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sordidmusings · 11 days ago

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Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time.

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding.

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him.

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve.

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.”

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop.

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass.

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm.

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock-

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton.

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you.

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came.

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing.

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands.

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips.

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently.

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you.

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious.

“As if you don’t try already.”

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plants a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod.

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea.

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you.

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless, ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again.

“That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you so good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed.

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin.

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you.

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give.

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe.

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat.

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”.

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had.

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you.

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever.

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

Restarting tag list because Overthinking lol please lmk if you want to be on one! Even if you think it's obvious. I am: Stupid and Anxious 💀

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burrowlvrr · 1 month ago

Text

— NOT LONG AGO, joe burrow.

PAIRING: Joe Burrow 𝔁 Black!Wife!Reader

GENRE: Husband & Dad Joe

SUMMARY: In which — Joe and Y/N can't believe how far they've come. From taking a pregnancy test in a dorm room, to washing dishes while the babies watch a movie.

NOTE: I got a MacBook and forgot how to act, writing on this thing is so much fun Lord help me. I thought this was kinda cute, shows a lil different side of our couple but its low-key the shortest thing I've written so far, unfortunately :( but enjoy and ignore any errors! <3

UNIVERSE: Tenderhearts & Touchdowns!

The house was unusually quiet, a rare reprieve in the Burrow household. The twins, Hudson and Elijah, were snuggled up on the couch under a thick blanket, captivated by the colorful characters on the TV screen. Their little giggles and whispers occasionally broke the stillness. Outside, the cold December wind howled, but the warmth of their Cincinnati home kept the chill at bay.

Y/N stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing the last of the dinner plates. The glow from the under-cabinet lights cast a soft radiance over her face, and she hummed a tune under her breath, content in the moment.

Joe appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. His gaze lingered on her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he called softly. “Why don’t you let me handle these? Go hang out with the boys for a bit.” He nodded toward the couch where their sons were quietly enjoying the movie.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, her lips curving into a smile. “Y'know how this works, Burrow. I wash, you rinse.” She handed him a freshly cleaned plate, their fingers brushing briefly.

Joe chuckled, stepping forward to take his place beside her at the sink. “Fair enough. I just hate seein' you doing all the work when you’ve been chasing after them all day.”

“I like this part,” she replied softly, dipping her hands back into the soapy water. “It’s peaceful. Plus, we’re a team, remember?”

Their routine continued, the rhythmic sounds of dishes clinking and water running filling the air. The moment felt perfect in its simplicity.

“Remember when we found out?” Joe started, his voice carrying a note of nostalgia. Y/N looked at him briefly, shaking her head as she let out a soft giggle.

“How could I forget? You ran nearly three miles across campus to get to my dorm, Joe.” She replied, and he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, "How do you think I got the Heisman?"

★

Back in 2019, Joe and Y/N were basically still kids. Seniors in college, but still kids. Y/N had finals coming up for her Bachelor's degree, and word around campus was that Joe would be nominated for this year's Heisman. They were both rather successful in their academics and sports--but this, no level of success could prepare a college student for a positive pregnancy test.

She sat on the floor of her dorm room, her back pressed against the bed-frame, knees pulled to her chest. Her breathing was shallow and erratic, her hands trembling as she clutched her phone. The pregnancy tests were on the bathroom counter, both of them untouched—her mind racing in panic, holding her back from using the tests alone.

When Joe picked up, his voice was steady but laced with concern. “Y/N? Hey, babe. What's up?”

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Her breathing quickened, and she could feel her chest tightening.

“Y/N,” Joe said, his voice firmer now. “Breathe, okay? I’m coming. I’ll be there in ten.”

The line disconnected before she could respond, and she stared at the phone in her trembling hands, her tears falling freely.

Meanwhile, Joe was already running. He bolted out of the locker room, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his cleats barely tied. The cold air stung his face as he sprinted across campus from the football field to the girls’ dorms. Students turned to watch as he sped past, but he didn’t care.

By the time he reached her door, he was panting, his chest heaving from the exertion. He pushed it open without hesitation and dropped his duffel bag to the floor. The sight of Y/N, curled up and trembling, hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Y/N,” he breathed, moving toward her. She stood shakily, meeting him halfway, and threw her arms around his neck. Her sobs were muffled against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Hey, hey,” Joe murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her tear-streaked face breaking his heart. "I think I—I'm pregnant." She choked out, a hand going to her mouth to try and cover the hiccups.

"I'm too scared to touch them, Joe." She sobbed, and he nodded, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "It's alright, Y/N. I'm here now."

They stood there for a moment before Joe left a kiss on her tanned forehead, brushing a stray curl away from her face and tilting her chin upward. "I'll stand right beside you. I'll even hold your hand if you want me to."

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, "Now's not the time to be humorous, Burrow." She roughly wiped her tears away before making her way to the bathroom, turning around with a waiting expression—hoping Joe was on her heels, which he was.

She took both tests while Joe stood a few inches away, looking away out of respect but still turning around to check on her every few moments. Y/N quickly washed her hands, taking the tests and grabbing Joe's hand, leading him to her bed. They both sat on the edge, the two plastic tests lying in between them. Face down.

At least six minutes had passed now, and Joe couldn't stop his leg from bouncing. Y/N stared at them as if they might explode, her hands trembling slightly.

"You should check." Joe said, breaking the silence, his voice low and steady. Y/N whipped her head in his direction, "Me? You check it!"

Joe shook his head by then decided against arguing. He sighed, leaning over, and then hesitating for a moment. His fingers hovering over the tests, "Okay, but...don't we kinda already know?"

"Just look, Joe." She snapped, her voice higher-pitched than usual. She squeezed her eyes shut out of fear, as Joe flipped the tests over and freezes. His jaw tightened, but he doesn't speak right away.

"Joe," Y/N whispers, her heart pounding in her chest. "What does it say?"

"Positive." he says, barely above a whisper.

The words hit her like a freight train. She slumps back into the couch, her head in her hands. "Oh my God," she mutters, her voice cracking. "This can’t be happening. I can’t—"

"Y/N," Joe starts, but she cuts him off, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

"My mama is going to kill me," she says, sitting up straight now, her hands flying. "You don’t understand, Joe. And my daddy's always lecturing me about ‘staying focused’ and ‘not ruining my future.’ This is exactly what he meant! They’re never going to forgive me for this!"

Joe stands, walking over to her and crouching down. "Hey," he says softly, placing a hand on her knee, but she jerks away, jumping to her feet.

"And what about graduation?" she continues, pacing the room now. "Three months, Joe! We graduate in three months! Do you have any idea how much a baby costs? Diapers, formula, doctor visits… How are we supposed to afford that?"

Joe stays quiet, letting her vent. She turns to him suddenly, her eyes wide. "You don’t even have a job lined up yet! And me? I don’t know if my internship is going to turn into anything. We have nothing, Joe. Nothing!"

"Y/N," he says firmly, standing up.

She doesn’t stop. "I’m not ready for this! We’re not ready for this! I can’t—"

"Y/N!" he says louder, his voice cutting through her panic. She freezes, her chest heaving.

He takes a step closer, his voice calmer now. "Listen to me. I know this wasn’t the plan, okay? I get it. But I am going pro. You know I’ve been working toward the draft, and my agent is confident I’ll get picked. I’m gonna make it, Y/N. And when I do, we’ll be okay."

She stares at him, shaking her head. "Joe, the draft isn’t guaranteed. What if something goes wrong? What if you don’t get picked? What if—"

"I will," he interrupts, his tone steady. "I will. I’m not just doing this for me anymore—I’m doing it for you. For us. For this baby."

Her bottom lip quivers, but she doesn’t say anything. Joe steps closer, taking her hands in his. "I know you’re scared. Hell, I’m scared too. But we’ve got each other, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you and this baby are taken care of. I promise you that."

Tears spill over her cheeks as she looks at him. "You’re so sure about everything, but I’m not. My parents are going to see this as the end of my life, Joe. The end of everything I’ve worked for."

He nods, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Then we’ll prove them wrong. We’ll show them that this isn’t the end—it’s just a new beginning. You’re still going to graduate, Y/N. You’re still going to chase your dreams. And we’ll figure the rest out together."

She exhales shakily, leaning into him as he wraps his arms around her. "I just… I don’t know how we’re going to do this."

"One step at a time," he says, his voice firm but gentle. "We’ll start by telling our parents. Together."

She pulls back, giving him a doubtful look. "That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to hear my dad’s lecture about how I’ve ‘thrown my life away.’"

Joe chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, but I’ll be right there with you. And if he tries to kill me, I’ll just tell him I’m going pro—maybe that’ll distract him."

Despite herself, Y/N laughs through her tears. "You’re ridiculous."

"Maybe," he says, grinning. "But I love you. And I love this baby, even if it’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me."

She looks at him, her expression softening. "I love you too."

He pulls her back into his arms, holding her tightly. For the first time all night, she lets herself believe him.

★

Back in their kitchen, the married couple laughs in unison as they recalled the dinner where they told both of their parents. "Oh my gosh! Daddy almost jumped across that table at you!"

"I was scared!" Joe laughed loudly, covering his mouth when he saw Hudson's head pop up over the top of the couch. "Your dad is very intimidating."

"Well, you survived." Y/N insisted, "And we both know I thought my life was over." Joe playfully frowned, "You were pacing so much before that dinner, babe. I thought you were gonna burn a hole in the carpet."

She flicks a bit of water at him, rolling her eyes. "Well, excuse me for being a little freaked out. It wasn’t exactly a normal Tuesday, you know? We were graduating in three months, broke as hell, and had no idea what we were doing."

Joe nods, his smile softening. "I remember how scared you were about telling your parents. But you know what I remember more?"

"What?" she asks, handing him a clean glass.

"How you still managed to push through all that fear and finish your degree on time. You didn’t let anything stop you, not even two babies kicking your ribs during finals."

Y/N shakes her head, laughing. "Don’t act like you weren’t freaking out too. You spent half the night staring at that pregnancy test like it might change if you looked hard enough."

Joe laughs, drying the glass. "Okay, fair. I was terrified. But I knew we’d figure it out. And look at us now."

Y/N glances around the kitchen, her eyes lingering on the family photos on the fridge—the twins’ school pictures, a shot of the four of them at the beach, and a drawing labeled Mama, Daddy, Hudson, and Elijah.

"Yeah," she says softly, her voice thick with emotion. "We’ve built a pretty amazing life, haven’t we?"

Joe sets the towel down and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "We have. And those two little terrors in the living room? They’re the best thing that ever happened to us."

Y/N leans into him, resting her head against his chest. "I still can’t believe we were worried about not being ready. I mean, we weren’t—but we figured it out."

Joe kisses the top of her head, his voice low and full of love. "That’s because we’re a team, Y/N. Always have been."

Before she can respond, a loud crash comes from the living room, followed by giggles and a triumphant "Wasn't me!"

Y/N groans, pulling back. "Moment's over."

Joe laughs, grabbing a dish towel. "I’ll check on the damage. You finish up here."

As he heads toward the living room, Y/N watches him go, her heart swelling with gratitude. She turns back to the sink, rinsing the last plate as the sound of Joe’s playful scolding echoes from the other room.

She smiles to herself, thinking back to that night all those years ago. It had been terrifying and uncertain, but it led to this—a life full of love, laughter, and a chaos she wouldn’t trade for the world.

#joe burrow #joe burrow angst #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x wife!reader #joe burrow x black reader #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #dad!joe burrow #nfl imagine

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thaleleah · 8 months ago

Text

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓶

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark-ish!Billy (just the tiniest bit tho), Virgin!Reader, Dub-Con, P in V, Hate Fucking (kinda but not really lol i tried), Fingering, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Mentions of a gun shot graze, Talk of tying up/restraining/bondage, Slight Dirty Talk, Rough Touches (he grabs her face & throat), Use of the word “drawers” instead of panties cause I'm cringey like that lol

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Dedicated to my anon who sent in this ask and put the thought of hate fucking in my head. I tried, hun lol. Didn't turn out how I thought it would and it's not my best work, but it did help me get out of my writing slump a bit sooooo i hope you enjoy it.

A/N 2: Please accept this supposed to be drabble that turned into basically a fic length thing as compensation for not having Godless Part 2 out yet. Hoping to finish it up within the next couple of weeks 🤞🏻

Summary: Jesse's younger sister is a pretty problem for Billy.

He’s so pissed at you.

Jesse’s little sister once again trying to prove herself useful, trying to prove that she’s ‘one of the boys’, but doing nothing except getting in the way and causing trouble.

It was supposed to be a quick job. They’ve rustled cattle together enough to have their system down pat, everyone in their gang playing their part perfectly so that they can be in and out of their target’s territory in the shortest amount of time. Very rarely do they get caught in the act now - and if they do, they’re good enough to never suffer losses.

But when there’s a sweet-voiced, overly driven Miss suddenly among their operation when there’s not supposed to be, things can go wrong.

You must have followed them, just far enough behind that they didn’t see you during their final look around before starting their run. One minute, everything was fine. None of the ranch owner’s cowboys were in sight and the cattle were proving to be easy to corral, not a single one of them choosing to go rogue and trying to push out of the herd.

And then the next minute, you were there. You were wearing a dress when they left, a pretty little thing that Billy thought made the color of your eyes pop. It’s not your normal outfit, but you own it now courtesy of Jesse who was tired of hearing you nag about how much you wanted to come with them, how ‘helpful’ you could be if he just gave you a chance, and told you that if you wanted to be helpful you would run down to the local liquor store and make sure he had something to drink when they got back.

You had switched out of the dress and back into your shirt and overalls, the shoes on your feet traded for riding boots instead of those dainty lace up ones. The hat that sat on your head covered your hair and the first thing that Billy notices when you ride up next to him is how tightly your hands are gripping the reins.

The sight of you there catches him off guard and his gallop turns into a canter as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hey!” Jesse shouts from a little farther out. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ here?”

“I deserve to be here just as much as any of you,” You reply, head held high as you glare back at your brother.

“Hell no! Get your ass ou–”

The bullet whizzes past his head, cutting through the air with a near deadly precision. Everyone ducks, heads snapping to where the bullet came from as the sound of the gunshot rings in their ears. There’s a couple of the ranch owner’s cowboys standing at the top of the hill, firing shot after shot towards the gang and the compromised cattle. Another bullet just barely avoids digging itself into Billy’s arm, the hot lead grazing against his upper arm and tearing through his shirt. Your eyes are wide when Billy shouts in pain, your own yell echoing his as he instinctively clutches his arm.

He can see in your face that you’re terrified. You don’t know what to do. You’re going to get hurt if he doesn’t do something.

Without thinking, Billy jerks his horse towards yours, forcefully nudging your own horse in the direction of the nearby treeline while he pulls out his gun with his uninjured arm to help return fire. The gang scatters, most of the cattle is already out past the property line and able to be herded during the commotion. The gunshots continue but no one else gets hit, and the group hollers the entire way back to the house, adrenaline pumping from just the taste of a bit of dangerous contact.

You stay silent the entire ride back home. So does Billy. And so does Jesse.

But the second your feet are back on the ground, you’re in trouble.

Jesse lays into you.

“What the hell did you think you were doin’?”

“I just wanted to help!”

“Yeah? Some help you were. You distracted us! You could have gotten us all killed,”

“Them shootin’ at you had nothin’ to do with me! I deserved to be there!”

Billy sits on the top post of the paddock fence as he presses a clean cloth against the graze on his arm, watching you both as you tear at each other's throats. He’s glaring at you too, bright blue eyes piercing into the side of your face as you scream at your brother. He watches as the tears fall from your pretty eyes, twin streams cascading down your cheeks as your hands fly around you in frustration.

A Pretty Problem. That’s what you are.

