnatural.

Why don't they accept him? They accept other people's friends, girlfriends, etc., much easier. Fermín is acting so sweet and polite.. like he always does... What don't they like about him?

Unlike Carlos, do they really care that much about stupid football club rivalries? Gosh, there are plenty of fans of different clubs who get on just fine.

How is Fermín being a player any different?

He's a culer, just like any fan, right? I mean, I don't know what I am. Am I a culer?

Who cares? I'm Fermín López's girlfriend and Carlos Sainz Sr.'s daughter. Think that's enough for one person!

Suddenly you're pulled out of your racing mind when Fermín's hand settles on your waist and he says, "...right, Y/n?"

"Uh, huh?" you ask, looking at Fermín just as he pecks your lips with a little laugh. You blush and murmur, "Gosh, Fermín, not here."

But he pulls you tighter to his side and says with a soft, slightly defiant little smirk, "I'm so happy that you all have accepted me as Y/n's boyfriend, Sainz family." The faces of your family members span from confused to uncomfortable to (only a few of them) genuinely accepting. But Fermín adds with a chuckle, kissing your cheek, "Although, of course, your opinions, or anyone's, about our relationship doesn't matter to me." He meets your eyes with those deep brown ones.

You swallow and nod, getting up the courage in that moment to respond with, "Yeah, Fermín... You know, I think I agree with you..."

328 notes · View notes

maitadori · 2 years ago

Text

WEAK WILLED KNIGHT part 3. nsfw. blade x fem!reader

word count : 4.7k

part one. part two. part three

summary : in which you miss blade since you haven’t seen him for two weeks and he decides to greet you with a breathtaking kiss and fucks you dumb.

content / cw : creampie, degrading, praising, fingering, breeding kink uhh idk that’s all i remember

a/n : this took days to post because i nitpick my writing literally all the time. i used a few of my fave smuts as reference for this so if u notice a similarity or two that’s why. anyways hope u all enjoy!!

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI

"is there something wrong?" jing yuan, once again, called you into his office. you found it odd that he was always absent yet conveniently there when you needed scolding.

during the weekly cloud knight training you got too drowned in your thoughts, causing your partner to easily take control of the duel— which was unusual, for everyone knew that you were one of the most adept among the knights, and to see you so out of form… it hasn't been just today this has happened either, ever since the run-in with kafka, you haven't been able to think straight.

it's come to the point where you were taken to jing yuan, that's when it hit you that this has gone too far. but what could you tell him? would you be able to admit to him that this man was the reason for your sudden downgrade in skill?

the mere thought of that idea had you recoiling. you were too prideful to admit that some man was making your mind so jumbled.

your silence seemed to be the exact answer jing yuan needed, you both hated and loved how well he could read you.

"maybe you should go home for the day."

"huh?" you question, perking up. "there's no need for that."

"it's obvious your mind is elsewhere, and it has been for over two weeks. i can't have you holding us back, [name]. this issue needs to be fixed. and if it means giving you a day to solve whatever this is, then so be it."

his words stung. holding us back...

you had to remember, before he was your friend, he was your general. you got too lost in the privilege of being special to him that you forgot what being under him as a subordinate was really like.

"i see..." you bowed your head, burning your gaze into the ground, trying and failing horribly to hide your emotions. "i understand, general. thank you for your consideration."

"he'll visit you." he suddenly spoke.

you jerked up, looking at your general with widened eyes. "w-what..?"

"you think that man can survive longer than two weeks without seeing your face?" jing yuan chuckled, crossing his arms.

you blinked, surprised, before you spoke in a shaky tone. "i'd like if you dropped the subject, general. i'll be taking my leave now."

he could only hum as he watched you leave.

you were quick to dress into something more comfortable as you tried erasing jing yuan’s words from your mind. you fumbled with your armor slightly, groaning in irritation. over the years, it wasn't too difficult to get used to the heaviness of your uniform, but it could still be a nuisance to you. yours was like sushang’s, lighter in weight than the average male, but you could still admit the clothing’s annoyance to you.

you approached your window, cracking it open and watched as it swayed your curtains. you could only sigh, lean against the window sill, and battle the crisis in your mind as you watched your people.

the kiss hasn't left your mind since it happened. as embarrassing as it seemed, you couldn't get blade out of your head. whether it be his haughty smirk, his voice, or his lips. you groaned and dropped your head in your hands. you didn't even notice how much it was affecting your behavior until someone as clumsy as sushang dominated the fight.

"that bastard... he has me wrapped around his stupid fucking fingers." you whispered to yourself in a low, angry voice.

for someone like blade— who before, you saw as below you— to make you feel such a way...

in front of everyone else, your pride was powerful, yet the sight of blade's face stomped it down in a mere second.

i miss him... you admitted to yourself. it was something you'd never say aloud. what the hell do i even miss...? even before the kiss, the only moments with blade were him trying his hardest to get under your skin and get reactions out of you. you'd never forget the time he grabbed your fingers through his cell bars to interlock his hand with yours.

all you could remember after that was blowing up at him, words jumbled as you tried to find an excuse for your embarrassment.

you shook your head back and forth in hope of ridding yourself of these thoughts. but even as you closed your window and laid in bed to sleep, the kiss made home behind your closed eyelids. you turned on your other side, hoping it was just you needing to get comfortable. but you felt no drowsiness.

"dammit.." you groaned to yourself, pillow tight in your grip.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying the hardest you could to put yourself to sleep, even if forcefully. all you could think of was blade and what he was doing. and it wasn't until a full seven minutes later that your body finally decided to give you the pleasure of slumber.

noises that were lost on your sleeping form resonated through your bedroom. the squeak of your window was loud, it had you shuffling in your sheets. blade at first, tried to quietly sneak through the window after finding your front door locked before deciding not to care. you didn't keep your door unlocked like he instructed, so if you woke up, that was only your karma.

but then the thought of a possible intruder getting into your house and faltered. his steps became lighter. he neared your sleeping figure and looked at you. he wanted nothing more than to disturb your sleep and kiss you breathless. but when he took another look you looked as if your sleep was exhausting you more than replenishing you. you tossed and turned, eyebrows furrowed. maybe you were having a nightmare.

well, kissing could come after. your wellbeing came first. his hand caressed your face with the intent of soothing you, yet you only jolted awake. it was dark outside, the sun finally set. you could only see your room from what the moon decided to illuminate.

but your eyes adjusted to the dark and you instantly recognized the familiar silhouette standing above you. "b-blade..?" you asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

he only hummed in response as he climbed to hover over you, not hesitating to get his face near yours. your breath started going off track instantaneously. you lazily put your fingers over his lips, trying to feebly stop him from coming any closer. he was already making your heart going crazy enough by simply being here and letting you wake up to the sight of him, you didn't need the pounding of your heartbeat resonating in your ears next.

"i-i'm not dreaming, right?"

in response blade pinched the skin of your waist that your ridden up shirt exposed. you squeaked in pain. "what the hell!?" you whisper shouted.

"you're not dreaming." he said, tone soft. you hated admitting that the sound of his voice soothed you.

blade grabbed your wrist easily, removing your hand from his face to push it against your bed, and gently laid you against your pillows with his own body, leaning over you. his hair draped over you like a curtain, leaving you with nowhere to look but him.

any earlier resistance disappeared and you gave in the second his lips brushed against yours, going lax on your bed. the hand that held yours squeezed tighter, his other hand traveling up to hold your cheek. you leaned further into him once his lips finally met yours, giving you that sweet relief of having him against you once more.

even if you tried denying your feelings, they were apparent to blade, who could easily see through you. him and jing yuan were definitely rivaling in that aspect, and you weren't sure whether or not you hated it.

he moved the hand the held your face to your back, arching you up into him. you could tell from the way he was biting your lips and caressing his tongue with yours that this might escalate. and as he kissed you even harder you admitted to yourself that you wouldn't mind if it did.

his harsh kisses were definitely waking you up from your slumbered daze, it was then that the events that transpired earlier today seeped into your mind, causing you to lose your confidence in the kiss. blade must've noticed, for he pulled away to speak, "what's wrong?"

"why... do you even like me?" you asked in a trembling voice, deciding to be straightforward. if you thought about asking him for a second longer, you would've lost the will. plus, the question has plagued your mind for awhile and you needed answers. it’s not as if you were opposed to blade taking after you, but you couldn’t understand exactly why.

he hovered over you, moving his hand and letting your back ease into the mattress to tap the back of his index finger against your lips. "there's a lot of reasons why. but one... i like seeing the different expressions you make. whether it be when i make you angry, your brows furrow and you pout your lips, and you don't even notice." he whispers, and even in the dark you can tell he's smirking.

"or... when i kiss you and you get that desperate look on your face."

desperate!? excuse me!? you screamed in your head, flushing.

"why do you ask?"

you look away, too humiliated to say a word, but you speak up anyways, "no reason. just curious..."

blade observed you, he was good at reading people. it must've came with the job. your expression was very telling, and the fact that you were having a nightmare before he arrived was a huge factor as well.

"i like you."

it was random, and it had you sputtering, but it immediately helped assure your worries. you knew blade most likely figured out what was up, or he wouldn't have said something like that out of nowhere. though, before you could savor his words, he spoke up once more.

"can i touch you?"

would he cut it out!? if he kept saying and asking things like that so boldly you'd probably explode.

"you're already touching me..." you say snottily.

