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reignpage · 2 months ago

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In Sheep's Clothing

Synopsis: in which you're alone in a cabin in the woods during a rough snow storm and an enigmatic, sexy wolf hybrid!Toji turns up at your door providing much more than his handyman service Warnings: plot with a side of porn, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, knotting, degradation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation, praise kink, rough sex, manhandling, cowgirl, thigh fucking, hair pulling, slight anal play, biting, dom!toji, blowjob, allusion to shower sex, dirty talk, dry humping, pussyjob, fingering, panty sniffing, cum eating, spanking, titty slapping, pussy slapping, biting, dumbification, primal play to the extreme, !!dark themes!! beware cannot emphasise this enough people (dw there's no gore or noncon or anything, it's just the nature of the plot), acts of violence, angst, fem!reader, romance, barely proofread Word Count: 19.9k (it's a lot I know I know sowwy)

Perhaps running away to the mountains and hiding in the woods wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever had. But it was the only one you had at the time. Your grandmother’s cabin is a little run-down, though that was expected considering how many years it had been since she passed, still, it has solid bones and you can’t complain.

It’s a two bedroom bungalow — spacious enough for a family, what with its generous kitchen and hearty fireplace, but far too small for you. Dust has settled on all imaginable surface and it took hours to remove the coverings on every sofa, chair, table, and bed, and even longer to wash everything that could be washed by hand, since the washing machine and dryer in the back room have long since given up on themselves.

Most of your days since whisking yourself away here is spent dusting, washing, wiping, and cooking. You’ve yet to feel the dent you’ve been chipping away at. There’s still a draught coming from the front door, the main heating system isn’t working, and somewhere, in every corner, is an odd creaking that keeps you up at night.

Sighing, you glance out of the window, curled up underneath a mountain of blankets, and watch the snow fall. It’s always snowing here. It was barely possible to trek up here as a snowstorm was creeping in; the townspeople were less than eager to even hear you out until you flashed an extortionate amount of money.

A nice, elderly man took pity, though, upon discovering your last name. He knew your granny. Said she was a sweet soul with a real talent for baking. Having ordered one of his sons to drive you up, he gave you his telephone number, insisting that if you ever needed anything, anything at all, they would come at the drop of a hat.

That warmed your heart a little. The kindness of a stranger is not something you’re familiar with and thought you’d never get to experience, but there he was, smiling, and waving the cash away like it was the silliest thing in the world and it had no real consequence.

It had been four days since and you won’t lie, you have considered phoning in that favour. You’re way out of your depth here. With a sigh, you pull a blanket, red and knitted by your grandmother, up to your chin and continue to watch the snow fall. Even though you’re at your wits end with all the scrubbing this cabin needs, you couldn’t possibly call it quits now and beg the man to come up just to take you down. How embarrassing would that be?

You hear knocking.

There’s someone at the door, pounding. Your heart begins to beat fast. You must have mistaken the sound of the wind howling for a knock at the door. After all, you are miles away from the town and the snow is far too thick for anyone to have gotten up here. Would it be wise to get up from the warmth of your sofa to be sure?

The knocking gets louder, more adamant. Okay, so you weren’t, in fact, mistaken. Something about that noise, unyielding and firm, pierces your heart. You can’t imagine being out in this weather. You’re at the door faster than you can even process the speed at which your feet moved.

When you fling the door open, the freezing wind attacks, stinging your cheeks and nipping at your skin. Arms rushing to hug the blanket you thoughtfully to drag with you tighter around your body, you squint up through the blinding white of the snow at a hulking beast.

Broad shouldered and glaring, he watches you cower beneath his gaze. He’s dressed in a simple, fitted t-shirt and baggy joggers, and you feel impossibly colder just by looking at him. His face is hidden behind a disheveled beard, rough and scratchy. He’s a very hairy man.

“H-hello. Can I help you?”

His nose twitches. He jerks his chin to something behind you. “You’re cooking. I’m hungry.”

Without waiting for a reply, he pushes past you. Pressing yourself close to the door frame, you just about avoid the graze of his arm against you. This turn of events has your head spinning. Who does this man think he is?

The wind howls harder. You slam the door shut. “Excuse me! You can’t just walk in as you please. This is my home. Get out.”

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even register what you say. Instead, he crosses into the kitchen and lifts the lid of the pot of stew you’ve been working on for hours and grunts. When he fixes himself a bowl, you’re left speechless at how he seems to move on autopilot, opening cabinets and drawers for what he needs without so much as a glance.

Now he’s sitting at the table, scarfing down your stew and you’re bewildered, spluttering. You’re being Punk’d.

“Who do you think you are? I told you to get out. I’m gonna call the police if you don’t within the next five seconds!”

He snorts.

“The police?” His voice is gravelly, seemingly from lack of use. “Ain’t nobody getting up ‘ere in this state.”

That’s what every serial killer says, and you should be afraid, should be running for help. But there’s no hint of malice or cruel intent in his words, only amusement, the way one responds to a child’s whims.

“Well, you should still afford me the decency of leaving my home when asked.”

“Your home? Didn’t know the old lady gave it away.”

You gulp, clutching the thick blanket even tighter. “You knew my grandmother?”

He grunts.

Well aware you really ought to kick him out, you’re ashamed at the realisation that you can’t bring yourself to. It’s awfully terrible outside and there’s no doubt the elements would claim him if he he’s left out with no shelter. Though, that really shouldn’t be your responsibility and there is still, of course, the glaring concern of his ability to kill you. One sweep of his figure and you know this towering man, tall and muscular, could snap your neck with one hand.

Or worse.

Not to mention, he’s a hybrid. You can tell by the twitching of his ears and his nose, like he’s hearing and smelling things inscrutable by the human senses. You wonder what he is. He has no triangular ears or fluffy tail like a dog, he doesn’t have eyes like a cat, no scales that you can see, but his teeth, when he scrapes them along the spoon, you know they’re much sharper than you’d like to ever find out.

If he wanted to kill you, he could have done that before. And at any rate, it’s too late to do anything about it now. He knows you’re alone and there’s nowhere you can run to before the snow freezes your limbs.

Settling back down onto the sofa, you just watch him eat. He’s grabbed a second helping, enjoying the meat more than the potatoes and carrots in there but that’s expected of a man. It does mean, though, that he’s not a herbivore hybrid. You wonder if he likes the taste of a woman’s flesh.

“Is it good?” You ponder.

There’s something oddly peaceful about observing him — the way he only chews once and twice before swallowing and shoving another spoonful, the way his throat contracts, how his huge hands grasps the bowl and spoon like they could be ripped away from him before he’s finished, and even the way his foot taps, impatient and tense.

He throws you a cursory glance. “It’s good.”

A second helping disappears. So does a third.

“It seems like you haven’t eaten in days. Or showered. Or rested.”

Huffing, he leans back in the chair, full perhaps. He scratches his stomach under his shirt and you look away at the flash of skin. In a drawl, he concedes, “Y’r right on the money.”

You note how he doesn’t offer more. And you know by the way he’s observing you in return that he’s expecting you to ask for more. You don’t. It’s stupid. Suicidal even. But a little company to weather this snow storm might not be so bad.

“I’ll allow you to stay here until the snow passes but no longer than that. There’s a second bedroom in the back, you can use that. The boiler’s broken or something so the radiators aren’t working, neither is the hot water in the shower. So, unfortunately, this isn’t going to be a stay at a five star hotel but we’ll both get along just fine if we maintain boundaries and do our part.”

He grunts. That seems to be his preferred way of communicating. Fine by you. You never liked talkative people anyways. “I want a hot shower. So do you by the looks of it. I’ll go down and check the boiler out.”

Startled, you laugh. “You know how to fix things?”

The look he gives you is answer enough and with no further words exchanged, he marches down the hall, obviously all too familiar with the layout of the cabin — did he stay here after she died, when the house was empty and unused?

Or maybe he stayed with your grandmother and that was how she got along just fine on her own after your grandfather died.

After thirty minutes or so, he emerges, some grease smeared on his face, and he presses the back of his hand to the radiator by where you sit. He’s standing very close. And from your position, hugging your knees under all these blankets, he looks so much bigger and stronger.

“It’s fixed. For now. Shit’s old so might need regular maintenance,” he explains. “Ya wanna shower first or what?”

Considering he fixed the damn thing, he should have the first go, shouldn’t he? Especially as he’s been out in the cold for goodness how long.

“I’ll shower first,” you say.

He nods.

Unfurling yourself from your cocoon, you stumble to a stand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t give you space. Your chest brushes against his. Tingling rushes down your spine at the graze of your nipples. You hastily move past him, embarrassed and suddenly nervous.

“I’ll be quick. Um, feel free to have more stew and I don’t know if you have any clothes or anything, but my grandmother kept some of her husband’s clothes, you’ll find them in your room — the second bedroom, I mean. Just down the hall, by the bathroom.”

He doesn’t reply and you don’t wait for him to .

In your rush to save face, you just miss the way his lips twitch in one corner.

You had forgotten how wonderful a hot shower is. The way you’re enveloped by warmth and your tense muscles loosen and relax under the barrage of water. You take much longer than you usually do, intent on thoroughly enjoying the water like it could grow legs and make a run for it. Eventually, you’re bathed and fresh. Much fresher than you’ve been in the last couple days since you didn’t have to hurry through your routine or curse under your breath at the burning chill of the water, mocking your ineptitude and foolish spontaneity.

When you come out, dressed in a sweater and joggers, you’re pleased to find the house much warmer than before. The fireplace is even lit, the orange and red flames dancing with as much joy as you feel. More cozy and welcoming, the cabin has completely transformed in what feels like a blink of an eye. Before, the clinical white lights overhead flickered on its last legs, completely and utterly useless, now only the fireplace sheds light, covering the living room and kitchen in a snug ember.

It feels reminiscent of Christmas evenings you never had.

Your guest doesn’t look surprised when you approach — he probably heard you every step of the way — but he does push off the sofa and give you a look over, nodding as if satisfied to see you out of the blankets you wore like a second skin.

Just as he brushes past you, you grasp his arm. Nerves light up. You drop it like it burns. “Sorry. I, um, just wanted to say thanks. And uh, I guess we should introduce each other. Sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I’m not really sure why I didn’t. Maybe I was just mentally prepared to not speak to another person for a while or something.”

Tilting his head at you, he releases a huff of air through his nose and says, “Name’s Toji. You’re y/n; the old lady talked about you.”

“Oh.”

Likely sensing that’s as much as you’re going to say, he disappears into the bathroom with a pile of clothes and a towel in hand that you didn’t even notice — maybe because you were far too distracted by how handsome he looks under the glow of the fire or how his skin felt nice, all hard and soft and heated the way only a man could be.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the first thing you really noticed upon entering the living room was not the way it had been transformed or how normal it looked for such a big man to be taking up space here, but rather how this ‘Toji’ was sitting in the exact same spot you’d been making your little home when he came.

When you awake the next day, you’re surprised he’s still asleep. It was almost midday and there’s no sign of him having walked through the cabin before you. There’s no way you’ll knock on his door. Truthfully, you were surprised, pleasantly so it must be said, to find yourself alive and untouched. You don’t guilty for thinking the worst and you’re not naive enough to think better of him for not being a serial killer, that’s simply the bare minimum.

But it does mean he’s a man of his word and you can let down a little of your guard.

Instead of worrying more about what he’s doing in his room, you busy yourself with breakfast. Toji had finished the stew when you came out of the shower and you were impressed by his appetite, albeit also concerned for your stock; at this rate, your food will run out much faster than you had planned and there’s no telling when the weather will get well enough to call out the old man for help.

You bake a sourdough, fry up some eggs and sausages and put the kettle on for some coffee — instant, unlike the ones you’re used to in the big city but it’ll have to do. You’re careful not to make too much noise, although you feel a little embarrassed at how thoughtful you’re being.

Just as you put the plate down, he emerges, shirtless, hand scratching the trail of hair low on his stomach. His hair is mussed up, sticking at all angles, and the plaid pyjama bottoms he must gotten from your grandfather’s box of old clothes hang low on his hips, distinct v-lines peeking in a terrifyingly sinful way. He has fairly thick hair on his arms and chest, the very definition of unkept and wild.

You clear your throat.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

He throws you a look, full of amusement, before he sits down at the table. He must have smelt the food and known somehow you were meaning to share. How presumptuous of him. “Slept fine.”

You serve him his portion, larger than your own, and pour him coffee to which he doesn’t say no. “Not going to ask me how I slept?”

He snorts. “Don’t hafta. You tossed and turned the whole night.”

“You have really good hearing, don’t you? What kind of hybrid are you?”

He eats much slower than yesterday, mulling the taste over rather than scarfing it down, and he seems pleased enough with your cooking skills. For reasons you don’t want to think too much about, you’re feeling pretty proud of yourself.

“Wolf,” he replies.

You’ve never met a wolf before. But they are an infamous breed — they needed constant medication to keep their animal instincts at bay, they stuck by their own kind, were aggressive to outsiders, and are known for being fiercely loyal and protective. Toji doesn’t seem to match the description. He’s alone for one and he moves with grace like a deer and not like a clunky predator.

“How did you know my grandmother, if I may?” You ponder. In all of the letters she’s written to you, she had never mentioned knowing a hybrid like Toji, or any hybrids for that matter.

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug and shared, “Helped her around during winters just like these. She was too old to get down by herself and there were always things needing fixing.”

“She gave you warm food in return?”

He grunts.

“How did you know she died?” Raising a brow at your question, you explain, “You said she ‘was’ too old.”

Barking a sudden laugh, you find the noise tickling your skin and you can’t stop staring at the way his face softens for just the quickest second and ever so lightly. You’re ashamed to admit the noise makes you warmer inside than it should.

“I come sniffing around soon as snow starts to fall. It’s routine. A habit. I was the one who found her. Notified the townspeople and went on my way.” He takes a sip of the coffee, green eyes never leaving yours. “Haven’t been back in years.”

His voice is gruff and now that you’re sat face-to-face with him, it’s clear as day that he’s not used to the sound of his own voice; he furrows his brows and stumbles upon certain words like they’re foreign, as if he’s struggling to reconcile the reality that those words are coming from him.

“So what made you come here?”

No answer.

The rest of breakfast passes by in relative silence, the distant moan of the wind outside providing enough noise to wash away the awkwardness of eating with a stranger. You want to tell him you’d prefer if he didn’t walk around so bare but that seemed too big of an ask since it’s likely he runs hotter as a wolf than you do. Eyes falling to your neck and your chest unashamedly, he doesn’t shy away from eye contact.

You do though.

Then he stands, taking both your and his plate over to the sink. He begins washing up. That actually takes you by surprise. This Toji fella didn’t strike you as the type to partake in house chores. Rather, he seems like the type to firmly believe the kitchen is a woman’s domain. Interestingly enough, his back is marked up, full of scars, and they ripple with his muscles. You want to ask about them but he’s not a man who offers answers and you’re not the kind of woman who should poke and prod.

“Right, well.” You stand too. “I was wondering if you know how to fix a washing machine. And a dryer. Neither are working and washing my sheets and panties in the bath is a pain.

His eyes flick to you as you wipe away at a spot on the counter dirtied by flour. You probably shouldn’t have used the word ‘panties’ in front of a man like him but you thought it would be funny. He doesn’t seem to think so. He gives you a half-nod and you feel satisfied enough from that interaction to pad over to the sofa to read a book.

Toji begins working around the cabin — he heads over to the laundry room and you hear the clatter of metal and thumping against the floor. Upon emerging and giving you the look that says ‘it’s done’, he also starts looking for something in the basement. He carries up a box of lightbulbs in one arm and a ladder in another.

When you jolt up, to offer help, he cuts you another look that says ‘don’t you dare’, and you sit back down. He seems to have his own way of doing things and he knows you’ll only get in the way. Maybe he noticed that your nails are long and clean and he can somehow, with his wolfy powers, sense your hands have never touched dirt.

Still working on this and that around the house, you serve him his lunch and you eat separately. If this becomes your routine then that’ll be ideal. He does all the cleaning and fixing and you cook. Sure, it might be setting back the feminist movement just a little but things like that don’t matter up here, where it’s freezing and you have no idea how you managed for days without him.

Much more quickly than you could have ever expected, the day ends and night falls.

“Thanks for the help,” you say, handing him a glass of your grandmother’s moonshine. You remember where she kept it from your childhood and now, soon after dinner, just sat by the fireplace, feels as good a time as any to bust it out.

You’re both leaning against the sofa, right by the fireplace, choosing to be on the rug rather than on the soft couch. You can’t remember who followed who, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. In just one day he had solved most of the problems you’ve nearly cried over.

Toji grunts.

He’s wearing a shirt now, thin and plain. Your grandfather was a much smaller man so this shirt is practically bursting at the seams on his huge bicep but he doesn’t seem to mind. You do, though. It’s rather distracting actually. His skin brushes against yours and neither of you move away.

The flames are the only light here and you feel its warmth settling on your face, lulling you to comfort. Stronger than any alcohol you’ve ever had, the moonshine burns your throat, lighting you up inside. Your companion appears to be unimpressed with the concoction, downing the cup in one gulp.

Slightly embarrassed by your inexperience, despite being an adult, you ask, “Where were you staying before? You said you come here for winter so where do you stay for the rest of the year? Same place you’ve been staying at since my grandmother died? Or somewhere different?”

Throwing an arm on the sofa, right behind your head, he admits, “Nowhere. Everywhere. Just moved around a lot.”

“Why didn’t you just stay here? If you talked to her enough to know about me, then surely she must have told you no one ever visits since everyone in the family hates the cold. You would have had the place all to yourself.”

“I never stay in one place for too long.”

You skim the rim of your glass, watching the clear liquid swirl with the glow of the fireplace. “Why not?”

He waits until you can’t bear the silence, until you feel that itch to look up, to meet his gaze. And when you do, there’s some intensity in his eyes that seems to make the alcohol in your stomach burn just a little more. A finger of his twirls a lock of your hair and he murmurs, “Never had a reason to.”

Nodding, you settle for watching the fire.

And when the bottle of moonshine was depleted, you left to sleep and he stayed, a scalding brand marking your back and you couldn’t bear to look back to know if it was from the fireplace or from him.

That was how your first day went.

On the second day, you repeat more or less the same routine: you make breakfast, you eat together, he goes and fixes something else, you make lunch, you eat separately, he fixes some more things, you make dinner, and you share a drink or two, and sleep.

Occasionally, you’ll run into each other and you still struggle to meet his eyes, having to crane your head so far back to get a good look. Sometimes when you do gather the courage to look up at him, he’s already looking at your chest, green eyes slowly rising up to your face. His brow rises in challenge just as hip lip twitches. He doesn’t care at all. The man had no manners.

But he washes the dishes after every mealtime and he doesn’t really make a mess, so you can’t complain when he takes his visual fill of your body. There’s no harm in looking, only a priest would ever know that you do the same thing; there’s always a sizeable bulge in his trousers that you can’t keep your eye off, totally only out of curiosity.

The day starts off with an exchange of ‘g’morning’ and a ‘g’night’.

The third day tells the same story.

On the fourth day, however, only one thing out of the ordinary happens and it isn’t anything to write home about but you can’t get it out of your mind, as you lay in bed wide awake. The wolf hybrid had needed to get past you to get something from the fridge and on his way, he gripped your hips, lightly and barely a whisper, but his finger had brushed a sliver of skin where your shirt had risen up.

His touch was startling, petrifying, making the hairs along your body stand on edge, but more than anything, it was completely and utterly exhilarating.

When your hand wandered down into your panties that night, you tried your best to stifle your moans with your pillow, chasing the high that followed you the entire day. You fell asleep sticky, sweaty and unrepentant.

The fifth day goes by just fine too. Appreciative of the little song and dance you two have choreographed, you find yourself less and less anxious about the snow and the world beyond. There’s just something about this Toji fella — he’s quiet in a way that would be off-putting from anyone else, but you find it comforting. It’s different from the way everything worked in the city, where silences are this obscene monstrosity that must be filled with the clattering of a busybody.