You’re a problem when you’re shooting. Your aim is always off, missing targets by an inch and somehow never able to fix yourself enough to hit them the next time. It’s a problem how you ask him for help, your back pressing against his chest and he guides you to adjust your position. Those are the only times your bullets hit the standing cans. When he steps back and you try again, you’re back to missing, and Billy just refrains from rolling his eyes even as his body feels like it’s been touched with a live wire just from the smallest bit of contact with you.

You’re a problem when they’re drinking, a bottle in your hand as you try your best to match their intake. The others would leave you on the floor, stepping over you when you inevitably drop from too much alcohol. It’s Billy that picks you up, wrapping his arm around your waist and carrying you to your bed.

You’re a problem when you’re laying there, sprawled out along the sheets somewhere between sleep and forcing yourself to stay awake. The way you look up at him is a problem, eyes glassy and half-lidded as you mumble a soft ‘thanks, Billy,”. He knows he’s not a good person, no matter how hard he tries convince himself he is, but fuck - he deserves some extra points for the self restraint he has to leave you there like that.

You’re a problem when you’re being a brat. The constant butting into conversations, volunteering for jobs and then throwing fits when you’re turned down. You’ve taken to pleading with him for support, asking him to speak on your behalf just to make your brother and the other men see sense.

“You’re the youngest,” You say, and your eyes are wide and nearly watering as you beg. “That’s why they call you The Kid. Doesn’t that bother you? Imagine how I feel!”

And how can you even ask him to do that? You can’t even shoot right on your own. Ain’t no way he’s speaking up for you so you can go on dangerous jobs and get killed.

No.

You fight just as harshly as Jesse does, spewing out insults and arguing your points until you’re both blue in the face. Neither of you notice when Billy jumps off the fence and heads into the house. You make him so angry - so naive and so willing to put yourself in danger just to try to prove yourself. Jesse is right. You could have gotten them all killed today with your little stunt. If you hadn’t been there, then their attention wouldn’t have been divided. Maybe he or Jesse could have seen the cowboys up on the hill a few seconds earlier and gotten out of there without even so much as a graze. In this world, every second is important and being distracted for even a moment can cost you your life.

He’s still stewing when you follow him into the house only a few minutes later. Your eyes are rimmed red, lips puffy from where you’ve clearly been biting them. Bad girl, he thinks as he glares at them. It’s a nervous habit you have and he’s constantly telling you to stop. The sight of your teeth biting into your bottom lip always makes him go crazy. It should be his teeth digging into it instead.

“What?” He mumbles gruffly.

“Are you okay?”

“Got grazed by a bullet,” He says, his eyes never leaving yours even as he hooks a thumb under one of his suspenders and pulls it off his shoulder. “You think I’m okay?”

He watches you as you watch him pull the other one off too, your eyes following the fallen straps as they hang around his waist. They follow his hands back up as he undoes the buttons on his shirt, one after the other after the other until the thin material separates in the middle and he can push it off his shoulders.

His skin feels hot under your intense gaze, and the darker more primal part of his brain wishes you would follow his lead. Undo your own suspenders, unbutton your shirt but make it slow - tease him a little bit cause that’s what you are.

A tease and a brat. And he should treat you like one.

Instead, you’re stepping up to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Your fingers trace just below the thankfully shallow wound of the graze. “You should let me wrap this for you. So it doesn’t get infected,”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” He says in return, and his anger flares as he watches you roll your eyes.

“God, Billy. Come on. Didn’t I get enough of this from Jesse?”

“You could have- hey!” Billy’s hand snaps out to grip your jaw, stopping you in your tracks as you turn to walk away from him. He holds you still, forcing your face to stay turned towards him as he growls. “You could have been killed today with your little stunt. You had no place there,”

Your hands clamp around his wrist trying to pry his hand off of your face and your words are determined despite the small flicker of fear present in your eyes. “I deserve to be there just as much as any of you,”

“Oh yeah? Is that why I had to save you today?”

“You nudged me in a direction I was already goin’ to pull my horse in. I wouldn’t call that savin’,”

He pushes forward, making you shuffle back even as his hand stays firm around your chin. Your back hits the opposite wall, a pretty gasp falling from your lips from the rough movement.

“Brat,” Billy hisses as he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall. “You’re a troublemaker. I should tie you to your bed, keep you there - bound and out of harm’s way.”

Your breathing hitches at his words and he can feel the way your fingers clamp tighter around his wrist, those big wide eyes that torment him in his dreams staring up at him.

“Billy,” You whisper, but he just continues his thought.

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, voice low and quiet between the two of you but it somehow sounds deafening in the silence of the house. “Keep you fed and safe. Give you a nice blanket to keep you comfortable while you wait for me to get home.”

Billy’s hand releases your chin, calloused palms sliding down your jaw and wrapping around your throat. He can feel how you swallow thickly under his hold.

“And you can take care of me in return,” He continues, his words almost a growl in your face as his warm breath fans across your skin. “As a reward for keeping you out of trouble.”

Even with only centimeters apart, he can barely hear you as you whisper. “Reward you how?”

And fuck, if you knew all the dirty things that play in his mind at night…

“On your knees,” He says, the hand not currently wrapped around your throat reaches up to flick off the suspender strap around your shoulder. It falls around your waist much like his did just minutes before. “On your back.” The other suspender falls like its twin.

The sound of your heavy breathing echoes in his ears. His eyes drop to your parted lips and he’s sure that his pupils are just as large as yours are. His breathing stops in anticipation despite the fact that it's him who leans in, closing the distance between the two of you as he presses his lips against yours for the first time.

He wants to be embarrassed by the sound he makes when he tastes you, so soft and sweet and somehow so much better than he ever imagined. Your breathing shudders when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, but it cuts off in a soft gasp when he presses in again to kiss you harder. Need curls tightly in his gut, anger burning through his veins at you for making him feel this way.

So on edge all the time, so unhinged. So desperate.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit and the little squeak you let out in response has him swelling in his trousers.

“Troublemakers like you need to be put in their place,” He says, voice raw and gravely with lust. “You wanna be a big girl and ride horses all day on dangerous trips?” His nose bumps against yours, lips just barely brushing against your own as he speaks. “You can ride me instead.”

His hand leaves your throat to pull at the button on your overalls, and your own hands grip onto the tight muscles of his biceps.

“Billy, wait,” You say, hand moving down to cover his as he pops open the buttons, but he grabs your chin in his hold again.

Wait? Wait? You want him to fucking wait? No, you’ve already made him wait long enough.

“Shut up!” He growls. “I’ve heard enough from you.”

His other hand manages to push down your overalls and they fall to the ground, pooling around your ankles. You whimper as his hand slides across your belly, his long fingers tracing over your soft skin as they travel down and down until they slip under the thin material of your drawers.

“Good girls do what they’re told,” He whispers, breathing hot and heavy as he presses his mouth against your cheek, and you can feel the stubble that’s started to grow back already on his jaw scratch at your face. “I’ll have to teach you better.”

You gasp when his fingers first touch you, the gentle caress of his fingertips on your clit that has you jumping against the wall but unable to go anywhere with how he has you pinned. He groans against your cheek when he feels how wet you are already, soaking into the pads of his fingers as he circles the bundle of nerves between your thighs.

“Billy,” You moan, and he kisses you harshly, cutting off the rest of your sentence if there even was more because he can’t bear the thought of you trying to get him to stop again.

No waiting. No stopping. You’re his.

“Just be a good girl for me, okay?”

His fingers slide through your wetness, trailing slowly over your slit as his arm pushes deeper into your drawers. The tip of his finger nudges at your entrance, rubbing and teasing against your dripping hole for a moment before pushing inside you, and fuck - you feel so tight around him already. Your pussy clenches around his finger as he moves it inside of you, sweet cries ripping from your throat when he adds another, stretching you more as he curls his fingers against your slick walls.

He muffles your moans with his lips, and he can’t help but push his hips against you, pressing the thick bulge in his pants against your thigh for some relief.

Damn you, he thinks. Damn you and your driven attitude, bad shooting, sweet demeanor, and pretty face. Jesse could kill him for this. Jesse would, and he would deserve it. But this is your fault. Your. Fault. You tempted him like this. Threw him off his game and destroyed his self control just by being you and he hates you for it.

Your moans are a constant now, turning into desperate whines of “Billy, please! Oh, god, please!” as he watches you greedily hump his hand. He’s throbbing in his pants, cock pulsing with need and heavy as he presses harder against your thigh. He’s not going to last long - not with the way you look right now and the way he knows you're going to feel wrapped around his cock just from how you feel clamping around his fingers right now.

You’re not going to last much longer either, and his fingers thrust inside you faster, thumb rolling over your clit as he pushes you closer and closer towards that edge.

Come on, pretty girl. Be good for me.

He’s never touched you this way before, but it’s like he knows your body inside and out already. The look on your face tells him you’re about to cum, and he wants to see it - wants to see it so badly to see if it matches the same look you have when he makes you cum in his dreams - but he wants to make you suffer. Just a little bit more. Like you make him suffer.

The cry of protest you make when he pulls his hand away is beautiful, as is the way your eyes widen when he brings the soaked digits to his mouth, sucking your taste from them and fuuuuckkk you taste so good. Of course, you taste this good.

He kisses you again, sliding his tongue inside your mouth against yours just to make you taste yourself too as he undoes the buttons on his own pants. The restricting material is gone in seconds along with both of your underwear. His hand grips your hip, squeezing the flesh between his fingers before dragging his hand along the curve of your ass and down the back of your thigh.

In one swift movement, he has your leg hooked around his hip and his cock positioned at your entrance.

“Wait,” You whimper, looking up at him with those beautiful big eyes of yours. “I’ve never–”

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, slowly pushing himself forward. The clench of your pussy as he works his cock inside you feels like heaven, slick walls squeezing him tight as he fills you up.

Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as he sinks in, face digging into his neck to muffle your soft cry. A pang of guilt shoots through him at your pain. He doesn’t want you hurt. You’re a brat and a troublemaker, but he’s only ever wanted to keep you safe. But the more primal part of his brain keens at the idea.

It’s your first time. He’s your first. You’re his. Only his.

His good girl.

His pretty problem.

He wants to fuck you hard, wants his hips snapping against yours so hard they leave bruises. Wants you crying against his mouth, moans and whimpers so uncontrollable that your brother and the rest of the gang hears them from outside from how loud you’re being. He’s not going to last long, he was right about that. His hips move slowly against yours, cock dragging against your walls as he pulls out until just the tip is left buried in your cunt.

Your small whines of pain quickly turn into pleasure as he rocks into you, your warmth hugging his cock so tightly he thinks you might be trying to keep him buried inside you forever. He fucks you faster, pressing you harder against the wall as he claims your lips again. His fingers find the sensitive nub between your legs, rough fingertips circling your clit relentlessly until your panting against his mouth. He greedily swallows your squeal when you cum around him, cunt forming a tight and unforgiving blissful prison around his cock as you drench him and his fingers.

He moans with you, hips stuttering and inconsistent as your orgasm triggers his. He holds your face against his, his other hand clutching your hip as he holds you still, not letting you run away from him even if you try as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls white.

It’s quiet in the room as you both come down from your high, just the sounds of panting as you both try to catch your breath. He should pull out. Anyone could just walk in at any moment and catch you, but he grits his teeth at the thought of having to move away from you. He’d die happily inside you if he could. So, he takes another moment, letting himself revel in the feel of your still pulsing walls around his length as he lays his forehead against yours.

“You’re goin’ to keep being my good girl, right?” He says softly into the space between you. “Stay out of trouble?”

And despite the exhausted look on your face, when your eyes meet his, all he sees is that strong-willed defiance.

A pretty problem indeed.

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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mirkhammett · 6 months ago

Note

anything having to do with dave mustaine + breeding kink.. we are incredibly delulu tonight, yes indeed 🗣📣❗❗

oh yes u r so right. and oh yes we are!!

kiss of life

summary: a quiet night on dave’s tour leads to a late night confession of his, which leads to something more.

warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this), breeding kink, one mention of drug misuse, consent is not verbally said, sleepy sex, dominant dave, he’s so cute kill me, all that jazz, dirtiest thing ive wrote yet also the shortest

w/c: 2.2k

sorry this is shorter than usual, i couldn’t think of a good plot idea for this, so it’s very basic lol ^.^ not proofread so correct me on mistakes!!

the almost minuscule tv on the beside table hummed muffled sounds in confluence, a showing of an old 60s movie, (which seemed so ancient now), radiating the bedroom with hues of grey, and even darker greys. you couldn’t say it was the best hotel room you had stayed in, but it wasn’t even close in being the worse. it was comfortable, and that was enough for a night, or a few.

you lay on your side, facing the diminutive television, though only really paying attention when the room would light up white, your hands clasped together under the not so unusually thick, hotel pillow. so much for comfort, when you could deem the single pillow practically thicker than the mattress.

dave was propped up beside you, his large hand calloused with litters of guitar scars from playing too harshly, (which you had berated him for many times), draped over your waist. his other hand was holding him up so he could see over your body, eyes glazing over the tv lazily. his shirtless body was pressed against your own, the only thing separating the embrace of pure skin on skin being the lacy silk night dress you were sporting, the colour a captivating mix, or so dave thought, between cream and an off white.

“are you even watching this?” he muttered, a mix between a question and a statement, the hint of a smile slipping through his words. he suddenly let himself flop down into the mattress, the bed rumbling sideways with a soft thud.

“no,” you murmured, turning to face him. “are you?” you questioned, already knowing the answer from his body language. he was laying on his back, facing the yellowed popcorn ceiling, that had a multitude of darker splurges, probably from a leak that was never fixed.

he shook his head, turning on his side to face you, the remnants of a grin visible through his features, his eyes a slight crease. he lifted his arms, wiggling those calloused fingers as a signal for your comforting touch.

“how was the show?” you whispered, rolling into his arms, your face fitting perfectly between the crook of his neck, his head resting just above yours. he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his left hand working through your hair, detangling strands that were slightly caught up from your movement in the bed. you hummed.

“good,” he replied, his usually gruff spoken voice soft with eloquence. the show was good, and you knew it. the way the band performed was just so perfect everytime, well, at least all the shows you had been there for since joining him on tour- what your question really meant, was how he had found the show. he never really said much about it, but his dedication to his fans through every show was so clear. you knew what he really wanted to say, though the words never came to life. good, to him meant great.

it was rare for a night to end this way for him. usually, the band would go out to celebrate and blow some steam, (by snorting up god knows what), only stumbling back to the hotel at some stupid hour late into the next day, to repeat it all again the same night. but tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

you curled into his touch, slipping your arm through the tiny gap between your body and his to rest on his bare chest, a leg hooked over his hip. this seemed to awaken something inside of him, a fire of some sort, as he suddenly came to his senses, becoming more awake. he moved his hand from your now deranged hair to massage your thigh, pulling you further into his embrace.

he shuffled into a position where he was able to sit up and look at you, all while still keeping you connected. to him with an invisible string. the change of position allowed you to completely straddle him, your silky night dress now hooking up by your hips. you played your head down on his chest, your ear against his skin catching the sounds of his comforting heart beat.

“you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he spoke, almost grunted, his voice now sounding much more restrained than it previously was. he brought his hand to scratch gently under your chin, an amiable purr escaping through your plumped lips.

“yes.” you murmured into his chest, your breath a hot contrast to the slight chill of the room. he used the same hand to pull your face up, sculpting you in a particular position to be facing him, his thumb brushing up and down, up and down gently, like a broken record on repeat.