"you're right, which means i basically have permission." he whispers, loosening his hold on your hand to travel down to your thighs, spreading them open sharply.

you gasped, immediately using your free hands as leverage to cover your expression.

"look at me." he demands.

"..." you peek at him through your fingers, body going weak once you catch sight of his expression. his face is so full of want, and his face adorns a small cocky smirk. you hated how it made the heat between your legs increase. you know you shouldn't be into the way he stared at you, but you really couldn't help it.

"i'm gonna touch you, okay? will you let me?"

"do whatever you want..." you reluctantly relent.

blade ignored your attempt at veiling your actual needs and traveled his fingers higher up your thigh, tugging on your bottoms. "take these off.." he mutters.

you listen and does as he says, so he lifts himself sightly to give you space to slide your shorts down your legs. he grabs them for you and throws them aside, in a rush to get his hands on you. he rubbed your bare thighs, caressing higher up, thumb catching onto the hem of your panties.

"you said i can do whatever i want, right? i'm gonna hold you to that, we might not even leave this bedroom," he says casually, not noticing your flushed expression as he continues to ramble, "you don't know how long i've wanted this. haven't seen you for days." he hisses. "ever since i kissed you, i've been thinking about your lips since."

you wrap you arms around his neck quickly, tipping your head to the side the second his lips touched your collarbone.

his admittance had your mind hazing with a heavy blanket of need and want. words started spilling out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself. you whispered desperately, "me too..! i can't stop thinking about you.. so much to the point where it's hindering my work.. why'd you take so long to come and see me?"

blade's control is wearing thin at your whiny voice, he groans out, "my job doesn't really give me leeway. but god, i wanted to see you so bad, you don't even know." he leaves light butterfly kisses from your neck to your jaw, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your thigh.

then he tugs at the hem of your shirt. "i want this off, too." next thing you know, the only thing covering you are your undergarments, but you could tell from the way he kept caressing you near your panties that those would soon join the pile.

once he threw your top aside, you bring his face to yours, instantly interlocking your lips. it was the first time you took initiation and blade couldn't help but smile into the kiss. his hand ventures higher, hands intentionally swiping over the place you needed him most before pulling back to caress your hips.

you grunt into the kiss in irritation, trying to pull his body closer to you to get that friction you crave.

blade notices, and wants to tease you more than anything, but he couldn't deny how much he missed you. once you finally let him kiss you, he swore he couldn't get enough. had you not avoided him for a good two weeks he could've had moments like this with you before his work swept him away. and going two more weeks without you made it even worse. blade could only think of how it was true that distance certainly did make the heart grow fonder.

blade uses his kiss with you as a distraction and slips his finger past your undergarments to finally touch you where you craved. you instantly pull away from the kiss with a gasp, your back arching up slightly as you whined aloud.

"so pretty." blade muttered, placing kisses on your shoulder before pulling away to watch your expressions. he could feel how his erection tightened his pants uncomfortably at the mere sight of you drowning in pleasure. "another expression to add to my list." he whispers, eyeing your face with a carnal, predatory hunger.

blade slides one finger into you and stares at the way you twitch and thrash. "w—waaait..!!" you moaned, trying your hardest to catch your breath. he ignores your pleas and speeds up the pace, slowly adding in a second finger.

with your reactions, he could tell how sensitive you were. he could only grin and think about how fun teasing you in future will be.

blade curled his fingers in a way that had you keening and flailing, trying to kick him away. he put a hand on your abdomen to still you. "nnn...noo..! if you.. hngg.. keep doing that... i'm- i'm definitely soaking the sheets..." you whimpered in a whispery voice. in response to you, he starts rubbing your clit in circular motions, your cries becoming louder.

"promise?" he kissed your cheek.

you whined more and blade buried his face in your neck, conveniently placing his ear right by your mouth. a perfect place to hear your noises at full volume. that was before you decided to go and try to cover your mouth.

the muffled noise of your cries let him know what you were trying to do immediately. he sits up to glare down at you, slowing down the pace of his fingers.

“w—what..?” you cry out, confused.

“let me hear you. if you do that again, i stop,” his voice is commanding and it has your legs trembling. you obey him easily. helplessly under his mercy, and remove your hands from your face.

“good.”

he leans down to kiss your face and continues his previous pace. you cry out in relief, feeling your peak climbing its way up.

"you'd look so pretty wrapped around me, you know?" he speaks into your skin. you whimper at that.

the rhythm of his fingers made you a moaning mess, you couldn't help but thrash and kick, the pleasure all too overwhelming— but it still wasn't enough. you desperately needed what he had hiding behind his zipper.

"cum for me..." he coos softly into your ear, voice condescending yet fond at the same time.

"i— i want..."

"i know..." he cuts you off, "i'll stuff you with my cock like you want, just cum on my fingers first." he rasps, letting you know he was enjoying this just as much as you.

he curls the pads of his finger against a certain spot that makes you jerk in his hold. a loud moan leaves your lips and you try your hardest to push him away. blade doesn't give you the chance, keeping you stilled against the bed, thrusting into you even faster. your vision goes white and the brunt of your orgasm hits you full force, you whine loudly and try your best to push blade away, weakly hitting his forearm with your fist. he helps you ride out your orgasm by rubbing your bud, watching you with a hot, burning desire. his control is on the verge of snapping. if you keep making these noises and faces he can't guarantee he'll continue being gentle with you.

"haa...hahh.." you pant loudly, chest rising up and down. “dammit, i definitely ruined that pair.”

you're too distracted to notice blade undressing himself, only opening your eyes to look at him once you hear the unbuckling of his belt.

"blade..." you cry.

he hushes you with his lips, adjusting your position once his bottoms are off— joining the pile of your clothes. you squeak at the sudden breeze of cold air once blade starts sliding your garment down your legs.

“you’re so soaked. fuck.” he mutters breathily, eyes dark. your cunt pulses at the realization that his expression isn’t only because of lust but also him trying his hardest to hold himself back.

you’re both surprised and slightly disgusted with yourself because you’re aware that if he were to snap and be extremely rough with you, you wouldn’t mind— you’d even enjoy it.

“i said you could do whatever you wanted with me, right?” you lean up and unclasp your bra, tossing it aside— you’d usually be humiliated by such boldness, but you were too busy reveling in blade’s awed expression— for once it felt like you one-upped him.

“i suggest you watch your tongue.” he grumbles, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. you’re obviously riling him up, and enjoying it to the fullest.

“but i need it, blade. you promised you’d give me your cock, didn’t you?” you whined, fully aware of your effect on him.

he huffs, shoving you down on the bed to loom over you again, before hissing, “remember who has the authority here.”

you only smirked cockily, a face blade could admit that he really liked. “well maybe you need to remind me,” you say cheekily.

blade, in response, pulls his cock out of his boxers, and it shuts you up immediately; the mere sight of it. he caught sight of your eyes glued to his length and could only smirk.

“maybe i didn’t need to remind you.” the words of ‘you reminded yourself’ went unsaid, but you both knew.

he leans down to interlock your lips and starts grinding himself against you.

there’s no way that’ll fit!! you screamed internally, it’s not like you were inexperienced, but you can say with confidence you’ve never laid with someone so well endowed.

your mind hazes as his tongue delves into your mouth, and you can’t bring yourself to worry.

the tip of his cock catches your clit and you both groan.

“stop teasing.” you complain, brows knitting together.

blade pulls away to pump himself a couple times before finally lining himself up to your slit. he sets a heavy finger right above your belly button, pressing it into your skin.

you eye the indent he creates in confusion. you try to catch his eyes but he can’t seem to pull his gaze away from where his finger is placed.

“here.”

“huh?”

“i’ll be right here.” he taps the spot again as if solidify his words into reality. you flush once you realize his implications, and as much as you wanted to knock him down a peg, you knew he was probably right. with how big he was you’d probably be able to feel him in your throat. your breaths become labored at the idea of it all, anxiously waiting for him to fill you like he promised.

“give me a safe word.” he says, voice guttural.

“red!” not only did it mean stop in a lot of circumstances, but it also reminded you of his eyes.

with that being said, he pushes himself into you, burying himself in to the hilt. your eyes roll back and you grip his biceps to ground yourself.

“you can take all of me, right?” he asks huskily, grabbing your hips for leverage and setting his forehead against yours.

“i can i can, i can!!” you chant out dizzily, on cloud nine from this alone.

“good.. so good for me.” he whispers through gritted teeth. he pulls out till the tip, groaning at the harsh resistance. it’s either you were too tight or he was too big. he assumes it’s because you’re squeezing the life out of him but you’re guessing otherwise.

he abruptly thrusts all the way back in, slamming you against his pelvis. you jerk in his hold, tears lining your bottom lashes as you sob loudly.

blade repeats the process, but this time with more ferocity. your mouth waters at the intensity of it all, eyes rolled back to your brain. he catches your expression and decides he won’t have mercy on you as he previously insisted.

the only thing leaving your lips is a mantra of his name as he starts a rhythm. he doesn’t spare you a single breath, his own lungs drying up and in desperate need for air— because he’s just so deep.

he slams into you harshly, your clit rubbing onto his pelvis with each grind into you, your sobs resonate through the room and your legs twitch violently.

“fuuuckkk! blade blade, blade!! cant! i cant.. i— nnnn!!” your nails dig into the muscles of his arms, making crescent shaped dents.