Here, with him, you can just breathe in the hot cocoa and the smoky ash burning in the fireplace as you sit by him, shoulder to shoulder, on the rug and not on the sofa. He doesn’t ask questions about why you never visited your grandmother, why you haven’t talked about your family or your friends, or why you don’t ask him questions.

You like to think too that he appreciates you keeping your curiosity at bay.

Maybe that’s why he lets you rest your head on his shoulder, why he doesn’t nudge you off when your breath begins to even out and your lashes flutters shut, and maybe, just maybe, it’s why he carries you to bed and lays you down so gently you dream of solid arms, green sparkles in the snow, and fluffy clouds that brush your hair back.

What you weren’t prepared for, however, is the sixth day. It started off just like any other day: breakfast, reading on the sofa whilst he fixes something or the other, and then lunch eaten separately.

But, the hybrid must have gotten oil spilled on him when he was tinkering with something in the cellar because he went to shower during the day, instead of at night like you both do. This fact wasn’t known to you. It really wasn’t even on your mind. And that’s why disaster struck.

Walking into the bathroom to grab something — you can’t even remember what it was and why you were so focused on retrieving it, you hadn’t registered the sound of running water and the fact that the room was steamier than usual — you were met with a sight no HR training could ever prepare you for. Because, there, right in front of you, was your roommate, buck naked with water dripping down his chiseled body, catching on the curly hairs on his chest and lower abdomen. He was leaning with one arm on the glass of the shower stall, forehead pressed onto his forearm whilst the other made slow, leisurely strokes somewhere low, somewhere the steam gravitated towards.

Forward and back, forward and back, forward...and…back.

All while his eyes, like freshly cut grass, stayed unmoving, watching you watch him. Feet sinking deeper into the tiles, you were stuck where you are, heaving chest matching his as he let out a grunt, wrist jerking faster, splashing so much water everywhere you could almost feel them land on your skin through the glass.

Your phone pinged from your hand. You didn’t realise you were holding it. That was just about enough to break the trance he had you under. Wordlessly, you turned back and left, the door clicking shut behind you, and you busied yourself with preparing for dinner.

When he walked out, dressed, you could see from your peripheral, you grunted in acknowledgement after he let you know he was going to get some wood from outside.

Dinner was eaten separately too.

Instead of watching the fireplace, side by side, sharing whatever drink you’ve prepared, you’re settled comfortably under your blankets, hand rubbing furiously in your panties and eyes shut tightly, chasing flashing images of something sinful, delicious, the very source of your delirium.

Your orgasm is shallow. It’s why you’re conscious enough to notice, through the gap between your door and the floor, that the hallway light is still on and just as you exhale your last lust-induced moan, it disappears, leaving your senses focused solely on the sound of feet padding away.

You don’t get any sleep.

“G’morning,” you chirp.

The kettle is boiling and you’re serving the last of the eggs and bacon onto pancakes you made from scratch. There are still some meat frozen but the vegetables and fruits are almost gone and there’s no other way about it — you’re going to have to go down to get some more food. What had supposed to last you comfortably, at least two weeks, is now on its last crumbs before the first seven days had reached its end.

His green eyes flick to yours and with a small smirk, beard twitching, he asks, “Sleep well?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you try to ignore the burning of your face and the sudden shake in your hands. Of course he had heard. Of course! Because, lost in the haze of the shallow pleasure, you had forgotten that you’re living with a man that is far from ordinary.

So is his hearing.

“Oh, great,” you grit out. “And you?”

A snort of what you can only guess to be amusement is released from him and when he brushes past you, his heat only sets those embers ablaze again. He doesn’t answer.

Once sat down and eating, it’s your roommate who suggests more food is needed — as he should, considering it’s because of his insane appetite that things have turned out so hopeless so quickly.

“How could we possibly get more food in this weather? No one can get up here and walking down is not an option. I mean, just looking at all that snow makes me feel like death is creeping in.”

“Don’t gotta leave,” he says with a grunt. “I’ll go.”

Spluttering, you practically shriek, “You? Are you insane? You’ll die.”

His green eyes glint. “Will the pretty little city girl be sad if I do?”

“Will the big, bad wolf listen and stay if I say yes?”

Toji barks out a laugh. Breakfast ends soon after.

An hour passes and, as you read a book, you think that that’s the last of that. But of course it isn’t. Just as you finish a chapter, the wolf in question comes out of his room in a worn out coat too small for him and a firm look on his face. He can’t possibly be serious.

Ignoring your protests, he heads over to the door and doesn’t spare you a glance. It’s only when you tell him he needs money that he does pause. Typical macho men, thinking with their muscles and not their heads, you grumble in your mind. He waits for you to grab your purse and shove it in his hand.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Your question is met with an eye roll.

“Yeah, quit worrying. I’ll be back before you know it.” He sounds so sure. You’re inclined to believe him. Something about how sturdy he looks makes him sound convincing enough; Toji’s built like an oak tree, with deep-reaching roots and a thick trunk that could withstand the harshest storms and mightiest blows. But all trees can be felled, if one tries hard enough.

He must have smelt the doubt pouring out of every pore because then he’s making a sound of pure exasperation. “Alright, listen. I’m a wolf, yeah? I’ve been through worse.”

Eyes darting from the snow and to his deadpan face, you mutter, “Just because you’ve been through worse doesn’t mean you should go through more. You can just stay and keep warm. With me. I can’t help you if you’re out there.”

There’s a silence, like a sudden gust. And then a sigh.

In less than a second, you find your jaw being gripped with one large hand and your head is pushed to the side just as his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, the rough hairs of his beard tickling your skin. The growl that escapes him pulls a gasp out of you and then he’s gone.

With the speed at which the door flies open and closes, you barely feel the sharp sting of the cold. Or maybe you do feel the full brunt of it, but it’s overshadowed by the envigorating rush that came from that big man inhaling your scent before he left.

You wonder if he liked what he smelt.

Before, it felt like time was passing at a snail’s pace, but now it’s like time isn’t passing at all — you’re stuck in some sort of pathetic limbo where you spend every meaningless second switching tasks. From brushing the floor to rearranging the books on the shelves in the corner to dusting every surface to lying in bed and so on and so forth. It feels somewhat akin to engraving tallies into the walls with a paperclip.

Alone, truly alone, you can do nothing but focus on the feeling of ice creeping into your bloodstream. The heaters are on and you can very easily set the wood burning in the fireplace if need be since he taught you. But you don’t want to; you’re lazy. That’s the excuse you’d tell Toji if he asks, biting down the real reason and never spitting it out.

The shivers wracking your body is what you deserve for letting that man go to get food on your behalf. The quivering of your lips is due to the fact that you could have — should have— gone with him, should have bundled him up in something thicker and warmer, and yourself maybe, so you two could trek together to the town. At least, if one of you were to be injured, there’s someone there to pick you back up.

Who will pick him up?

Gnawing on a nail, your eyes dart, for the millionth time, outside the window, fuzzy socks rubbing against each other as you shuffle on the floor. Night is falling and he still isn’t here. You’re beyond worried.

How long does it take to hike down and up anyways? It took about an hour by car, so surely it wouldn’t take longer than a day at the very most, right?

But spending even just an hour in this snow, wearing just a coat, would be fatal for anyone, wolf hybrid or not, right? And he’s attempting to bring up groceries?

Oh, God.

You’ve allowed that man to walk right into his death. No, you’ve sent him off to die. You’re a killer. Or maybe he’s not coming back. Maybe this was just a ploy to leave without an awkward goodbye. He got what he wanted — roof over his head, a bed, food, warm shower and even a stupid girl to tease. Now that he’s exhausted the supplies, maybe he’s off to try his luck at another cabin.

Is this what it was like with your grandmother?

Did she make sure to stock up as much as possible for the winter to ensure he’d stay the entire time so she can have someone to look after her?

Is that what you’re going to turn into?

A food bank?

You shouldn’t have come up here. You should have stayed in the loud, stifling city in your miserable office job, with your stuffy pantsuits and your overbearing boss. You should have accepted your family’s manufactured smiles and cold hugs. You should never, ever have dared to want more. There is nothing in your entire life you have done, or could have ever done, to deserve more.

A knock comes on the door.

You jerk up.

The blanket falls from your shoulders. Stumbling to a stand, you wipe your hands down your front, trying to steady them, and without waiting for a second knock, you twist the knob that had just been above your head and you flung it open.

“Could hear ya sniffling from miles. You good?”

In front of you is a very hairy man, broad shouldered, coat darkening with the dampness that weighs him down and flakes of snow litter his beard like an upside down tree. He’s scary, hulking and tense, like a wound up toy, ready to explode at any given moment. An ear twitches when you sniffle, just as he said. This man could kill you. He’s strong enough to have been carrying two big, heavy bags, one in each hand, up the mountain. And he knows the exact layout of the cabin, knows there are no hiding spots, no locks in the basement, knows where the axe is, and that the stoker is leaning against the fireplace, too far to get to in time from where you’re standing.

You jump onto him. “Oh my god! I thought you died. Or that you left me!”

He grunts with the force of your body meeting his, but he doesn’t stumble. Bearing the burden of the bags of groceries and your entire weight as you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, he walks in with ease, kicking the door shut. He saunters over to the kitchen where he deposits the bags on the counter and leaves just enough room to sit you down, untangling your awkward limbs from his torso.

“Ya think too much.”

He pats the wetness, that had transferred from his clothes onto you, down with a tea towel. Your shaky hands reach up, threading your fingers through his beard and his hair, and you brush the snow away. He’s still here. And he’s warm.

“I was so worried something happened to you, Toji,” you whisper.

Stilling, his green eyes flick up to yours, searching, and when he finds the tears threatening to fall he sighs, and presses his forehead against yours, letting you feel the firmness of his presence. He smells like burnt cedar, the musk of the earth, and the saltiness of sea air. With a gravelly voice, he reassures you, “I’m here. Got enough food to last us another week, and by then the snow will stop falling. We’ll be fine”

Your ‘thank you’ stays in your throat when he pulls away and falls on a chair by the dinner table with a grunt so deep and loud you’re snapped back into action — he must be starving and exhausted. Toji did his part and now you must do yours.

Sneaking glances at him, you work as fast as you can, cutting this and boiling that. You know as soon as the onions and garlic hit the pan with the sizzle his nose will start twitching. If it smells delicious to you, you wonder how it must smell to him. Maybe the anticipation of a warm meal was what pulled him home.

You won’t disappoint.

Every second or so, your eyes drift to him, mostly to make sure he’s still breathing, but also because you can’t help it. He’s snoozing, you surmise, when his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm and his eyes are closed. You move around as quietly as you can.

Plated, you set the steaming soup, fried meat and loaf of bread he had brought down on the table. It’s not the most appealing of all appearances but you know the recipes like the back of your hand so you know he’ll love every thing. Or at least, you hope he will.

Checking all the necessary silverware are on the table, you try to gently coax him awake with a call of his name. He doesn’t answer. You look up with a sigh, ready to jostle him from whatever dream is so beautiful he’s in deep sleep, only to find those frustratingly alluring eyes already on you.

“Smells delicious,” he says, making no effort to gesture to the food.

You gulp and with a weak smile, you sit down and allow him to serve you. “So, how was it? Is the situation bad?”

Toji rolls a shoulder back. He answers, “Snow’s definitely too thick for a car, but the town hasn’t been too badly affected. No one can get in or out but they’re all making do.”

“And you? Was it a difficult journey?”

There’s a pause as he swallows the spoonful he’s shovelled in his mouth and then he’s shrugging, remarking, “Ya think so little of me? Told you, I’m a wolf hybrid. Wasn’t easy but was hardly difficult, ma.”

Warmth pools in your stomach.

“Good.” You sip some water. “But you definitely need to get some rest. That’s a non-negotiable, I’m afraid. No manual labour of any kind tomorrow. I’ll handle everything. So, just let me know what I can do for you. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

He snorts. “Yeah? Y’r gonna take care of me?”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

His fork and spoon clatter on his frighteningly empty plate and when you meet his gaze once more, you’re knocked back by the sheer challenge in them. There’s a glint, like light off a knife’s edge, and it slices from your heart down your body, leaving you open and electrified.

“Careful, little girl,” he taunts, jaw snapping with a laugh, “when I take you up on that, y’r gonna be whining for days about how sore you are.”

There’s no way you’re going to argue with him, not when he sounds so certain, like you’re missing out on some inside joke. So you finish up dinner, with him having three servings, and after, with the dishes in need of cleaning up, you practically have to shove him in his room when he insisted he’s fine enough to stay up.

He rolls his eyes and lets you slam the door shut in his face.

As you tidy up in the kitchen, you’re pleased to find the fridge full. There’s a lot of fruit and vegetables and all the possibilities are getting you giddy. You suppose you were a little afraid Toji, being a man, would only buy junk and red meat, but he hadn’t. In fact, he had gotten things beyond food, he had bought toiletries and sanitary products for you. Sure it was a little presumptive, maybe you didn’t have periods, maybe you’re on birth control, maybe you’ve just had it and won’t have to worry until after the snow calms enough for you to deal with your personal bodily functions.

But, you find the act endearing, if the smile creeping on your face is anything to go by.

Eventually, you retire to bed, feeling much lighter. There’s lots of food and he came back. He hadn’t left. He had gone through so much trouble — life-risking trouble — that it must mean something, right?

You fall asleep very quickly.

Sometime around two in the morning, however, you’re awoken by some dull noise outside. Blinking through the sleep in your eyes, you pad out of your room and into the living room, where the fireplace is burning and casting dancing shadows over your roommate’s body.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he grouses. “Go back to sleep.”

Finding the spark to laugh, you muse, “I think that’s my line, no?”

He looks wide awake sitting in his usual spot, on the floor with an arm on the sofa and a leg bent. Shirtless, the fire makes him look like he’s glowing, and you’re mesmerised. Clearing your throat, you retrieve two bottles of beer he had cheekily gotten, and sit criss-crossed by him. He takes the beer with a grunt of gratitude.

There’s something different in the air; silence isn’t enough tonight. All the things that have so far been left unspoken, locked away, are climbing over, ready to be shared — at least from your side. You may never know what he’s truly thinking.

Brows furrowed, you begin, “Did you ever wonder how I ended up here? Well, there’s not really a special or interesting story — I just got tired and bored of the same old thing. It felt like my life was missing substance, y’know?”

Grunt.

“I hated the city,” you confess. “It’s awful there. Everyone treats you like their enemy even as you’re just walking down the street. No one ever smiles or even looks at each other.”

Huff.

“It’s a good thing I was a workaholic and lived frugally; I can afford to camp out here until…well, till forever, I guess. It’s also great luck that you came by ‘cause I can’t fix a boiler or anything of the sort, so I would have likely died by now.”

For a second you think he’s dozed off, as he should have been doing after dinner considering the strenuous journey he underwent to get some food, but one glance to the side up has you gulping when you find his eyes on you once more, like they never left, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather look at. What a dangerous thought.

The eye contact has you, or him, or both of you, drawing closer, gazes flickering down and then up and back down again. With the warm glow of the fire blanketing you in the night, you feel so safe and secure; it’s you and him in this cabin and no one else matters. No one else has a say, can interrupt, can ruin this.

Whatever this is.

The arm he has behind you shifts and then you feel fingers skimming a lock of hair, following it down from the temple of your head, curving around the shell of your ear, and into the slope of your neck, brushing your hair back and exposing skin to the sizzling air.

You shiver.

“I’ve always been the kind of girl who stayed in one place. I like the security, the familiarity. But recently things have started feeling tough, like I’m stuck in quicksand, as dramatic as it is to say.”

Your voice is weak and low; you never knew you could sound like that.

When you were brushing the snow out of his beard, you weren’t surprised to find it rough, you often catch him scratching there so you know it’s uncomfortable for him too, and yet, you find a bubbling desire within you to feel it on your skin, the way you had briefly felt it on your neck and in your hands. How would it feel in other places?

“I just needed to get out, y’know?” You’re leaning impossibly close — close enough to see the question in his eyes. “Do something new, something exciting, something…”

“Wild?”

Toji’s eyes flashes and at your dazed nod, he dives forward, swallowing your gasp in his rough, unforgiving mouth. He shoves his tongue in, licking and tasting, and that arm that laid at the back of your head curls around it, pulling you close by your neck. You’re left with no choice but to cling to him and try to keep up with his merciless pace.

He tastes like alcohol with something deeper running, like an undercurrent, a ferocity only a beast could achieve. You feel intoxicated. Carrying you onto his lap, you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of something hard jutting up into your core. A growl pierces your ears when you don’t hesitate to grind down onto that hard length. He’s leaking heat hotter than the fireplace, he’s hard and firm everywhere your hands can reach, and his clutch is frightening, gripping you like you could never escape even if you fought against him.

You’ve never been wetter.

“I can smell ya,” he rasps. “Been smelling this sweetness every day. You taste as good as you look or what?”

Coarse and prickly, this beard is rubbing deliciously against your skin, reminding you from all angles that he’s kissing you, that he wants you just as bad as you want him, and he can’t get enough.

Burying your fingers in his thick hair, you moan when he licks a stripe up your neck, sniffing at your pulse point. “Find out for yourself.”

His laugh is sudden and gravelly and it’s the last thing you think about before you’re being thrown on your back, legs spreading to accommodate his girth as he kneels above you, shirt going up and over before he throws it somewhere. With the fireplace highlighting the sharp contours of his face and his rippled chest, his beastly grin spikes your pulse and then he’s pinning you down with his body.

“I don’t think you understand the position y’r in, little girl,” he taunts.

Using his claws, he rips up your top, exposing your tits to the air for just a second before he swallows one in his mouth, flicking a nipple with his tongue, all while he’s rolling his hips into yours creating a delicious friction that has your back arching and your jaw dropping.

“Been dreaming about these pretty tits.” He pinches the other, grinding his cock especially hard against your clit. The revelation falls on deaf ears when he smacks one. “Fuuuuck, look at the way they bounce.”

You pull at his hair and he lets you drag him back up to your lips, your nipples sore and tickled by the hairs on his chest whilst he rises up your body. “Kiss me.”

And he does, swallowing your moans he continues squeezing and groping your tits, but he leaves your lips swollen quickly after as he begins his descent, peppering a trail of kisses.

Pressing a nose right up at the apex of your thighs, he takes a looooong inhale, a satisfied growl echoing in the darkness. Your face heats up, legs threatening to close around his head but his big paws holds them open, nails digging with the promise of pain if you dare shut them away from him.

“You been flaunting a scent that’s got my mouth watering more than any of your baked goods,” he huffs, eyes narrowing at the wet spot leaking through. He thumbs at it, pressing down as if he could force everything you’ve got to give out. “’S not fair, ma. Waited so long for you to give in to me, heh, gonna make you regret that.”

“Toji!”

He rips up your pyjama bottoms too and hooks his fingers into the gusset of your panties before those are flying away, shredded beyond hope, and cool air grazes your sloppy slit.

Not a single second is wasted before he digs in, lapping up your pussy with a fearsome snarl. The tip of his long, slobbery tongue circles your pulsing clit, tweaking it when you whine. “Fuck, you taste this good and ya been holding out on me? Selfish little cunt, hmm?”

Hands flying up to grip his hair for purchase, you fall victim to his incessant licking and sucking and slurping as he flattens your thighs open, the scraggly hairs of his beard tickling your sensitive skin which grows clammier and clammier with the heat of his mouth, his body, and the fireplace.

When he curls two thick fingers in, stretching your walls further than you could with your own, your eyes fly open. “No! Ngh, too much.”

Still sucking at your clit, he shoves those fingers in and out, dragging them on his way to really take in the squishiness of your insides, forcing out those loud squelches. You tug at his scalp and he lifts up just a little to snap his maw, missing your clit by a hair’s breadth.