“good,” his subtle grin showed excitement, but his eyes deceived him, his excitement clear- and then it all clicked. “because i’ve been thinking about this all day, baby,” the state you were once in- your eyes, that were oh so ready to flutter closed for once and for all until the morning sun arose, now felt incredibly awake, entranced, even- that state had dissipated. “can you be that good girl for just a bit longer? then i’ll let you rest.”

you nodded, and there was no time for either of you to waste, no time for you to even think before your night dress was slipping off your shoulders, the cream silk having an easy escape. you smoothly pulled your arms out of the thin sleeves, easily but with little agility, your exhaustion catching up to your, your panties wetted.

one of his hands cradled your chest, groping your breast and rubbing his pointer finger against your blushed nipple, squeezing it between his thumb, soft whimpers escaping you. his other hand found its place against your bare back, holding you up and steady on his lap, but not for long. he ravenously manoeuvred both of your bodies, so that you were lying, back pressed firmly against the mattress, pulling your sleepwear down your legs and flinging it off to the side, landing on the floor with a gentle thump.

and then he was ontop of you again, your hands suddenly feeling frail and useless as he placed his weight just above yours, his body height emitting like blazing yours, your fingers stretching against his sides. you hadn’t even realised he had already shed himself of his boxers.

he slouched his head down so was face to face with your breasts, licking his lips to gather up wetness, before harshly sucking on your left breast, leaving trails of spit in his wake, a sloppy, messy kiss. “can’t wait until one day, when these are so full and plump,” his voice had grown in an octave since you had last heard it, his words muffled, his breath heavy on your bare chest. you sucked in a tight gust of air. “the mother of my children.”

his words caused an instant change in your body, your arousal wetting your thighs and your cheeks turning a sweet red, cascading down your neck and into your nimble fingertips. he released his grip in your boob with his mouth, quickly moving down your body, his hands trailing down, his fingers giving your right nipple an endearing squeeze.

he spread your thighs with his weaker hand, his stronger one inspecting your gushing pussy, a tender finger spreading it apart, a thumb pressing down onto your clit. you released an enthralling whimper, and a grin graced his pretty face, his ginger locks falling onto his features like a sculpture. “already so wet f’me,” he noted, the movements of his thumb causing a full body jerk out of you. “does the idea of having my children get you off?”

you nodded frantically like a maniac, his words combined with his teasing tone making everything feel just a bit more fuzzy than it already was, your eyes threatening to flutter shut. but he wouldn’t let that happen, not yet anyway.

in seconds he pulled himself back up, his arms caging you in, his dick hitting your lower stomach. he lifted his right hand, spitting on it, (which somehow made you much more wetter, if that was even possible), bringing it down to pump his dick a few times, holding it against your pussy lips.

“look at me,” he spoke, stern and dominating. and so you did, bringing your eyes to his, his brown orbs filled with hunger and love, his adoration for you never fading. “are you ready, baby?” his features held concern for your sleepy state, fighting off the feeling of his pulsing dick for just a few seconds to check your head, clear your mind. you nodded. “i need to hear you say it.” his brows furrowed.

“yes, yes, please.” you begged, wrapping your soft arms around his neck, pulling him down, closer to your frame- and that was all the conformation he needed. seconds had never felt longer than they did now, the quick slip of time before he pushed in agonising for the both of you.

and with a mutual moan, he was in, slotted perfectly into you like he was your missing piece, your puzzle finally completed. he didn’t waste any more time before he started to thrust, slow at thrust, getting deeper as he took his time with you. by the 4th thrust of the in and out motion he had acquired, he was fully in, filling you to the brim, his balls flush against the smooth slope of your ass, your whimpers starting to fill the along, along with the stench of sex that was starting to quickly take over your senses.

“i wanna pump you up, all nice and full,” his words could hardly catch up with the speed of his thrusts, your whole body jerking at bouncing to the rhythm, everything about him sending you into a cacophony of melodic infatuation, words beyond comprehension, a sonnet of love. “you want that too, baby?”

and when you thought he possibly couldn’t get any deeper, he made it happen, his dick practically impaling you.

“m’ gonna breed you, make you my wife,” it was like he wasn’t even thinking before speaking, all these words falling out and escaping his lips, all the truth. like a fantasy he had dreamed for, for months beforehand, all these confessions piling up and making it hard for you to do anything but whimper, but moan and beg for more, to please him, because god knows that’s there’s nothing you would want more to be his wife, and eventually one day mother his children. “you’ll look so pretty, full with my babies.”

his thrusts became more erratic by the minute, and you could sense him nearing his release, his words spurring the both of you along to that sublime heaven, that gushy feeling in your stomach beginning to bubble up, fizzing as it nears its burst- and dave knew this too.

“you want me to come inside you, fill you up until you’re leaking?” his balls slapping against your ass made you just want to close your eyes and succumb to the bliss, though his harsh movements weren’t making it very easy. “my dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“uh-huh, mhmm,” you moaned, profanities spilling from your lips on repeat, unable to stop yourself, or the squeaks and whimpers that he found oh so delightful.

somehow he was able to grin through the immense pleasure, his lips curling at the sides, his face wrinkled with his eyes half shut, beads of sweat dripping down his face, rolling down his arm due to his languid efforts to please, his arm propping himself up growing shakier as he neared release.

“my sweet girl wants me to come inside her, all nice and deep,” he grunted out, breathing heavily as his thrusts became sloppier, your thighs sticky and wet with the combination of your juices, and his sweat, a thin layer adorning his whole body, his chest olied and faint abs clear as day. “i’m gonna give you what you want.” his thrusts became ever faster, his hips moving at incredible speeds as he spurted his cum out inside your gushy walls, a guttural groan escaping him.

his orgasm had him pulling you down with him, your own making you see stars, crashing down on you like a malicious wave, your vision going white as you held your eyes tightly shut. he rode you down out of your orgasm, his thrusts becoming slower and more controlled, his breathing shaky and unsteady, your own chest rising and falling uncontrollably, completely spent. he realised this when he finally pulled out, the look on your face telling him all that he needed to know, your shut eyes then proving it.

his expression was filled with love as he admired you, bringing a shaky hand to brush your hair out of your face and tuck it behind your eyes, smiling down at your exhausted form. “always so good for me. i know i was rough tonight, honey, but you did so well,” he begrudgingly lifted himself from your body, admiring your features as he kneeled beside the bed, stroking along your arm as gentle as he possibly could muster up. you had made him soft. “i’ll get you all cleaned up, you just rest now.”

he leaned over, placing a soft, wet kiss to your forehead, before standing up. he hesitated for a few moments, until he knew you were okay, and only then going to the bathroom to retrieve clean up supplies, wiping you down with a lukewarm wet paper towel. “goodnight, baby.”

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chxrrysangel · 2 years ago

Text

What Best Friends Do

Pairing | perv!eddie x best friend!reader

Warnings | MDNI 18+, porn with plot, Eddie is a such a perv(only for reader tho, he has some morals), he stares A LOT, meddling friends, guided masturbation (f), cumming together, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants, Eddie basically has an innocence kink

Words | 1,895

Summary | Forced to be gentlemanly with pussy on his mind, Eddie spends the night with his best friend for “the sake of safety”. A best friend with the shortest skirt and cutest pout he’s ever seen. Can he keep it together?

Technically Part Two

Eddie didn’t think this through. At all.

When Steve suggested taking everyone home in one trip, a resounding yes erupted from the group. The only problem was that there weren’t enough seats. Neither of you thought it was a massive deal at the time, it was only a 30-minute car ride. That was roughly 5 Metallica songs, 3 random brought-up topics between the 6 of you, and maybe 10 stoplights throughout Hawkins.

Everyone piled into the car as Robin called shotgun, while Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie took the backseat. Hand in yours, your best friend helped you onto his lap for a less-than-comfortable ride home. But you would survive, it was just Eddie after all. The second your ass met his front, he regretted the entire thing. Every single pothole or speed bump pressed your body closer to his, and it was hell.

Eddie prayed to every god he could think of, hoping that Ozzy and Kirk could hear his pleas somehow. He tried to think of anything to stop his dick from pressing farther into your ass, but not even the image of his nana naked could make the smell of your perfume turn him on less. You could feel him, he was sure of it. And you were too innocent to not realize that every time you rubbed up against him made it worse. A particular “break test”, as Steve liked to call them, had Eddie’s arm wrapping around your waist, pushing your bodies so close together he had to bite his tongue to swallow his moans. If he was any more pathetic, he might’ve cum in his jeans.

So he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the heartbeat of your pussy against his crotch. Someone must’ve answered his prayers, because the next thing he knew Steve was triple honking to signal a house stop. Luckily enough, it was yours. Eddie braced your body as the car door opened, stopping you from falling. You thanked him, no matter how many times he said it was no trouble. Before anyone could say their goodbyes, Steve perked up to share an idea.

“Are your parents home?”

You told him no, and that they wouldn’t be back until much later in the night.

“Munson, haul ass and stay with 'em.”

The two boys made eye contact in Steve’s dashboard mirror, a silent war that you couldn’t decipher. Eddie turned towards the others to beg for help, all feigning innocence and ignoring his silent plea. Right now he was rock hard, and Steve was ruining his chance to go home and jerk off until he got friction burn. But then he turned to see your patient gaze as you waited for their decision, and just melted.

Fuck.

Sighing, Eddie climbed out of the car in defeat. He waited until you began walking to your front door to scold the rest of the car.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he angry-whispered.

“I don't know what you’re talking about Munson. Have fun though.” With that, Steve winked at the metalhead and drove off into the night.

He’s gonna regret this and he knows it.

“Eddie, you comin’ ?”