“you can. you promised, right? you’ll cum for me just like this, right sweetheart?” he coos condescendingly.

the mean tone of his voice is lost on you, for all you can think about is the term of endearment— you squeeze him harder.

“shitttt.” blade groans at the sensation. he grabs your face desperately, locking lips with you to hide his noises. it’s a sloppy kiss, your own drool slipping down your chin. you can’t even focus on the raunchiness of it all, the way he slams down into you— tip of his cock kissing your cervix— you can’t bother to think of anything else. you moan breathily into the kiss, hands gravitating to blade’s back to let your nails make their mark there.

“you like that, huh? when i call you sweet names? tell me you like it, baby,” he says, lidded eyes trained on you.

“i love it!”

his hand travels between your bodies to make circular motions on your clit, other hand massaging your breast, and you swear you see white. squeaky little ‘blade blade, blade!’s come out of your puffy, swollen lips.

“want me to cum inside you? give you my kids.. let them keep you company while i’m gone. you’d like that, yeah?” he pulls away from you slightly to babble senselessly— his mind mush, and mouth running on auto pilot. his words set a fire off inside you, and the knot in your tummy tightens further, on the brink of snapping.

“yes yes, yes!” you sob, your nails raking up and down his back.

“course you’d like that. look at you, my little cocksleeve. you were made to take my cock, admit it.” he grabs your face with one hand, squishing your face together. your moans take on a different tone at his degrading.

“i was.. ohhhh— i—” you couldn’t even finish, the tip of his cock kissing and stroking your sweet spot. blade doesn’t like your lack of answer, so his hips slow their pace, dropping to mere strokes.

“n—no, what..?” you blink out of your daze, your pleasure riddled mind slowly coming to.

“answer me, i asked you a question.”

desperate to get the pleasure you were quickly becoming addicted to, you obey his needs without another word.

“i’m your cocksleeve! i was made just to take your cock. so please! use me!” you cry out in little to no hesitation.

“fuck.” he mumbles. before you can exhale you’re immediately inhaling from the shock of his abrupt, sharp speed. he’s drilling into you harshly, lifting your legs and arching your back to hit your sweet spot with each thrust. his thumb finds your clit and your mind instantly blanks.

the quickness of it all quickly overwhelms you and your orgasm climbs the ladder with quick succession. you’re sobbing now, nails making red lines on his back as he pounds into you.

you can feel him in your stomach. and you knew if you were able to keep your eyes open, you’d be able to see it too.

“please let me cum, i wanna cum!” you cry out brainlessly.

“fuck. fuuckkk. cum, pretty thing. cum on my cock so i can cum deep inside you.” he buries his face in your neck, kissing dark purple blemishes into your skin.

his voice does you in, the roughness of it all, and the fact that he sounds just as wrecked as you. you’re only able to give a whiny warning of, “cumming— i’m cumming!! ohh god!!” before you finally burst. your body convulses brutally and you squeeze blade in a vice grip, punching out a guttural groan from him.

the feeling has blade reaching his peak before he can even compose himself. his hips stutter and he’s slamming into you, gripping your hips harshly — which will definitely leave bruises— and his finger rubs your clit to help you ride out your high.

“fuck fuck, fuck. fuuuckk. i’m gonna fill you up just like you want. make you round with my kids. gonna give it all to you. you’ll take it, right? you’ll take it all, i just know it,” he chants, mind blank.

“please, blade— ohhh goddd, please fill me up!!” you sob, tears running down your cheeks.

one last slam of his hips has him filling you up to the brim. more more, more— until his burning hot cum squelches out of you and drips onto the sheets. it prolongs your orgasm and you’re whining at the feeling. small praises leave blade’s lips as he leaves small kisses all over you.

he sits up and slowly pulls out of you, watching, entranced, as all of his cum slowly seeps out. with an empty mind that’s only filled with the image of you, he puts his fingers in your cunt to plug you up and prevent anything else from draining out.

a spike of pain and pleasure shoot through you. your mind starts clearing and you squeal, “hey!!”

he meets your gaze, eyes your messy form, and says simply, “sorry.” he pulls away.

blade hated that you looked so good that way. your body riddled with sweat, brows furrowed, lips pouted (that expression he loved so much), and hair mussed all over your pillows.

you can’t tear your eyes away from how he stares at you. this time, you notice the fondness that swim in his irises and your tummy flutters. your lips curl into a sweet smile and you speak to sweep away your embarrassment, “you’re really obsessed with me.”

blade’s eyes widen, and you assume it’s because of your words; but you couldn’t be any more wrong.

this is the first time you’ve smiled like that in his presence. he couldn’t deny that he loved your other faces, whether it be anger, prideful, lust, you name it. but this one… it was definitely his new favorite.

you predicted he’d say something along the lines of, “i am.” and make you further embarrassed. but if anything, he said the opposite.

“spread your legs.” he orders simply.

you blink at him, noticing his eyes that filled with desire once more.

“y—you can’t be serious!!!”

taglist : @chalksdreams @bloo-wisteria @maddymints09 @just-simping-over-genshin @xiaowatching @sunsethw4 @caesadele @forsh4dow @i-x4o @shrimp-anon some of u i couldn’t tag sorryyyyy ☹️

#blade honkai star rail x reader #blade hsr #blade hsr x reader #honkai star rail blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x reader #blade honkai star rail #blade smut #blade hsr smut #hsr blade smut #hsr blade #cloud knight!reader #blade x reader #🃏; saturn.writes

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fayes-fics · 11 months ago

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window.

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…”

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date.

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped.

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm.

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained.

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

“Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…”

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being.

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return. When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be.

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!”

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly.

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley.

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause.

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger.

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine.

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform.

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said.

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…” you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove.

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed.

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine.

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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urhoneycombwitch · 8 months ago

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On dad!Steve !! I would love if you could write something about him coming to terms with becoming a dad/pregnancy and labour/just first time dad!Steve in general makes me melt (especially if he's a girl dad 😔)

kay I’ll speak on it bc I have thoughts for SURE

cw: dad!steve, pregnant!R, light emetephobia ment, childbirth desc (no smut but my page is +18 only)

canon-wise, I feel like Steve’s only gotten smarter. obviously he’s still got a goofy himbo side. but he’s getting cleaner with fighting. sharper with his observations. lighter on his feet that’s only come with lots of protective practice.

but the part of him that really cares goes into overdrive after s4, in the canon I’m building in my head 😇 I think he might get a little obsessive about safety for awhile, in the wake of their heroic, underground-world-defeating victory. that kicks into high gear when he finds out you’re pregnant.

(see more of my to-be-named world building here)

for the first few months of your pregnancy he’s never been more grateful to be working in the same building as you. he takes every opportunity to to visit you at your library posting, between teaching his classes (under the pretense of grading papers. Professor Harrington can generally be found at a one-elbow lean on your front desk any time he isn’t in his office.)

he just loves you so much and wants to make sure you’re doing okay. he brings you ginger soda, the fancy brand you like- kept stocked in the staff fridge when your stomach is roiling with nausea, passed with an apologetic kiss to the back of your hand.

bleeding heart Steve feels so bad he can’t take all the pain away, does his best to alleviate your new and growing discomforts. rubs your shoulders and puffy ankles down with lotion each night. gives up coffee in the mornings (even tho he used to RUN on caffeine) so you can kiss him without aversion 💖. he’s with you for every shaky night-sweat throw up session on the bathroom floor, kneeling to hold you hair back from getting sick in it. warm palm on your lower back in assurance and comfort.

he calls it at 6 months. begs and cajoles and patiently argues (sweetheart, you’re wakin’ up so early with work. you should really rest, anyways- find a nice horizontal hobby to keep you off your feet. treat it like vacation 🫶) which turn into not so patient arguments (practically in your third trimester, goddammit, you want me to go crazy with worry? gonna have premature greys at this rate. let me keep you safe, angel, please. for my sake.) until finally you agree to take the damn maternity leave early.

and u know Steve’s reading all the books. how to be a good first-time dad. 101 lessons for the new parent. mother’s health and wellness magazines. childbirthing books. by the end of your third trimester, he’s gained enough knowledge to be an honorary midwife. could deliver the baby himself, if the situation really called for it. better to be prepared 🫡

and that spring , you’re both lounging on the couch. there’s a sunny spot under the big window, and you’re warming like cats, you feet propped in Steve’s lap. moon of a stomach peeking out from underneath a stolen one of Steve’s soft tees. his eyes are fixed on his library book on gentle parenting until you take a sharp inhale.

there’s a spasming band just under your navel that you press your hands into, and Steve pauses in rubbing absentminded at your ankle. looks up at you in concern and then at his watch and says “whoa, that’s like, 4 contractions in the last 5 minutes. are these for real or what?”

and you’re like “uhmmmm. don’t b mad but my water kind of broke this afternoon.”

and Steve looks at you with this very poorly concealed bewilderment that’s quickly morphing into shock and so you start talking before he can like “no no it’s chill. it’s cool!! 😎 doesn’t even hurt that bad and I knew you’d be home at 4 anyways….”

and you quiet when Steve rips his glasses off and pinches his nose between two fingers and says in a Very strangled voice “yeah. okay. well it’s 5 PM traffic right now which means rush hour which means we need to go to plan C right off the bat…”

and you watch this man unravel in the most efficient way possible. tugging at the roots of his hair until it stands overly-tall but managing to pack all your bags in the car in under 3 minutes. a record. and he gets to the hospital using all the mapped-out backroads so you’re there in a tight 15.