“Don’t get in the way of my meal, ‘cause this?” He slaps your pussy, juices splashing and he barks a mean laugh. “This is mine now.”

Your orgasm washes over you when his lips sucks your clit with a tongue flicking the little button at the exact same time those long digits curls up and lays successive presses against that smooth part inside of you.

Toji’s entire mouth engulfs your pussy, sharp teeth grazing your skin whilst he suckles on your sweet essence, drinking like a man lost in a desert, his personal oasis. “Ah, y’r no good for me, ma. Gonna get me addicted on this sloppy fucking cunt.”

Panting desperately, you writhe on the floor, feverish and crazed. He doesn’t give you a break, doesn’t let you catch your breath, before he shoves his pants down and lets his cock spring out.

Just the like rest of him, his cock is huge — long, thick, and throbbing with veins running up the length, carving a path up to his leaking cockhead which flushes a sinful dark red, promising a painful stretch. At the base, there’s coarse hair, wild and untamed like any other part of his body, and oh, God, those balls, they hang heavy, too heavy.

He snaps his fingers in front of your face and chuckles before he orders simply, “Suck.”

As if entranced, you scramble onto all fours, crawling forward so you can nudge his length with your cheek, his slit leaving a wet trail. He smells like a beast of the earth and it has your pussy drooling, a fat droplet sliding down your thigh and you shut your legs tight in a pathetic attempt to quell that ache. After all, you are much too preoccupied with this monstrous thing in front of you.

You peer up at him and stick your tongue out, licking from the very base, catching a little bit of his ball sac, and tilting back to reach his tip where you skim the underside. A large hand slides into your hair softly before it bundles up your hair in its angry grip pulling your head back into an uncomfortable angle so you can face his savage scowl.

“I know y’r not deaf. Fuck did I say? Huh?” He pushes your face into his balls, smothering you. “Be a good girl and suck, yeah?”

So you do.

Suckling on his balls, much like how he did with your tits, you try to take as much of him as you can before you can’t bear it any longer and you wrap your lips around his cock head, savouring the salty drops that coat your tongue. Everything about him is strong, from his grip to his scent and especially his taste. It’s as if he was built to dominate, to fill up every senses until you can think of and feel nothing but him.

You gag, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

He tuts, thoroughly scolding when he drawls, “If ya can’t take me properly with y’r mouth, then there’s no way you can take me with y’r pussy. Wanna prove me wrong, kid?”

You push past the painful stretch of your jaw, gliding as much as of his length into your throat as you can, thumb being pinched by your fist. Not even halfway down, you go back up again, not letting go of his tip before you slide back down, and you repeat that motion, taking more and more of him as you go.

When you hollow your cheeks to suck him in deeper, you see him throw his head back, his abs tensing and becoming prominent, you scrape your nails down that trail of hair before it finds his balls, massaging in the way you know not even he could resist.

“Fuck. Tryna -ha- make me cum so soon? Naughty,” he says.

In a flash, you’re being pulled off his cock and pushed back onto the rug once more. Your ankles are clasped in one of his hand, extending your legs high up in the air. “W-what are you doing?”

Cracking his neck slowly, the flames of the fireplace still as virile as ever, Toji looks downright sadistic with the way he grins at you.

“Just enjoying my meal to the fullest.” He pushes his cock through your thighs, right on top of your slit, lathering the underside with your overflowing juices. He groans, sharp teeth catching on his bottom lip. “We’re both gonna cum like this and then I’m putting you to bed.”

Slightly distracted by the way his cock is catching on your clit with every slide back and forth, you ask with a frown, “But why can’t you just fuck me now?”

He laughs. He fucking laughs. And then he’s bending your legs back towards your chest as he leans in close, placing your calves on his shoulders so you can see his face far too clearly. Rubbing the bristles on his jaw on your skin, he lays a soft kiss on your ankle before he scrapes the bone with a canine.

“Because I fuck rough, city girl. Y’r gonna be bruised, sore and all chewed up and you can’t complain if you hopped on my dick willingly, no?” You can’t answer. “Yeah, glad we agree. So don’t open that pretty mouth of y’rs unless it’s to moan my name, and keep y’r legs tight for me; no one wants to fuck something loose and limp.”

“Hurry up and get it over with!”

Doing just that, he thrusts like a madman, using you like a rag doll to chase his pleasure. You’re being jostled on the floor, the rug burning your skin and your hair so close to being singed by the embers of that fire he’s been tending to, setting alight and snuffing like clockwork every day.

His balls slap against your ass, as if pounding you too.

It’s all so dirty, so obscene, so wet any rational thought you should have been having about letting someone who’s practically a stranger fuck your thighs like you’re nothing but a slippery hole fly out the window.

The slight sheen of sweat on his chest is making you restless — you can’t focus on one thing, not the way he’s holding your legs tight, hugging them to his torso like you might run away, the way the friction of his cock rubbing against your clit is bringing you closer to orgasm, and not how your wetness is making embarrassing squelches that you know his hybrid ears can hear in even greater clarity than you can.

“Oh! T-toji! I think I’m -ngh- gonna -ha- cum.”

He bites down hard on your calf just as his hips stutter and his scalding spurts splash onto your chest, even reaching your chin and cheeks. A drop falls into your mouth which is stuck in an O-shape as you orgasm at the same time, digging your nails into the carpet and thrashing your head around as the euphoric feeling wash over you from inside and out.

Panting, you manage to breathe out, “Y-you made me all sticky.”

“Not fucking sorry.” Toji licks the red mark on your leg away and presses a kiss right in the centre of the two half moon crescents made by his teeth marks. Your heart beats faster. When his green eyes rove over your body, you both see and feel the deep rumble of satisfaction bubbling from his chest. He runs two fingers down your chest and your stomach, collecting his cum before he smears it on your lips. “Not fucking sorry at all.”

Your eyes threaten to shut and he grunts, realising he must have exhausted you despite the fact that it was he who pushed themselves through the elements for hours and not you.

“Alright, up and at ‘em. Let’s get ya cleaned up, kid.”

Hauling you onto your feet, the rest of the night goes by in a blur — you’re taken to the bathroom and wiped down by a wet cloth, redressed in new pyjamas, and tucked in all nice and warm in your own bed. He leaves. Even half-asleep, you find that act ever so slightly disheartening.

It feels like you’ve been used, like the act wasn’t as intimate as you might have thought. It leaves you biting your nail and groaning inwardly. Of course he didn’t think much about it. The man looks older than you, he’s probably fucked the thighs of many girls and you’re no one special, right?

Maybe the best thing to do is to take a page out of his book and just be casual, so at least you won’t humiliate yourself by asking something absolutely ridiculous like ‘what are we?’

God, the thought makes you grimace.

You make a promise to yourself to swear off Toji until the snow thaws enough to get down and up this cursed mountain. The mental fortitude you’ve erected seems so solid, so reliable and firm, you actually believe you’ll have a more than easy time keeping your hands, and your heart, to yourself.

That is until he returns smelling of soap and he slides right in behind you, tucking an arm under your back and pulling you into place with your head resting on his hairy chest.

“Had to cut my shower short ‘cause you’re gnawing y’r fucking fingernail off. Cut it out, will ya?”

Your bedmate swats at your hand, pulling it away from your anxious mouth and playfully bites your wrist. That hand stays in his grip. Heart ceasing its painful clenching, you make yourself comfortable in his embrace, enjoying the heat enveloping you, hotter than any fire.

Clearing your throat, you mutter, “Thanks for today, Toji. Really. I couldn’t have ever done that without you.”

He huffs a laugh, thoroughly amused.

“Wouldn’t hafta if I wasn’t eating up all y’r food.” His voice booms under your cheek, the vibrations lulling you to sleep. You’ve only just noticed how nice he sounds, it’s a captivating timbre, rough and scratchy like bark but comforting and unyielding in a way you’ve never known anyone to sound. “Ya would’ve been fine without me, anyways. Don’t sell y’rself short.”

“I think it’s you who’s selling yourself short.”

Those are the last words exchanged between you before you two fall asleep.

—————————

“Fuck you up to?” Toji grouses.

His voice is laced with sleep and he’s rubbing his eyes, all bleary and confused. He has every right to be considering you’re under the covers, mouthing at his dick and stroking the morning wood that woke up before him. The duvet gets pulled up, revealing your less than innocent smile.

Kissing his slit, which prompts a heavy hand to lay on your head, you ask, “Waking you up?”

An arm folds under his head, getting him into a great angle to see you much more clearly. His brow rises up, challenging, and he teases, “Yeah? Well, I’m up, ma, so what now?”

The radiators have yet to be turned on this morning so the air is chilly in your room, but still you push those covers back, showing him how you’re completely bare in the bottom, wearing only your shirt to bed. His spare hand falls on your plump thigh, squeezing and kneading.

“Last night,” you begin, raising your hip so you can seat yourself down on his hard length, “you told me you’d only fuck me if I hopped on your dick willingly. So here I am.”

You’re rubbing your already soaked pussy up and down on his cock, coating him with your wetness just as he did last night. You feel every delectable ridge catching your clit and you grind down on him with shameless abandon. How could you ever possibly feel shame when it feels so good and he’s not even inside you yet? When he’s looking at you like that? Like you’re the tastiest prey who’s ever walked into his trap?

He pushes a thumb into your mouth, watching your lips wrap around it like you did the night before and this morning, before he drops his hand to the apex of your thighs, massaging tight circles into that bundle of nerves, forcing breathless moans out of you. “Ya gonna ride me, doll? Gonna show me just how willing you are?”

“Uhuh.” Grinning, you let him pull the shirt up and over your head, nipples pebbling immediately. He flicks one, palming the fatty globe to soothe the dull pain.

Steadying yourself with your hands on his abs, you lean forward and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be a peck, just a polite, cursory smooch but then he stops groping your tit to use that hand to keep your faced pressed to his. Toji deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue inside and exploring your mouth. He’s stealing air from you and the longer he keeps you submerged, the more you moan.

In the haze of the heat he’s growling into you, you fail to realise he’s let go of your head and is now slotting his cock into your pussy.

“W-wait, Toji!”

The stretch is overwhelming; you hadn’t prepped yourself enough but neither of you seem to care. It’s hard to when his cock head is already pushing through that tight ring of muscle and is worming its way deeper inside you.

He hisses. “So fucking tight! Fuck, gotta relax, ma.”

“I’m -ngh- trying!”

Down and down, your cunt swallows as much of him as it can. You’ve pushed yourself upright, using gravity to aid the descent. Nothing else in the room has his attention. Nothing could ever take his attention. “Oh fuck, would you look at that? Greedy pussy can’t get enough, can she? Dirty girl heh.”

You bottom out, lips tickled by the hairs at his base.

“You’re so big, Toji.”

Both of his arms reach for you, gripping your ass and lifting you up just a little only to let go and let you drop down. You screech. He’s reaching every part of you inside, and when you look down, you’re so certain you can see the outline of him pushing through your stomach. You clench.

“Ah, fuck! Don’t do that,” he scolds you. “Start moving before I get bored.”

The threat makes you frown but you do as he says anyways. Mustering all the strength you have, you start riding him, rising higher and higher each time until you get comfortable with his size. You can’t imagine any amount of prep would ever get you to take him with ease, but the overflowing juices coming from you is certainly helping; it leaves his hairs dewy.

Years past, or so it feels, as you grind and slide down on his length, and he doesn’t seem the least bit affected. That only fuels you harder. With a vendetta, you get up on your knees, keeping just his tip in, before you slam down.

You both moan.

“Fuck!”

His hands dig into your slippery flesh, careful of his sharp claws, but threatening to leave bruises just as he promised. The way he’s poking that sensitive spot inside you has you whimpering with every grind at just the right angle. You can’t imagine ever wanting to stop. Squelches after squelches echo in the room but there’s no shame you can muster, not when he feels so incredible.

The pain is quickly spiralling into pleasure and every part of him is pushing you to the edge— his strength, his length and girth, his low groans and hisses, the hairs that tickle your skin, and those eyes, scouring your features and not missing a single thing.

Embarrassing sloshes and splats! are reverberating against the walls, just as the creaking of the bed frame, and the slapping of skin reach your ears. You’ve never heard yourself sound so dirty, so reckless, so downright pornographic. All of it is pulling you under even as the ache in your thighs from the overuse of them is making your rhythm irregular and jerky.

“Gorgeous -ha- gorgeous girl,” he says through gritted teeth.

His point is emphasised by a slap against your ass cheek, the sting makes you fall over, back onto his chest which is sticky with both of your sweat mixing and mingling. The hairs on his chest brush against your nipples, still sensitive from his rough sucking and biting last night, and you whimper.

Growling in your ear, he plants his feet onto the bed, and oh god, he’s grabbing your ass in both hands and you know without even having to look at him that he’s grown tired of your amateurish performance; Toji is taking matters into his own hand.

“Guess I still gotta do the -hah fuck- work ‘round here. Always such a —ngh— princess. Hold on tight, ma, ’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” His laugh rumbles under your body and an eye roll is all you can manage before you’re being pummelled into from underneath, jostling you in all sorts of directions.

Plunging his cock at an incredible speed, you feel him in your stomach, in your lungs, God it’s like he’s in your head, filling every fold and crevice with his beastly intensity. “Toji! No! Ngh, s-stop! I can’t, fuck it’s so good! Yes! Oh! Oh! Nooooooooo.”

“No, yes, no? Make up your mind, ma. Use that city girl head for me,” he growls out, punctuating his mean question with a cruel laugh.

Bundling your hair into a careless fist, he yanks you back from his chest, forcing you to confront him. He’s not flushed, his face isn’t crumpled in desperation, he isn’t even out of breath. In fact, there would be no sign he’s enjoying this —you, being inside you, holding you — except for the bead of sweat trailing down his temple, drawing your attention to the way those jade beads are flickering between your eyes and your swollen lips.

“Kiss?” You ask, breathlessly.

Toji furrows his brows, something flashing in his gaze, something that resembles confusion, conflict, or hesitation. It’s so quick you wonder if you imagined it but there’s no time to ponder longer because he continues his incessant assault on your poor pussy, kissing your cervix with every thrust, practically rummaging your insides with the way he’s using you like a toy once again.

It’s filthy, it’s carnal, animalistic and oh so good.

“Yeah.” He licks his lips, pearly white row of knives for teeth on perfect display. “Give me a big wet kiss, baby. Make it worth my -hngh fuck!- t-time.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to stretch forward, he slams his face to yours, smacking his plump lips, gobbling you up despite your moans of surprise. He shoves his tongue in with as much ferocity as he’s thrusting his cock inside your poor battered pussy. That tongue licks and explores like he can’t get enough, like he wants to memorise every curve and edge.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

A huge hand lays consecutive slaps against your ass again, the flesh rippling and burning. He times it with every thrust, heavy balls smacking your skin too. It’s all too much too soon and you feel an orgasm bubbling from your throat and your cunt.

“W-what is that? Oh my god!” Something thick is attempting to enter your sloppy pussy, round and threatening. You squeal when it pushes in after a particularly merciless thrust and grind from Toji. The extra stretch brings about a sharp pain. You tear up.

A hand that’s clutching an ass cheek ventures deeper, trailing a finger to a hole you’ve never touched. Smothered in his chest, the onslaught of stimulation from all angles is killing you. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to breathe, no one to turn to for help from the man making good on his promise to leave you bruised, sore, and all chewed up.

“’s my knot, babygirl. Fuck, you really don’t know shit about hybrids, huh? Well, y’r gonna be educated soon.”

The dark, sadistic tone of his is making you dizzy. In a panic, you hastily say, “N-no! I can’t. Really, Toji! I r-really can’t. Pleaseeee.”

With your hair still in his grasp, your head’s tilted back once again, but this time to bare your slender neck. In one fell swoop, that bulge gets shoved inside your cunt, plugging you up, and his maw clamps down on your neck, so close to puncturing you with his savage teeth.

“Oh! I’m gonna cuummmm! Toji! T-Toji! Stop!” Your jaw drops, eyes rolling back, and your nails dig into his meaty pecs for purchase. It’s like electricity is wracking your body, sizzling every hair strand, tickling your nipples from inside. Grinding against his pelvis, your oversensitive clit is caught in his hairs, creating a remarkable friction you can’t escape. “Oh, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

Broken chuckles emerge from his sinful mouth, “Go on, ma. Cum on my cock, milk me, just like that, oh shit, such a good girl, fuck!”

His brutal pace splutters as he follows suit, balls clenching whilst your walls attempt to push out the invasion of his cock and his knot. A crazed laugh echoes right by your ear, you don’t know what’s so funny but stuttered moans are the only sounds you can make as you chase your high.

“Ah, fuck, y’r so fucking tight. Practically -ha- choking me heh.”

You feel hot cum paint your insides, drizzling down your walls with nowhere to go. He’s thoroughly filled you and when you attempt to lift your hips to get up, you realise, he’s not letting you go any time soon.

“Nice try, ma. Unfortunately for you, y’r stuck with me for about twenty minutes or so till it goes down. Probably should’ve bought condoms heh.”

“You should have given me a warning, Toji,” you mumble, pouting.

Goosebumps litter your arms; the chill of the morning air is settling reminding you just how bare you really are. Thankfully you don’t have to suffer for too long because he’s shuffling so he can throw the covers over the both of you. With his natural body heat, you’re more than warm and cozy, especially as his burning cock is still inside you.

He licks a dried trail of tears on your cheek. “Sorry. Thought you knew.”

“Well, I didn’t. This is my first time with a hybrid.”

Grunt.

A beat or two passes, a comfortable silence humming between you. He’s so big and meaty it feels like you’re going to melt into him. Now that you’re not so distracted by cock and cum, and the morning light is shining through the curtains, you can see his scars much more clearly. He’s littered in them, some like slashes and others just scarred-over holes.

You have so many questions, none of them leave the tip of your tongue.

“Ask.”

You pause. “Can I?”

Huff.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Why do you have so many scars?”

Tickling your spine with his callouses fingers, he skims your back absentmindedly. You lay your chin on his chest, watching him look at somewhere in the corner of the room, clearly falling fast in an endless hole of memories. This is a rare opportunity to more about the enigmatic wolf-man who showed up at your doorstep in the middle of a snow-storm, claiming to have known your late grandmother.

More silence fills the air. His fingers have stopped.

You nuzzle his jaw with your nose, burying it in his beard. It seems to snap him out of his daze. He grunts once more, licking your cheek, not to taste the salt on your skin, but as if to say ‘thanks’.

“Been on my own for a while. For as long as I can remember, actually. It’s…tough out there. Not everyone is as nice as you and your gran.”

Carefully, you hazard a guess. “Were these from people? Hybrids or normies?”

He gropes your ass like a stress ball.

“Both.”

“I mean, I’ve heard stories of the kind of abuse and discrimination hybrids face from normies, it’s quite prevalent in the city despite recent equality laws but why would your own kid hurt you? Aren’t you all in the same boat? Isn’t there some kind of…camaraderie? Sorry, is that insulting to assume?”

Spanking your ass, he huffs a laugh. “You’re adorable. No, don’t look at me like that, kid. It’s cute of you to think that’s how it works.”

“It isn’t?”

You don’t take offence to his patronising tone; you had expected to be wrong about aspects of hybrid life. Normal, average humans outnumber hybrids at a ratio of four to one. Some hybrids are lucky enough to be passing, kinda like Toji, but others carry visible signs of their anthropomorphic genes. The latter are rarely treated well despite the fact that they’ve existed just as long as normies have. They used to live in their own continents, building large civilisations far more expansive than humans have achieved at that time.

But war is a cruel mistress.

For many reasons, humans and hybrids stayed away from each other. It was only relatively recently they’ve begin co-existing, even inter-mixing. The change has been hard for many people. Perhaps not most of society, but enough to make the idea of living as a hybrid make you grimace.