“Um, yeah. Sorry.”

~~~

Eddie’s eyes began to unfocus, his head pounding as he took in the sight before him. There was something so… enticing about how little you understood the effect you had on him; on people in general. You didn’t think it was a huge deal, walking around your room in just a robe. But to Eddie, it was a massive deal. The thoughts he had earlier were coming back in full force and he had no way to escape them. There was only a single layer of material separating your naked body from the outside world and it drove him insane. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how short it was, making it so that just the right bend of your knees would him the perfect view of your pussy.

Eddie didn’t really believe in God, but now he was reconsidering it. He knew it was bad to think of you like this, especially someone like you, but he couldn’t help it. If anything, your lack of experience or knowledge made him hornier. The pillow covering his crotch didn’t help much either, the dense material providing friction with every movement of his hips.

“Eddie?” Your voice pulled him back to attention, focusing on you but not staring. Or at least trying not to stare.

“Yes baby?” You blushed at the nickname, never truly getting over his terms of endearment for you.

“I have a question.” He can tell by your tone that you’re nervous, and god it’s so cute. You bite on your lips as you think of what to say next, and all he can think about is that pretty little mouth sucking on his tip.

“Shoot.” You took a deep breath, trying to find the courage somewhere to say what you need to.

“Earlier in the car, I uh– I felt something.” Eddie fought off the urge to grin, the possibilities of what you said next giving him a depraved kind of rush.

“What did you feel sweetheart?” He pressed the pillow further into himself, grinding his hips ever so slightly for relief.

“Something hard. And…it felt good. I um…liked you pressed up against me. I felt tingly.” Eddie sat up straighter at your confession.

He could cum right now off your words alone.

“Yeah?” You nodded in response, averting your eyes as your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Do you wanna feel that again?” Eddie wanted to tear the pathetic robe off and fuck you over the nearest surface, but he knew he had to be patient and gentle.

“Yes.”

“Come here, baby. Come to Eddie.”

The bed dipped as you climbed over to him, your robe loosening just a little bit which he took notice of. Eddie removed the pillow, giving you a full view of the rock-hard erection he’d been hiding. A gasp fell from your lips, a hesitant hand reaching out before you thought better of it.

“You can touch if you want. I don’t mind.” You debated over it for a few seconds before reaching for his crotch. Your fingers brushed lightly against the tip, the friction making Eddie hiss in pleasure.

“Oh my god, Eddie I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, don’t apologize. Didn’t hurt at all. It was the exact opposite. ” His voice was so gentle, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. It encouraged you to put your hand back where it was, rubbing softly to see how he reacted. You had no idea what you were doing, which made Eddie even more eager to ruin you. In his peripheral vision, he caught his eye on your closet mirror, inciting a genius idea.

“Okay baby, I’m gonna make you feel good now. Can you do something for me?” You would do anything for him; so of course, you said yes.

Eddie grabbed your hand, guiding you to sit in front of him with your back to his chest. His warm calloused hands bore a feather light touch as they grazed along your thighs. Slowly they inched higher, stopping just before where you needed it and pushing your thighs wide apart. Your best friend stared at the slickness of your folds, licking his lips in anticipation. Everything he'd ever fantasized about was slowly becoming part of reality.

In the reflection of the mirror, you stared at yourself, not quite sure who was looking back at you. It felt foreign to have anyone, let alone Eddie’s hands on your body in this way. The cross necklace you’ve had your entire life glittered in the light, and you willed the guilt rising up your throat to be swallowed back down. You wanted this. The brush of your best friend’s fingers across your stomach pulled you out of your trance, eyes tracing his movements.

“Baby, you see this little button at the top here? That’s called your clit. It’s your best friend. And its favorite thing is to get rubbed on.”

Eddie licked his fingertips in the reflection, bringing them down to between your legs to demonstrate. The wet feeling of his spit on your clit as his calloused hands began to rub circles was so foreign yet welcomed. Your brain began to feel fuzzy as the pleasure took over and your best friend enjoyed watching you come apart for him. Breathy moans and whimpers escaped your lips as you rutted into his hand, chasing something you weren’t even sure what to call.

He cooed at you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears. The ghostly feeling of his lips brushing against your hot skin clouded your mind, making it almost impossible to enjoy his praises. It was almost too much and yet you craved more. But then he stopped.

“Eddie! Why’d you do that?” Whatever was building up in your lower stomach, aching to be released, slowly began to dissipate along with your excitement.

“Because, I want you to do it yourself.” He paused to kiss your temple, softening the blow of your disappointment.

“But I can’t—”

“Yes you can, and you will. Give me your hand.” You did as told, watching as Eddie put two of your digits in his mouth and sucked. It was so…sinful. Nothing like anything you’d ever seen; and you couldn’t get enough. He pulled your spit coated fingers down btwn your legs, right down to the center of your pleasure.

“Now rub. And don’t stop until I tell you.” You did as you were told, slowly at first to get used to the feeling.

Soon you fell into a rhythm, high off the feeling and chasing your own pleasure. Your back relaxed into Eddie’s arms, pushing your bodies impossibly closer together. His hips matched the rhythm of yours, which only made you wetter. Your moans were matched by his as you stared at yourselves in the mirror. He was enjoying this just as much as you were.

“Eddie, oh God. I feel…I feel..”

He grinned at his reflection.

“I know baby, I know.” He pulled your hips into his, trying to maintain as much friction as he could. At this rate, he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Hurts a little, yeah? Keep going gorgeous, it’s gonna feel so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” His voice broke on the last few words like he was gonna burst into tears at any moment. Your lower belly tightened with a delicious kind of pain, one you chased eagerly. You rubbed your fingers at a faster pace, desperate for some kind of release as Eddie grinded against your ass. He whispered the dirtiest things in your ear, saying how good you feel and how close he is. And then, the tightness stopped as a wave of pleasure coursed through your entire body, enough to make your toes curl and ears ringing. Eddie’s name fell off the tip of your lips as you came, the final straw as wetness spread through his boxers and hips slowed to a halt. You stared in his eyes as you caught your breath, trying to find the words to describe what just happened.

You were putty in his hands, he knew that now. A post-orgasm smile spread across his lips, shamelessly staring at your fucked-out state. He had plans for you.

#eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #eddie munson x you

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wnbawag · 2 months ago

Text

Don't Let Your Intrusive Thoughts Win - Part 1

Pairing: Breanna Stewart x OC!Griffin

Summary: Griffin, the 9th 2024 WNBA draft pick, was an unusual case, coming out of the University of Kentucky. You see, Griffin was short. Not just WNBA short, like short short. Like Griffin was barely 5’2. The Liberty, the team she was drafted to, loved to call her the shortest player of all time, but Griffin loved to 1. Remind them that Shannon Bobbitt was also 5’2 and 2. That she was definitely taller than Shannon. So she was the second shortest WNBA player of all time. The Liberty would roll their eyes at her, basically as one.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

Note: This is a series I started forever ago that I picked back up, I love to hear y'all's opinions!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Don’t let your intrusive thoughts win.

It’s not worth it.

She will literally throw you across the court like a damn bowling ball.

…

Fuck I’m gonna do it.

“Griffin I am going to KILL YOU,” Stewie cried out as Griffin may or may not have just flung herself at her back and scrambled up to her shoulders.

Sabrina, aka the woman she was discussing basketball plays with, doubled over with tears in her eyes as she watched Griffin catapult from Stewie’s shoulders and hit the ground running.

Stewie, of course, turned and gave chase, cussing her out the entire time.

“STEWIE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, TUMBLR SAID TO CLIMB YOU LIKE A TREE!”

“WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN ROOKIE?”

—

That interaction basically sums up Griffin and Stewie’s relationship. Griffin, the 9th 2024 WNBA draft pick, was an unusual case, coming out of the University of Kentucky. You see, Griffin was short. Not just WNBA short, like short short. Like Griffin was barely 5’2.

The Liberty team loved to call her the shortest player of all time, but Griffin loved to 1. Remind them that Shannon Bobbitt was also 5’2 and 2. That she was definitely taller than Shannon. So she was the second shortest WNBA player of all time.

The Liberty would roll their eyes at her, basically as one.

Griffin was surprised to get recruited to Kentucky when she was in high school, having not expected to get into any D1 programs because of her height.

That 79% made three point percentage must’ve sweetened the pot enough for Kentucky to ignore her lack of trees for arms.

Griffin played her heart out at Kentucky, leading them to a March Madness victory and a player of the year award.

Sabrina swears that if Griffin had been 6 feet tall, she would have been the first draft pick for the WNBA. Griffin secretly agrees with Sabrina, but she understood that most teams couldn’t take that risk.

It all worked out for Griffin, as she got to be in her favorite city, with her favorite people, and of course with her favorite vet, Miss Stewie herself.

—

“You’re doing extremely well, I don’t want to keep commenting on your height, because I’m sure you’ve heard it all, but I am impressed on how well you’re keeping up,” Sandy wanted to meet with Griffin before the season truly began. Griffin was settling in wonderfully, she could hold her own against the majority of the team and was even outpacing other point guards. Sandy felt like she would be coming off the bench beautifully, she just wanted to make sure the rookie felt okay about the entire situation.

Griffin sat on the opposite side of Sandy’s desk, feeling slightly embarrassed by the praise sent her way.

“I’m loving this team, I am so so grateful that you gave me a chance and this team has embraced me so well, I truly can’t thank you enough,” Griffin wasn’t blind to the fact that the Liberty took a risk when they drafted her, she was determined to not make them regret it.

“Griffin you are working your ass off, I and the team are more than proud of you. However, I didn’t call you in here just to chat. As you know, the season is starting soon and, while you won’t start, I do want you coming off the bench and getting minutes against teams I believe you can handle. I won’t be throwing you into the deep end and I’m not expecting you to carry the team. You’re a rookie and I expect rookie mistakes.” Sandy worried about this round of rookies. It was no secret that the Fever were expecting Caitlin Clark to carry that team for the time being. The rest of the rookie class had, in Sandy’s opinion, a ridiculous amount of media coverage and pressure for a bunch of 21-22 year olds - kids basically.

“That being said, you’re doing very well in practice but I wanted to ask you, in private, and you better be honest with me: is there any part of the game that you don’t feel good about?”

Griffin felt her heart stop, it was like Sandy could read her mind.

“Sandy I don’t want to sound like a wimp,” Sandy chuckled at that.

“But the WNBA is a different game from college, it’s such a jump. I’m not worried I won’t be good enough, I know that with time I’ll be able to go against these women, but I am worried about taking the physicality in the games.”

Sandy had suspected the physicality would be a problem for Griffin, but since she rarely ran drills specifically on that, she hadn’t had a chance to see how she would do.

“I don’t blame you for being nervous, these women are adults, not the kids you were against in college. They are solid muscle and full grown, I won’t lie to you and say they’ll go easy on you just because you’re small,” Sandy drummed her fingers on the desk, trying to think about how to approach this.

“You know, for the most part, any game you play in this season, the tallest player will be around Stewie’s height. They may be bigger than Stewie, but I bet I can convince Stewie to run some drills with you, away from the rest of the team, to get you used to how they’ll treat you on the court.”

“Thank you coach,” Griffin let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“That would be awesome,”

—

“Okay rookie, Coach said you’re scared of getting hit,”

“Stewie you know damn well that is NOT what she said!” Griffin huffed back at the stupidly tall vet. They were spending their Saturday on the court with a list of drills from Coach to run through.

“Basically. Whatever, so this first drill is literally me just bulldozing you and you trying to stay on your feet. This doesn’t seem fair to you,” Stewie remarked with a glance at Griffin.

“There was no reason to look me up and down,”

“Rookie you are literally like two feet tall, I barely had to look back up,”

“STEWIE!”

This time it was Stewie that ran with Griffin sprinting after her. Her infectious laughter rang out from the court and she slid to a stop at the end of the gym, turning to see her not far behind. She gave chase around the gym for a few laps, cursing at Stewie every time she made an unnaturally agile turn or reached a long ass arm back to keep her away. Griffin finally caught up as Stewie hesitated while running towards the rack of basketballs, giving just enough time for Griffin to catch up and dive for the back of Stewie’s knees, effectively bringinging the giant to the floor.

Aka, a more even fight.

“I yield! I yield!” Stewie cried as Griffin jumped up from her dive and grabbed her into a headlock, holding the taller woman on the floor.

“Say I’m the best player here!”

“Fine, you’re the best player here!”

“Say I’m of average height!”

“Oh rookie be so for real,”

Griffin huffed and let Stewie go, who was holding her sides and laughing. The shorter woman got to her feet and stood over the heaving Stewie with her hands on her hips.

“When you’re done being a damn bully I’m ready to start the drills!” She turned on her heels and went back to the original side of the gym, leaving Stewie still laughing on the floor.

It took a good five minutes for Stewie to get her ass up and over to Griffin.

“Sorry rookie, you just say the funniest damn things,” Stewie looked down at Griffin and patted her on her head.

Like a dog.

“Stewie, have I ever told you how much I hate you?”

“Shut up, you love me,”

#wnbawag #breanna stewart #breanna stewart x reader #wnba x reader #wbb x reader

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lvrhughes · 1 year ago

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Always Injured | A. Xhekaj

pairing: Arber Xhekaj x gn!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: injury?

summary: As the teams medic you see many players, but Arber most. So you make him promise one game to not get hurt, where he breaks the promise for a good reason

not my gif!

You being the team medic meant you saw certain players a lot, one of them being Arber Xhekaj. He was beautiful, anyone with eyes could see that, so blossomed your affection towards him.

You loved him. As blunt as that, you fell for him and every time he’d come see you bloody and bruised it broke your heart.

Every practice for the last week Arber had been coming to see you, whether he’d actually been hurt or if he wanted to ask you questions. He seemed very interested in learning how to take care of himself lately, coming into your office just to ask more questions he hadn’t asked earlier.

You gladly taught him and let him ask as many questions as he desired, loving the time with him, and when would you get another chance to teach an nhl player basic first aid? Probably never so you took the chance with open arms.

“Hey Y/n/n” you looked up to see Arber at the door of your office, quickly noticing the blood on his nose.

“Oh God, Arber what happened?” you were quick to walk up to him, pulling him down to see if his nose was broken.

“I got hit in the face with a puck.”

That was the third time this week.

“You’re really unlucky this week, huh?” you teased, seeing a small smile cover his face. You had grabbed a clean cloth to wipe the blood away and just a bandaid, he hadn’t broken anything, just a small cut.

“Sit.” you instructed, gesturing the tall man to the other side of the room where chairs and a bed were, he chose to sit in a chair. Making life easier for you, he sat in the shortest chair, allowing you to tower over him like he usually did to you.

You wiped away the blood, seeing the way he melted towards your touch, and disinfected the area to put the bandaid on.

“Done.” you smiled, rinsing the cloth out before throwing it towards a bin of dirty cloths you had.

“That’s it?” He sounded a little disappointed.

“Yep, unless you want to talk about something else. All you did today was achieve a small cut.”

“Do you got anything else you can teach me?”

You nodded before looking at the time.

“Arber, you should get back to practice, there’s still an hour left. You can come back after and I'll teach you.”

He groaned but got up to go back to practice, but not before promising he’d be back after. So you spend the hour typing out any email you needed to, waiting for his arrival. None the less he showed up in your office 40 minutes after practice had ended.

“Sorry for taking so long, I put my gear in my car too today.”

“It’s okay Arber, if it wasn’t I would've left already.” you laugh, he laughed at the joke too, still thankful you hadn’t actually left.

The next two hours were spent teaching Arber about whatever he asked, seeing his joy when you told him he could try certain things on one of your dummies, and learning his mannerisms. You were so focused on him, the way when he was nervous his leg would bounce up and down and he’d run his hands through his hair, and when he was happy it was almost like he was always fighting the urge to bounce up and down.

“Y/n?” you were snapped out of your gaze when his hand swiped in front of your face.

“Sorry.” you mumbled, a little embarrassment flooding you.

“It’s okay,” He accepted and continued with his original questions. You had shown him how to try something on one of the dummies before letting him try, returning to your desk to watch. You didn’t mean to basically fall asleep, you wanted to watch him, make sure he had everything right but when you leaned your head against your arms you passed out.

You woke up by gentle shaking and a soft voice saying your name over and over. You groaned, despite how uncomfortable sleeping on a desk was, you didn’t want to wake up.

“Come on y/n/n, let’s get you home.” You opened your eyes to be met with Arber, about two inches away from your face.

A little stunned you blinked a few times before sitting up, he backed slightly away.

“What?” you asked, still a bit dazed from just waking up.

“Let’s go home.” he was still gentle with his voice, not wanting to be too loud.

“No, I've got to catch a train or bus home,” you looked at the time to check, “the next one will be here in 20 minutes.” you deemed, sitting up more and stretching your arms.

“No, come with me, I'll drive you home, okay?”

It was such a tempting offer, be with Arber for extra time and get home faster, there were no cons.

“Fine.”

So he drove you home, getting a little ‘lost’ to spend extra time with you.

“Can I drive you to the game tomorrow?”

You nodded too tired to think about tomorrow yet, so when you nodded he took it as a sign to message you in the morning to check that you still remembered and that he should walk you to your door before you fall asleep on the sidewalk.

He got out quickly, walking over to the passenger side, opening your door, and gently helping you out.