but as it turns out, a speedy arrival to the L&D ward of Hawkins Memorial wasn’t even necessary, because you spend the next 21 hours in the most intense, soul-crushing pain Steve’s ever seen you go thru in his life and it almost breaks him. for real.

he’s so soft for you and no amount of reading about other people giving birth could have prepared him for the heartache and helplessness of seeing you ride the wave of a contraction. or go thru the brutal process of getting an epidural, your hands digging into his forearms hard enough to leave bruises as you leaned on him thru it all.

and Steve did not know he could fall more in love w you but he does, the second you become a parent alongside him, wet and wriggling baby girl placed on your chest. spend two nights in the hospital healing up and fumbling through feedings and giggling over your new tiny daughter. counting her fingers and toes every time you unwrap her. cooing over those big brown eyes that look just like Steve’s.

and with his first baby, Steve is overprotective to the max. only Robin can babysit at first, and that’s only after she’s checked off a rigorous amount of reading material from Steve’s comprehensive required book list. he’s fussy about her routine (truly puts so much of the postnatal stress in himself so you can focus on bonding w/ your babe and resting), is fiercely protective over u and the new baby, like mama bear to the maxxx.

he’s actually GREAT at multitasking and the all consuming constant buzz of listening for certain types of crying and feedings and baby hand-offs thru the night really solidify the fact that he can do this. he’s already a million times better than his own parents at it, a fact of which you constantly remind and encourage him with.

and I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, best thing to ever happen to Steve Harrington is having a second kid bc it chills him way the hell out. for reasons chalked up simply to It's the way the world works, Steve falls into a natural rhythm w your second kid. finds his stride as they say. he’s just as excited and caretaking and protective during your second pregnancy as with your first, but this time without all of the panic and wire-thin nerves. coasts thru calmly.

perhaps a touch too calm, because when you go into labor with your second kid, it’s the middle of a snowstorm in Hawkins, and since u and Steve went thru such a long hard birth with your eldest, you both take your sweet time getting ready to go. saying goodbye to your 3 year-old while aunt Robin comes to stay. even stopping for a snack on the way to the hospital because last time they didn’t let you eat and you were fucking ravenous the whole time.

but then Steve has to drive so slow and safe bc of the snowy roads and you’re still a good 20 mins out when things progress so rapidly and so unlike the first time around; Steve is so level-headed and lets you crush all the bones in his right hand while he drives with his left, coaching you through breathing exercises, trying to keep calm but oh shit, you’re making the same sounds you made three years ago when you brought your first baby into the world, all low groans and gritted teeth and Steve’s pleading with you to hold on, just a few more minutes as he coasts into the emergency bay of L&D. doesn’t give a fuck about parking in a tow zone, they can take the damn car, Steve’s already launching himself out of the drivers seat to scoop you up and hike it indoors.

in the nick of time. 10 minutes and a few pushes later and your second baby is there, all scrunched and tiny, so much smaller than her sister, got the slope of your nose and Steve’s pretty cupids bow. she arrived so fast it feels like a joke, you and Steve cuddling a bit cramped (the way you all like it) in the hospital bed, laughing a little, marveling at the fact that you’re a family of four now, how different it’s all been the second time around. how neither of you realized how much your hearts could expand to engulf your two kids with so much love, it feels like you’re both bursting at the seams 💖

#lu’s anons #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #mom!reader #parent!reader #steve harrington x pregnant!reader #pregnancy cw

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particular-one · 1 year ago

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hello!! how are you? i hope youre doing well!! im not sure if your requests are open, so feel free to delete this ask if your reqs are closed <33

soo my idea was a dan heng x gn!reader. angst with comfort/fluff? basically reader is a bit unsure and insecure of their relationship and thought of maybe that dan heng deserved a better partner, so they decided to distance themselves a little and slowly broke up with him.

i'll leave it up to you for the ending and dan heng's reaction! please take your time with this request and feel free to reject it if you dont feel comfortable with it!! also im unsure if u made smth similar to this so um yeah ansndjd HAVE A GREAT DAY!!

what if it doesn’t end well?

pairing. dan heng x gn! reader author's note. dunno if you read my mind or smth anon... but i had literally been thinking abt writing smth along these lines before you sent the ask, so i was so jawdropped seeing this in my inbox SJDJDKSJD sorry for the wait anon! i hope you liked this :>

you very well knew just how lucky you are to have someone like dan heng as your partner, your other half.

dan heng, who would, without fail, place a warm blanket or his own coat over you when he found you sprawled on the couches of the express. dan heng, who would wake you up to the smell of freshly cooked cosmic fried rice for your breakfast — which resulted to march and pom pom complaining where their shares are.

dan heng, who would give your head a pat, before bringing you into his arms for the tighest embrace whenever you looked even remotely down.

he was good. too good for you.

you had always imagined that your perfect partner would be someone like him, so your relationship was indeed, a dream come true. your thoughts should have ended already, there and then.

except, it had constantly wandered to the deep end— to the dreaded land of uncertainty and insecurity.

somehow, you saw how dan heng would barely be able to stifle his laughter when march would say something hilarious. you'd watch as how dan heng would look like he would be out of breath, but no doubt having way more fun when he was out adventuring with the trailblazer. even with welt, there was a certain change of demeanor that you didn’t see when he was around you.

bit by bit, your worries had gotten the better of you. could he have been merely settling for you? what if you weren't actually his dream partner, and you were just shackling him down?

"y/n?"

you had been too preoccupied with your own thoughts that march had been looking over at you worriedly, a can of bottled soda in her hand. your eyes had glanced over to dan heng, who had been equally staring at you, but his expression was inscrutable.

that was the hardest part with dan heng. you could never quite tell what he was thinking.

you cleared your throat and forced a smile. "yeah, i'm fine." though dan heng did not look all that convinced, march seemed rather satisfied with your reply and returned to rambling animatedly.

you actually felt bad that you had been zoning march out, but your worries had only multipled in magnitude as of late, when you had been mulling over your relationship for the past few days. your fingers were absentmindedly grazing over your cup again when you heard your name again.

"yeah, y/n! just how were you able to break down the cold exterior of dan heng, anyways?" the question had taken you by surprise, and at the corner of your eye, you could see dan heng had been looking at you with a careful expression — again, you still couldn't completely tell what he had been thinking.

"uh..." how did you, actually? the both of you had only been dating for a little over two months now, but you couldn't... remember. had it been you or dan heng that had approached the other for the possibility of a relationship?

"i... well, i guess dan heng had just allowed for it to happen, honestly." you weren't so sure of your answer, but your heart sank a little when you saw dan heng's expression change, his eyebrows raised.

though he was quick to conceal it, the fact that you had seen it only confirmed the worst of your nightmares. "oooooh, is that true, dan heng—?"

"sorry, i don't.. feel so good right now. can i excuse myself?” eyes were on you again, but before they could say anything to stop you, you bowed briefly and took your leave.

just as you were making your way to your room on the express, you could hear footsteps behind you. unmistakably, his footsteps. “y/n.”

“mm-hm?” you mumbled, not even turning back to face him. the last thing you wanted to see was dan heng’s inscrutable expression again. there was a pause, before he spoke again. “are you sure you’re okay?”

without missing a beat, you laughed, hoping it did not come out bitterly. “yeah. i am, don’t worry about me. you can go back to them.” you still didn’t want to meet his gaze, just as you heard him step towards you.

you had half expected that maybe, dan heng would wrap his arms around you in comfort, or that he’d declare those three words to you just to give you some semblance of security. you waited, just as you had his back on him.

silence, before you heard his footsteps once again, but they only grew fainter in sound.

so he chose to leave. that’s okay. it's okay.

you could hardly blink back your tears as you ran back into your room in a hurry before anyone on the express would ask you that same dreaded question again.

no. you weren’t okay.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the following days involved a wild game of hide and seek from dan heng. which ... wasn't all that easy when you live in the same train as him. the longer it dragged on, the harder it got, but you just wanted to avoid seeing dan heng as much as possible.

you could feel dan heng's stare pierce your back each time you darted away or when you made up some excuse that you needed to be in the room that he wasn't in. the fact that you even offered your cleaning services to pom pom so you would busy yourself with thoughts that did not concern him.

"you sure nothing's going on, y/n—?" you nodded absentmindedly, just as himeko set down a heaping plate of food and a cup of her infamous coffee in front of you. "you know, typically you'd ask dan heng for breakfast..." you easily took a large gulp of the coffee in your mouth to avoid talking about that, instead shaking your head. you regretted that almost instantly, the bitterness of the coffee making you cough unprompted.

"n-nope! nothing's wrong."

it'll probably take more than that to convince himeko, who had leaned back against the couch with a raised brow just as march entered with a jovial smile and greeting with welt after her.

and dan heng. oh shit.

your utensils fell on the table with a clang, as you mumbled yet another excuse to get out there — you felt bad to see himeko's face fall when you just abandoned that good plate of breakfast like that, but you were much more concerned with your distancing mission.

"y/n, wait—" but you couldn't wait. you did not need him to cloud your thoughts any further. you pushed the door past where march and the others had entered from, as your pace quickened.

"y/n." no. don't. you didn't want to run, but you were growing desperate.