“Nah,” he says, almost finishing his reply there until he sees your inquisitive eyes and he continues, “there’s lots of different kinds of hybrids. We don’t all like each other. And not all of us running the same race. There’s a lot of competition, suspicion and hatred. ’s always been the case.”

Nodding, you prod further. “And your scars? Did they come from bar brawls or something?”

“Some, yeah. Others from professional fights.”

You perk up.

“Professional fights?”

In a flash, the cover is falling onto the floor and you’re upright once more. Toji’s pushed the both of you up and off the bed, holding you in his arms with his softening cock slipping out of your pussy. You scramble to gain better grip of him.

“Oh my god! Give a girl a little warning. God, Toji! It’s cold.”

He licks your ear.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. With ease, he carries you out of your room and into the bathroom. “Let’s wash up and start the day. ‘m starved.”

Rolling your eyes, you let him have this one chance at evading your question; you’re just pleased to have learnt a little more about him. It feels like he’s letting you in, presenting himself openly just for you. For a wild man like him, whose solitary despite his nature, this is the greatest gift he could give you.

Toji’s a thorough washer — he shampoos your hair better than you ever have and not a single crook or cranny gets overlooked. But as soon as you get clean, the so-called day doesn’t get started anytime soon when he falls to his knees and shoves his face into the apex of your thighs, making a loud sniifffff before he growls and laps up the mixed juices of his and your cum.

In next three days that pass, you notice the dynamic between you shifts.

For one, he no longer sleeps in his own room but rather in yours. He follows suit after dinner and removes his shirt, freshly showered and completely bare, and hands it to you wordlessly. You wear his shirt, and only his shirt, to bed.

Lunch is no longer eaten separately. He joins you wherever you are, whether that’s in your room, all warm and cozy under a mountain of blankets, or on the sofa, also all warm and cozy under a mountain of blankets. You watch movies on your laptop and he never argues with your choices. Sometimes he just eats in silence, right beside you, as you read a book or stare out the window.

Toji’s much more touchy now. Before, he was sneaking in grazes and quick gropes, now he’s lost all reservation and politeness. When you’re cooking, stirring something as you hum to music, he creeps up behind you, pinning your body to the counter with his hips and he wraps an arm around your torso to weigh a breast in his palm, squeezing and massaging for his own pleasure.

He’ll tweak a nipple, pushing your hair back to skim his nose against the length of your neck, inhaling deeply and stopping to mouth wet kisses on that bruising around the teeth marks he’s left there. Most times he’ll let you be after he’s had a fill of your softness, but sometimes he kneels behind you and tears apart your pants with a resounding SSSSSNAP! Before he laps up your pussy from behind, food coming out just a little more cooked than you’d like, though he never seems to mind.

And it must be worth mentioning that the sex is constant.

Every night and every morning. It isn’t a stretch to say that you eat, sleep and breathe sex with Toji. Which you honestly can’t complain about. It’s always so rough and so good every time.

However, his insatiable appetite is making it ever so slightly hard for you after — there’s a perpetual soreness in your joints and in your pussy, you find yourself looking behind you to make sure that when you bend down to pick up whatever it is you’ve dropped he won’t be there playing with your cunt with his fingers and/or mouth.

His hearing is incredible.

Sometimes you hide just to time how long it takes for him to find your hiding spot. Longest time was three minutes. The cabin isn’t the biggest in the world but there are plenty of places to hide, like closets, under the bed, behind sofas and doors.

Still hard at work fixing bits and pieces around the cabin, Toji somehow always knows when you’re up to some mischief. Maybe it’s because your heart starts beating faster or because you let out some giggles, envisioning that glint in his eyes and in his teeth when he grins at your pathetic attempts to escape him.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because your panties get soaked with anticipation for his rough, calloused hands throwing you over his shoulder and onto a bed, his or yours he doesn’t care, and fucking you into a drooling mess. Sometimes he even gets so impatient, so riled up, he just takes you wherever you are, your face smothered in a pile of folded clothes or against the wall with your panties dangling from an ankle.

Everything has been great. So great in a way you’ve never known greatness to manifest. It’s somewhat akin to, what you can only imagine to be, the completely liberating sensation of flapping your wings and cruising high up in the sky or running through a stream, chasing a fish with no end in sight. It’s the kind of greatness men strive for all their lives but never reach because it’s a greatness they were already born into and never realise.

The routine, the mundane, the ordinariness.

It’s all so great.

At night, you trace nonsensical words and shapes into his skin, smiling at the soft snores that vibrate under your head. You’ve always thought living every day the same as the day before and the day before that as a labyrinth you’ve been sentenced to die in, a cage or a prison of your own making. But now, you can’t imagine ever wanting more.

Of course, it hasn’t been perfect.

You still find some moments a little too boring but those are usually when he’s busy fixing a wobbly chair or grouting the tiles in the bathroom. And you do crave the feeling of driving through a long, empty road, or eating fast food. Those moments, thankfully, are hastily washed away once you feel his calloused hands tethering you back to him.

One other problem you’re having is his beard. As attractive as it is, it’s scratching up your thighs a little too much. You’ve noticed the rash forming between your legs; he has a penchant for eating you out at the drop of a hat and he’s not gentlemanly about it. At. All. You don’t ever want him to stop and the threatening snarl he makes every time you attempt to push him away from your swollen and overstimulated pussy never fails to halt your movements.

So there’s only one solution.

“Toji?” He lazily drags his gaze up your bare legs, stopping by the hard nipples poking through shirt, and then he meets your gaze with a brow raised. “Would you ever consider shaving your beard?”

The growl of ‘no’ comes before you could even finish the word ‘shaving’. His jaw clenches and a muscle ticks.

“But I can shave it for you. Being a woman, it’s kinda part of my existence. I’ll do you up real nice.”

“Hell will sooner freeze over before I let anyone put something sharp against my neck again. Even if they’re you.”

You drop it for now.

At night, after hours of mind-blowing sex, you lay all sweaty and sleepy on his chest once more with a heavy arm slung over your waist. You twist the hairs on his face, rolling a couple strands between your fingers. They’re quite long and thick. You wonder when the last time he had shaved was.

“Please?”

“No.”

You sigh.

The next morning, you’re in the bathroom, sitting on the bathtub and attempting to rub some soothing ointment meant for your face onto the irritated skin of your inner thighs. It’s getting worse and you’re at a loss. Making it hard to walk, you’re cursing every god out there for doing this to you.

Is his aversion to sharp objects near his head because of some trauma or an animalistic instinct? It’s hard to tell with hybrids, as the internet forums you’ve explored lecture — hybrids are both governed by human complexity and base biological instincts. Studies that have been done on them over the year have put forth some credible results but people are quick to put a disclaimer that animals in captivity rarely behave the way they would in the wild.

You sigh again.

Maybe you’ll have to tell him to stop eating you out. You cringe. That won’t go down well, pun intended, and you don’t want him to. Frowning, you carefully massage in the ointment, hissing at particularly sensitive spots.

“Fine. You can shave it off,” he grumbles.

You hadn’t even realised he was standing in the doorway, watching, and scratching his beard like he’s noticing, really noticing, the hairs on his face. One glance at the mirror across the room and he’s furrowing his brows, perhaps baffled at the man staring back at him.

His tone is hostile, but his acquiescence makes you smile.

About ten minutes later, you’ve sat him down on the edge of the bathtub, right where you were before, and you’ve assembled everything you need: razors, scissors, a comb, shaving cream, towels, and a tub of aloe vera to soothe any razor burns. Everything but the aloe vera is pretty pink, and you can’t help but giggle a little as you take a step back to admire this big, burly man surrounded by utterly feminine products.

“Alright, I’ll start by trimming it, okay? I don’t want to come at it straight away and spook you, so let’s take it nice and slow.”

He huffs. “Don’t gotta talk to me like I’m a kid. Do what you gotta do.”

With the scissors and the comb, you cut away at his beard, snipping here and there and trying to get it all even. It’s not an easy job — he growls when you venture too low, past his jawline and closer to his Adam’s apple and when he makes that throaty sound, you’re met with images of him biting into your throat, the way a dog does when you step on its tail.

Terrible as it is to compare a biological human male like Toji to an animal, it’s a fair comparison considering his reliance on his animal instincts. It’s been abundantly clear in the way he uses his senses to gain his bearings, how he never expresses a desire beyond eating, sleeping and fucking. There’s no vanity coursing through his blood, he doesn’t stare at himself in reflections, doesn’t fix up his hair or put on clothes that fit or match, and even how he doesn’t ever say pretty words, only what he means, no more and no less.

It’s nice.

So used to the way people sugarcoated their complaints or hid ulterior motives in every sickly sweet words, adjusting to Toji’s matter-of-fact way of speaking had been somewhat difficult.

But change is necessary. Just as the seasons change, so do animals, even humans. With how they adapt to the change in the wind, the drop in the temperature, the quake in the earth, you know without needing to ask questions or to have more time with him, the hybrid in front of you, part wolf and part man, has never had the luxury of being stagnant.

It was clear when he showed up at your door with no bag, just the clothes on his back and the muddy, worn down boots on his feet. Even fully fed, lounging on the sofa by the fire with his feet and torso bare, you sense the tension freezing his body; he’s always ready to run.

He snarls and flinches when he feels the cold blade of your scissors touch his skin. And then his hand grips your thigh, both in warning and to tether himself, perhaps to remind him you’re not a monster thirsting for blood, his blood, but rather just a woman. A woman he’s seen completely bare, a woman who’s crawled on all fours and nuzzled her face against the seam of his jeans when he returns from fixing a tile on the roof, and a woman who’s laid it all out for him, starting from what led you here and ending to where you want to be.

Uncomfortable and on edge, you already know you’re not going to get very far with the way he’s being. He needs a distraction.

You kiss him. He growls for a different reason this time. Fingers threading in your hair, he holds you down to him, tasting the sweetness you’re offering. He laps it up. “Toji, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Face burying into your neck, he takes a long inhale there. “I know.”

“I’m gonna get started on the shaving cream, okay?”

His grip on you tightens and you know he’s aware that razors are sharper than scissors, much like how his teeth are sharper than yours. You don’t want to know what events he’s lived through to be so hostile against the act of shaving but he isn’t an animal, not fully, anyways.

He’s also a man.

And men conquer.

Even when they shouldn’t.

You slide your panties down, dangling it in the air for a second, hesitating but you see the appraisal in his eyes, always so suspicious like he’s thinking of all the ways one could be killed with a scrap of lace. Dropping it on his face, you tell him, “I don’t see why only one of should be vulnerable here.”

Rumbling a pure sense of bliss, his eyes flutter shut and he sniffs at your panties. His hand flies up to your slit just as you’re smearing shaving cream all over his jaw, pulling the panties away from him for a second.

“Seeing me all tense is getting you soaked?” His lip twitches.

“Hey, now, let’s not even get started on that seeing as you’re pretty hard for someone suffering some internal battle.”

He gives you a rare grin.

The rest of the torture goes on in relative peace — you shave him bit by bit, going slowly and keeping your touch gentle especially as you near the softness of his neck and when you go over it with the razor, he takes a deep inhale of your panties, trying to shake off that unnatural acceptance of something so dangerous, so compromising, so utterly unlike him. After every slither of skin you’ve rid of hair, you give him a kiss which he insists on deepening, shoving fingers into your cunt just to feel you clench down on him.

Soon, he’s completely smooth and it’s only when you step back that you take it all in. He was handsome with the beard and he’s just as handsome now. He also looks more youthful, more boyish, and free.

Toji comes to a stand, staring at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t say a word, neither do you. A barrage of thoughts pass through his mind, flashing and flickering. His fingers feel his skin, jerking at the complete bareness of it all. You can’t tell if he likes it, if he regrets his choice, and if he even recognises the man under all that wild and untamed hair. He had been running so long as a wolf, perhaps he’s forgotten how to walk as a man.

That’s what you think, until he makes some gesture with his hand and he says, “Got no reason to push me away now, so spread those legs, ma. Let’s go for a test drive.”

You don’t leave that bathroom until hours later, sore, wet, sticky and thoroughly blissed out.

The next day, just before lunchtime, Toji goes to chop up some more wood for the fireplace whilst the snow has stopped falling just for today. You’re watching him through a window, bundled up in a blanket holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate, and not at all envious of him, what with the chilling weather and his lack of a coat.

You really have to buy him one. He doesn’t look the least bit cold, which you don’t really understand, but still, something about the picture looks off. It’s not fair you get to be all comfortable, lazing around, and he’s hard at work.

The phone rings.

Your head snaps to the coffee table which your phone lies on, vibrating against the wood. A new number. When you answer, you’re surprised to recognise the voice immediately.

“Hi. Yes, I’m managing quite fine.”

The old man sighs. “How glad am I to hear that. The storm has made it rather hard to get a hold of you and I certainly couldn’t make the journey up.”

“That’s quite alright. I really appreciate the thought, it’s very sweet of you.”

Exchanging pleasantries and talks about the various favours he owed your grandmother, over five minutes pass, and you’re itching to urge Toji back inside, fearing that he could drop dead at any second from the chill.

Eventually, and thankfully, the conversation nears an end with him insisting that as soon as the snow thaws enough you come on down for dinner at his home. He says his sons and their wives all love a good, hearty meal as a family. There are even grandchildren for you to play with should adults not be your speed. “Yes, yes, of course. That sounds great, thank you.”

“Alright, bye, dear. I’ll call back again to check up on you and please remember you can always call on me and my kids for help.”

Humming, you’re about to end the call when his tone changes.

“Speaking of help,” he begins, clearing his throat. “How have you been managing to get on so well?”

Toji’s still chopping wood, swinging that heavy axe back behind his head and down in one smooth strike, cutting the log in a perfect half. You press your legs together, unable to take your eyes off his bulging biceps. You love when he shows off his strength, it comes so effortlessly to him, unlike the men where you’re from whose muscles are all for show, satisfying their own vanity and quelling their insecurities momentarily before they’re inhaling steroids like air.

“Oh, you know, this man my grandmother befriended over the years came by and has been helping me out since. He’s quite familiar with the ins and outs of the cabin so I really couldn’t have done any of this without him. I’d like to bring him along to dinn—“

“A man?”

You frown. “Yeah, Toji. Surely you must have met him at some point since he and my grandmother were quite close.”

“I knew it! I knew I saw him here days ago. Oh, goodness. I’m so sorry you ran into him, but please stay away from him.”

What the hell is this man talking about?

“No, it’s Toji, he helped my granny during the winter months. He fixed things up for her and helped her get around. He was like a friend to her in ways me and my siblings should have been. He’s really nice, you’ll like him.”

The man in question is scratching his jaw, still getting used to being so bare, and he’s rolling his head around as if bothered by some crick in his neck. He’s got an impressive pile of logs waiting to be fed to the fireplace and you know he’s going to head back in any second now. For some reason, you feel guilty, like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be, talking to someone you shouldn’t talk to.

“Y/n, listen to me. Please!” The urgency, the insistence, and desperation in the old man’s voice is palpable, a hand reaching through the screen and choking air right out from your lungs. Your heart begins galloping. “That man is a criminal. He’s wanted, a fugitive! H-he’s a killer.”

Confused and somewhat exasperated, you argue, “No, you’ve got the wrong man. I’m telling you, we’re talking about different people here.”

You can’t shake off the abrupt shift in his voice. From caring old man with a shaky baritone to a firm, military like precision. It’s as if you were talking to a completely different man.

A beat passes and you think he’s hung up, that this odd conversation is over and done with but one glance at the screen tells you differently. He doesn’t say a thing, and all you can hear is the rushing of the wind and grunts and thuds outside.

Irritated by this entire farce, your thumb moves to press the end-call button but then you hear him on the other line.

“Does he have a scar on the corner of his mouth?”

The blood drains from your face.

“H-how did you know that?”

A noise of death and despair reaches your ears. He’s shouting something to someone else, you can hear their alarm, can feel the anxiety, the dread and terror in their voices, muffled as they are. “Get away from him. Get away from him now! Do whatever you can. You mustn’t let him get his hands on you. H-he’s one of them. One of those abominations. A hybrid, a dangerous kind.”

“What are you talking about? Just tell me what’s happening, please, you’re not making sense right now.”

“He killed your grandmother!”

You drop your mug. It shatters by your feet. The creamy chocolate milk pools into a puddle, soaking your socks. There’s ceramic chipping littering the floor and you can’t move, can’t go anywhere without taking a big leap.

Slowly, you look up from your phone screen, hearing subdued questions of fear and panic on the other end. Through the window, you meet Toji’s eyes.

He’s looking right at you.

You hang up.

It takes three seconds for him to get to the door, pushing it open. He shakes off the snow off his boots, banging them against the doorframe, and the axe he had been holding is set down by the shoe rack, the metal clinking, as he enters. Light from the ceiling bulb reflects directly off the sharpest point, shining in your eyes. Are necks harder to cut through than wood?

“Ya alright?”

Plastering a cheerful smile, you nod.

He doesn’t look convinced.

In a blink, he’s in front of you, cradling your face in one cold hand. He tilts your chin back and searches your eyes. He doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for so he sniffs the air and his eyes darken. Slowly, like you’re a deer, he asks, “What are you so afraid of?”

“Oh, nothing. Really. I was just reading the news online and stumbled across articles about the war in that country in the East, y’know, the one with the hospital bombing. It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t read it,” he says. “Show me.”

Your heart beats impossibly faster. You know he can hear it. There’s no way he can��t with his wolfish hearing and with a finger on your pulse. Maybe that’s why his other hand, just as cold, wraps around your wrist and he tugs it towards him. His nails scrape against your skin and his hand eats up your wrist entirely, middle finger folding over his thumb. At any given second, he can snap the bone there and not bat an eye.

Laughing nervously, you tug your hand back, to no avail. With a forced nonchalant tone, you inform him, “I wanna get all cleaned up. I feel a little icky, and all sweaty and sticky from this morning so I’m just gonna take a nice long bath.”

He lets you shake him off but only after he’s taken the phone out of your death grip. He can’t unlock it, he doesn’t the password. But that was never his intention. He doesn’t even look down on the screen. As fast as you can without looking panicked, you stumble away from his reach and towards the door.

“Y/n.”

Your smile shakes.

“What did they tell you?”

Your smile falls off altogether.

“Toji,” you begin, “p-please, let’s not do this.”

His scar twitches and when he makes a step towards you, you step back. There. You almost missed it, almost blinked and lost your footing. But his eyes unmistakably flicker from you and to the side, by the door, at the shoe rack. You don’t need to turn back to know what exactly he’s eyeing. Calmly, he asserts, “You won’t last an hour outside. You won’t even reach the forest’s edge before I get to you. You don’t know your way down. And if it ain’t me, it’ll be the elements that’ll kill ya. Be wise, kid.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

With the scarlet blanket still hanging off you, you dash towards the door, pulling the shoe rack behind you and the sound of clattering and a thud forces your legs pumping.

You run.

You run and you don’t look back, you don’t stop, not even for a second, not even when your socks are soaked with snow and not melted chocolate. The trees welcome you as you dash in between trunks, lunging over thick roots and dodging low hanging branches. You don’t know where you’re going, where you can go.

A sob rises from your throat, clawing its way out.

He was right. You don’t know your way down and the freeze is creeping in, frosting over your veins and seeping into your bones. The movies show the power of adrenaline all the time, how it’ll wash away any and all feelings that aren’t helpful for survival, but it’s not enough.

Your muscles are aching, your cheeks are burning and your fingers are beginning to itch and tingle. You weren’t meant for survival. You weren’t meant to put up a fight.

When he gets to you, he’ll snuff the light right out of your eyes with one swipe of his arm. You’ve seen what he can do with those hands, you’ve felt the way they wrangled you into position, hell you’ve drooled over the bruises he’s left on you. And you never once thought you’d be running from the hands that dragged you over a cliff of pleasure, that carried you around, and touched you so soothingly.