He’s so big yet so gentle. Your tired mind could only focus on that, how he was huge but so gentle. Until playing hockey, then he wasn’t so gentle. He walked you to your door, his arm around your waist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded again, reaching forward to unlock your house door, and bidding him goodnight. As soon as you made it to your bed you passed out, luckily, your alarms were already set. When the first one went off at 7:00 you wanted nothing more than to slam it off and go back to sleep, but you knew you had work. So sadly you woke up, turning off your alarm and checking last night's notifications.

‘I’ll pick you up at 4 for the game:)’ from Arber Xhekaj, read on your screen. You barely remembered nodding at him but it was still slightly there, him asking to drive you tomorrow, you nodding in your sleepy state. So you answered him, just a simple ‘okay:)’.

Now you had to figure out what emails and paperwork you had left to do today. There wasn’t much left, only about 5 emails left and a page of paperwork, so you were ready and waiting early.

Arber was there right at 4, like he said, coming to the door and knocking, not prepared for you to answer so quickly.

“Hi.” while waiting for Arber, you decided you’d make some coffee to go along with the energy drink you had that morning. Now you were bouncing off the walls.

“Hi, you’re very awake right now.” he laughed, seeing your smile and inability to stand still right now.

“I just made some coffee, did you want some?”

“No, I think I'm good. I’ve got my drink for the game and my hands full now keeping you away from any more caffeine.”

You giggled, following him to his car, skipping behind him. It wasn’t a long drive to the arena, but it was nice, you and him singing song lyrics together. It was fun then you had to get into the arena. Fans already outside and the parking lot filling up, Arber pulled into the private parking area. He led the way in, showing you the path where there wouldn’t be any fans trying to crowd you two.

You bid him a slight goodbye when you trailed off to go to your office while Arber continued to the locker rooms, you set your monitor up to show the game while sorting through some papers you found lying on your desk. There was a small knock before Arber came in, wearing all his gear, to see you before the game.

It was a short conversation, you pleading with Arber not to get hurt this game, ending with a hug and a ‘good luck’ to Arber right before he bolted from the room, seeing he was almost late to get on the ice.

It wasn’t too harsh of a game, no one really intending to hurt anyone. No tripping, no pushing, it was almost too peaceful, you knew something would snap at some point, there was almost never a game this calm.

You loved Arber, but god did he frustrate you. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest what happened to him and it drove you crazy. When the other team began shoving and tripping somehow Arber was always there, as if he intended to get hurt.

When he dropped his gloves to fight you nearly lost it, having decided to fight the biggest player on the opposing team, it looked like an even fight. Arber got many good hits, but so did the other player, landing one square to Arber’s cheek, nearly his eye. Both their helmets were knocked somewhere on the ice, too busy hitting each other to care. When the refs got them apart Arber was bloodied and bruises were already forming, you didn’t expect him to be so hurt, he was a good fighter, yet tonight he seemed to have met his match. The other player didn’t look much better though, huffing when he was pulled off Arber, who he had pinned to the ice, and skating away to his team. Arber, still being led by the ref, skated over towards you, standing behind the bench.

He let out a breath of air when he reached you, his figure visibly relaxing around you. That didn’t last for long, as soon as you had him in your office, you had him wishing he stayed on the ice. You paced around your office, he sat in a chair, head-down.

“How could you do this! Arber, I asked you not to get injured, just one game! I’m going to tell the team to bench you if you can’t stay out of my office, God Arber.” you took a breath, "I know you don't care if you get hurt but I do! I really fucking care if you get hurt!"

That seemed to really get his attention. His head shot up at you, his saddened puppy-dog look fading fast. The way his head-down sad look on his face switched to staring directly at you in wide-eyed confusion was almost head spinning.

“What?” he sounded as confused as he looked, it was almost enough to make you laugh, but your anger at the careless boy was stronger.

“Arber, I care for you. You can’t get hurt every fucking game and not expect me to be mad. For God’s sake Arber, I love you.” the words just slipped out before you could realize what you were telling him. His eyes lit up a little at the words, while yours widened in panic.

“Shit.” you mumbled, trying to move on you began searching for the things you need to clean Arber up.

You walked back to him, lightly grabbing his face to angle him to clean up some blood. You could feel the way he still melted against your touch, that was a little comforting.

“Y/n?” His voice was quiet, unusual for him.

“Hmm?” you hummed back, still cleaning his wounds.

“Can I kiss you?” you froze in shock, letting your hands drop from his face. He took the moment of shock as the perfect moment to stand, leaving him towering over you again.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You looked up at him, his eyes showed that he was still waiting for an answer, you nodded.

He leaned down, your arms wrapped around his neck, tangling into his hair, you pushed up onto your tiptoes, helping lessen the distance. His lips were soft against yours, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece, the taste of blood lingering. You ran your hands through his hair until you had to pull away for air, leaning your forehead against his.

“I love you.” he was the first to speak, sending butterflies through you.

“I love you too.” He smiled, he was practically glowing.

“But let’s get you cleaned up and out of my office.” you giggled, pushing him back down into his chair.

You took his hand, grabbing the cloth you had dropped to wipe his bloody knuckles. Walking away to grab other equipment, he tried to pull you back against him.

“Arber, come on here. Work with me, we’ve got to get you back on the ice.”

He groaned in response, letting you grab what you needed. Nothing was broken or fractured, but there was lots of blood. There was a little cut just below his eye, so as best you could for the awkward area, you covered it and the other cut on his face.

“Okay, go back out now.”

“Nooo” He whined, pulling you against him again, his arms tight against you.

“Arber, come on. Just another 20 minutes and you can come back.”

His groan in reply, stated he didn’t like that answer.

“But I don't want to leave my baby.” He mumbled out, fitting his head in the crook of your neck.

“I’m your baby now?”

He just nodded, still nuzzling closer to you. You, after leaving him for a minute, pushed him off you.

“Go, go.” you shooed him out, his groans following him down the halls. You followed behind a minute later, locking your office and throwing the used items away or to be washed. When you made it back to the doors, Arber was still standing there.

“I thought I told you to go back to the ice?”

He just grinned, grabbing waist to pull you in for a kiss.

“Needed a goodluck kiss.” he mumbled when he pulled away before pressing his lips against yours again. You pushed him back, making him whine in response.

“You're very whiny today,” you giggled, “Now back on the ice.” you pointed to the ice, making him walk onto it slowly. You followed behind, staying behind the bench while he sat down.

You stood behind him until he was back on the ice to play, the other player back too. You had no idea what the other player said when he went up to Arber but clearly it was not good. The last fight had been fighting for the team but this one, it was personal. After those words the opposing player said, he snapped, lunging at him. Bringing him to the ground and punching hard, the other player trying to retaliate but being unable. The refs pulled Arber off the player, almost getting hit in the process and kicked him from the game. He stormed out, you looked to the coach, letting him clear you to follow him.

You walked into the change rooms, not bothering knocking knowing Arber was the only one in there. He was angrily shoving things in his bag, some of his things thrown around the room.

“Baby,” you cooed, keeping a quiet voice, “what happened?”

He turned to look at you, his knuckles bloodied again and his eyes bloodshot. He practically fell into you, wrapping your arms around him to keep him up.

“I love you, I’m so sorry.” he mumbled, leaving a bit of confusion to bubble.

“What’re you sorry for, baby?” he left out a sob, it was muffled by your shoulder, that he had his head on.

“He saw us and he started chirping me for it, it was fine at first, his chirps were weak. Then he started talking about how you're so pretty, maybe he’ll take you for himself and-” his words were cut off by his own ragged breathing.

“Breathe, pretty boy, breathe with me.” you put his hand on your chest getting him to breathe in sync with you.

“He said some fucked up things and i couldn’t take it. You’re too good for him, hell even me.”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. I’m not ‘too good’ for you, I love you and I think you’re perfect for me so how does that make me too good for you?”

“You think I'm perfect for you?”

You giggled a little at what he took out from your words, but answered none the less.

“Yes baby, I think you’re perfect for me.”

He had a small smile on his lips now, leaning back into you to kiss you again. You kissed him until he calmed down, then you helped him put his things away. By the time you had all of his things away, the rest of the team came trickling in. On a high from the win, they were loud, partying and yelling. It made you realize why you never came in here, aside from this being where they all got changed.

You and Arber were quick to leave when they poured in, letting them party and change without you two. You walked with Arber to your office, him following you in.

“You can go home if you want, you know. You don’t need to follow me.”

“I want to.” was his answer, completely following you around your office as you picked up what you needed to bring home.

“You know,” he started, a flirty tone could be heard in his words, “there’s no games or practice tomorrow.”

You turned to him with a small smile, his eyes held a playful look when you caught them.

“What’re you implying I do with that information?”

“Stay with me tonight.”

He was so straight forward it was almost scary, but you loved it, but you knew you shouldn't.

“Arber, I’ve got some work I should do an-”

“No, you can do your work at my place.”

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“You can wear mine, or we’ll stop at yours and get you clothes.”

“I take transit home.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Fuck, he had every answer to every hypothetical problem you had.

“Fine.”

He smiled so wide, you could’ve sworn he’d explode of joy soon. He picked you up with ease, spinning the both of you. Giggles filled the room, the sound was angletic to him, praying he’d hear it everyday.

The ride to his house was peaceful, filled with soft music and his hand laying on your thigh the entire time. He was quick to get out of his car when you arrived, running over to your side to pick you up and carry you in. He left kisses anywhere he could while carrying you in, making you giggle the whole walk in.

It was a good night, you two had watched a movie, barely paying attention, too caught up in eachother. Later in the night he’d offer you a t-shirt and boxers to sleep in, his breath getting caught in his throat when you walked out in the pair. Realizing quickly he hadn’t yet confirmed you were yours, he asked you to be his, the obvious answer yes.

The two of you slept peacefully in each other's arms, the best sleep of your lifes, as he said in the morning. The entire rest of the next day spent with each other, always touching, even while you finished work, he was always with you. Most of the time littering kisses on your body, wherever he could reach.

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj imagine #nhl imagine #montreal canadiens #mads writings!#arber xhekaj one shot

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thefunny-and-thesilly · 4 months ago

Text

kinda wanna post some doodles for it so here's some really vague context on another au

Absolute Catastrophe Timeline AU (or just Catastrophe AU)

-post-canon, second summer

-time traveling incident sends old grunks to swap places with their 8 year old selves

-8 year old grunks are like "woah it's the future" and ask a million questions. Dipper and Mabel don't have the heart to tell them that they don't get a boat until they're almost 60 so Mabel impulsively lies before Dipper can do the reasonable thing and say "oh I can't tell you too much about the future it could mess things up"

-kids explore around while Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what they should do. they try time traveling but are unable to find older grunks

-while exploring around, 8 year old grunks find the portal, decide it must OBVIOUSLY lead to their boat and switch it on (older Ford fixed it and was trying to make it stable. it still isn't very stable but it runs efficiently enough that it opens a lot quicker now)

-cue Dipper and Mabel being like "wait where did they go", feeling gravity get wonky like it does when the portal is on, and run to the basement

-they manage to save Stan but Dipper ends up going through the portal with Ford.

-Mabel is now stuck with no brother and an 8 year old Stan who just ALSO lost his brother. he also finds out from Mabel that the portal does not, in fact, lead to a boat.

-Dipper is stuck in the multiverse with an 8 year old Ford and has thus ended up having to take care of a child even though he is only 13 and therefore also a child. but he's also almost 14 so is it really THAT bad?? (it is. being 14 makes absolutely no difference)

-the twins do not reunite for a very long time

-the time police can't even help bc once you're in the multiverse, you're basically separated from your universe's timeline until you come back.

-since the time police can't help, they basically end up isolating that timeline. nobody is allowed to touch it anymore it's broken. they did take any and all time travel related devices tho so. yea

this is the shortest summary I could make lol

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kenphobia · 1 year ago

Note

Ragatha dating someone who likes to draw hcs????

Please if you have the time 🙇‍♀️

2 AM SKETCHES！

summary. being an artist is difficult, but it's gets a bit easier when your muse is the love of your life.

characters. ragatha, pomni (separate)

contents. established or hinted romantic relationship (ragatha, pomni), fluff

› notes featured at the end.

› Ragatha is the kind of person who enjoys drawing as a way to relief stress, as well as watching someone draw.

› You guys have drawing sessions at times, doing random prompts or just drawing each other. Ragatha enjoys drawing you a lot, but that's because she gets to look at you for longer periods at time. There's something about your face involuntarily changing whenever you think of an expression that she finds cute.

› The first time you drew her, she was so happy that she may or may not let a couple of tears stain the piece. If you gave her the green light, she'd have it framed in her room right next to her own drawing of you.

› Hypes you up a lot!! Regardless if there's an actual reason to it or not. Whenever you feel insecure about your art or just feel like your latest artwork isn't just vibing with you well, she'll be there by your aide to reassure that it doesn't make you less of an artist.

› To add onto the previous bullet, Ragatha will not hesitate to throw punches (mostly metaphorical) at anyone who dares make you feel bad about your work.

› Another one who uses drawing as a way to relief stress! Just... A bit more morbid than Ragatha's.

› She doesn't have much to say about your drawings or your hobby in general. I mean, she thinks they're neat but she's never been the one to comment a lot on art or even spend time thinking and analyzing it.

› When you decided to draw her, Pomni couldn't help but be speechless. She didn't have a lot to say to your other drawings other than "That looks cool!", but you drawing her? Completely and positively flabbergasted.

› Like Ragatha, she has your drawings in her room. Not exactly framed and are mostly kept in a small clear folder, so it's safe and somewhere no one could ever get to. It's basically her treasure at this point.

› Unlike the rag doll though, she's too shy to ever ask to draw you or draw with you. She much prefers watching you do your work and just relax, rest even for the shortest moment. Something within her finds comfort at your process of covering up the blank white canvas with something, anything. She just thinks they're neat.

notes. i decided to add pomni onto the request because i like her too much to exclude her!! tysm for requesting, anon ^^

#ken writes！#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader

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katstarry · 2 years ago

Text

your lips, my lips

ellie williams x fem!reader

masterlist ☆

summary: being there throughout basically her whole life, you form a friendship with ellie. the line of being friends or something more becomes blurry. best friends to lovers!!

warning: a make out sesh? idk if i would call it that they just kiss lol and this is probably the shortest thing i’ve ever written tbh

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

inspired by apocalypse by cigarettes after sex!

you’ve never been much of a fan of physical affection.

the only occurrences of physical affection is when you’re in a relationship, somehow it comes naturally when it’s with a significant other.

so why does it come so naturally whenever you’re with ellie?

you’ve never been so affectionate with your other friends, but with ellie.. things are just different. you allow yourself to hug her, lean on her, grab her arm, any sort of physical touch. compared to your other friends, where there’s only an occasional hug or just a side hug.

you’re in denial of your feelings, blaming the events you’ve both been through together causing you to be so protective of ellie, be so drawn to her, always wanting her close.

it was only a matter of time before it all became too much; you just dreaded the day it would come to light, the fear of ruining such a meaningful and important relationship with someone who’s such a big part of your life. the glances you both give each other, the touches that linger, becoming too much. tricking your mind into thinking she feels the same, hope that there’s a chance.

you held onto that small bit of hope.

ellie’s arms were wrapped around you as your head lay on her chest, feeling it rise and fall as she took each breath, hearing the rhythmic sound of her heart.

you could stay like this forever.

you move yourself closer to her, wrapping your own arms around her waist, begging that she couldn’t hear or feel your own heart.

“what’re you thinking about?” she asked quietly, having been laying on her bed in comfortable silence for a few minutes now.

“how peaceful this is.” you reply, just as quietly. “it’s like we’re in our own little world.”

ellie began to subconsciously draw circles onto your back, causing you to suppress a shiver due to her simple touch.

you move your head slightly upwards in order to have a view of her face, only to find her focus already being on you.

a soft smile forms onto her face, lost in thought.

“what are you thinking about?” you nudge her playfully.

she hesitates for a moment, eyebrows furrowing, before answering.

“how beautiful you look right now.”

your face becomes hot.

“oh, shut up.” you laugh as you turn your head back down, trying to hide how flustered she’s got you, missing the slight look of disappointment from ellie.

there was a short moment of silence before you hear her voice again.

“i mean it.” she breathes out, her tracing on your back stopping.

you look back up to her, finding her gaze already on you yet again. a look of determination and sincerity covered her face.

her hand comes up to your face, causing you to lean into her touch without much thought.

“thank you.” you didn’t know what to say. yes, she’s given you compliments before, many causing your heart to pick up speed and make you kiss her right then and there— but this, this felt different.

you both stare at each other before beginning to laugh, nuzzling your head into the crook of her neck and tightening your hold on her.

“god, we’re so bad at this aren’t we?” she says, her hold on you tightening as well.

you free yourself from her hold, leaning yourself onto one of your elbows so that you’re laying sideways, looking down at her.

“..this?” you ask in disbelief, is this really happening?

you notice ellie’s look, her eyebrows furrowed and avoiding your gaze, realizing that she took your reaction as something negative.