"y/n!" you felt a hand on your shoulder and you finally whirled back to meet his gaze for the first time in days. you had been anticipating to see that unreadable expression of his, but you were hit with a wave of surprise and a pang to the heart.

he was staring into your eyes, his eyes brimming in worry and concern. dan heng always had a piercing gaze, but even if this one still sent shivers down your spine, it had an odd way of enveloping your body with a sensitive warmth that only brought out the worst of your emotions out.

he still had that effect on you; he'll always have.

"y/n, what's wrong?" he kept his distance, save for the hand on your shoulder just as you cast your eyes downward. "you've been avoiding me since that night. i.."

"i think we should break up." you were almost grateful that you hadn't been looking at him when you finally blurted it out loud. only, you had regretted to look up and see his reaction.

dan heng had always been distant and unreadable; even when you were going out, you knew there were always things that he hid from you. yet, at that moment, you could have sworn all his walls broke down to unveil the pained soul underneath.

"is it something i did?" it was a simple question, but even the way dan heng said it quietly made your heart clench. "no, no, no. it's not. you've done nothing wrong."

"is it me, then?" even when you had withstood the harshest of battles, nothing quite like this had ripped your heart out before.

"no— dan heng, it's not you, or something you've done, or anything about you, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me—"

"then why?" his last question come out choked in emotion, something you had not been prepared for to witness at all. it just made your heart break even more, just as you were unwillingly breaking his. you're shaking your head, just as you turned your back on him again, but his hand held onto you tightly, not letting go.

"y/n, i don't understand why—" "it's because you're too good for me!"

"you're dependable when i'm the opposite, you've always made sure that i would be warm with a blanket when i foolishly fall asleep outside of my room again. hell, you're one of the pillars of this express, and i ... i..." had you been screaming? you felt like you were already out of breath, your heart was starting to throb as if you had forgotten how to breathe, but everything just kept tumbling out. "i just- i just don't know what you see in me—."

you could hardly register what was going on when dan heng cupped your face before kissing you mid-sentence. you could feel even the heaviest of your emotions evaporate as you allowed his warmth to finally envelop you in a calming embrace, the very touch you had been undeniably craving for for the past few days.

dan heng slowly pulled away from you, just as he brushed a tear rolling down your cheek. "hey. i love you, okay? i love you, even if you're picky about the food i cook. even if you'd constantly forget my reminders about not staying out late, i still love you." you had nodded, just as you wrapped your arms around his chest tightly. dan heng wrapped his arm around your head and tucked you in his embrace.

"but what if things don't end well?" you murmured, just as dan heng pulled away to hold your face in his hands. "then i'll stave that off for as long as possible." he gave your forehead a soft kiss, before giving you a smile.

"and if you think you're only good for nothing, know that you'll always be everything to me."

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

635 notes · View notes

gardenofnoah · 1 year ago

Text

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor

tags: nanami kento x reader, princess!reader, violence, injuries (minor), non-graphic descriptions of hunting, medium burn, sort of enemies to lovers but mostly scared strangers to unfortunate lovers, the fall of a dynasty, character death (sorry), reincarnation, bittersweet ending. mdni.

wc: 6.5k ish

notes: for @medusashima’s collab—indulging myself (and y’all) in my take on one of my favorite stories. i hope you like it 💘 this is based on the tale of the two fossils found wrapped up in each other in an unlikely pairing (which is made even better by the fact that it is not fiction and it happened!! love is real nerd!!). there’s a really phenomenal webtoon called burrow (by saige9) that makes me cry and that y’all should read immediately. anyway, enjoy. love u

summary: the world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. to love is an animal thing.

it shocks you, how gentle a tug it takes to unravel everything that you were. only a thing between two others—before: a princess on a hill, the unraveling, and who you’ll be after.

your feet stomp clumsily over dirt and jagged rock—softened soles split open easily with each stride. but, ever your grandmother's frightened little rabbit, not even that searing pain is enough to thwart you in your descent down the hill—away from what is surely certain death. nothing but the animal need to survive pushing you forward—to get to whatever comes next.

it happened too fast—the only way a dynasty can fall to those privileged enough not to notice the slow decline of the society around them until it's too late. your family spoke of pockets of uprisings as if they were fictitious and theoretical—some grandiose, far away prediction of the old crone that haunted the village below your compound, and certainly not the men concealed by shade of trees that had been pruned by your family for centuries, salivating but patient for the perfect moment to strike.

and then they were dead. all of them but you.

a childhood of exploring the grounds of your family home proves useful in knowing without much thought which paths lead farthest from the carnage at your back, but your fright makes you uncoordinated—mechanical in your stride. the price to stop for even a second is far too high, and the hounds that howl after you in the dark serve as a constant reminder of the consequence of hesitation. so, bruised and bleeding, you keep on.

you run until your lungs threaten to collapse and then on farther. your feet carry you through unfamiliar wood, but in your rush, your brain rationalizes that the repercussions of trespassing cannot be much worse than what's behind you. and that seems to be the truth—right up until the real consequence drops out of the tree above you and pins you to the earth below, a blade to your throat.

gritted teeth snap too close to your face. you hear a deep voice—maybe a deeper threat, something to raise the hair on the back of your neck if you could only focus on the words. the world spins and your mind struggles to make sense of the sudden stop in motion, but something far more animal inside you decides that it's had enough. against any remaining survival instinct, you feel all tension bleed from your body—the stranger's face comes into clearer view right as you go limp underneath him. resignation wins out—your limbs wouldn't move if you pleaded with them to.

blond eyebrows meet hairline as your attacker is caught off guard by your forfeiture. "what are you—"

once distant howls growing nearer cut him off. he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed at something he cannot yet see. you watch from outside yourself as he turns back toward you. dark eyes meet your own and you see the decision make itself—in one instant you are free of his bodyweight, and in the next you are weightless as he hauls you over his shoulder.

he makes it no more than 10 feet down the path before the last bit of adrenaline leaves you and is replaced by a sudden, blinding pain with no identifiable source. you feel it everywhere—all of the seemingly inconsequential injuries catching up with you now that you've stopped moving. the receding tree line is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

the warmth that surrounds you is decadent. you curl into it, reluctant to break the spell of sleep. but then you remember.

you shoot upright, sending at least three layers of blankets rolling off of you. you pinch the fabric of the top one between your fingers—alpaca. not native, but farmed here over the last century or so. you know (and had been told) that it was unbecoming of a princess to hold so much commonplace knowledge. but then again, status matters little now, and this blanket is soft. you're grateful to know the beast it was made from.

it hurts, but you coax your head into swiveling around to survey your surroundings, surprised when you find that it's very clearly someone's home. it's old—some of the wooden boards that line the walls have started to bow against the nails that drove them into the framework of the house, and daylight peaks through the cracks. the bed you rest in can barely be called that—an old futon cushion atop bundles of straw. but it's warm, and you slept. someone has been taking care of you. the thought is sobering; the anxiety that comes with it is enough to hold you to the bed for the foreseeable future.

but your stomach growls, and the bodily betrayal forces you to move. you do it slowly, kicking both feet out from under the blankets. to see them bandaged is startlingly unexpected.

your memories until now are fuzzy at best, but the last thing you distinctly recall is the feeling of sharpened metal biting into your skin. there are few ways you can fathom connecting the dots from that moment to this—swaddled in blankets with your wounds tended to. it leaves you on edge.

on two feet, you sway a bit—the hunger feeds the vertigo that spins the surroundings in your peripheral. one hand braced on the bed now behind you, you blink until things settle. you take a step forward, and the pain is shocking—your feet are clearly more injured than they'd felt at the time, but there is only one way out of this room. you press on.

the heavy wooden door opens into a one room cottage. it's old, and not in the well-loved and well-lived way—the dilapidated structure and lack of any real homely qualities tells you immediately that it's current inhabitant is more of a recent opportunist than a longtime homemaker. that distinction mattered little now, though, and you suppose you should be grateful for your stranger's resourcefulness.

you creep further into the room without a sound until you find yourself in the middle of it. crouched and defensive, until the realization hits you—you see all four walls and are perplexed to find that you are completely alone.

the room is little more than a crooked wooden table and a futon pad on the floor. there are remnants of a fireplace in the center of the room—mortar and brick crumbling up wooden slats toward the roof, but still useful with still-burning embers inside. truly, it's more primitive than livable—there are weapons and tools strung up along the wooden panels of the walls, and animal hides hang in any space between metal and wood. but it's warm, and it's a reminder of what is at stake. what should spur anxiety brings only confusion—when cost of survival is so high, why add another body to the burden?

you forget yourself until the heavy fall of footsteps outside the door reignites your adrenaline. you watch, wide eyed and frozen, as the door picks a fight with whoever is on the other side of it. a weight smacks solidly into it once, twice, and a third time before it opens with a heavy groan. in the daylight, your captor is revealed to you.

hard eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, and then narrow in suspicion. you're still as he takes in all of you, and suddenly very aware of the nightgown you escaped your home in, still hanging off your body. you fight the urge to withdraw into yourself—you know it’s not the time to cower.

he eyes you for a moment more, and then drops a heavy pack on the floor next to him, and busies himself with unloading. you watch as he pulls out tools that look unfamiliar to you—though you suppose any tool would. it's not as if you or your family ever had a need for them.

you watch him work and are surprised to find that he's...handsome. jaw set at a hard angle with scars that wrap around the slope of one side, he's rugged in a way you'd never been taught to find appealing. he is unlike the men that sought after your hand with promises of riches and comfortable living. he is unlike anyone you've seen before, truthfully.