Without needing to hear heavy footfall, you know he’s after you. You have animalistic instincts too.

A dead woman running is what you are. You were dead as soon as you picked up that phone call.

No.

You were dead the moment you opened the door.

“Fuck!” You scream. Ignoring the ache in your legs and the pain in your ankles, you sprint as fast as you can. Your body’s being pushed to its limits; you’ve never ran like this before. Granted, you’ve never been chased by a murderer either.

The absurd turn of event make you laugh, deranged and broken, and it echoes around the forest. As far as you can see, there’s only trees and snow, perfectly white, pristine snow. There are no roads, no houses, no people. No one to help. No one that can hear you scream.

You should have stayed in the city, should have never left, should have never gotten bored. Spontaneity isn’t your thing and you’re learning it the hard way. There’ll never be an opportunity to put into practice the moral of the story that’s being engraved into your DNA right now. No one will even notice you’re gone — you aren’t close with your family, and you don’t have friends, not really anyways.

There will be no mourning, no grieving, there won’t even be a goddamn funeral.

Heart threatening to tear through your body, you collapse against a tree. You’re panting, chest heaving as you gulp down as much air as possible. The bark scratches your forehead but you can’t muster a shred of care, not when every limb is shaking both from the cold and the effort.

There are an array of shallow cuts all over your arms and face from where low hanging branches have whipped against your skin, attempting to get you in their clutches, to slow you down. The forest isn’t your friend. This isn’t your domain, It’s his.

“Y/n!”

You smother the startled cry with the palm of your hand.

He’s near.

Tears stream down your face, falling onto the snow beneath you. Numb, you briefly worry you’ve lost your feet altogether. One glance down disproves that but you’re still not convinced. You hug the blanket closer around you; it does absolutely nothing to keep the warmth in and the cold out. And yet, you can’t bear to let it go.

“I can hear you.”

Lips quivering, you bite down hard. Iron lays on your tongue. There’s nowhere to go. He had found you so quickly and he knows the forest better than you. How many times had he made the trip to that cabin? How many times had he sought out your grandmother? Had smiled at her, chopped up wood for her, had collected groceries and medicines? How many times had she let him in every time he knocked, every time he emerged from the shadows and soaked up the warmth of her kindness?

What were her last words?

No, please, don’t! Spare me?

Or why, Toji, why?

What will be yours?

A flash of movement catches your eye. He’s not panting like you, he’s not even sweating. When he steps forward, brushing his hair back, you don’t fail to notice he didn’t come empty handed.

His eyes glint, sharper than the axe he carries, and he’s roving over your features, watching you tremble. One sniff and his scar is stretching.

“Y’r afraid.”

“Yeah, no f-fucking kidding!”

Even as he keeps his voice deceptively soft, much like how it is when he’s lulling you to sleep, you can’t stop staring at the axe. That stupid fucking axe he just had to bring with him. You sob.

“Just leave me alone, please.”

Scoffing, he steps closer once more. “Not even gonna ask if I did or didn’t?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”

He lunges, pinning you to a tree with a forearm to your throat. Radiating heat, your body betrays you and presses closer to him, desperate to envelope yourself in that warmth. You want nothing more than to be back in bed with him, oblivious to the rest of the world. You want to go back to before that phone call and make it so that you never found out, so that you never picked up the damn phone.

Teeth snapping a hair’s breadth away from your nose, he demands, “Ask.”

“Did you?” You scream at him. “Did you kill my fucking grandmother? After everything she did for you? After she showed you kindness and hospitality and gave you friendship? Did you kill her even after she begged? Did you watch the life fade from her eyes knowing she never got to say goodbye to me? To any of us?”

His glare softens. There’s a tenderness swirling in those green eyes, a fervour and understanding that thaws your heart. He looks like the Toji you know, or rather, knew. He looks like the Toji that had pushed himself to trek in the snow for hours so you can be fed, the Toji that kept you company every day, that fixed things without needing to be asked, the one that made you coffee and knew just how you liked it, the one that traced patterns you had drawn him on your skin when he thought you weren’t awake.

“Did you kill her?”

Scar grazing your lips as he inhales the shampoo from your hair, you feel his answer just as well as you hear it.

“Yes.”

A gunshot resounds in the air. It’s sharp and startling, cutting through the crisp silence with a violent roar. The sound lingers in the air, echoing and rattling your bones like it had been fired inside you.

“Get the fuck away from her, beast!”

You turn to the side. A man you don’t recognise is standing metres away holding a shotgun. His face is contorted in rage, creating deep shadows and wrinkles that make him look infinitely older than he likely is. Smoke wisps away from the barrel of his fun, pointed at the sky. A warning shot.

Toji pushes you behind him as he growls.

“Fuck off. She’s mine.”

You trip over your blanket. Through his legs, you see that man lower the gun till it points in your direction. You’re frozen in place.

“Let her go and turn yourself in. An animal like you needs to be muzzled and put down,” the man spits, venom flooding his words. He looks at you. “Come here. My father sent me. You know him.”

Stumbling to a stand on shaky knees, you back away from Toji, going around the tree and making your way to the other side. He doesn’t stop you, just watches every move you make as if you’re standing in a field of landmines. His grip on the axe doesn’t loosen and he makes no sign he’s going to give himself up.

“T-Toji, don’t fight, please just come with us. If you give yourself up, maybe they’ll go easy on you,” you plead.

He growls, grimacing. He’s contemplating it. That means everything to you. In some sick, pathetic joke, you actually pity him. There’s still a huge part of you that cares, that wants what’s best for him, that loves him. But that part needs to be extinguished because he’s a cold blooded killer and he’ll turn those murderous hands on you.

Leg jerking, he makes a step towards you. It feels so right, you mirror his movement, like this one act, one sacrifice makes up for everything, like it erases the sins of his past and washes away the blood on his hands.

“Ahh!” You’re yanked back by your hair.

“Don’t get near him, you stupid bitch! He’s a fucking mongrel.”

The snarl that ripples from Toji’s throat pierces through haze, rustling the branches up above and forcing a flock of birds up and away. He charges towards you, axe raised up high and you shake yourself from the man’s clutches, jumping out of the way just in time before bodies collide and they both fall.

Rolling away, you bundle up the blanket you’re shielding yourself with and cry into it. The sound of bodies being beaten, arms bent, stomachs kicked and necks bitten into make you cringe. You cry harder. You don’t dare look at who’s winning, you can’t bring yourself to look. It’s because you don’t want to see the violence, don’t want to see blood, but there’s a voice screaming that it’s because you’ll die if the one who walks away from this isn’t Toji.

“Don’t fucking touch her!”

“Get the fuck off me! You filthy mutt!”

You’re digging your nails into the bark of a tree, flinching with every blow. You hear fists slamming into flesh, each punch a blunt weapon bruising and breaking, bone-crushing swings whistling through air followed by sharp exhales of pain and vomit-inducing cracks and pops. The struggle is relentless, blow after blow, and you hear the gun clatter as it’s kicked to the side.

SNAP!

“You should have never come back! You should have died on the side of the street after what you did to that woman”

POP!

“Ahhh! Fuck!”

SMACK!

“Ya don’t know shit!”

The trees are spectators, moaning and whistling in protest at the unholy sight, at the splatters of blood contaminating their ranks. The branches shake in warning but no one is listening.

Whimpering, you hum a song, trying to block out the repulsive sounds of senseless violence. You should have never been here. You never visited because you couldn’t stand the isolation of a cabin in the mountains, couldn’t stand the unconditional love your grandmother gave you, of which you knew then and you know now, you were never deserving of.

If you had been dutiful and even had a fraction of her selflessness, you would have taken care of her so that she never relied on a man with sharp senses and a dangerous smile.

If you had been a good granddaughter, that man would be roaming the world, unburdened by material possession and human attachments. He wouldn’t be beating a man black and blue, wouldn’t be tearing flesh from bone, wouldn’t be debasing himself for your sake, or his. You don’t know anymore.

You turn to yell at him to stop, for him to run instead. But your words are swallowed by a gunshot.

A body falls to the floor in a dull thud. Crimson dyes the snow, puddling into a shade so dark you could always persuade yourself it’s not what you think it is. Time slows. You can see every flake of snow pause in the air, you can count them, can collect them in your hands. The wind has disappeared, leaving behind a stillness in the air that’s suffocating, choking you from inside. Even the trees have stopped their moaning.

Your heart stops beating.

Someone stands over the body, holding a smoking gun, and it isn’t who you wanted it to be.

“Toji!” You scramble over, hands shaking harder than ever before.

He’s clutching his chest. Hot liquid drenches your pants. You didn’t realise fresh blood would be so warm and you wish so badly it wasn’t because it means that the warmth that should be inside him is leaving, being absorbed by the ground, by you.

Green eyes, dulling, meet yours. He smiles. “She asked me to. She was in pain. Couldn’t make it down through the snow. She asked me.”

“N-no, stop it. Save your breath, please.” Through your sobs, you turn to the nameless man, pale under the cuts all over his face as the snow and shuddering from the shock of what he had done. “Call the ambulance! Call somebody! Please!”

“C-car. I-it’s in my car.” Staggering back, he drops the gun and fishes out his keys, muttering frenzied apologies under his breath. He limps his way back, weaving through the trees.

Despite having less cuts and bruises, he’s in much worser state. His chest heaves and you’re trying to press down on the wound like you’ve seen in the movies but you don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know whether you’re supposed to be smothering the hole with a dirty blanket or if you should be performing CPR. No one had ever trained you for this. This wasn’t covered in any of those HR meetings. “Oh, god, Toji. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Oh. God. I’m so so sorry.”

Lifting a limp hand, he brushes a tear away only for it to be replaced by a hundred more. He huffs a weak laugh at the blood he smears on your face and he tries to brush that away too.

“I’d always wanted to meet you. She spoke of how beautiful, how kind and generous you are. Her favourite. Didn’t believe her, y’know? I thought, no one could possibly be that nice if they never even visit their gran. But I’d always wanted to know for myself.”

You shake your head. He shouldn’t be speaking. He should be saving his breath, should be focusing on keeping awake until help arrives. “Stop. Please, just stop. Don’t waste your energy on me. I-I don’t deserve it. I should have listened, should have heard you out. Oh, god, Toji.”

He huffs an amused laugh. He sounds so clear, so loud, so alive you could actually convince yourself he doesn’t have a bleeding hole in his chest. But you can’t because you can feel the blood flowing out, it’s caking your legs and your hands.

“You wanna know what I think, ma?” Pulling you close, you don’t fight his grip. Through your whimpers, you press your ear to his lips, holding him close like you could will your own warmth to him, like you could jostle you both back to consciousness. “I think y’r even more beautiful than she said. My gorgeous gorgeous girl. Mine.”

It’s unclear if he said anything else after that; you could only hear your own pleadings and sobbing as his arms fall limp and his body grows cold. There came rustling from all over the forest like they heard a tree fell, a mighty and sturdy tree. They warned you. There are consequences to dirtying the snow’s purity, to upsetting the balance. That’s a lesson all animals know. But the battle that had gone on here wasn’t committed by preys and predators. Just men.

And men never learn their lesson until it’s far too late.

The trees cry with you.

For you.

When the marching of people came some time later, all yelling and barking orders to each other, they found you lying on his chest, just as you had for many nights and had imagined you would every night after, with a red blanket pulled over the both of you.

There, silent as a lamb, you slept.

A tear-stricken city girl and her big, bad wolf.

Neither of which would ever live again.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk oneshot #toji oneshot #Toji angst

7K notes · View notes

andvys · 5 months ago

Text

Secrets I have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought)E.M.

⭐︎ Warnings: 18+, mdni! idiots to lovers, best friends to lovers, smut smut smut, lots of pining, mentions of unrequited feelings (they're not), slight angst, unprotected sex, breeding kink? kinda. alcohol and weed consumption. high sex?

⭐︎ Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 20.4k

⭐︎ Summary: A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever.

⭐︎ Author's note: I've been meaning to write a best friends to lovers with Eddie for a while now (especially after writing ikyllatk, if you know you know. this is Cheer and Eddie to me in a different universe hehe). @hellfire--cult and I went feral over this idea and we've been talking about this since foreverrrrr and here we are finally! thank you for inspiring me, love ♡

⭐︎ the library

divider made by @cafekitsune

The sun is beating down on your skin, kissing it with warmth as the cold water from the lake is still clinging to your body, making goosebumps appear as you shiver the slightest bit. Your eyes are closed, a content smile rests on your face, despite the way your blue lips tremble. Birds are chirping all around you, the trees rustle whenever the wind blows, the water splashes when your best friend makes his way out of the lake, cursing a few times when he steps over the sharp rocks on the ground.

You don’t open your eyes just yet but you listen to him moving closer and closer to where you’re laying on the pink towel you threw on the grass earlier. You don’t have to take a look to know that he is staring at you, he always is. Like a weight on your body, his stare always feels like a warm blanket, heating up your insides and making you feel something you shouldn’t.

Eddie’s eyes are roaming your body, your glistening bare skin, the skimpy bikini bottoms that are only held together by the strings on the sides, the little bow coming undone slowly. He kneels down before you, making a gasp fall from your lips when the water from his hair drips on your belly and his cold hands touch your hip, fingers reaching for the strings so he can fix the little bow.

You open your eyes to find him looking down with a smug smile as he plays with the strings on your bottoms, re-tying it for you. Your breath hitches in your throat from the touch of his hand and the closeness of him, if you were to sit up, your noses would bump together but you stay in place, only pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, sweets,” he chuckles softly, taking his sweet time as his fingertips graze your bare hip, “didn’t mean to get you wet,” he smirks, a look of mischief flashes in his eyes as water continues to drip from his body onto yours.

“Are you sure?” You challenge him the way you always do, blinking at him innocently as you bring your knees up higher and bite your lip, making him gulp and blush instantly.

You always know how to break him.

Eddie is oh so confident and flirty, throwing looks and comments your way that are a little too suggestive for someone who is considered a best friend, but the moment you join in on his game, even if only subtly, he turns into a blushing mess, no longer the confident, cocky guy he wishes to be.

But even when he turns into this, blushing and nervous, you can still feel that one certain energy radiating off him and it makes you squirm, it fills you with curiosity and the urge to cross that invisible line, your deepest desires, the ones that are locked away begging to be released. You never let them, you never even looked or paid attention to what you really wanted or craved. You played his game, you flirted back, you teased him but you never admitted to yourself that there was… something.

“Hm, no,” Eddie murmurs, suggestively. He ties the knot, strongly and then, he hooks his finger around the strap, he pulls it back and lets it snap against your skin, making you jolt in your place, a tiny gasp falling from your lips once more as a bigger smirk appears on his face. His eyes roam your body, he takes you in fully before he leans back and plops down on his own towel, laying down, he places his arm behind his head, closing his eyes to the sun, he lets out a sigh of contentment, acting as though he didn’t just touch you the way best friends normally don’t do. Asshole.

“This is nice, I’m glad we came out here.”

You hum in agreement, taking advantage of the fact that his eyes are closed, you allow yourself to take a closer, better look at the man who had become your best and closest friend. He is attractive, very handsome, you aren’t blind, you never have been but he is your friend, you never allowed yourself to look at him a certain way but lately it’s become harder to stay so… blind, to not let his lingering touches make you weak in the knees, to not let his comments fill you with giddiness, to not feel something when he holds you in his arms, when he plays with your hair or places his hand on your thigh when you’re in his passenger seat.

You don’t know where this sudden change has come from, it’s always been that way with him, from the very beginning, he’s been touchy and affectionate with you but it didn’t always make you so excited, it’s been a recent development, something that Nancy and Robin teased you about, they saw your reactions whenever he kissed your cheek and called you pet names, whenever he walked into a room only smiling the moment his eyes would meet yours.

You never noticed it before, the feelings he left you with after all his sweet gestures and touches, only when your friends had brought it up to you, leaving you a blushing and a confused mess, did you start to open your eyes… a little, and suddenly things started to change, your reactions to his comments, no matter if they are flirty or sweet, your reactions to his lingering touches, the way his fingers would play with yours, the way they would drum against your skin, so very close to the hem of your skirt or your shirt, the way he would tuck your hair behind your ear or wipe the foam off your upper lip after taking the first sip of your morning latte before taking his thumb into his mouth and licking it off, moaning while doing so – what was normal before, suddenly wasn’t anymore, everything he did, everything he does now drives you crazy and leaves you yearning for more but you never dared to be the one to take another step forward, to cross that daring line, to make the first real move.

He is still Eddie, your best friend, your soulmate, the person you don’t want to lose, especially over something like this, over reading into something that might not be there, over losing control of your own feelings. After all, this could all just be a part of… him. Maybe it’s just who he is, affectionate, teasing, flirty, daring. Maybe he is like that with everybody, not just you.

But maybe not, maybe you are the only one and maybe, just maybe he is waiting for you to be the one to make another move, to take another step, maybe he has been waiting, maybe he has been waiting for a while now.

You bite your lips so hard, you almost rip the skin open, your eyes are glued to his form, to the way his chest rises up and down, his wet hair a mess around him, lashes fluttering as his eyes are squeezed shut, your fingers itch to touch the ink on his pale skin, you lick your lips as your eyes follow his happy trail, mouth watering at the way his swim trunks are so low on his hips, his bulge so… god, you need to stop – but how can you? Your best friend is just so pretty. And his hands are so big, fingers so long and you have felt them on your skin before but you would be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t think about them in other places.

Your cheeks heat up at your own thoughts, though it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming some more and the longer you do, the more you start to lose yourself in them, wondering about all the different what if’s, wondering what would happen if you just made the move your friends have begged you to make, to be more daring, to be more teasing, to break him enough for him to do something you both clearly want.

A bravery you don’t usually have, surges through your body, taking over completely. The urge to tease him back the way he teases you is so strong, so before you chicken out, before you think too much and too long, you reach behind you, undoing the bow he tied on your bikini top, you turn away from him and take the skimpy black thing off, throwing it down next to you, the cool breeze kisses your skin and if Eddie opened his eyes right now, he’d be met with the sight of your bare chest.

You press your lips together and turn around, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you lay down on your stomach, stretching your arms out and letting out a sigh of contentment. You turn your head into his direction but close your eyes, even though you’re dying to see his reaction to you being topless but you are trying to play it cool, like it’s nothing.

Eddie peeks one eye open after listening to all your movement and he almost chokes on his spit when he does, jaw falling slack, both eyes shoot open as he takes in the sight of you, of the skin that wasn’t bare only seconds ago – how, when, what?

He blinks, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted as he is gawking at you, at the way your boobs are pressed against the towel beneath you, at the softness of your skin, at the single drops of water still clinging to your body that he wants to touch oh so badly, your hair looks so shiny and soft, your face so content as you lay half naked next to him.

Eddie’s cheeks heat up when he realizes that he would have seen you bare if only he opened his eyes a few seconds sooner. He licks his lips, nearly drooling over the sight of you. Suddenly, his trunks feel tighter than before when his mind takes him to places he only reserves for late nights when he is all alone and not afraid to risk to pop a boner.

He tries to look away, he really does but he can’t, not when you look this hot. He allows his eyes to roam again and it only makes his case worse, his breathing quickens, his skin heats up, his hands itch to touch your soft skin, his lips long to trail kisses down your body, to have a little taste of you.

If you were his, he would, he would start on your neck and he would kiss down to your shoulder and then your back, and he’d take it lower and lower until his lips would reach those skimpy panties, he’d take them off and taste you the way he always dreamed of, he’d lick a stripe up your pussy, suck on your clit, eat you out like the starved man that he is and he would get lost in your moans and your whines, in the pleasure that only he could make you feel.

Eddie clears his throat, he nearly curses when he feels his dick twitching in need of you. He clenches his jaw, even more so when he sees your lips twitching into a smirk. Oh… Oh.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, his breath halting for a moment when he realizes what you did, you did this on purpose, you aimed to tease him.