“ellie… what do you mean?”

she meets your gaze once again, eyes slightly wide. “i just—” she sighs before continuing, “maybe i took things the wrong way. i’m sorry.” she moves to get up, feeling embarrassed.

“no, ellie. you didn’t, honestly i thought i was the one who was taking things the wrong way.” you push her back down onto the bed, eyes hopeful and relieved. a smile on your face as you looked down at ellie, who also wore a look of relief—as well as disbelief.

“you’re my best friend, ellie. i love you, but what i feel is so much more than what just a friend should feel.”

she smiles up at you, hands coming to brush away loose strands of hair, once again holding your face.

“well. that’s good. i’m glad we got that straight.” suddenly she grabs your waist, having you lay on top of her. you pull yourself up, now sitting and slightly flustered by the position, “because i love you, too.”

“can i kiss you?” she looks up at you, hands resting on your waist as she awaited for an answer.

you lean down until your close to her face, hands on each side of her head on the bed, caging her in.

“yes.”

with that, she leans up, you meet her halfway and you feel her lips on yours.

and it’s everything you expected it to be.

her lips were slightly chapped, yet soft. her hand coming to the side of your head, you lean into the touch, making the kiss deeper.

you break the kiss once you ran out of air, both of you looking breathless and content.

ellie leans back up and gives you multiple pecks all around your face—as well as your lips, causing you to let out a giggle.

you let yourself lay atop of ellie, feeling her arms wrap around your waist securely.

nothing had ever felt so right.

#ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #fanfiction #katstarry #fluff #ellie tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I really love your writing! I wanted to ask if you could do a romantic head canons for Tanner and Treech because I really love those characters and the reader can be fem or gender neutral. Enjoy the rest of your day!

How pretty it is, I think I'm in love.

Treech/Tanner x Gender neutral reader (separate romantic headcanons) Summary: Romantic headcanons about Treech and Tanner and how they fell in love with gender neutral! Reader Warning: mention of animal death (Tanner's part), blood, before and after the Hunger Games Word count: 1.4k ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Treech:

It had been a warm October in District Seven, oddly enough since the weather was usually cold during this time. Treech kept his hands together as he swung down on the wood block in front of him. He glanced around, looking at the greenery around him, his eyes unconsciously going to you. He stared at you as you brought your ax down onto the block of wood.

He would never admit how he’d admire you from afar, how his face would grow warm when he saw you take on the harder work, or how you looked while you brought your ax down to continue your work. Treech didn’t fully understand his love for you but he would be yours if you asked him… you wouldn’t have to always ask.

The first couple times you both converse were very awkward. Treech would try making you laugh, but because of how nervous he would be, it would come off as really odd. It makes things a bit more difficult, especially breaking the ice, but it was slightly charming since he tried with his jokes (sometimes).

You would hang out with his friends and yours, having connections with each other, which makes

Just a couple hours before the reaping, Treech walked around the town, hoping to get even a sight of you.

When his name is called in the reaping, he doesn’t try finding you. He already accepted his end once he got to the stage in front of the kids of Seven. Treech’s eyes would find you in the crowd, the beauty of your soft eyes made him want to weep and ask you for a kiss before his inevitable death. But he bit his tongue and kept quiet.

The time spent waiting for the train with Lamina was mostly just sitting in silence, her occasional sob breaking the quiet. Treech could only sit with his thoughts, wondering what could have come if he actually ran to you. Perhaps you would have taken him into your arms. Or not. He didn’t want that answer for so long.

The isolation that followed while waiting for the train made everything worse, the knowledge that you could have gone home, without a thought for him or terrified about what could ensue in the arena made him worried.

After his victory in the arena, he’d finally come home to District Seven. But unlike Tanner, he wouldn’t seek you out after caring for himself for a bit. He wouldn’t show for a long while. It would mostly be because Treech couldn’t bring himself to go back to you without worrying you could have possibly seen his actions on the TV’s in the town electronics shop.

Three months, three long months was how long Treech spent trying to take care of himself after all that had happened in the arena. But he got the confidence to go out to see others, others that wouldn’t kill him, and he went to your home.

Treech spent the entire time explaining what had happened while he was in his house and how he held up in the arena, the arena explanation was the shortest since his mind hadn’t even fully recovered.

It was almost a natural instinct to confess how he had fallen in love with you, the softness of you as a whole and how you were kind. You were so special to him since you were willing to listen to him, and didn’t constantly view his victory as a real victory, just as he did. Treech couldn’t help blushing so brightly, his entire face was basically red.

“You’d like a kiss?” You asked with a breathful laugh. As much as it embarrassed, Treech couldn’t help accepting the offer, which you gave to him quickly.

Your hands held his vibrant red cheeks, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone as you pressed his lips to yours delicately. It wasn’t as amazing as Treech had imagined, far more incredible than he could have ever thought. It’s like he was getting a kiss from the heavens itself. His desperation for your lips caused him to pull you close, just close enough to put his hands on your back.

You didn’t pull away for a long while, several minutes even. Truthfully, who would want to leave Heaven?

Tanner:

Oh, how badly the pain in his stomach grew as he stared at you, the blood covering your fingers drew blood to his cheeks. You set the butcher's knife down before turning to leaving to the dressing rooms. Tanner swallowed thickly and wiped his face with his hands, hoping his face wasn't too red to the extent others would know.

It was so odd, how lovely you looked in a place filled with only death. He’d never understand that feeling he got when he’d see you, but Tanner couldn’t deny that he didn’t want it gone.

Tanner had met you in English class, maybe not have met you but he knew you existed, and you were lovely. You were so kind and hot and shit. What couldn't he like about you? And you worked in the same factory! So, he could see you outside school!

You were the most “magnificent piece of work” … as he would say, with the voice of a songbird that would keep him in place out of instinct.

Tanner would take any opportunity to talk to you and he wouldn’t try making it obvious that he liked when you were paired up together in class when your friends were gone. Maybe it was obvious to all, but he thought he was smooth enough (he wasn’t).

Reaping day was notorious throughout the district, all of Panem really. Tanner had spent his day with his friends or near the town square, hoping to find you around and possibly talk to you.

Nearly the entire conversation is trying to work you up enough to get a kiss, trying to butter you up before the reaping. Of course, Tanner would compliment you and your outfit and how nice you looked, jokingly saying you were trying to find him too.

You would spend parts of your time in the town square, walking with him and your friends. Your friends mainly talked about other things besides how Tanner was trying to flirt with you. He claimed they were being sad and stuff, but they were reacting like any other possible tribute, wishing their families would be fine without them. The same could be said for him too, but he hoped you would be fine without him.

When he was called for the reaping, obviously he was sad. Who wouldn't be in this situation? Maybe a murderer but that doesn't matter now. Tanner was going to walk to his death.

At the realization that he probably wouldn’t come home, he’d try finding his way to you. There wasn’t a distinct time when the new tributes could speak to their family before they left but he needed a little time to speak to you, admit he had felt a special fondness for you.

The entire time he was on the train was hoping you’d at least think of him while he was gone, hopefully positive thoughts.

But Tanner never got that, and he couldn’t get what could have come from it out of his mind. It was a partial comfort on the train ride to the Capital.

After the Hunger Games, he had gone home and slept, though his mind went to finding you. It was either your warm presence or the haunting nightmares that would seep back into his mind when he couldn’t think of anything new.

Tanner would find you again and finally give you that kiss that was meant long before the reaping. He wouldn’t try being nice about it, his feelings were intense, and that kiss will be too. He wouldn’t try pulling away for a long while, keeping you close and in his arms, where he wished you would stay forever.

Oddly enough, Tanner would confess his feelings to you after the kiss. He’d go on about how he couldn’t keep his eyes off you and later his lips.

At some point, he’d be asked about his time in the arena. Though Tanner had endless nightmares about the things he saw, the blood and the snakes, he would be boastful. He would claim he was never scared and try seeming stronger than he already was.

As time went on, you’d more likely see him stiffen and get scared at the sight or the smell of anything that reminded him of the arena. Tanner would never claim himself a victor, but he’d say he would.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

So sorry I haven't updated in a long while. Lowkey OOC but thank you for reading, nonetheless.

my tbosas masterlist

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euphoricfilter · 2 years ago

Text

like crazy ~ part two

☆ﾟpart two of five

pairing(s): namjoon x reader, seokjin x reader, yoongi x reader, hoseok x reader, jimin x reader, taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || smut || angst || non-idol au || reincarnation au || friends to lovers || strangers to lovers || established relationships || regency era au || gang au || college au || slight yandere au? ||

summary: the story of how the universe sent you Namjoon.

word count: 9.3k

tags/ warnings: gang leader! namjoon, fluff, a lot more love, angst, namjoon is tatted up, death/ murder, mentions of blood, mentioned sex trafficking, mentioned drugs, obsessive relationship, smut in the forms of: dom/ sub themes— kinda mean-ish dom! namjoon, lots of hickies, spitting in a mouth :), biting, strangely feral sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), pull out method (again, don’t be stupid), doggy style, squirting, the briefest ass play, implied/planned aftercare!! because namjoon isn’t heartless

notes: not a promise but i'm going to try and get yoongi's part uploaded next week!! it's basically all written i just have to edit it all but this section of the story was getting way too long so i decided to just split it. again, feedback is always encouraged!! i really like this series and would love to know others' thoughts too <3

‘like crazy’ mini series masterlist || my main masterlist

🪐 🌠 ∘₊✧─── *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ───✧₊∘ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 💫

Your third life was perhaps the strangest.

It had also been the shortest of all your lives, and perhaps the shortest of your loves.

You hadn’t loved Namjoon any less than you had Taehyung or Jimin.

Stupid, undying love had wormed its way into your heart; maybe without you even realizing this time. And then once again, you found yourself sinking with no escape and more heartbreak than you knew what to deal with.

When you truly think about it, the universe had been a little crueller in this life.

And in hindsight, she probably had taken pity on your poor soul for all the stories that follow this one.

From the day you could produce a coherent thought, you’d known everything.

There was no life-changing realisation that you’d had with Jimin, no obliviousness to what your life had once been or everything you’ve ever lost.

You’re pretty sure your whole world would have been different had you not been aware of your previous life, the butterfly effect is a real bitch when the knowledge you never asked for is thrust into your hands and you aren’t exactly sure what to do with it.

At eighteen you’d moved out. Because as much as you’d tried, you’d never truly felt anything for your parents in this life.

It wasn’t hard to play the role of a doting daughter, not when your parents never paid much attention to you anyway. Or how you knew attaching yourself to people that would eventually pass was a whole new wave of pain you weren’t ready to put yourself up for.

There was no guarantee that once you died in this life you’d come back for a fourth time, there was no guarantee that if you did ever make your way back into this world that you’d ever gain the knowledge of what once was. But it was a risk you had never been willing to take. If you’d lived another life, come back again and again, then what was there to say it weren’t to happen once more?

You often wondered how your old mother must have felt, finding out the only family she had left was murdered. How horrified she must have been after hearing the news. Or if she’d been the one to stumble across yours and Jimin’s cold corpses.

You doubted she was still alive either way, time hadn’t exactly been on your side, the world so much different than when you were last alive.

So much more advanced than it had been. You had so many more rights as a women than you had in your previous life. Everything seemed so new, the smallest glimpses of the past peeking through the new age that you found yourself living in.

The story of you and Namjoon starts where you and Jimin had ended.

You look up at the set of apartment buildings. The land that used to be the foundation of your home no longer what it used to be. The garden was buried under cement, and all your secrets that had seeped into the walls were probably rotting somewhere in the landfill.

What was once a small house for two had been reconstructed, and built so much bigger and better. Better than anything you could have imagined your home to be.

It felt a little patronizing, the land you’d died on morphed into something so much more spectacular.

You remember how hard it had been to simply own a house of your own. How hard it must have been for Jimin to save enough to buy it. How you felt as though you’d finally achieved something in your pitiful life the day the two of you had moved in.

How when you look at the building stood before you, it didn’t seem like such a wonderful place anymore.

It wasn’t special. It wasn’t yours.

Once again, it was so far out of reach, so different, the familiarity, the warmth, all of it had died along with you and Jimin.

Yours and Jimin’s lives had been so insignificant that no one had thought to keep the land your sacred burial ground.

You don’t resent the world for stripping away such a large piece of your life away. (even less so when the change had been the sole reason you’d found Namjoon. Or rather how he’d found you).

Meeting Namjoon had become somewhat of a blur. Words slipping off your tongue as the wind dug its nails into your cheeks, and your fingers and toes felt numb from the cold. Grey cottony clouds had been stuffed in your ears and your mind had been so far from your body. Perhaps seeping into the gravel, slipping between the frost and the soil as your mind reels with every little moment you’d ever spent on this very piece of land.

Jimin had been the spring, but Namjoon had been the winter.

You see, Taehyung and Jimin had been the gentle things that wandered in the sunlight, flowers and warm afternoons, sweet kisses and heart-swelling love. Namjoon is what lurks in the shadows, and ugly thunder storms or gnarly bite marks imbedded into tender skin. He was every rough edge and anxiety filled heartbeat, his touch gentle as poison seeps into every pore he traces over.

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snaps in the direction of Jimin’s voice. Words catching in your throat, your mouth opening and then closing and then falling open once more.

Your eyes widen only for prickly disappointment to drown your heart when you’re met with the face of a stranger. Jimin's saccharine voice echoing through one ear and out the other.

You lips fall shut, heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks as your eyes meet those of the stranger.

“I used to live here” you point to the block of flats. And although that may not exactly be true, you don’t bother elaborating.

(And Namjoon doesn’t bother to tell you that no one had lived in that building since it had been built. It was his land before it had been constructed and he had no plans of ever renting out any of the rooms.)

He takes a step closer to you, maybe only an arms length away, “It’s not safe in this area”

You turn back to look at the building, “That’s a shame” you hum, “Maybe I should get going then”

A weird sense of guilt runs through your veins. Guilt because you weren’t at all scared. And maybe it’s because after being killed twice, the idea of death doesn’t scare you all that much anymore. Not when you were tired of life, not when you could come back and have the chance to live all over again as a whole new person.

“I never caught your name” he says, mild curiosty dancing in his eyes.

The air is frigid as it fills your lungs, “Y/n”

“Namjoon” he holds a hand out for you to shake.

You look at his hand, debating whether to risk it, wondering if he had plans to grab you, erase you from existence. You’d tell him it were useless if that were the case, that you’re estranged from your family and you barely had any friends that would risk themselves for your own safety. That he’d be wasting his time more than he would be yours.

His lips curl up at the corners as you shake his hand, “Want me to walk you home?”

You meet his gaze, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck, “No. I’m quite capable”

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think there’s someone staring at you” your friend nudges you, hand cupping your ear.

As much as you wanted to live a life of solitude, unprepared to face another life that ended in heartbreak, it was hard not to befriend someone along the way.

The both of you would have probably quit this deadbeat job if it weren’t for each other. And luckily the place was run by an old woman that didn’t mind your shifts being practically identical. The income helped with rent and you got most meals free with the job, so really you had no plans to move anywhere else.

Somehow, platonic love was a little easier to let go of, a little easier to mend, soothe until it doesn’t hurt as much and the memories fade like a painting left in sunlight for too long. You’d never wanted to come off as cold either, and what was one friend when you had a whole life ahead of you?

Because as much as you liked to slip into your own world, replay the stories of Taehyung and Jimin until tears slip down your cheeks and you had half a mind to pull your aching heart out of youe chest, the strange sort of catharsis that hurts as much as it heals— having a friend wasn’t all that bad.

And maybe you’d be upset if one day the two of you were to wander down separate paths, only to never meet at the crossroad and continue on with life like you hadn’t trekked for miles together; but maybe that hurt was worth the risk if it were easy to heal later on. A selfish thought, but you’d learnt that humans were simply built that way. That being selfish wasn’t all that terrible.

You look up at her, dropping the mug and cloth behind you in favor of leaning on the counter, arm to arm.

“Who?” your head falls on her shoulder.

“The guy over there” she nods her head in his direction. You follow her line of sight, eyes meeting the strangers’ very briefly before your gaze flitters out the storefront window.

“Do you know him?” she asks, your head falling off her shoulder as someone stalks up to the counter.

You squint as she takes the order, watching as the curious stranger flicks open a newpaper.

You weren’t sure if he was simply confident or overly arrogant. His posture that of a man who gets his way, the kind of man you try to avoid when the sun sets. The kind of man you try to avoid when you go out for drinks and they offer you a night you’d never forget.