"um—"

"is there something you need?"

his coldness stuns you for a moment. you're not sure what you were expecting—you'd no real reason to anticipate any kindness from the man, but the care by which your feet were wrapped had led your mind in that foolish direction anyway.

you fight the urge to draw your limbs into yourself like a startled turtle. "oh—i just. wanted to thank you, i suppose. for helping me."

he looks up from his sorting to meet your eyes, and the disdain in them feels like a physical wound. he drops the tool in his hand with a sharp thud against the floor, and it makes you jump.

"once you've healed, you will leave."

you exhale sharply. it makes sense, of course—it is no small ask of him to allow you to stay even until you're healed. even so, the reality of the world that awaits you carries a weight to it—it lurks around the periphery of the tiny cabin, waiting for you to poke your head out.

then comes the loss—the blood that still stains your fingertips and the hem of your nightgown. you bow your head—out of shame or grief, you're not sure—and turn on your heel, right back into the room you came from. you shut the door behind you quietly, and you don't make it to the bed. you sink to your haunches and gravity pins you there, head in hands as your mind reintroduces you to each of the ghosts that now have a tight grip on both your ankles.

it's dark when you emerge, once again driven by hunger or thirst, or some other base need to stay alive despite every glaring sign not to.

you commit yourself to stealth—to staying out of your stranger's way, as much as you can before you take your leave. the dark of the cabin hides you in your trek out of your hiding place—unfortunately, it also hides the solid object on the floor, laid directly in front of your door. your foot catches it and it clangs, the metallic echo ringing in your ears.

you curse under your breath, bending down to feel around in the blackness for whatever you hit. you startle when your fingers hit something unexpectedly soft. you squint, and suck in a breath when you realize what you're holding—a piece of bread. rather, half of a loaf, with a cut of meat nearby, on the metal plate that you’d kicked. you blink, like if you do it enough, the mirage will dissipate and leave only dark wood behind. but it doesn't—the bread gives some as your fingers squeeze around it as if to test it's trustworthiness. you decide to stop looking the gift horse in its mouth, and recede back the dark of your room, food in hand.

oddly enough, it becomes a regular occurrence. you grow accustomed to expecting a plate of food by your door every night—a seemingly ironic luxury, given your reality now. you hardly see your stranger—you've no idea when he has the opportunity to leave food by your door unnoticed, give his penchant for absence. puzzling still is that the food you're given varies, as if he intends for you to have a fully balanced diet in the middle of a societal collapse.

he doesn’t stop at the food, either—after a few nights spent in your room, he makes his first real appearance in the daylight. a knock at your door rouses you from what’s become a habit of mid-afternoon naps, in lieu of staring at the splintered walls of what was quickly beginning to feel like a cage instead of a place of healing. you pull the door open to find your stranger towering over you—leering down at you with the same discontent he had before. only now, he holds something in his hands, and extends them to you.

“there’s a stream at the edge of the boundary.”

he thrusts what’s in his hands to yours, and you realize that it’s clothing—not in the best shape, but certainly better than the blood-crusted nightgown you still wear. he says no more, and for once you’re grateful for his curt demeanor. he turns on his heel and stalks out of the cabin, back to whatever the outside world has to offer him. after a moment, you follow his path, for the first time since you’d arrived.

it stuns you for a moment, how sinister the land looked in the dark, and how different it looks now. the sun shines hot down on the wheatgrass that sways gently in the breeze. it picks up a lock of your hair and you feel lighter with it.

you walk where you assume you should—down a thinly-worn path between the grass. you find it eventually: a small stream, just wide and deep enough for you to bathe in if you crouch. you turn your head to each side, squinting in your search for prying eyes—you find no one, but it’s still wholly uncomfortable to undress in the open like this.

your reservations leave you the minute you step into the water. warmed by the sun with a sweeping current, you let out a guttural moan that would’ve certainly earned you a chastising from your grandmother for its crudeness. you can’t help it—the caked on dirt and grime dissolves under your fingers and leaves you feeling better than you ever have. there is a slight sting in the soles of your feet—that it is slight is surprising to you, and a harrowing reminder of the clock that continues to tick out of your favor.

days bleed into weeks. your feet heal earlier than you expect them too, and the guilt you carry is worse than the wound. you know you’ve reached the end of your stay, but you can’t get yourself to leave. not when your stranger still insists on taking care of you. the anticipation is sickening—instead of sitting and waiting to be shooed away, you decide to earn your stay. hard work for someone who’d never worked a day, but the determination proves stronger than the fatigue.

you clean. it’s the only thing you can think to do, and truthfully, it’s necessary. you haul water in old containers on your shoulder from the stream, and you wash the dust away until the floors shine and the windows are clear again. you do this everyday—finding something to clean and fixating on it until the sun reaches the other side of the horizon. today is no different—you set your sights on the ash in the fireplace, using a metal pan to scoop it into a stray tarp to carry outside when you’re done.

you’re almost finished when you hear the now familiar sound of boots scraping the stone outside. you tense, but you don’t stop, pulling another pile of stale smelling soot onto the tarp as your stranger opens the door. you hear him stop behind you, but you don’t turn.

“what are you doing?” the tone is not as harsh as you’re used to—a little fatigued, mostly inquisitive.

“cleaning,” you say softly, pulling up at each corner of the canvas and watching the ash collide into neat little heaps in the center, “i’m almost done—i’ll be out of your way.”

you get to your feet, discard in hand, and turn to look at him. his strong brow furrows as he looks at you, like there’s something about what he sees that he can’t understand. against your best interest, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“i’m sorry, it’s just—i never learned your name.”

the look he levels you with makes you wish you’d never asked. his expression gives away nothing, but it tells you enough.

“how are your feet?”

your stomach drops—all of your attempts at earning your place for naught after all. but you stand in front of him now—to lie to him would be foolish at best.

you can barely raise your voice above a whisper. “healed.”

he studies you for a moment more, and it’s too much for you. your eyes fall to a crack in the floor, and distantly you wish you’d shrink down to slip inside of it, never to be seen again.

“tomorrow i will show you how to trap.” he gruffs, finality lacing his tone. your eyes snap to his but he’s already turning, half way out the door before he stops. he turns his head, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“kento,” he mutters, barely audible and strange meeting your ears, “my name is kento.”

and then he’s gone again—leaving you standing there with a hand full of dirt and no way to discern your left from right as your world tilts on its axis, if only slightly—but noticeable and disruptive all the same.

you don’t sleep well that night—startled out of a twilight sleep in what appears to be the dark hours of the morning by the rapping of knuckles on your door. kento nods to you in a greeting of his own, turning swiftly on his heel and heading toward the front door. you follow him dutifully, pulling over your shoulders the blanket you’d snagged before you left the warmth of your bed for the chill of the morning. the grass is cool and dewey under your bare feet, and it’s a quiet luxury you find yourself reveling in as you pad along behind him. you can hardly see him in the dark and yet you keep up, somehow—you know there’s too much at stake to lag behind.

true to his word, he teaches you how to trap. solely by doing—few words are exchanged between you as he trudges into the stream and hauls out a weaved basket attached to a rope, fastened to the shoreline by a stray branch. the light that creeps over the horizon begins to illuminate his work—silvery tails gleam as they flick back and forth from inside the cage. you know better than to be sad, but you feel it anyway. it’s silly to feel a kinship with the creatures, not even sentient enough to know that there is no escape for them—but you know, and the weight of that is a tangible thing.

he teaches you how to prepare the fish, then—and you get through it, if not only through sheer determination to not throw up in front of kento. the sun rises and illuminates other opportunities to learn—he teaches you about the native plants, only in simple directions of pointing to a patch of green with an accompanied “don’t touch”, or “fine to eat”. it’d feel patronizing if it wasn’t all so overwhelming—he had a knowledge of things you’d never dreamed of before. all you can feel is excitement that he’s willing to share it with you.

as the sun begins to set, he brings you to the garden—a small patch of land, seemingly unassuming until you step inside. there are fruiting plants everywhere you look—fat, red tomatoes and vining, prickly cucumbers, complete with rows of leafy greens and cabbages. you can’t begin to imagine how he’d managed to grow all of this by himself. his nightly food gifts start to make more sense.

you work side by side, pulling ripe crop from each plant and placing them into a metal canister—usually used for mechanical purposes, but at the end of the world, you find many uses for what you have. you feel emboldened somehow with your hands in the dirt next to his, and the words leave you before you have a moment to reconsider; you tell him of where you’d come from, and of your descent down the hill. you think of the kin you’d left behind, and you feel detached as you tell him of the loss—an observation if nothing else, as if you’d sat on a shoreline and watched the tide flood in.

he doesn’t react—not to your noble status, and not to the death—he’s quiet as he moves on to each plant, only the pattering sound of what he harvests hitting the tin bottom of his canister. you don’t mind—there’s no reaction you’d expect or find helpful, and for some reason, his presence is enough. you find it odd that weeks ago his footsteps incited real fear in your veins, and now he’d spent the day teaching you new ways to be useful. it was a strange and intimate gratitude, but one you felt nonetheless.

you find you see him more now, with your newfound ability to contribute and the determination to do just that. days are spent hauling fresh catches out of the stream, and hunting down small mammals to supplement your diet. you watch him closely—the flex and twist of his torso with the pull of the bow, the way he narrows his focus to the fluffy little thing that scurries among the leaves. with the twitch of a finger, the arrow flies toward its target—there is a screech, and then a sobering quiet. for the first time in your life, you pray—quietly, for the creature with the same instinct to survive that drives you to take its life.