It’s not exactly something new, you being a tease but you have never taken things this far, you have never stepped up to his level.

But now that you did… he can take things further as well, right?

If you decide to tease him like this, then he will tease right back.

He pushes himself up, adjusting his trunks, he nearly lets out a groan when you wiggle your butt a little, pretending to get more comfortable.

He bites his lip as he looks around in search for the sunscreen you have brought with you, he finds the bottle peeking out of your bag. He presses his palm on the grass beneath him, leaning over your body to reach for the yellow bottle.

“What’re you doing, Eds?” You murmur, rather seductively

A smirk tugs at Eddie’s lips, the tone in your voice tells him that you believe you are in charge here and… maybe you are, right now, but he won’t let you win so easily.

He chuckles lowly when a gasp tears from your pretty lips after he squirts the cold cream on your back.

“Don’t want you to get burned, sweetheart,” he whispers, closing the cap of the bottle, he throws it on the ground before he lays his palms flat against your hot skin, spreading the white cream all over your back.

You grow flustered and you start blushing, your breathing gets heavier and you visibly gulp when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your skin. You suck in a sharp breath when his hands move up to your shoulders, gripping you there for a moment before he moves back down, the coldness of his rings making you shudder a little.

Eddie can’t even hide the smug look on his face after feeling your reaction, pride swelling in his chest when you sigh so beautifully because of his touch.

You easily get lost in this, eyelashes fluttering, soft breaths and sighs falling from your lips as his strong hands move up and down your skin, touching you in ways that make you squirm beneath him.

“Feels good,” you whisper as you arch your back a little, not knowing that just a small movement like this is enough to drive him insane, once again.

“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, he swallows harshly.

“What was that?” You ask, not hiding the smugness in your voice, very well.

“Nothing,” he lies, “nothing, sweets.”

“You sure?”

He hums, shaking his head at your teasing, at the way you think that you will win the game that he started.

Eddie moves his hands down to your sides, making sure to get the cream everywhere, so you won’t get burned, of course. His fingers dip dangerously low to the side of your boobs, and while it was only meant to tease you, to get a reaction out of you, he realizes that it was a mistake, only a little too late – it only makes his case worse when he feels just how soft and smooth your skin is that is usually hidden under all your clothes, when he feels himself craving to touch a little lower, to feel more of you, to make you feel–

“Mmmh.”

Eddie freezes, hands halting at your sides, his big brown eyes widen and his lips part once again, he stares at the back of your head, stunned.

You moaned at his touch, whimpered even, making those butterflies in his stomach feel stronger than ever.

“Why’d you stop?” You mumble, wiggling your butt as though to tell him to keep going.

Do you even know the power you hold over him?

Do you even understand what you do to him?

Eddie bites his lip, he bites hard, hard enough to taste iron. He sucks in a sharp breath, biting back the growl that threatens to fall from his mouth when he adjusts behind you, the rough material of his swim trunks rubbing against his dick. He is fucking rock hard and if you only turned around to take a look at him, you would see it.

“I’m sorry, got a little distracted,” he says lowly, voice getting a little shaky.

He feels so hot, and it’s not the sun that is making him sweat, it’s all you.

He can see the way your lip twitches, the way your dimple shows when you smirk at his words.

“Oh? By what, the birds?” You giggle.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your question even though your eyes are still closed. He takes a moment to look at your surroundings, at the beautiful scenery, the trees and the big lake in front of Steve’s cabin – well, his parents cabin.

God, he wonders where this weekend will take him, you and him.

A weekend you were both supposed to spend with your friends, turned into this. Just you and him, and no one else.

It’s only day one, and you are already close to making him cum in his swim trunks, like some pathetic teenage boy who couldn’t handle his crush’s teasing or touching.

This will either be the best weekend of his life, or this might kill him – if you are only teasing, then this will surely kill him but if you are not, then he owes your friends a lot, for pretending to be sick or busy. He knows that they were lying when Robin fake coughed on the phone after telling him that she couldn’t make it, that she and Steve couldn’t make it, cause he got sick too… apparently.

And Nancy forgot that she promised to help her mom with something, and if Nancy couldn’t come, then Jonathan couldn’t either of course – which led to Argyle staying back as well, cause where would he ever go without his best buddy?

Eddie looks back down at you, at his best friend, who is laying half naked before him so comfortably, teasing him so freely. Another sigh escapes your lips and you squirm beneath him once again.

Yeah, no matter how this will end, you will be the death of him.

“Yeah, the birds,” he mumbles, snorting at his own words.

He leans down closer to you, squeezing your sides which makes you jolt a little, a giggle falling from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the sweet sound, “I forgot how ticklish you are,” he teases, as if.

“Mhmm sure you did, Eddie.”

With a mischievous smile, he decides to take his teasing further, playfully digging his fingers into your waist, he begins to tickle you, making you yelp and jolt in surprise as you start squirming beneath his touch, giggles now falling freely from your mouth as his name rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, awakening those butterflies in his stomach. God, he wishes he could make you call out his name in different ways.

You jump up, with your arms covering your front, one hand pressing against your boobs, hiding only just a little as you turn to face your best friend. You watch the way his eyes widen as they instantly fall to your chest, lust flashing in them, jaw dropping as his cheeks redden right this second, his expression makes you giggle even harder, even more so when you push him back and he falls onto the grass, flat on his butt, wet curls hanging in front of his hair.

Eddie is so stunned by you, he can barely move as he stares at you, at your half naked form. God, you are so beautiful it hurts.

The afternoon sun begins to turn golden, kissing your glowy skin and all your curves, your hair cascades down your shoulders, your hand that barely hides anything pressing against your boobs, he wishes it was his own. Licking his lips, he pushes himself up on his elbows, letting his eyes roam your body, shamelessly, dreaming about the way he would love to get between those delicious looking thighs of yours, the way he’d kiss every inch of your body, leaving no trace unmarked, the way he would nuzzle his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent, not playfully the way he usually does, but with a trail of kisses that he would leave behind.

He would worship you in ways he can’t even begin to describe. Oh, how often Eddie finds himself up at night, working on yet another song about you, thinking of words that haven’t been created yet, strong enough to describe you.

He feels uncomfortable in his swim trunks that are getting a little too tight, his skin feels on fire, not from the sun but from you. He lusts after you, yes, but there is also more than that, so much more. It isn’t just the lust that makes these feelings so intense, it’s all his deepest feelings for you, feelings that only his notebook filled with song texts know about… and maybe your friends, who aren’t as oblivious as you are.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and you should too,” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

Eddie clears his throat, watching you get up, not bothering to pick up your top or your dress that you wore earlier, you simply keep your chest hidden by your right arm.

“You’re helping me cook dinner,” you give him a pointed look before you turn around and begin to walk back to the house.

Eddie smiles cheekily as he pushes himself up further, eyes glued to your butt now.

“Are you telling me to get into the shower with you?” He calls after you, unaware of the butterflies that he caused in your stomach now.

You don’t turn around, you keep walking, hiding the flustered expression on your face from him. You flip him off without looking back, biting back your smile when he laughs loudly.

Eddie watches, craning his neck to see more of you, the way your butt jiggles as you skip up the stairs. He bites his lip, groaning at the sight of it.

“Goddamn.”

You will be the death of him.

It’s dark outside by the time Eddie comes out of the steamy bathroom, the cabin is mostly dark too, candles illuminate the living room and the sound of music fills the space. A smile lingers on his face as he makes his way down the hallway, his wet curls bouncing with each step that he takes, he throws on a clean shirt, his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips.

A groan almost falls from his lips when he walks into the kitchen to you standing there in nothing but one of his shirts, now that sight is nothing new to him but it never fails to take his breath away, though usually you have on more than just the shirt. Your bare legs are glowy beneath the dim lights, from hours in the sun and that delicious smelling cream you always put on your skin after showering, you sway your hips to the music, shirt riding up in the process. Eddie can’t help but wonder if you are wearing any panties at all beneath his shirt. Fuck. He shouldn’t let his mind go there, you have done enough teasing for the day, he almost jerked off in the shower and maybe he should have, maybe that would have released some of the tension in him but he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet, he never is.

God, this really will be a long weekend filled with torture and teasing. He knows he should probably stop playing this dangerous game but he just can’t help but play into it.

He slowly makes his way to you, you’re humming to the music, knife held in your hand as you cut up vegetables, an opened bottle of beer on the counter before you, your damp hair is braided loosely, falling down your back. He can smell your body wash from here, the sweetness of it – of you is so intoxicating to him, he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around your waist, pull you into him and bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhale your scent and kissing your soft skin, he craves it so very badly, even more so, he craves for it to be something normal.

Eddie wants you to be more than just his best friend.

Everybody knows it, everybody but you.

And maybe it’s better this way, maybe he would lose you if you did find out.

You might be a tease, you might let him touch you in ways no one else is allowed to, you might give him hope sometimes, the hope that you could feel more than just something platonic for him but at the end of the day you are still best friends and he can’t lose that, especially not because he can’t control his feelings.

Because what happens when you do find out and you don’t feel the same?

What happens then?

What happens if it drives you away?

What happens if he loses you?

And he can’t allow that to happen, he can’t lose you, not you, anyone but you.

Eddie knows he should do himself a favor and stop being so touchy and affectionate with you, it does him no good, if anything, it makes him want you even more but he can’t help it, he has to take what he can get… right?

He comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, he breathes in your sweetness, chuckling when you tense up for a second before a cute giggle falls from your lips.

“You scared me,” you whisper, tilting your head back, you look up at him as you ease into his touch.

“Sorry sweets, didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, teasing you with that pretty smile of his as he snatches a piece of the cucumber you’ve been cutting and bites into it, winking at you as he steps away again and takes a look into the large pot on the stove.

“Pasta?”

“Pasta Arrabiata,” you say, imitating the Italian accent that Steve always makes whenever he is cooking.

Eddie chuckles, “wow that was horrible.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, scrunching your nose at him.

If you knew how his heart flutters at your laughter and at your cute nose scrunches.

“Since when do we put cucumber in pasta?”

The disgusted look on your face makes him laugh again, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you up and down.

“I’m also making a salad, it’s for you, you need to eat more veggies.”

His lips curl into yet another smile, warmth blooms in his chest.

You take care of him, you always do. From making sure that he eats enough when he gets a little too lost in writing songs or working on campaigns to making sure that he wears a hat and a scarf when it’s cold outside, whether it’s something small or big, you are always there to look after him, you’ve always been there.

“Alright, I’m eating the greens just for you, sweets.”

He licks his lips as he eyes every inch of your exposed skin, tracing your soft features with the longing look in his brown eyes. The way his shirt looks on your body, the way your hair falls in front of your eyes despite you tucking it behind your ear just moments ago, the way you bite your lower up as you give him a disapproving look.

“No,” you shake your head, pointing your knife at him, “you gotta eat them for yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” He smirks, closing the gap between you both again, you instantly lower the knife and place it on the counter.

You shrug, teasing him with a sweet smile, “what if I am?”

Eddie licks his lips, inching closer and closer to you, a smile tugs at his mouth, he hums as he raises his hand up to your face, combing his fingers through your wet hair before he tucks the fallen pieces behind your ear again.

He is unaware of the effect he has on you, of the fluttering in your chest, of the burning in your skin, of the shaky breaths you suck in.

“Then I think that’s really hot,” he winks at you as he moves his hand down your neck and then your shoulder, sliding it down along your spine, lower and lower until he’s holding your hip and pressing himself against you as he moves onto your other side, slower than necessary.

Your lips part in surprise, every trace that he has touched starts to burn, your knees grow weak and your heart starts beating faster – how much longer can you deny the emotions he causes inside you?

“So, how can I help?”

He is teasing you, you can hear it in his voice, and you don’t have to turn around to face him to know that there is a smirk on his face.

“Set the table, pick a movie to watch later, dinner is almost ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs into your ear before he walks away without another word, giving you a moment to take a few deep breaths.

You take a sip of your cold beer, closing your eyes for a moment, you listen to your beating heart, you feel the goosebumps on your skin, you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks, the weakness you feel for your best friend.

How much longer can you deny what is really inside of you, that it’s not just physical attraction?

Your heart flutters when his deep voice sounds through the dining room as he sings along to the music, your lips curl into an adoring smile. You can hear him rummaging through the drawers, trying to find the table cloth you assume.

Picking up the knife again, you continue chopping your vegetables, finishing up on your salad, though you quickly get lost in this… domestic energy you both have created. It feels so warm, so safe, so familiar. A feeling you can’t imagine sharing with anyone other than your Eddie.

He comes back into the kitchen, humming, he grabs two plates and cutlery and places them on the counter before he passes by you, without a teasing smile or comment, he places his hand on your lower back, he reaches over your shoulder to retrieve two wine glasses from the shelf and steps away again, leaving the kitchen once more.

It all feels so natural, so normal and yet, it makes you struggle to breathe because the butterflies in your stomach go wild – just the way they always do, but now it becomes harder and harder to not pay attention to them.

You take another deep breath, willing yourself to calm down, to push aside your feelings, to keep doing what you did before… be unaware of what is buried deep within your heart. So, you move along and distract yourself with finishing cooking dinner, not allowing your mind to take you further into this pit of hell as you call it, because that’s what love and feelings are, hell.

There is no good in love, there is no peace in having feelings.

It’s a rollercoaster ride that ends no matter how long it lasts, pleasant or not, it ends.

And you refuse to let feelings get in the way of yours and Eddie’s friendship, he means too much to you to risk taking a step further into something that your stupid heart desires, you love him too much to let your lingering feelings ruin what you both have, besides… who is to say that he could feel something for you?

You are his best friend and he is yours, that’s all you’ve ever been and it’s all you’ll ever be, best friends, nothing more or less, best friends who are affectionate with one another, who tease each other, who sleep in each other’s arms and do things that other best friend’s might not do… Though when you step into the dining room with the heavy pot in your hands, you halt in your tracks, freezing at the sight before you.

The table is set but not like usual, it makes you struggle to keep pushing away those feelings that have been sneaking their way to the surface because why did he place the plates so close to each other when the table is so big? And why did he place candles on the table and light them up instead of keeping the lights on? And why did he change the channel on the radio? Why is slow music playing instead of the rock channel he usually settles for when there is no better option for him?

You can handle his teasing, you can handle his touching, his flirting, his suggestive comments and looks he gives you so often.

But this is something else, this is something that would have normally made you run, a table set up so romantically, a dinner that seems to become something intimate. Yeah, if someone else had set this up, you would’ve definitely ran, you would’ve felt anxious, suffocated.

Those feelings don’t exist with him though, it’s quite the opposite, even with the lingering fear inside of you for what you feel for him. You feel giddy.

“Picked the movie, sweets,” Eddie calls from the living room, snapping you out of your troubled thoughts. He enters the room with a grin on his face.

You clear your throat and finally take the final steps to the table, putting down the pot in the middle, you glance at your best friend.

“Yeah? What’d you pick?”

“Something neither of us have seen yet,” he winks at you, moving closer and closer until he is right in front of you again. He grabs the chair and pulls it back, gazing down at you with his dark eyes, “sit.”

“I gotta get the rest of the food–”

“I’ll get it, now sit down, princess,” he murmurs.

Whenever his voice gets so low, your knees feel like they’ll buckle at any moment, shivers run down your spine and your cheeks grow hot.

“Alright,” you chuckle, plopping down on the wooden chair, you gaze up at your best friend, batting your eyelashes at him.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, there is not much you have to do to drive him crazy.

“Smells really good in here,” he comments, the mouth watering smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread makes his stomach growl.

“Thanks Eds, now get the rest of the food before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks at you, squeezing your shoulder before he turns around and makes his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath when he’s gone, rolling your shoulders and trying to calm your nerves, your heart is racing and it makes you feel ridiculous. You are here with Eddie, your best friend, Eddie. You got nothing to feel nervous about, you’ve been here plenty of times before, at dinner alone with him… though, it was never like this, you never had candle light dinners with slow music playing in the back. And his touches, his smiles, his voice never drove you this crazy before, he never made your heart flutter, his hands never made your skin feel hot, he never made you feel like you’d fall to the ground because your knees felt like jelly, he never made you feel those things before until recently… or did he?

“I’m starving,” Eddie says dramatically as he places the salad bowl and the garlic bread on the table. Before he takes a seat, he opens the wine bottle and reaches for your glass, he glances at you as he starts pouring it in your glass, he notices your flushed cheeks and how fidgety you are in your seat as you eye him up and down, it makes his heart flutter.

“We can’t have that,” you chuckle, reaching for his plate, you start filling it with salad first to which he protests, claiming that it will only make him starve even more. “You need some healthy food!”

“Not too much of it though,” he shakes his head as he lifts the lid of the pot, inhaling with a smile on his face, “I need that.”

Your giggle makes his smile widen.

“Alright.”

“You know I love your pasta,” he grins as he watches you fill the plate.

“That’s Steve’s pasta,” you chuckle.

“Nah, that’s his recipe, you cooked it,” he retorts, tilting his head to the side, “besides, you do it better.”

Warmth fills your chest and your cheeks, your smile gets even bigger now.

“Don’t tell him that! He’ll be distraught!”

“Don’t worry, it’s our secret,” he mumbles with a grin on his face as he finally takes the seat across from you, taking the plate from your hands when you hand it to him with a soft ‘thank you’.

He waits for you to fill your own plate before he picks up the fork or even takes a sip of the wine you picked when you went grocery shopping together this morning. He leans back and takes a look around, your surroundings are so different than usual, so unlike the small apartment he recently moved into where you eat your dinners at his tiny kitchen table. He appreciates the home cooked meals you always bless him with and the way you always want to take care of him, it makes him feel warm, it makes him feel safe.

Eddie wants to do the same for you, he wants to make you feel the way you make him feel but he believes that he can’t measure up, that he can’t give you what you give him, that he can’t provide you the same feeling of safety or warmth and maybe that is the sole reason why he hasn’t made a move on you yet, not because he is scared of ruining your friendship – god, he wants to ruin it so bad. But because you deserve more than he can give you, you deserve this, a big house with a stupid fireplace, a big garden, stability, someone who can take care of you, someone who can give you more than a small, shitty apartment, someone who can give you more than just the flowers he gives you or the pastries he brings you when you’re taking your lunch breaks at work.

Yeah, your friendship is very precious to him, he is scared of losing you, every goddamn day he wonders if this will be the day where you don’t show up for him but it isn’t the reason for his lack of effort in fighting for what he actually wants, it’s the fact that he believes that you deserve better than him, someone less like him, someone more like… Steve.

So he settles for loving you from afar, he tries to spoil you, he tries as best as he can. He teases you whenever he gets the chance to, he becomes giddy when you react to it, when you blush and giggle or even tease him back the way you did today, it sparks something in him, maybe it’s confidence or maybe just an illusion that you could feel the same, whatever it is, he basks in the feeling in those moments.

His eyes soften and the beating of his heart becomes stronger as he watches you, the way you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, the way your beautiful eyes shine in the dim light, the light flush in your cheeks making you look so damn cute, the way your smile only widens when you glance at him, a small huff falling from your mouth.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, putting down your plate before you.

You.

He always looks at you.

Eddie knows he won’t have this forever, someday you will meet someone who will give you everything that he wishes he could, someday he won’t be the one sitting across from you enjoying your dinner, someday he won’t be the one in your life.

“At your shirt, is it new… or?” He teases, acting like he didn’t just get lost in his head, thinking of your future that he might not be a part of.

You look down at his shirt, smiling proudly, you stole it from him the last time you stayed over, “mhm got it from this store called the drawer.”

Eddie snorts, though he adores the look on your face, “you’re so lame, the drawer? Really?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, picking up the fork you start eating happily.

“Who sold it to you?” Eddie asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Oh, this uh… really handsome guy, said he’s in a band, corroded coffin?” You raise your brow, pretending to think. “Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Eddie’s stomach flips in excitement at the compliment. You’ve called him handsome plenty of times before, but it never fails to make him blush.