His shoulders were lax, open. One leg crossed over the other. Chest broad and arms bulging under his thin dress shirt. He was handsome. Very handsome. And you knew he was aware of this fact, especially with the way all eyes were on him as people left the cafe. Their unrelenting stares doing nothing to deter his relaxed demeanour.

“I don’t think so, no” you shake your head, turning back to grab a to-go cup, “Maybe he’s one of those creeps that have a thing for baristas”

She frowns, hip knocking against yours with more force than intended, almost sending the cup you were holding flying. “Don’t say that, what if he’s a rich CEO and wants to take you on a date?”

You can’t help the laugh that spills from your lips, “Doubt it. I don’t think rich CEOs drink cheap coffee on this side of town”

She hums, “His suit does looks pretty expensive”

“It does” you agree, meeting her eyes.

“French make?”

You tilt your head, taking another glance in his direction, “Italian”

“Freshly pressed?”

“Definitely”

You slide the hot coffee across the counter, bitter annoyance creasing your eyebrows when you don’t even get a thank you.

“I mean, there’s more ways to get money than just being a rich CEO” she tilts her head, eyes squinting ever so slightly.

“Maybe he’s a doctor” you run a finger over your bottom lip, and she throws her head back in laughter.

“Maybe he does shady gang related stuff”

Your nose scrunches up at that, “Like sex trafficking? What if he sells drugs?”

She bites her lip.

“You fiend” you laugh, “There’s bad boy, and then there’s just straight up criminal”

She gives you an exasperated sigh, “What if he’s a nice? What if he wants true love, and cares about his family?”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief, “I don’t–” you swallow, “You have strange preferences” is what you settle with.

“Okay?” she laughs, “And what about you?”

“A gentleman. The sappy ones that believe in true love”

“Doesn’t seem to be many of those around anymore, not in this area at least” she nods, “Maybe we both have unattainable types”

Your lips quirk up into a smile, “Maybe. I’m not really looking for love”

“Why not? Add something fun to your life”

Both of your attention is snatched by the door swinging shut, the stranger that had been keeping as eye on you slinking down the street, newspaper tucked underneath his arm.

“I’m happy where I am”

“You don’t go out” she deadpans.

Your eyes narrow, “I do. For work, groceries, you know all that kinda stuff”

It’s barely a laugh that puffs out of her, more an exasperated sigh, “How are you ever going to meet the love of your life?”

Something bitter coats over your tongue, and you will yourself not to frown. You think your heart slowly starts to sink inside your chest, an ugly weight that has your eyes stinging a little.

“I don’t think everyone has soulmates” you turn away from her, picking up the mug you’d put down earlier.

“You’re so cynical sometimes, you know that? Besides, it’s not like you have to find a soulmate per say, just— a fling or something”

“Yeah” you look at her over your shoulder, “Wanna go change? I’ll lock up today”

She hums, “Are you sure? I don’t mind helping”

You shake your head, pushing yourself onto your toes to place a mug back on the shelf, ‘I’ll be fine, you have somewhere you gotta be right?”

“Yeah. My dad’s in the hospital again, I don’t know how I’m gonna pay the bill this time”

You tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry to hear that” and truly you were. But as much as you wanted to offer to help her pay off the bills, you had your own utilities to pay for, a life to live.

And maybe you were a prime example of a selfish human.

She shrugs, “Life is shitty sometimes, not much I can do about it”

She waves before she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. You watch as she walks, only blinking when she’s out of sight.

You stand there for a moment, time inside the cafe stopping as the world continues to move outside.

You can barely hear the chatter, muffled through the glass, though you see people’s smiles, watching groups of them laugh. Or two people holding hands. You see lovestruck looks in people’s eyes. Eyes that don’t seem to hold much emotion at all. Distress from someone on the phone. The smallest hint of happiness from someone listening to music.

You fall back into reality when one of the boilers in the backroom rumbles, your attention quickly snatched as you duck under the counter to wash the tables. Your world now quiet enough for your thoughts to amplify. They fill up the room like thick smog, skipping around you with quick steps you almost stumble over your own feet.

Some days you found yourself wondering what Taehyung would think of you now, how the both of you might have danced around the cafe, a piano piece playing in the background from a jukebox as you closed up for the night. Or what would happen when you’d finally go home to your one bedroom apartment and Jimin would be sprawled across the sheets, hair damp, and skin still damp, wet from just taking a shower.

You startle when someone approaches you just as you lock up the door, “Willing to take my offer to walk you home this time?”

With widened eyes you turn to meet the stranger, acute terror tickling your mind as you think he must have been hanging around the shop since he left earlier, just waiting for you to lock up, “Excuse me?” Your voice breathless.

“It’s pretty late, and girls like you don’t fare well when the sun goes down”

You slip the key to the cafe into your pocket, “I think I’ll pass” your shoulder barely brushes his as you slip past him, though you don’t miss the thump of footsteps behind you. Too close, yet not close enough for you to do anything about it.

You stop, “What do you want?”

“Come on, Y/n, We’re past that, I’m just making sure you get home safe” you watch as a dimpled smile tugs onto his face and you pull your coat tighter around your body, unsure if the shiver was from the cold or from him.

Your eyes narrow, skeptical, “How’d you know my name?”

Something akin to a scoff vibrates from his chest, “You’re fucking serious? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”

You bite your bottom lip, eyes glazing over his face, memories playing like a strip of film in your mind, click click clicking until you pause when you catch sight of his face, a little blurred but his eyes are hard to forget. “Ah–” you sigh, “Namjoon”

You will yourself no to smack the shit-eating grin off his face, rather turning back around, starting your walk home.

“So i’m not that forgettable?” his steps fall in time with yours. No longer walking behind you, all caution thrown out of the window.

“It took me all day to remember. Why were you just hanging out at the cafe? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“No” he shakes his head.

You don’t open your mouth the rest of the way home, and neither does Namjoon. Not until you’re stood on the step of your apartment building, slightly looking down at him.

“Thanks for walking me home” you rock back and forth on your heels, “You don’t need to do it again though”

Namjoon wets his bottom lip, pulling his scarf a little tighter around his neck. Condensed air whispering into nothing as he open his mouth to speak.

“I want to see you again” Plain. Simple. Straight to the point. But not what you wanted to hear.

You sigh, back of your throat drying as you inhale frost riddled air, “That’s a bit too forward, don’t you think?”

He runs a hand over his chin, “I wouldn’t say so”

“Whatever it is you want, Namjoon, I don’t want it” you tell him, hoping that by some miracle, your little hint penetrates his thick skull.

“And how do you know what I want?” His arms fold across his chest.

It doesn’t apparently, and you are so close to losing your tether.

“Dating. Marriage. Sex. Simply a fling. I don’t want any of it”

It irks you how he laughs, “Marriage is a bit too soon, I barely know you. But I’m not opposed to the rest”

“But I am”

“We’ll see about that” he waves you off, “i’ll see you around, yeah?”

You choose not to reply, willing yourself not to look back as you push open the door to your building.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Do you fuck on the first date?”

And for a moment you think your mind short circuits, neurones working overtime to piece together a coherent thought. Sparking against one another as his question replays in your mind.

Everything with Namjoon was always so quick. What had been him walking you home had somehow melted into him taking you out to dinner on the nice side of town for a date that truly you hadn’t had any interest in. That was until he’d shown up at your door out of the blue barely a week after the two of you had met.

You’d never told him your apartment number, and it had left you mildly curious as to who you’d gotten yourself involved in. You could only hope that if you came off dull enough he’d choose to go and flirt with another human that was willing to spread their legs for him on the first date.

“I haven’t before. So, no”

Namjoon hums, hand running over his jaw in thought.

“How charming” he muses, and you’re unsure if it’s a laugh that rumbles from his chest or a scoff, perhaps a mixture of both. “They must have been true gentlemen. Let me know what I’m working with”

You raise an eyebrow, and he nods for you to continue.

“The first guy.. I suppose we never exactly had a first date. The second…we ate by a lake and talked about dreams and the universe, and then he made me a flower crown so I made one for him”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, “Men like that exist?”

The corners of your lips quirk up, wistful memories of still-there emotions seeping back into your heart. “No. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here”

“They’re dead?”

You swallow, breath catching in the back of your throat. Namjoon’s head tilts, expectant.

“Something like that” is all you can find yourself to manage.

“You kill them yourself?” his eyebrow raises, though you think the both of you know the answer. And maybe that had been the moment you’d gotten an inkling of what Namjoon did for a living, and how utterly fascinating it was to talk about death so freely with another human being.

It had always been so taboo. But it was simply the end of life, the end of a story. Everyone were to experience it one day, so why would no one ever talk about it?

“No” you shake your head, “And this isn’t about them”

“It’s not” he agrees, “I’ll leave the sex for next time as well”

You cover a laugh with a cough, “How thoughtful of you”

“You don’t seem upset” he points out, piercing eyes making it a point to hold eye contact.

“About you wondering what happened to my dead lovers?” And he nods, “You’re understandably curious. I’m not going to hold that against you” you shrug.

Your finger runs over the seam line of your dress, some small part of you on edge, always wondering what Namjoon’s next words would be. He was always so calculated. And a small part of you was scared he’d ask things you had no intention of mentioning.

“And you’re not curious about my past relationships?” he asks, somewhat surprising you.

You shake your head, “I think I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in a relationship. So I really couldn’t care what your past endeavours were like”

You sit up a little straighter when his lips quirk up into a smile, “I wonder why you’re here then. If you truly wanted nothing to do with me”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip, “You’re awfully similar to a parasite, you know?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Elaborate”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“That doesn’t answer me” he shakes his head, “What does destiny have to do with parasites?”

“You’re like a parasite because no matter where I go, you cling on to me like it’s all you know” you say, “For the last week since we’d met that one evening all you do is sit in the cafe all day while I work, walk me home and show up at my door on my days off even though I told you I’m not interested”

“And destiny?”

“I said yes to today, because destiny is a bitch. And maybe it had been her that had sent us to one another”

Namjoon leans back in his chair, “I do believe. To answer your earlier question”

You sigh, “That doesn’t mean I want to dive head first into a relationship with you”

“But you’re not opposed to the idea of us getting to know one another?”

You bite your lip, maybe trying to hide a smile, “I didn’t say that”

“It was implied though” Namjoon’s own lips curl upwards.

“Was it?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, “Don’t start acting like a brat now”

“Or what?”

He leans over the table, lithe fingers taking a hold of your jaw before he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, “Are you willing to play that game, love?”

“Maybe one day, but I have a shift soon so I better get going. Thanks for dinner, I’ll make sure to add a complimentary cake with your coffee tomorrow”

Namjoon’s fingers fall loose around your jaw, “You want me to visit tomorrow?”

You push yourself to stand, chair squeaking against the tiled flooring, “Something like that”

“When does your shift start?”

“I open up tomorrow”

He nods, “And you’re closing up tonight?”

“Mmhmm” you hum.

“I’ll come pick you up after I get some work done” he calls out to you, and you simply wave over your shoulder as you weave through tables towards the exit.

Everything about life with Namjoon was fast paced. So quick you often found yourself stumbling after him as the both of you wander in the dark, no clear destination in mind. But as you stray away from him, he always seems to find where you are.

Arguable coincidences turning a little more purposeful. You never thought much of it when you’d run into him while shopping, or out drinking with your friend. Never thinking it was weird how no matter where you seemed to be, Namjoon would be there too. Always there to find you, always there to bring you home.

He loomed behind you like a shadow, an obedient guard dog that lurked in your shadows.

When you truly think back to your time with Namjoon, every moment together was clouded by rose tinted glasses that you seemed to have refused to take off.

It wasn’t long after that first encounter with one another that you started dating. And merely weeks after that, somehow Namjoon had convinced you to move in with him. He always told you how he didn’t like the side of town you lived on, how worried he got dropping you off at your door.

Because he knew what happened when people slept, and the world was a little quieter. When the light of the moon didn’t spill into the dark corners of alleyways and brutish men think they run the streets that belong to him.

“I have a lot of people’s blood on my hands, you understand that right?” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You blink up at him from where you’re sat on his bed, “Yes” you nod.

“That if you accept me like this– wholly me– there is no going back for either of us?”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I understand”

The corner of his lip curls upwards, “Good. Because I had no plan of letting you go”

And maybe that’s when you should have turned your back on him. That through the misted veil of sickly belief that fate had played a game with you again, you’d stayed– evidently leading to another tragedy.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Namjoon was the epitome of obsession, it coursed through his veins just as much as blood did.

He was comparable to a magpie, though his form of treasure was delicate little beings like you that he liked to lock up. And watch as you dance for him behind the bars of a cage, eyes piercing into your very soul until it melts and he mends you back together again.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” Namjoon frowns, slouching back into his chair.

You lay the book over your chest, heart-wrenching deja vu tickling your insides. “It’s just work. The old lady that owns the place is lowering our pay”

Namjoon hums, “Why don’t you quit?” he takes off his glasses, hand running over his face.

“Quit?” you sit up, eyebrows furrowing, “I probably have enough saved for a couple of weeks but after that I’m done for. It’s not like I’m paying rent anymore”

Namjoon pushes himself to stand, slinking around his desk to stand before you, “That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to work anymore, I’ve got the both of us”

You shake your head, “Namjoon I can’t do that” you tell him, leaning into his touch as his thumb caresses your jaw.

“And why not?” He crouches down, head tilting in a way that is so very much Namjoon.

“It’s unfair on you. Plus, I’m capable of taking care of myself”

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “I know you are, but why have all the added stress when I’m more than happy to do this for us”

Some days Namjoon seemed awfully normal. Integrated perfectly into society, just like the rest of human kind. And some days you found it scary how ordinary he seemed when you knew of the things he did. He always seemed so in control of his own mind, thoughts easily articulated into convincing words, dressed proper, a kind smile.

It was unnerving how someone so perfect was so very much the evil that you fear as a child. The grim reaper who melts into the darkess, takes a life and thinks no more of that pitiful being’s existence as he stalks through the night ready to chew on another soul.

Maybe it was blissful ignorance that had chained you to him. If he were the being that men feared then it was only smart to latch onto him, to pretend he didn’t do all these bad things and let him squeeze his way into your heart. For you to be docile and quiet and everything he wanted from you. Even if his love hurt, thick shards of glass piercing their way into your heart and your mind and your body and your soul.

It was suffocating. Emotions too hard to decipher when he treated you as if you were the only thing that mattered in this cruel world. His love having a tiny semblance of your previous lovers. Foolish in the way you clung on to the smallest parts of them that you could, even though you knew it was never going to be the same. Namjoon was so far from being Taehyung. He was never going to be Jimin. His love a new type of raw, skinned alive and thrusted into your hands without much thought.

Namjoon’s finger’s slip between your own, grass prickling the bare skin of your arms as you shift, “Sirius”

“Pardon?” you tilt your head to look at him, the softest smile on his face as he looks up at the sky.

“You’re my Sirius” he closes his eyes, smile still lingering.

“I don’t–” you start, mouth falling shut when he turns to look at you, eyes an endless abyss that you find yourself falling into. Every bad thing he’s ever done, suddenly no longer that evil when he looks at you like this.

“If Sirius is the brightest star in the sky. Then you must be my Sirius”

You blink, utterly baffled as to where this had come from.

“Are you ill?” you dare ask, breath catching in the back of your throat. Warm, gentle, love heating your cheeks the lightest pink, though you doubt Namjoon would be able to see it in the light of the moon.

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “No” he shakes his head, “Love turns us into fools sometimes”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, fingers slipping from between his own.

“That wasn’t foolish” you tell him, “Surprisingly profound. And incredibly sweet”

“Is that the way to your heart? Sweet words and a pretty face?” he teases, sitting up. And you fall onto your back.

“It seems so” you say, “Though you’ve already found a home in mine”

“Is that so?” his hands run over your thighs, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts.

“Mmhmm” you hum, eyes flickering back towards the sky.

“Then it is lucky you’ve also found a home in mine” He leans down, arms caging your head as he presses a plush kiss to your cheeks, following the slope up to the tip of your nose before he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Not here” you murmur just as he pulls away, curious hands wandering over whatever bare skin he can grab onto.

“But how is the world to know you belong to me?” he asks, warm breath fanning over your lips.

You swallow, “I’m sure they’re all aware by now. More than a few men have lost their lives because of me”

Namjoon pushes himself to sit up, frown morphing on his face, “I told you their blood is not on your hands, but mine”

And he had told you that. Many times. Between kisses of reassurance, where his hands wander down for back as you cling to his suit jacket, guilt chewing away at your mind until you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to stop his merciless ways when it came to you. Because in truth, no matter how many times he’d told you, their deaths are your fault. And will latch onto your weary soul.

And maybe one day when death knocks at your door, he will open his book and list out every man that had ever died because of you, and then he will tell you the devil is waiting downstairs with the door open and a spare room just for you.