“here,” kento says, handing the bow to you, “try it.”

you wrap your fingers around the wood and do as he asks. it’s deceptively heavy—the tension of the bow makes it nearly impossible to draw back with your own strength. focused and determined not to fail in front of him, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands cover your own.

“there’s no trick to it,” his voice is gruff but gentle and far closer to you than he’s ever been, “just pull back, like this.”

he guides your hand backward with his own and the tail of the arrow follows—at your back, you feel the muscles in his chest ripple with the effort.

“focus,” he breathes, and you fight a shudder at his proximity, “listen.”

and it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of blood in your ears, but you try, blinking in an effort to snap out of whatever trance kento has put you in. it takes a moment, but then you hear it—the crinkle of leaves beneath tiny paws.

“take a deep breath.” kento allows you to move the bow where you want to, and you try to focus your aim. a bushy tail flicks up behind the underbrush—you train the point of the arrow right below it. your heart thuds wildly in your chest, and suddenly you’re worried that the bow might slide out of your sweating palms, impaling you instead.

“let it go.”

you do as he says, and the ringing in your ears drowns out the sounds of short-lived suffering. he lets go of you then—you don’t notice he’s come to stand in front of you until you feel the rough pad of his thumb swipe gently across your cheek. you blink, your own fingers reaching up to find tears you don’t recall ever shedding. your eyes meet his, and they burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. but he’s not angry—you feel no compulsion to apologize for whatever is happening to you. he takes the bow from your hands, and slings it over his back.

“we’ll go back now,” he says quietly. you follow him up the path, and the tears don’t stop until you reach the cabin. you wonder who exactly it is that you’re crying for.

you don’t know what it is about the nights that follow that lead kento to decide to stick around, but there’s a part of you that’s glad he does. above all else, you knew better than to question it. he doesn’t say much—he never does—but you’re more than happy to fill the silence. you suppose you owe him the opportunity to know you, after all he’s done for you—you’ve no idea how to quantify the gratitude you’ve felt over the last few months. you do what you can.

“there’s a story my grandmother used to tell,” you murmur, eyes to the fire that crackles in front of you, “i used to sit at her feet while she brushed my hair. she only ever told it to me—it was like a secret between us.”

the wood pops and spits an ember at your feet. you watch it blaze bright, the tiny thing—one last attempt to catch before it snuffs itself out. “there was a princess that lived high in a tower built to protect her from the bandits of the neighboring empire. she was only ever allowed to walk the grounds of the palace under the safety of a full moon. one night, as she crept out of the tower under the cover of the dark, she’s lured into the dark forest by a witch. she promises to grant the princess any wish, for a price.”

your eyes catch kento’s, and for once, his expression is not indifferent. he is here with you in this moment, and it warms you more than the flame. “of course she wishes to be free,” you continue, waving a hand at its inevitability, “and the witch turns her into a hare. and in the original story, that’s the end of it. there’s a lesson there, right?”

“but in my grandmother’s story, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to the princess. she’s free to hop around to her heart’s content. all she does is eat greenery and lay fat in her den until she dies a natural death after a long and happy life.”

you hear what you think is a scoff from the man next to you. your eyes roam kento’s face, and you think there might even be a hint of a smirk there. it thrills you.

“the tale of an optimist,” he offers quietly, and it’s not bitter.

“she was,” you murmur, “until the end, she was an optimist.”

it’s quiet between you for a moment, save for the crackle of the fire.

“i’m sorry you lost her.”

you smile, and it hurts. the tears well up before you can stop them.

“it’s unfair,” you croak, despite yourself. you’d done well to put up a good front in front of kento—humbling, to see how quickly it could be undone.

you startle when you feel a warm palm close around your clenched fist. “it is unfair,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

the warmth is profound, again despite the fire that heats your cheeks. you find yourself leaning into it until you’ve tucked yourself under his arm. he’s tense, but allows it.

“tell me something about you,” you whisper thickly, needing to think of anything else. he hums, tipping his head back. you sneak a glimpse of the curve of his jaw, glowing between shadows cast by a flickering flame. scar tissue curves and shimmers as it tenses.

“we were a group,” he murmurs, still looking up at the old, wooden boards, “myself and some of the neighbor children. there were no family units, there— we created our own.”

you’re so quiet you think you can nearly hear him piece together the memory in his mind. you know he’s gifting you something precious, so you don’t dare speak.

“we were too young to be running around alone, but there was nowhere to go. we knew enough to dodge the militias that would burn through each village. we thought we did, anyway.”

“the elders were kind. they brought in as many of us as they could on nights when the trucks would come down the road. but we didn’t have parents or homes, and they couldn’t take in all of us.” he pauses, sucking in a long breath. it shifts you when his chest expands. “i was small enough that i was able to fit through a hole in the crawl space under a home. Yu tried, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“he was my best friend.” kento’s voice is quiet, and more fatigued than you’ve ever heard it. it’s unnerving, seeing his humanity laid out so plainly. “he tried to run, but they caught up just as quickly. they would’ve just taken him to a work camp, but he put up a fight.” he says it with a small smile, like he’s proud. “they shot him and left him there to die.”

if there was a way you could be closer to kento, you’d have found it by now, but you find yourself trying to sneak up under his ribs anyway. trying to find a way to siphon his pain into yourself, if only for a moment.

“you were brave,” you whisper, having nothing else to say except for that—for what feels obvious and true. he scoffs, but you can hear the grief behind it.

“maybe,” he says, arm tightening around your shoulders, “i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way.”

you hum, a low and sympathetic thing, fighting the urge to nuzzle into his chest. it’s strange, how easy it is to default to such animal inclinations when there’s no need to abide by arbitrary customs. there is only the two of you here, and the urge to comfort kento is strong.

“will you let me do something?”

he glances down at you out of the corner of his eyes—narrowed in distrust, despite baring his most tender bits to you only a moment ago. you push past it.

“here,” you say, sitting up and out from under his hold, “sit here.”

“on the ground?” he’s not so much incredulous as he is confused—and you’ll take what you can get. you nod, an appeasing sort of grin teasing the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are still narrowed when he goes—crouched in defense like you wait with bared teeth instead of open arms. still, he moves to sit before you—facing you. you laugh a little, endeared.

“i meant for you to turn—“

“no.”

you’re snapped back to reality then—to the present moment, with this man that kindly took you in but does not trust you. you take in a slow breath, careful not to flinch under the weight of his stare.

“okay,” you murmur, reaching up to pull free from your hair the comb that tethers it in its knot, “that’s okay.”

your hair slips down over your nape as you pull the teeth of it free—hard and familiar in your fingers, you offer it to him like one would a scrap of food to a feral dog. an heirloom made of deer bone—your family’s own commitment to using all that you were given, even if it was in excess. a reminder of a luxury that never felt like one until now.

“is it okay?” you ask, pulling up on your own bravery to keep his stare. after a long moment of careful deliberation, he nods tersely.

you lean forward slightly, careful of his space, and let him see the comb as you reach up. he jumps when the dulled prongs meet his scalp, but you stay the course. you pull it through the blond strands—longer than they were when you first met, the dulled ends slipping through with each pass.

you sit back to look at him after a moment. there’s no resistance, nor is there any enthusiasm—but you trust that he’d stop you if he was uncomfortable, so you keep going.

you lose yourself in the task, pulling (or pushing, from where you sit in front of him) the carved bone through his hair. you allow him the privacy of a reaction—eyes focused only on the strands that flit away from the teeth of the comb.

so focused, it seems, that you have to suppress the jerk of your leg when he leans up against it. the quick glimpse you allow yourself gores you—his eyes now closed, head cushioned by the soft of your thigh. looking more childlike than you’ve ever seen him in the months you’ve spent every minute with him. you see flashes of him as a boy—small and without scarring or a reason for haunches to raise in fear or rage. you think of him laughing—rolling in mud and being scolded by an otherwise kind woman instead of squeezing his way through jagged, wooden boards to save his life. never knowing the sound of a shot ringing out in the street.

you tuck your face into your shoulder—determined to hide the tears and your grief on his behalf. determined to let him feel this, whatever it is, and be a safe place for him to do it. to be the strong arm and the kind hand for him now—the one he can give his precious trust to.

the fire crackles and the mourning is heavy in the air—but kento is alive beneath your fingers, and your own heart beat is a heavy and reassuring thud inside your chest.

he is a rose in bloom, in the nights that follow. tightly coiled and still with all of his thorns, but in bloom nonetheless.

he becomes something of your shadow. where he lingered out of distrust he now hovers with intent—comically so, his large body folding itself in the small confines of the makeshift kitchen while you wring out linens in the sink. it’s clear that something has shifted between you—though what, you’re unsure. your mind tells you he is finally coming around to you. your heart yearns for something more than just his trust, though you are not unaffected by the weight of that trust alone.

he is never more than an arm’s length away. he leaves in the darkened hours of the morning to hunt, and is somehow back before the sun rises to wake you. that was another shift—he hadn’t asked you to join him on a hunt since that night. he hadn’t asked you for anything after that, really. he sleeps nearer, too—you’d been under the impression that he’d been sleeping outside until he wound up at the foot of your bed, sleeping still like a guard dog. you didn’t have the heart to ask him about it—you just left the candle burning and turned away from the door. he was owed privacy in his vulnerability, and you give him that.

and however hard to read the man may be, you feel some discontent at not pulling your weight, so you try your best to anyway. patching up holes in the wooden exterior of your home. sealing the windows with fur and fat to beat the chill of the creeping fall. you know that the garden tending is cyclical with the seasons—the cold calls for heartier vegetables. you pull and preen until your fingers swell, aching.

and there he would be—watching you, as always.