“Damn, he sounds really cool,” Eddie says, laughing.

You nod, a serious and adoring look now flashing in your features, no hint of amusement behind those eyes, no teasing, just pure adoration for him, “he is, he is the coolest actually.”

He gets flustered easily when he’s with you but when you look at him like this, with that sweet smile and those soft eyes, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to say or how to act, so he hides his face by looking down at the delicious food in front of him, a sheepish smile resting on his face, one that makes your own even bigger. He finally takes a bite of the pasta and his eyes instantly close as he moans at the taste of it, making you giggle yet again.

“Fuck me, yeah I’m sorry sweets, but I ain’t letting you get married, you’re stuck with me,” he jokes as he takes another bite, completely forgetting about all the anxious thoughts that swirled in his mind just moments ago.

“Oh, you mean I’m stuck being your private chef?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, chewing on the garlic bread slowly, you try to ignore the heat building up in your stomach as you look into his chocolate eyes, waiting for him to say that word.

“Oh, then what would you call it?”

Eddie looks at you through hooded eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his plump lips.

“Housewife.”

A surprised giggle falls from your lips, though your cheeks start burning, especially under his gaze. Something tugs at your chest, something strong, something warm. Housewife. You never craved to be that, you never had such desires. Sure, you always dreamed of finding the one, finding true love, finding someone who will love you the way you can love, the way you always wished to love but that’s it, you never imagined yourself past the dating stage, you never daydreamed of weddings and a husband, you never thought of becoming a wife, a housewife at that but… when you think of yourself as that with Eddie by your side, with your best friend, with the one who had always been by your side through thick and thin, something in you beats a little stronger.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze to his ringed fingers, you can’t help but let your mind take you to sacred places.

Eddie watches you intensely, eyes lighting up at the flustered state you are suddenly in, a state he only ever sees you in when he teases you with touches, with pick up lines, with his flirtations but never this. There is a little spark in him now, the sparkle of hope.

“Well that would make you my husband.” Your voice is shaky, filled with nerves and something else that he can’t decipher at this moment.

Oh, Eddie would put a ring on your fingers right this second.

He never really planned his future, he never really saw one, especially not one in which he would be happy with a wife and kids by his side but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t want these things with you. You make him crave things that were never even a thought of his before he met you, you make him want to be that for you, a husband.

He doesn’t believe that he can give you what you want, what you need, what you deserve but he knows one thing for sure, if he was given the chance, he would make you so damn happy.

“Would that be so bad?”

You look up again and into his eyes, something in them is different now, something in the way he looks at you is so… intense and raw, there is a softness in them, one stronger than usual.

Would that be bad?

You shake your head before you can even come up with the right words to say, or with words you should say. Something has changed, perhaps a long time ago or just now, but you know one thing for sure, your heart never beat this strongly before and your hands never itched to touch his so badly.

You know the truth is hidden behind the walls you have put up, but that wall started crumbling a long time ago, long before you had the chance to even notice.

The energy in the room has shifted into something more… intimate and it’s not the candles or the music, it adds to it, but those aren’t the main reasons, it’s the energy you both have created, it’s the lingering touches, it’s his foot touching yours under the table, not playfully like usual, it’s different, it’s all so different but it’s good. A comfortable silence takes over the room as you continue eating and as the seconds and the minutes pass, and you both sip on your wines, pouring a second glass, you both get a little bolder when the alcohol hits you.

Your hands inch closer and closer to each other, your eye contact becomes a little more intense, making your breathing stutter and your heart skip several beats.

And when he is done with his food, he pushes his plate aside and leans his elbows on the table, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath and then, he brushes his fingertips against your own before he envelopes your hand fully, taking it into his large one.

You can’t describe the feelings rushing through you, he held your hand plenty of times before but until now, you never let yourself feel the rush of it, you never allowed yourself to pay attention to the electric feeling cursing through your veins but you allow it now, slowly… you allow it.

“They’re really missing out, aren’t they?” You speak the first words that come to your mind as you stare into your best friend's beautiful eyes.

Eddie looks around the dining room, shrugging when he looks back at you, his eyes roaming your face, his lips curl into a smile.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it just being the two of us, we never really get the chance to be alone like this.”

You nod in agreement, “that’s true, I like it too,” you murmur before you reach for your glass and take a big sip of wine.

“More wine and weed for us,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes playfully, setting the glass back down, you tilt your head to the side, “speaking of weed, wanna roll us a joint?”

Eddie doesn’t want to let go of your hand just yet but he nods, he could use that relaxation anyways, maybe it will calm his nerves around you before he does something that he might end up regretting later on.

“Yeah, I’m gonna clean this up first.”

You shake your head, “no, I can do it–”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says sternly, glaring at you, “I know I said housewife, I hope you know that doesn’t mean slave.”

You can’t help but giggle at the seriousness on his face or in his voice, “Eddie, I hope you know that that’s exactly what most men think of when they want a housewife.”

He frowns in disgust, scoffing at that, he begrudgingly lets go of your hand and pushes his chair back.

“Well, most men are pigs who don’t even deserve a wife in the first place,” he says, getting up, he glares at you and points at you to stay seated. “You don’t have to do all the work, you cook, I clean up, it’s simple.”

A smile graces your features, you tap the table before you reach for the wine bottle, pouring yourself a third glass, “well then, whatever you say, husband,” you giggle and get up as well, holding your hands up in surrender when he gives you a warning glance, “don’t worry, I won’t lift a finger, I’m gonna grab my wine and wait for you in the living room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he gathers the dirty plates, “sit your pretty ass down.”

You definitely feel the wine in your system now, that fuzzy feeling and the slight dizziness feels so welcoming though.

“Yes, sir.”

Before Eddie can stop his mouth from running, those words tumble out of his mouth just like that.

“Good girl.”

You nearly choke on your spit and trip over nothing, his words rush right to your core, your cheeks start burning hotter than before.

Good girl.

He called you a good girl, with that raspy, deep voice of his that never fails to make your insides crawl with need, that never fails to ring through your head when you’re in your bed with your hand between your thighs, imagining him and his voice calling you just that.

You don’t know how you manage to keep your composure but you do, only allowing a soft giggle to leave your lips as you continue your way out of the dining room and into the living room, you round the corner and rush to the big couch where he luckily can’t see you, your knees almost buckle before you can even take a seat.

You close your eyes and sigh out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pressing a hand to your chest, you nearly gasp at the beating of your heart.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself.

Eddie will be the death of you, you are sure of it, if not tonight then tomorrow, and if not then, then on the last day of your trip.

The veil that was hiding all your truths was already being lifted when you were still in Hawkins, slowly everything was coming out, all the feelings you were denying, all the things you were so afraid of admitting, you lost control and power a long time ago. The moment Robin opened her eyes to what was there this whole time, the moment she confronted you about your feelings for him was the moment you could no longer hide. The veil is no longer there, it’s long gone and lost with the wind.

You run your fingers through your hair and lean back into the soft cushions, taking a big gulp of the red wine that will surely give you a headache tomorrow morning, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, you begin to curse her out in your head because all your reactions to his words and touches just now only confirmed all her beliefs.

Fuck Robin for saying all that shit to you that changed your feelings and opened your eyes completely, a month ago. Fuck her for telling you that you indeed have feelings for Eddie, for your best friend. Fuck her for making you start realizing it and be self conscious for it. Fuck her for making you feel scared of losing Eddie because of it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, you open your eyes and look around the lightly dimmed room, you take in the sound of Eddie’s voice, of his humming to the music, of the way your heart flutters more and more.

You are so fucked.

You will ruin the friendship, you are sure of it.

If only you knew that this is exactly what he wants.

You keep yourself busy with your wine glass, staring into blank space as you continue letting your thoughts eat at you, letting the insecurities and the doubts creep in, when all you want to do is get lost in the feeling of what he gave to you at the dinner table, just moments ago.

You are so lost in your head, you don’t even notice the music being turned off, you don’t even hear his footsteps or his voice until he is standing right before you after throwing a bunch of different snacks on the coffee table.

“I know the munchies are gonna hit you,” your best friend chuckles as he finally sits down beside you, joint already between his fingers, lighter on the coffee table. He turns to you, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he offers you the joint.

Yeah, maybe this will help, maybe this will relax you enough to get a grip on yourself again, maybe this will stop you from doing something that will make you regret.

Your heart, your body, everything in you seems to be sick of living in denial though because before your mind can kill this moment, you are already moving forward, looking into his eyes, you lean down, closer and closer, you wrap your lips around the joint that is still snug between his fingers.

The widening of his eyes, the parting of his lips, snaps you out of whatever had possessed you, though not enough, not even in the slightest.

You raise your brows at him expectedly, waiting for him to light up the joint for you.

The flush in his cheeks, the rosy color taking over his face, his squirming makes satisfaction rush you.

You were teasing him all morning, all afternoon and every time you added one more, you wanted to risk more, but now things just have gotten out of hand, you got lost in your own little game and you let your feelings, your desires take full control of you.

Poor Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself as he looks down at you, if it wasn’t for the alcohol in his system, he would lose all composure and stutter like a little kid around his crush. He manages to reach for the lighter and he never looks away from your pretty eyes or your lips, or the shirt that keeps riding up on your thighs, a little more and more.

He lights the joint and he is surprised when you don’t look away, when your eyes stay locked with his and a satisfied moan escapes you – only worsening his case. You inhale deeply and furrow your eyebrows in concentration, a lazy smile spreads on your kissable lips and you lean back further after blowing out the smoke. You bring your knees up to your chest and hand him the joint. “That’s nice,” you sigh out in pleasure, “I needed that.”

“You’re starting to sound like an addict,” Eddie smirks, hiding his blushing cheeks behind his curls as he takes the joint from your fingers and places it between his lips, unaware of the way you follow his every movement as he gets comfortable beside you, resting his feet on the table, he stretches his arm out and wraps it around the headrest behind you.

“What… movie did you pick out?” You ask him and he doesn’t even notice your stuttering or the way your eyes are glued to his exposed skin as his shirt rides up, exposing his happy trail.

Eddie shrugs, reaching for the remote, he glances at you, “I dunno, one of the movies Steve recommended we should watch.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” He nods and presses play before he throws the remote on the coffee table, “let’s see how good his taste is.”

“You already know he loves the cheesy shit,” you laugh and scoot closer to him with your wine glass still in your hand, you’re searching for his warmth.

“Yeah, he does,” Eddie chuckles.

He lowers his gaze to your thighs, noticing the goosebumps on your skin, he puts the joint into the ashtray and he reaches for the knitted blanket thrown over the couch, he spreads it open and covers your legs with it, “don’t want you freezing, sweets,” he murmurs.

Your eyes soften for him, a smile spreading on your lips. You lean forward and place your wine glass on the coffee table and then you scoot closer to him and throw the blanket over his lap as well before you place your head on his chest, snuggling up against him with a content look on your face… beside the blushing on your cheeks.

Eddie wraps his arm around you without a second thought – this is nothing unusual for you, neither is the hand holding, or the sharing of clothes or the intimate touches but everything you do today, that you usually do as well, feels so different, it makes him nervous, it makes you nervous, it feels like the first time.

And when you place your hand above his heart, he grows anxious that you might feel just how strongly it’s beating for you, he is scared that you will figure out his feelings and that that will make you run, run from him.

“Your heart is racing,” you whisper softly, causing him to tense up a little but when you press your chin against his chest and you gaze up into his eyes, he feels a sense of calmness bleed through him, safety.

Eddie blinks, not knowing what to say without giving away the truth, without giving away just how much he wants to kiss you right now, how much he wants to make you his, how badly he wants to confess and get it off his chest.

“Is everything okay?” Your angelic voice makes him feel weak, the candle light makes you look so soft, your scent makes him feel drunk, his lips yearn to touch yours, his heart screams for you.

God, he really wants to kiss you so bad.

And he wants to kiss you even more when he sees the way your own eyes flicker between his lips, his neck and his eyes. He tightens his hold on you, prompting you to scoot even closer as you lean your warm body into his as your hand slips down to his stomach, your nails grazing the sliver of exposed skin on his stomach, he nearly whimpers at the feeling. You truly know how to drive him crazy.

“Yeah,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile, “everything is perfect.”

Almost perfect.

It would be perfect if he could just grab your face and smash his lips against yours, kissing you breathless.

You bite your lower lip as you keep staring up at him, you look as though you want to say something, your eyebrows pull together whenever you hold something back, whenever you desire to speak up about something – he doesn’t pressure you to talk though, he never does, he gives you time, as always.

His eyelashes flutter, his lips part in surprise when he watches you move closer to him, closer and closer until your lips are pressed against his jaw, you peck him once before you shyly pull away and bury your face in his chest, turning your attention back to the TV right as the movie begins to play and he is glad that you do, because his eyes widen the way they probably never did before and blood rushes to his cheeks, no doubt making him look like a tomato right now, his heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest at any moment.

You were teasing him this morning, you were very clear about that, the smirk and the smugness on your face gave it away every time but you are no longer teasing now, this is different, this is something else, this is something new.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and shakily.

He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, he wonders if you know how he feels for you, he wonders if you know just what he would do for you.

“Pass me the joint?” He whispers, not recognizing his own voice due to how shaky it is.

You do as he asks, pulling away for just a second, you reach for the joint and hand it to him before you settle back comfortably against his chest, pressing your cheek tightly against it.

Despite the nervousness in him, he keeps his arm wrapped around you tightly, and he even takes it a little further, becoming a little bolder, he sneaks his hand under your shirt and lays his plat flatly against your warm back.

You sigh in contentment and curl further into him, welcoming the touch of his hand, especially when he starts rubbing up and down.

“That feels so nice,” you murmur, moaning softly, “don’t stop, Eddie.”

Of course it wasn’t the greatest move to make, of course it would backfire, of course he would be the one with the problem. It’s already not helping that you’re almost fully on top of him, hand underneath his shirt as your nails scratch against his skin and now you are moaning because of him.

He places the joint between his lips and takes a long drag, needing it desperately.

“Your hands always feel so nice, Eds.” The words tumble fall from your lips just like that, like you no longer find yourself caring about the consequences of your words or your actions, maybe it’s the alcohol and the weed in your system that makes you so careless and bold, or maybe it’s the reassuring touch of your best friend that gives you the confidence to let you say what’s on your mind.

Eddie freezes, shocked he stares at the movie playing on the screen, his hand stops moving as well for a moment, he wonders if he really heard you right. You press against his hand again, wanting more.

“And you don’t know what they can do, sweets,” he rasps into your ear, confidently and like he isn’t losing his mind over you.

A whimper sounds through the room, your whimper. You try to conceal it by coughing into your hand but he heard it, and he felt how you tensed up at his words.

He swallows harshly, squirming beneath you, he tries his hardest to hold back that growl. His hand slips from under your shirt and down to your thigh when you lean forward to reach for the joint in the ashtray.

“Rolling good joints?” You murmur, trying to hide your nervousness and how flustered you really are.

Eddie can’t help but snort, mumbling a soft ‘sure’ to your question.

Despite the tension in the room and your unwanted awkwardness, time keeps passing and the night goes on, the movie continues playing, moving into a direction that neither of you expected at the start of it – what begins with an innocent scene of the beautiful lead getting ready for her date with the guy she is keeping a secret, develops into something different, something more, something that should not have the effect on you that it does right now but when they start kissing in his car, slowly and sensually at first, her fingers buried in his long hair as his slip under her shirt, you can’t help but bite your lip. Your skin grows hot, your thighs clench together, your grip on his shirt tightens as your mind flips this scene into you kissing Eddie in his car.

The wine was supposed to help, the weed too, but neither of them did, neither of them managed to give you the calming effect that you were hoping for, if anything both only heightened your senses and intensified absolutely everything in you, because suddenly, his body feels so much closer, his cologne so much more intoxicating than usual, his touch heating your skin on fire, his breath on your skin tickles you and those evil thoughts in your head make you wonder what it would feel like to feel his breath elsewhere, to feel his lips on your skin and his hands holding you tightly, keeping you in place as his lips touch parts of you only your hands did before.

Your heart starts beating faster and you begin to lose composure, the rational voice in your head is gone for good, desire and need taking over now, a confidence you didn’t know you had rushing through you as you move your leg, pressing the heel of your foot against his shin.

And while you are getting bolder, Eddie is trying his best to stay calm, to not act upon his feelings and ruin the one good thing in his life, despite the clear signs you are currently giving, he makes no move, even when he wants nothing more but to bury his face in your neck and suck on your skin until you are marked up by him. The smell of your perfume drives him insane, the feeling of your skin pressed against his makes his stomach flutter with no end near in sight, his heart hasn’t stopped racing yet.

The blanket slips from your lower half, his shirt has ridden up on your body, revealing the panties you are wearing, the black lace resting so perfectly on your soft skin. He clenches his jaw at the sight of it, biting back the moan that wants to fall off his lips so badly.

Something else flutters now, not just his heart or those butterflies in his stomach and it makes him so uncomfortable because he won’t be able to hide it, not right now.

Soft moans fill the living room, along with the sounds of lips smacking together. You bite your lip even harder, hold onto him even tighter as your eyes stay glued to the screen, watching intently as the couple undresses each other slowly, their hands becoming more and more desperate on each other, whimpers getting louder.

You are so lost in it, you let your body move on its own, your foot continues to slide up his shin and his knee, hip angling as you twist your body further into him. As the scene gets more and more intense, the thoughts in your head do too.

The coil in your stomach grows, burning hotly, you are throbbing between your legs, growing wetter and wetter each passing second as you imagine yourself moaning like the girl on the TV – moaning for him, with him.

Eddie is frozen in place, stunned at everything that is happening this very moment, not only is the scene very erotic but the moves you are pulling now are just about enough for him to get hard – and he can’t exactly conceal anything, not when he is wearing grey sweatpants and you are tightly pressed against him.

Do you even know what you are doing to him?

When Eddie shifts beneath you and his fingers dig deeper into your skin, you lower your head and tear your eyes from the screen to his lap and your mouth waters in an instant, eyes growing wide and the burning in your stomach only worsens.

“Got a problem there, Eds?” You blurt out as you stare at the very prominent bulge.

He wants to crawl under the blanket and hide his flustered face but instead he rolls his eyes, trying to act cool, averting his gaze from you and back to the screen, pretending that it’s the girl in the movie that caused this.

“I am just a man, leave me alone…”

A giggle escapes you, and you look up at your best friend to find him blushing furiously. His long lashes kissing his skin every time he blinks, his dark eyes shine so prettily, his lips are just so… so kissable. His neck is so perfect to be marked up by you. His dark hair cascading down to his shoulders so perfectly, but you want to make a mess of him.

“Aw, poor man,” you tease him before you finally let go of any doubts, of any fears or anxious thoughts, you grab the joint from between his fingers and put it back on the ashtray and then, you lean back to him and do something that you always craved to do, you press your lips against his jaw, kissing him.

His lips part in surprise, heart stopping for a moment, he stares into blank space now as you repeat the motion, pressing your lips against his skin again and again, humming in contentment.

His legs feel like jelly and if he wasn’t sitting down already, he surely would’ve felt his knees buckle at this electric touch. Words can’t describe the feeling of this, of you. He imagined this so many times, your lips on his skin, just the imagination of it had him feeling giddy but this, he can’t even function.

You move closer and closer, your hand finding the chain around his neck, your breath kissing his skin, you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes that could make him do anything you would ask for.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing…?” He finds his voice again.

You shrug, looking at him innocently, “I don’t know, I just want to kiss your face, is that so bad?” You ask before you lean in again, not waiting for an answer from him, you press your lips back against his jaw, finger hooked around his chain and your other hand moving from his chest and up to his hair, giving it a slight pull.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, the soft smile that rested on his features before slowly falling now. He clenches his jaw when you kiss it again and again, his heart races like crazy now, the feelings in him, the love he feels for you bursting in him as he finally gets a taste of what things could be like if you were his girl.