Never once had you asked him to slip out of the bedroom as you slept, slaughtering every man that dared lock eyes with you for longer than Namjoon deemed necessary. Or utter your name from mouths made of filth, or gawk at the small sliver of skin you would show at dinner. Skin that was wholly his to touch and defile and bite at until he’d become the artist, painting you red only for flowers of purple to bloom across unblemished skin.

“That doesn’t change the fact their premature demise wasn’t linked to me”

“None of that” he hums, helping you sit up, fingers raking through your hair. “Angels don’t have human blood on their hands, it is above them”

The day you’d kneeled before him, begged for him to stop killing on your behalf, that he didn’t need to do more than he already was, that those men didn’t mean anything at all to you– he’d never mentioned another instance where he erased the existence of another human.

That didn’t mean you were naive enough to believe he’d stopped killing. You weren’t stupid. It wasn’t hard to piece together the little things that happened when you’d wake up during the nights, sheets cold beside you and Namjoon nowhere to be seen until the sun had risen.

Familiar faces printed on the front pages of newspapers, gruely deaths typed out without a lick of sympathy, just another face, just another story.

And maybe it had been all your fault, bringing up such trivial things like destiny. Uttered how you thought fate had brought the two of you together, solidifying whatever little budding obsession Namjoon had for you. And it was ironic, how even after the tragedy of this life, the little flicker of hatred you held for fate herself was blown out, because as fucked up as it was; you had no regrets when it came to Namjoon.

He’d built you up into an entirely new person. So different than you had been. Shown you a life that was so different from what you’d had before. So fresh. And new. And exciting.

Impossible to hate.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A choked moan catches in the back of your throat when Namjoon’s teeth clamp around your nipple, his chin spit-soaked as he lathers his tongue over your flushed skin.

“Fuc– Namjoon” you huff, hips rutting upwards, desperate to chase after every lick of searing pleasure as your clit rubs against the soft fabric of your panties.

Your pelvis knocks against his stomach, head tipping backwards as he kisses over your tender skin, tongue soothing over every divot that his teeth had left over your body.

His hand slips down between your bodies, awfully mean as he hooks his fingers in the waist of your panties, tugging them upwards until the crotch is tucked snug between your folds, soaked fabric rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

“Yeah?” he laughs when you moan out his name, tears gathering along your waterline as you rut upwards. A feral sort of pleasure consuming your entire being, emotions rubbed red-raw, heart thrusted for Namjoon to chew on, to consume like it were his only life force.

You whine when he lets go of your underwear, pleasure fizzling out, orgasm ebbing away. Your poor clit sending barely-there pleasure up your spine— utter frustration wracking throughout your body.

You tug his face parallel to your own, fingers digging into his jaw, “No, no– Namjoon please” you whisper against his lips, fingers slipping to tangle into the hair on the back of his head.

“What do you want?” he asks, fingers dancing across your thigh.

Your mouth drops open in another shaky moan as his fingers dig into a hickey on your thigh, perfectly crafted; almost a hollowed heart shape. Proof of the rawest lust that’s mixed between your sweat slicked bodies, and his salvia that drips into your open mouth, tongue already out to catch his spit. You swallow, prickly heat dusting your cheeks as he smiles down at you, so proud as your tongue laps up the remanence of his saliva from your bottom lip.

“You– want you so bad” your hands wander, anywhere they can grab on to him.

Nails that dig into covered biceps— muscles flexing, over his pecks, sinking into the plush skin; perhaps some small part of yourself hoping that you could carve a chunk out of him to keep for your self, a part of Namjoon that will always be with you for when he’s gone.

A strange desperate sort of need that has bloomed into your body and mind. Slithering through each valve of your heart, sinking its claws into the muscle, just Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon.

He’d consumed your life, your every thought. Your skin alight as he touches you, your mind constantly buzzing with thought of him him him when he’s gone and just more more more of him when he’s with you.

“Yeah?” he kisses your jaw, teeth nipping over the skin, sucking hard enough that you know you’ll be littered in marks of his lust for days to come.

“Yeah” you nod, thighs clamping shut as you try and relieve some of the ache, beyond desperate for some form of release. The sort of release that you know only he would ever be able to give you, the feral sort of release that you never knew were possible if not for him.

“My poor baby” he croons, sitting back on his heels. Goosebumps prickle the skin of your arms, the heat of Namjoon’s body leaving you cold when he pulls away.

Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as he shucks his shirt off, you eye the ink that slithers up his chest, spreading across his arms. Deep black that stains his skin, bare hints of color peaking through.

“It’s rude to stare” he reminds you, unbuttoning his pants, underwear soon following the rest of his clothes on the floor.

“You’re just very pretty” you say, sitting up, chest heaving as you gasp for breath. Namjoon leans down, lips pressing against yours in a kiss that holds so many unsaid words, both from you and from him.

“Not as pretty as you” he whispers, one hand taking a hold of his cock. He lathers pearly beads of precum down his length, his other hand slipping between your legs, thumb running over the length of your still-covered slit.

“Take these off for me?” he asks, catching your attention that had been on his thick cock, “How precious” he whispers as you fall onto your back again, bare and wholly his to take.

Your hair fanned out beneath you, teeth marks littering your skin and hickies that he doubts you’ll be able to fully cover; the whole world knowing that you’ve been claimed by him.

You wriggle under his sharp gaze, eyes raking down the length of your body as though it were the first time. (He had every little dip of your body ingrained into his mind, though nothing would ever been the tangibility of you spread bare like before him)

You thighs fall open, silent temptation— a silent invitation for him to fuck you senseless.

“Turn around for me, darling. On your hands and knees, I plan to absolutely ruin you tonight” he runs a hand down the length of your thigh.

You roll over, lifting your hips for him, cheek pressed against the duvet. Your outstretched hands grasp onto the pillows, though you doubt they’ll be much help if Namjoon does exactly what he had promised.

You wiggle your hips, breath hitching in the back of your throat when a warm hand ghosts over your asscheeks.

“Precious” he kisses the back of your thigh, sharp inhale from him causing your cheeks to flush the darkest shade of red.

This thumb parts your folds, barely dipping into your hole before he’s trailing wet fingers upwards; free hand pulling your cheeks apart.

He teases over your puckered asshole, nail raking over the delicate skin. “You’re a slut sometimes you know that?” he laughs, choosing to dip his index finger, nail deep into your ass.

Your breath hitches, something similar to a moan spilling out and onto the sheets as you rock backwards.

“Not a slut” you tell him, slick dribbling over your clit.

“No?” he croons, pushing his finger further into you, empty cunt clenching around nothing as he teases a second finger around your ass hole.

“No” you breath, fingers digging into his pillow.

“Not a slut, but you like you like me toying around with your ass?” he laughs, finger slipping out as he finishes.

A watery moan follows, asshole clenching around nothing as he toys with your pussy. Pulling your folds apart, and you hear it before you feel it, wet slap reverberating off the walls, sting following soon after.

Your mouth falls open, fresh wave of arousal slipping from the entrance, dripping onto the sheets.

“More” you beg, thighs quivering as you try to hold yourself up, “Please, more” you try to get a look at Namjoon from over your shoulder.

You hear a mocking laugh rumble from his chest, squeak of surprise punched from your throat as he lands another harsh slap over your cunt, string of slick snapping as he pulls his hand back towards his body.

His next slap lands on your clit, pain morphing into a strange sort of pleasure as you feel it wrack up your body, mind muddling into a mushy mess that has you rocking your hips backwards; desperate for at least one more measured slap to your flushed pussy.

Namjoon groans, wetting his bottom lip as he gets a glimpse of your puffy folds, so wet and messy he’s awfully tempted to lean down and lick you clean until you’re pleading for him to let you cum, only for him to push you over the edge so many time that you have to beg him to stop, and maybe if you start crying, delicate little tears cascading down your pink cheeks, then he’d take a little mercy on you.

Another wave of arousal dribbles onto Namjoon’s cockhead as he runs it through your folds, blunt head pressing against your hole, walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

“Oh” you whine, back arching a little deeper as he feeds an inch into you.

His hands fall onto your hips, fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, ragged crescents far from majestic digging into your skin “Feels good” his hips stutter, your body jolting forwards.

“Fuck– Namjoon” you cry when he loses all resolve, pelvis smacking against your ass, impatient to have your walls fully wrapped around his cock, the closest he’ll ever be to sinking under your skin and becoming one with you. The closest the two of you would ever physically be.

“Fuck” he groans as your walls clench around him, your hand slipping between your chest and the bed, down to your stomach.

It felt as though Namjoon had weaved his way into your body, so far inside of you, you wonder if he’d sunk into your stomach. His cock touches places you never knew felt this good, pleasure buzzing up your body with every unintentional sway of your hips.

He barely pulls out, cockhead dragging deliciously through your walls before he eases himself back into you fully.

“Faster, please, Namjoon” you swallow, throat awfully dry– and Namjoon hums.A hand leaves your hip, tangling into the hair on the back of your head.

His cock drags through your walls, tip still wedged inside of you. You’re unsure if it’s a moan or a garbled scream that leaves your lips when he tugs you back by your hair; back arching uncomfortably as his hips snap into you.

Arousal seeps onto the sheets past his cock and down his ball that barely brush past your swollen clit.

“Ah–” you cry, fingers gripping onto the pillow as he punches back into you.

“Like that? Yeah?” he grunts, the hand that was on your hip slipping underneath you, keeping you propped up as his finger leave your hair to press down on your shoulder.

Tears dance across your waterline, raw pleasure consuming your entire being until all you feel is Namjoon’s thick cock dragging rapidly against your cunt, mind so wholly consumed by him you’d forgotten where you were. Who you were. What you were.

His hands burn where they hold you, your ass red from each wet slap of his pelvis against your ass and the backs of your thighs.

Your moans somewhat harmonise, pleasure coursing through both your bodies, rush of dopamine clouding any sort of sanity you thought you had left.

“Play with you clit for me” he groans, tugging you back onto his cock, position causing his cockhead to hit your g-spot perfectly from this angle.

Your hand shakes as you bring it to your clit, swollen and pink, the barest touch enough to sent you lurching forwards; though you don’t get very far, Namjoon pulling you back with the grip he still has on your waist. Making sure he’s buried deep inside of you, making sure to hit that little sweet spot that has white dancing behind your eyes.

“Oh” you cry, staccato of noises spilling from your lips as you toy with your clit, messy as your nails drag over the bundle of nerves.

Namjoon feels you clench around him, ready to tip over the edge with him.

“That’s a good girl”

You hiccup a sob, “Gonne cum. Joonie I–”

“I know, darling” he huffs out a laugh, “Cum for me, all pretty”

Your thighs quiver, and you’re sure you would have collapsed by now if it weren’t for your boyfriend holding you up.

You peel the pressure build in your stomach, fingers messy as you try to keep the stimulation up on your clit. Climbing higher and higher towards your peak.

“Oh– Fuck” your free hand clamps over your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you tip over the edge, squirting onto the sheets, soaking the fabric, little squeezes of watery cum tumbling past your fingers as you ride out your high— hips stuttering forward with each soft drag of your palm over your clit.

The insides of your thighs shine, wet with your release, Namjoon’s balls seemingly just as wet when they smack against your clit.

“Shit” his head tips backwards, and you cry as he slips out of you, sudden emptiness causing your cunt to clench, another spurt of cum dripping onto the sheets below you.

Namjoon’s hand is rapid around his cock, pulling your ass cheeks apart he groans one last time before he shoots his seed over your red ass.

It drips over your hole, dribbling down to your messy pussy; mixing with the mix of your cum and arousal.

He smears his cum across your puckered hole, rubbing it across your folds and down to your clit. A low groan rumbles from Namjoon’s chest at the sight, your labia creamy white and shiny.

“No” your thighs give out under you, his finger still smearing his cum over your sodden clit, throwing you into a less intense orgasm that has you trembling, sob catching in the back of your throat.

“You’re so good, my darling” he whispers, wet fingers sliding over the expanse of your back, rubbing his release into your sweat slicked skin, “How about a bath?” he smiles when he catches sight of your closed eyes, “Hmm?”

You nod, “Drink too” you whisper, voice hoarse and Namjoon traces over each hickey, feeling the dips in your skin that his teeth had left and over the swell of your ass.

“And a drink too” he nods, “can I go to the kitchen to get a drink? Or would you want to come with me?” he asks.

Your tongue slips past your lips, wetting your bottom lip as your muscles relax, “Come with you”

“Yeah?” he laughs, “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

You hum, rolling yourself onto your back. Your eyebrows furrow when your ass is met with wet sheets. “Clean sheets too”

“Of course” he brushes the wet hair from your forehead.

��── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The day Namjoon had acted on impulse, your story had reached its climax– and it had been downhill after that. That is how most stories go after-all.

And for the first time your ignorance to what Namjoon did behind your back had come to bite you in the ass. A sick little reminder that you should have listened to yourself all those months ago. That you should have never gotten involved with Namjoon. Should have just lived this life through with no hiccups and hopefully finally lay to rest at the end of your cycle.

And somehow you found yourself here.

It should have been nothing more than a night out together, nothing more than drinks and hands that wandered in intimate places under the table, no one any the wiser. Clothes imbedded with cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, Namjoon’s lips on your neck and yours on his cheek before he wandered to the bar for refills.

All it had taken was one man to bring you both to downfall. One lingering, sweaty hand, five chubby fingers and two beady eyes that had no respect; one unruly man for your life to once again fall to shit.

You’d never seen Namjoon anything but level-headed. He always had such control over his own life, knew how to control a room, his people, part of the city. He was always on top. It’s always been Namjoon’s world and you were simply living in it.

A small whisper in the back of your mind had told you that surely— surely a man with that much power would one day snap. Perhaps not at you, but you’d placed yourself in his line of fire. Dominoes stacked up one after the other and no matter how fast you ran, they would always catch up to you, knocking you over with them.

And you knew. You knew that a story with you and Namjoon was sure to be another tragedy. And maybe you wanted to believe that he was invincible, that death wouldn’t rattle at behind him like it had the last two of your lovers, and you suppose he didn’t.

Death was after you.

Death was scared of Namjoon, but not you.

“I told you” you whisper, eyes flitting back to your lover when you catch the attention of an officer, “I fucking told you not to do it, that we could sort something out later but you just had to–”

He had to kill him. Well, he didn’t have to. But he did.

“I’ll sort it out” he takes your hands, “Don’t stress too much”

You exhale, chest deflating, utterly defeated, “And how do you plan to fix this?”

“I’ve got a good lawyer” he tells you, leaning into the table a little more.

And you want to tell him his lawyer was shit, that there was no way for him to plead innocent when so many people had seen him slaughter someone out of pure rage, no matter if it were in the back of a club, in a drunk daze, you doubt many would forget the shrill cry of a man slowly losing his life. You doubt many would defend a man that was known for chewing up the lives of any man or woman that he deemed unworthy.

“You trust me? Don’t you?” He interlaces your fingers, squeezing.

You nod, swallowing hard as an officer slinks past your table. Unnerving as you eye the weapons strapped to their belts and the haunting jangle of keys.

“Yes. Yes I do”

“Good.” he nods, “I need you to do a few things for me while I’m held up”

“Okay” you whisper, foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Palms flushing in a cold sweat.

“Pack your bags, there’s money under the bed, go away for a while”

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“I need you to leave the city for a while until I’m out of here”

“Namjoon I don’t–”

He tucks your hair behind your ear, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Ever so gentle, a lame attempt at reassurance. Though you only find your heart rate picking up, hands trembling ever so slightly. And you wonder if he can feel it; your fear. You wonder if he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“A lot of people are going to be after you now that I’m not around”

You shake your head, mouth opening to say something though you’re unsure what.

“I have a lot of enemies” he says carefully, slowly, “And they all know about the delicate little flower I hold, and they’ll want to pluck her and tear her petals off one by one”

You swallow, “Namjoon” tears threaten to fall to which he brushes a thumb over your cheeks.

Shaking his head, “None of that” he smiles, “Soon we’ll be together again, and everything will go back to normal, and we’ll be happy”

You flinch as a bell rings, hands trembling when chairs scrape against the laminated flooring. You swallow down the lump in your throat, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you simply stare at Namjoon. Curious to see how long it would take for you to get lost in his eyes, to be able to wander his mind and simply live there., Safe, happy.

He told you that you’d be happy. ,

“Go” he nods behind him, “I’ll see you soon, yeah? I think I can have one more visit before trial”

The both of you stand, Namjoon pulling you into his chest. He kisses your forehead, displeased scoff tumbling off his lips when one of the officers towers over you. Eyebrow raised and expectant.

He lets go, and you clench your jaw. Your chest expands, lungs stinging with the rush of oxygen— and you will yourself to look up at Namjoon, painting every little crevice of his face into your mind before you’re slipping past him towards the door. Unable to say anything.

Because you know if you did you’d break down. And you wouldn’t do that to him right now. Not when he’s told you how much it physically pains him to watch you suffer, how your tears should never fall, how your heart should never hurt.

“Sirius” Namjoon calls out and you look over your shoulder, “Remember that. My brightest star”

You wave, swallowing down the sob that claws up your throat.

And you’d barely made it halfway home before your life had slipped from beneath your feet for a third time.

Stem snapped, and petals picked; a rotting rose left to decompose on blood-soaked concrete, with the regrets of not even leaving Namjoon behind with a final ‘I love you’. And a faint wish that life after you would fare him a little better.

thank you for reading!! <3 🌌

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

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