“hard work for a princess,” he mutters through something suspiciously similar to a smirk. you level him with a glare—the heat of which is immediately snuffed out in comparison to the heat of the cloth that he wraps around your wind-bitten hands. the heat of his body before yours is a close second to the warmest you've ever been despite all of the holes you'd still yet to patch.

“i hardly remember ever being one now,” you murmur, leaning into his side as his thumbs swipe over your palms—needle pinpricks left in their wake, even through the fabric.

he scoffs, his hands engulfing yours in his warmth. "are you not still?"

"i suppose, technically." you shrug, letting him crowd you over to the old, torn up futon that you'd been using as living room furniture. he'd been doing a lot of that lately—pushing you to relax. itching to take a weight from you. he arranges you to his liking, wrapping one of the woven blankets around your shoulders. "i was meant to be made into more than that, you know. before the uprising."

kento only raises an eyebrow at you. you shrug, past the point of shrinking from his silence. "my family had paid a sizeable dowry to have me married off. an heir in a neighboring village, supposedly. only my grandmother was against it, in her own, quiet way. she took to calling me her rabbit, after her story. she wanted differently for me."

there's no mistaking the way kento stiffens. there's no reason for it, nor is there a justification for the way you want to placate him. you do it anyway.

"maybe it's for the best," you say, waving your hand as if to dismiss the whole thing entirely, "i'm not exactly the noble type, now."

you watch him deflate. he nods sagely, the smirk pulling at his lips again. "surely you're the most frightening princess i've ever met."

you turn your head to watch him settle in next to you—another new behavior, seemingly unbothered by the proximity that he no doubt was unfamiliar with. "what's that supposed to mean?"

his teasing grin fades into something a little more forlorn. "when i found you, i expected you to be afraid. i wouldn't have harmed you—i only wanted to scare you off."

you huff. "that wasn't very nice."

"you weren't afraid though. it was unnerving."

"oh?" you grin, reaching to poke him in the ribs. "you were afraid of me?"

he reaches for your hand and pulls it to his lap. "i was sad for you. it wasn't a resilience—it felt as though you were broken."

it hurts, you decide, to be known like this. how simple things had been when he'd only left you provisions at your bedroom door and left you be. now you'd gone and allowed your heart to run freely ahead without a tether. you'd no way of preparing for the injury that freedom would cause.

"you pitied me," you mutter, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. the mood shifts between you, and something inside you wants to resent him for it. how warm it had been inside the delusion—the world in which you both exist in this space as equals, brought together by fate and want and nothing else.

"no, not pity." you startle at the feeling of his fingertips as they brush a tendril of hair from your face. "you reminded me of myself. i didn't want you to be alone."

"why take on that burden?"

kento hums, pushing his fingers through the hair at your temple. despite yourself, you lean into the touch. "maybe i didn't want to be alone, either."

you blink, the sentiment working its way into your head. it lands significantly south—deep in your chest with an ache you can't describe. you reach for the wrist in your peripheral, stopping his movement and keeping him close. "is that all?"

"no." his admittance is a whispered, strained thing. you're close enough that to tilt your head back brings his jaw to your lips. the ghost of your breath along his skin makes him shudder, and you feel the fingers in your hair flex into a grip.

"what else, then?"

he ducks his chin to nose at your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, mind empty of all that swam around in it only a moment ago.

"my rabbit," his bottom lip brushes against your own, "what else is there but you?"

the weather changes and the gods grow restless.

you both feel it at the first chill of the year. there’s no graceful turn of the seasons—the air is bitter and cold, and you know something is coming. there’s little time for play, so on the last few warm evenings of fall, you take advantage of it. or you try to—you drag kento into the stream to soak in the dwindling rays of sun, but the knowledge of what is to come weighs heavily on you both. he holds you up in the current—body to body, only breathing. you can't get close enough—to reach inside him and carve out a space for yourself would still not sate the longing you feel.

that wretched something shows it’s face soon enough. the first snow is harsh, collecting in heavy banks against the roof of the house. the wood sags under the weight and the cold creeps in through the wood until the fire is no longer enough to warm the house in it's entirety—only the small space in front of the mantel that you crowd around. you and kento don’t talk much these days—to speak takes energy you don’t have to spare. he is doting as he always is—making sure you are covered in every layer of fabric and fur he can find, but something is wrong. you know the worst is yet to come. you feel it in the way kento holds you too close during the night; it’s never warm enough.

at first there is hope. kento has his food reserves and you'd preserved some of what you’d gathered. but a week of snow turns to two, and two weeks turn to two months. the rations get smaller and the two of you get hungrier. by the third month, you understand that you will not be spared the gods’ wrath. you see the punishment for what it is—a utilitarian consequence to all of the bloodshed by man. you do not have the energy to mull over the unfairness of that. even if you did, the gods do not concern themselves with what is fair—you know that now. the light inside you fades with every new inch of snowfall.

but kento is kind, despite your insistence that he be otherwise. he pulls from his own warmth to add to yours. your dinner portions are always bigger, even if it means he goes without eating entirely. it’s in vain, of course. neither of you will live through this. you scold him for pushing the last of his food on your plate and he doesn’t bother to respond. he only watches while you eat, like he can’t rest until he knows for sure that you have eaten all he has to offer you. you chew through tears and the only comfort is the hand that reaches to wipe them from your cheek. it’s a painful end, wasting away like this. watching kento fade away.

it's when you can smell death's approach that you know with certainty that your humanity has fled for a better place. the thing that remains in you—that keeps your heart beating, that coaxes your lungs to inflate—is purely animal. and it's out of that same primal need that you close the distance between kento's frail body and your own. in the silent chill of the night, the warmth between you may be merely a hallucination now, but you feel it all the same. there is no pain anymore. only a pull into a sleep you want so badly to slip into.

you don't cry—you use the last of the strength in your body to tuck yourself under kento's chin and curl around him in some intimate display of what exists between you. of what has existed this whole time.

"if this is the end," you murmur, knowing that it is, "i'm happy that i'll leave this world with you."

the knuckles that brush against your cheek are sharp and gnarled now. you've never known a touch so tender. it’s odd to speak—to shatter the intimacy of the silence that’s floated around the both of you for much of the last few weeks.

"do you know now?"

if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the man in your arms will live to see the morning. that this is merely pillow talk, and the sun will wake you with warmed skin in a few hours.

but you don't let yourself turn away. it's striking, how even with his last few breaths, kento manages to use them worrying about you. you wonder if he's done it the whole time. you do know; you realize with unmistakable clarity that you'd know his love anywhere, now. you nod, feeling his thready pulse against your forehead.

"i do. you'll have to forgive me for not seeing it sooner."

you feel him scoff—an inappropriate use of dwindling breath that makes you laugh, too. "there will be plenty of time to show you in the next life, my rabbit."

a brief bitterness curls up your spine—the unfairness of all of this creeping back up like a rising tide. how cruel it was to have settled on the loneliness of a life without love, just to be shown the magnitude of a life with it in the final months of your own.

but it recedes in the next moment, because there is no more time to grieve. you can only feel grateful, now—to leave this world saturated in all that kento has given you.

cracked lips brush the skin of your temple—he has no real energy for a proper kiss, but the desire to comfort is strong between you. you spend the next few, precious moments counting the breaths that rattle inside his chest, grateful for every one cycled through.

in the silent hours of a darker morning, there is a light only the two of you can see. shrouded in the glow, he is so beautiful.

with all of your strength, you call him by his name, one last time. "until next time, my love."

epilogue

if the notion of certainty is alive in anything, it is in the way that fable and folklore are sure to be born and born again out of gatherings of beings with mouths to speak it. one such example is the jagged, snow capped hills of Akaito—a new village comprised of all walks of life, the one commonality between them being their displacement during the fall of the Zaiaku dynasty almost one hundred years prior. built overtop the remnants of survivor settlements crushed under the Great Snow, all who inhabit the land know well of the blood that has stained the soil and pay mind to honor the loss of life in their own ways—namely in storytelling. this great coming together eventually gave way to a new mother tongue for the telling of a new bed time story to bleary eyed babes in the middle of the night: the tale of the Akaito lovers—the wolf and the hare.

as the story goes, villagers who have been bestowed some unearthly dose of luck by the gods may catch a glimpse of an unlikely pair—a formidable looking white wolf with scarring across its broad body, and its counterpart: a fluffy and downright regal grey hare. one might catch them romping around in the dusting after a fresh snow, or preening one another under a shaded tree in the heat of the summer. depending on who tells the tale, it might be the case that if a person is truly fortunate and determined to wait out the dark of night, they might even be gifted the sight of the duo curled around one another, sleeping peacefully in a protective and loving embrace under the light of a waning moon.

as with all fables, the story is altered with every new tongue that speaks it, and one day the tale will vanish from the minds of the younger generations completely. but for now, it is ripe in the minds of the young and old, the latter of which are very certain that it is no mere fable at all.

#sike i’m posting it now #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fic #nanami x you #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #livedeliciously🐐collab

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