You light up a fire in him, but make him weak at the same time, you make him feel safe but he also burns for you, he desires you in ways he wasn’t even aware existed, only a taste of this, of you, could kill him because if he can’t have you again after having you once, he surely will die slowly and torturously as he forever will be reminded of this, of what could be.

He breathes in shakily as his hands fall to your waist, gripping you tighter than ever before, it takes everything in him not to grab your face and kiss you senseless but it takes even more to stop you.

He wants this, he wants you so bad, he wants to keep feeling your lips, your touch, you.

But what is this to you?

His hand moves up to the back of your neck, he wraps his fingers around it, pulling you away softly with a deep inhale.

“Don’t do this to me now, darling,” he whispers weakly, not caring about how vulnerable he sounds, how vulnerable he must look right now.

You ignore his pleading, and you move closer again, straddling his thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck, you look into his eyes as you inch closer and closer to him, no longer caring about anything. You kiss his cheek softly and then the other, noting the soft sigh falling from his lips, the grip of his hand on you becoming tighter and stronger.

Eddie is breathing heavily now, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself as your lips are so close to his own.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You pull back to look at him, taking in the intense emotions flashing in his eyes as he stares at you with nothing but hunger, his eyes flicking back and forth between your lips and your neck.

“Why?” You whisper innocently as you lean in again and without thinking, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, a curse word falls from his lips as he clenches his jaw again.

“Because I’m trying to hold back.”

“Who says I want you to?” You ask softly and he opens his eyes again, tilting his head to the side, he furrows his brows at you.

“Don’t do this to me, baby, you know how bad I–”

The brush of your knee against his bulge as you throw your leg over his thigh completely leaves the words stuck in his throat, you straddle him the way you only ever did in his dreams.

“How bad you what?” You whisper as you slowly lean your forehead against his, letting your lips brush against his own as you gaze into his eyes.

You can see the way he is holding back from doing what he wants, what you both want, so you give him a little push. You nuzzle your nose against his, giving him that soft look that gets you anything you want, that makes him weak.

If only you knew just the feelings you cause inside of him.

Eddie takes a deep breath, he shuts down all the racing thoughts in his head and finally, he cups your cheeks, holding your face gently.

“Oh, fuck me,” he whispers and smashes his lips against yours, kissing you finally. He pushes all his fears and his insecurities aside, not wanting to dwell on them any longer, not wanting to think of them now when he gets the chance to do this and your whimper, that needy little sound that comes from you when you kiss him back only fuels his need to kiss you harder and deeper.

You press yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him tightly, you bury your fingers into his curls, taking a fistful of his hair as you move your lips against his, slowly at first. You get so lost in it, loving the way it feels to kiss his lips, to kiss your best friend. It’s everything and more than you imagined it to feel like, it feels so perfect, so right, so safe. You let yourself fall into him, melting into his embrace as his hands move down to your waist, holding you tightly the way you do to him.

The sound of your sighs and moans, lips smacking and the movie still playing in the back, whimpers coming from the girl on the TV makes it all a little more intense, because the burning in your thighs becomes unbearable, the feeling of his tongue brushing against your lower lip as he pushes you down against his bulge has you aching and yearning.

To Eddie this feels like a dream, like it’s something not real, not even close to being real because this is something that only ever lived in his mind, whether he was just thinking about you at work, while writing songs, while sitting next to you or while getting off in the middle of the night, this was only ever a dream but now it isn’t. The kiss is real, your moans are real, your body is truly pressed against his, you are sitting right on top of him, slowly dragging your hips along his aching dick and it feels so fucking good, better than he could ever even dream of.

Everything in him burns for you, his heart, his soul, every cell, every organ, you are like a drug to him that he was already addicted to before he even tried it, but now? He is gone forever. A kiss that could lead to nothing, that could only stay this, a kiss, perhaps a mistake for you that you will regret come morning, enough to break him.

What is it gonna be? The kiss that will lead to the start of something his heart screamed for since the very beginning? Or will this be his kiss of death?

He has to be sure, he needs to be sure so he pulls away, begrudgingly so, he pulls away from the kiss that he never wants to stop, breathlessly, he opens his eyes to look at you for the first time after this change between you both but you are not having it, leaning in with a whine, you peck his lips again, making his heart flutter.

“Baby–” You cut him off by kissing him again, desperately and he once again has to pull away reluctantly.

“Baby, hear me out first, fuck–” he groans when you peck his lips again, whining at him in a way that has him clenching his jaw but this time, he cups your cheeks and pulls you away from him and you finally open your eyes and look at him, pouting at him with a needy look on your face. Fuck. “Fucking hell, wait– you need to tell me if you really want this or if its the alcohol and the weed talking.”

You shake your head wildly, grabbing his wrists as you lean closer again, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his chin and finally his lips again, the way you always desired to, the way you always dreamed of, the way you always denied yourself of it when it’s all you ever wanted.

“Is it the alcohol and the weed talking for you?” You murmur against his lips, looking at him through hooded eyes.

With a frown he shakes his head, “fuck no, I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart, you have no idea for how long.” He admits openly, not caring about being vulnerable right now, about admitting his feelings for you – the friendship is ruined now.

Your lips twitch, eyes shining with nothing but love for him, for your best friend, your heart bursts in your chest, everything in you calms down yet screams in joy. You can see the anxiety in his eyes, the fear that lingers within him, you want to take it.

“Good, then we’re on the same page,” you whisper happily, nuzzling your nose against his.

Eddie blinks, staring at you, stunned. A shaky breath falls from his lips, his heart has stopped beating for a moment, the world has stopped moving, time has stopped. He had dreamed of this for so long, fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss you, to touch you, to hold you, to love on you but he had never thought of this, simply because he never thought it would happen, that it would be a possibility, you feeling the same. He thought he was doomed, cursed to spend his life loving you from afar and watching you slip through his fingers as the years would pass, he would love you while you would love someone else, while you would build a life with someone else, he would stay your best friend, the obsessed, lovesick best friend who would never move on, the best friend who would choose you over and over again even if he was given the chance to be loved by someone else, he would never love anyone the way he loves you, his heart belongs to you, fully. He is yours, he had always been yours but he never thought that you could be his, no matter how many nights he spent wishing for it. Life had never been kind to him so why would it grant him the highest wish he has? And yet, here you are, looking at him as though he hung the stars and the moon, as though he is the best thing that was ever created, like he is something pure, something beautiful, something worth loving. Have you always looked at him this way?

His eyes start burning as his heart starts beating again, the warmth he felt because of you, turning into burning desire, the desire to claim you like he had always wanted to, to rip his heart from his chest and give it to you.

You whisper his name sweetly, grabbing his hand softly, you move it down your shoulder, your chest and finally placing it above your beating heart.

“All for you, baby.”

His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes flicker between your face and his hand, feeling the racing of your heart that matches the beat of his own. His eyes soften, love taking over the lust that was flashing in them just moments ago. He doesn’t know what to say, the words are stuck in his throat, he is speechless.

You can see it, you can see the shock in his eyes, he stares at you like he wonders if this is real or not. He is breathing heavily, blinking slowly, his lips part, cheeks flushing.

“Eddie–”

Suddenly, he moves forward and grabs your cheeks again, slamming his lips against yours roughly, desperately. He kisses you hotly, strongly, more intensely than he did before, like he is scared that you might slip away if he doesn’t do it this way.

You throw your arms around his neck again, whining needily into the kiss, you part his lips with your tongue and slip it into his mouth, deepening the kiss further as you grind your hips against him, making him moan against your lips as he holds you stronger, gripping you tightly as though he is scared that you will slip away if he doesn’t.

This kiss is much hungrier than the first, so much deeper and intense, it’s filled with a desperation that was pent up for a long, long time – not weeks or even months, but years. He waited for years for this, you can feel it and your heart races wildly for him. The need to show him just how much you want him too, how you reciprocate his love burns so deeply within you.

You grind your hips against his, feeling just how hard he is for you, the ache between your legs becomes worse, unbearable, and he can tell, he can feel by the way you move your hips, by the sounds of your needy whines.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself, never had he felt such desperation before, such an overwhelming amount of love. He feels stuck between wanting to cry out of pure happiness while making love to you and devouring you vigorously as he shows you just how much he needs, wants you.

His ringed fingers dig into your waist and he begins to push you off of him, guiding you down against the soft cushions without breaking the kiss, he groans against your lips when you spread your legs for him, tugging him on top of you before he can even do it himself. God, you truly want him just as much.

Eddie slides his hand up your body, cupping your cheek once more, he continues kissing you, clashing his tongue against yours, making you mewl as he takes control and grinds against you, a movement that tears out a different kind of sound in you, a whine so needy that it sends shockwaves through his body.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips heavily as he pulls away from the kiss and opens his eyes to reveal just how dark they are now.

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing your shirt to ride up in the process, your panties exposed to him now.

He clenches his jaw, trying to control himself but it’s becoming so hard when you are under him like this, looking up at him with those needy eyes as you grab each side of his neck, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, pecking his cheeks and his lips before you trail the kisses down to his jawline.

“I need you so bad, Eds,” you whisper into his skin, moving your hand down his shoulder and his arm, fingernails grazing his goosebump covered skin, you take his hand in yours and bring it back down to your body, placing it on your chest, “please?” You ask in desperation.

He takes a deep breath, making his heart flutter and his body burn when he grabs at your boobs for the very first time.

“Please what?” He murmurs as he presses you down again so he can latch his lips onto your jawline. “Tell me what you need, sweet girl. My fingers, my tongue… or my cock?” He surprises himself when those words fall off his lips when he doesn’t even know how to function at this moment.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, finding your sweet spot with no struggle, he starts sucking.

“Mmm, y-your fingers,” you whimper as you take his other free hand and guide it down your stomach slowly, “want your fingers, Eddie and then your cock.”

He could cum right here and there, he had dreamed of this too many times.

“Yeah?” He rasps against you, still kissing your neck, “you want me to fuck you with my fingers first?”

You nod wildly, bringing his hand down to your laced panties, you spread your legs further, grinding against him needily. You are so wet, having soaked through your panties already.

“I-I always think about you when I touch myself, I imagine it’s your fingers instead of mine,” you admit with burning cheeks.

Eddie opens his eyes widely, leaning back from your neck after marking it up, he looks at your blushing face.

“R-Really?” He stutters, though with a satisfied look on his face.

Through hooded eyes, you look at your best friend as you nod shyly, humming.

“Guess we got something in common then,” Eddie smirks as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, he pecks your lips as he slips his fingers down between your legs, finally, cupping your pussy, he presses against your wetness, growling at the feeling.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.”

“I always am for you!” You whine, desperately grinding against the heel of his hand.

His cock twitches at your words, stomach tensing up.

The thought that you might’ve been sitting next to him during movie nights, squirming because of him, waiting to go home so you could touch yourself while thinking of him drives him insane. If he had known… he could’ve done this way sooner.

Eddie pushes your panties aside, dipping his fingers through your folds, he makes both you and himself moan.

“Don’t tease,” you whimper, bucking your hips and pressing yourself against him as he teases your entrance.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie says as he brings his digits up to your clit, “can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

While the shocked look on his face and the disbelief is cute, you can tell what is going on – what went on in his head all this time that he thought that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

You grab his face and smash your lips against his again, kissing him just as roughly as he kissed you the second time, you try to show him, to make him feel what had been there all this time, and he welcomes it so happily, kissing you back right away while his fingers continue to move against your clit, teasingly at first, intensifying the aching inside of you. He licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours as he moans needily, getting lost in the feeling he had craved for so long.

His stomach flutters when you wrap one leg around his waist while rolling your hips, wanting and needing more, he can feel you getting wetter and wetter, moans getting louder, lips moving sloppier. He slips his fingers lower, dipping his middle finger into you slowly, inching it inside of you, pulling the neediest sounds out of you as you clench around him already.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your mouth, “you’re so tight.”

“More!” You demand with a whine, making him chuckle.

“More huh? One finger not enough for you, sweets?” He asks to which you shake your head, furrowing your brows when he adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you as he opens you up.

“No, I-I want more,” you whimper at the feeling of him splitting you open, preparing you for his dick, just the thought of it has you drooling already. “I need–” the words die on your tongue and you quickly forget what you even wanted to say when he starts fucking you in slow but deep movements.

“You need what, hmm?” He taunts you, unable to hide the satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you fall apart beneath him, losing your mind over just his fingers as your jaw falls slack and those sweet sounds begin to fill the room along with the squelching of your pussy. “God… You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie doesn’t even know what to do with himself, his heart is beating like crazy, his cock is aching in his grey sweats that feel way too tight by now, pre cum already leaking through the thick material, something he should feel embarrassed about, but he can’t, not when you look him up and down like you’re some hungry and feral animal in heat.

“All because of you, I’ve been wet all day!” You whine as you grab at his hair when he buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your skin as he covers you in love bites. He growls against you, loving those words a little too much.

His wrist starts moving faster, fingers splitting you open, he fucks them in and out of you.

“Do you fuck your tight little pussy like this too?”

Your brows are scrunched together so tightly, eyes rolling back when he curls them inside of you, hitting just the right spot to make you cry out.

“N-No! Not t-this good!”

You roll your hips against his hand, craving to feel him deeper. Your hands are all over him, his hair, his shoulders, his back, gripping at his shirt as you hold on for dear life while he sucks on your neck and fingerfucks your sopping pussy. The room is filled with such dirty sounds, something that should leave you a blushing mess, something that should leave your cheeks burning in embarrassment but you cannot bother to care, it just feels so good and Eddie fucking loves it.

He pulls back to look at you, to admire your face and those marks he left on you, proudly he looks down at you, a look of love, a look of lust flashing in his eyes. He watches the way you bite your lip, eyes open widely again, you admire him too. And then, you push yourself up on your elbow, pecking his lips before you look down at his hand, wanting to see, wanting to watch his fingers moving in and out of you.

“You like that, huh?” He mumbles as he presses his forehead against yours, “you like being fucked by your best friend like this?”

You whimper again, louder this time as you nod, clenching around his fingers so tightly that he can’t help but growl – how is he going to last? How will he be able to control himself not to cum the second he enters you?

Everything becomes so much hotter, the air around you, the energy in this room, his body against yours, his fingers inside of you, the coil in your stomach, everything starts burning and somehow, it only fuels the need in you.

You grab at the hem of your shirt and push it up to your collarbones, exposing your chest to him, your boobs bounce as you throw your head back against the pillow to see him better and his reaction does not disappoint, if you weren’t so lost in pleasure you would have giggled at the awestruck look on his face, at the wide eyes and the parted lips.

“Baby,” he whispers as he presses his large hand to your now bare waist, slipping it upwards slowly, “you’re unreal, fuck… you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as though in disbelief, staring down at you as though you are something that came straight out of his imagination. He grabs your boob roughly, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he leans down and wraps his lips against the other, wasting no time to suck on it, making you arch your back against him as you throw your hand into his curls, fingers grazing his scalp as you give it a harsh tug, something that he fucking loves.

“I-I… oh my god!” You whimper as tears begin to pull in your eyes when he presses his thumb to your clit, teasing you. “D-Don’t stop! Don’t stop, Eddie! That feels so good!” You nearly scream as he starts moving his fingers faster than before, fucking them in and out of you roughly. You are clenching around him, digging your heel into his ass as you move along to his thrusts.

He looks up at you, loving the sight of you coming undone before him, it’s the prettiest sight to him. He can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath him when he actually fucks you. He licks around your nipple, adding more pleasure to your body.

“Eddie!” You writhe beneath him, blinking the tears away as you look down at him. Your stomach tenses up, burning as the pleasure builds up more and more, almost becoming unbearable, everything inside of you is lit on fire, absolutely every part of you. Your toes curl, your knuckles turn white from how rough you are grabbing at his curls, the sounds that fall from your mouth are almost not recognizable, sounding too pornographic but you have never felt anything like this before, especially not from just being finger fucked.

Eddie pushes himself back up, straightening his back, he slides his hand further up your chest, passing your collarbones and settling around your throat, he tests the waters at first, needing you to be okay with this – he watches the way your eyes darken at this, lips parting as you push yourself up on your elbows, you bring your hand up to his wrist, wrapping your fingers tightly around it, you press it harder against your throat, asking him to choke you.

Eddie laughs darkly, lips curling into a satisfied grin, he shakes his head at you, “of course you’re into that shit. You’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

It takes you a moment to answer his question because the view before you is just a little too distracting. Eddie hovers over you with one hand between your thighs, knuckle deep buried inside of you while his other hand is now wrapped around your throat, rings on, veins popping out of his tattooed forearm, dark curls falling in front of his face as he looks down at you like he wants to devour you but make love to you at the same time.

God, he is beautiful.

Your eyes move down his body, the wet patch on his sweatpants, the bulge making you drool, making you want to drop to your knees for him, worship him, choke on him, suck the soul out of him. You can’t help yourself, moving your hand down his stomach, you grab his dick, wiping the smirk off his face completely as he moans loudly.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart.”

You palm him through his sweats, teasing him the way he teased you, though Eddie is less patient than you are. His hips stutter, a whimper falls off his lips so prettily and you almost tease him for it but he curls his fingers so deeply inside of you, presses his thumb against your clit so strongly that your vision blurs for a second.

“Eddie… Eddie!” You say his name twice, pressing your hand stronger against him, you hook your fingers around the band of his pants.

“D-Don’t tease me or else I’ll cum right this second,” he growls as his cheeks start burning at his words.

“Don’t do that,” you warn as you push his pants down just enough, his dick slaps against his stomach, precum leaking out and rolling down his length, his tip an angry red, thick veins so prominent. Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the sight of him, of his size, his length.

Eddie looks down at you with burning cheeks and begging eyes, he feels the way you clench around his fingers, feels how you soak his digits.

You look at him intensely, watching him fall apart at nothing but the touch of your hand, his eyelashes flutter, a content sigh falling from his lips when you wrap your fingers around his length, “your cock is so pretty, Eds,” you purr, jerking him off slowly, you tease him a little, “I want to choke on it.”

His hips stutter, cock twitching in your hand as he whimpers at your words, “fuck… you can’t just say that to me.”

You pull your hand away from him, holding it up to him, “spit.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, eyes darkening further but he complies, right away, he spits into your hand and watches the way you bring it back down to his dick, wrapping your fingers around him again, you grip him just perfectly, jerking him off in a way that he only ever dreamed off.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he moans, clenching his jaw in concentration, his eyes moving back and forth between your glistening pussy and your hand getting him off. “I-I won’t last long,” he warns you, wanting to get lost in the pleasure, but even more so, he wants to feel you wrapped around him.

With your free hand, you tug at his wrist, needing to feel his lips on yours again and without wasting a second, he slams his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly as he takes full control, parting your lips with his tongue, he moans into your mouth when you clench around his fingers again.

The room is now filled with heavy moans, no longer coming from the TV but from you and him, desperation so clear in both your voices, lips smacking against one another so needily and the alcohol, the weed in your systems only makes it all a tad bit more intense.

As much as Eddie is enjoying the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, he has to stop you or else he will cum before getting what he actually wants.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against you, lips twitching when you already whine in protest, “baby, I-I fuck… I need you stop or else I’ll cum too fucking soon.”

You pull away begrudgingly, wanting to pout at him but he quickly distracts you by speeding up his fingers inside of you. Letting go of your throat, he brings his now free hand down to your clit, wasting no second to play with your sensitive nub while he curls and slams his fingers in and out of you.

A gasp falls from your lips as he repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, the one that allows you to see stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, one that he instantly kisses away. You want to look at him, you want to watch your best friend but the pleasure becomes too much and you can’t help but shut your eyes tightly. Your stomach burns in a way that has you whimpering and when you try to close your legs to relieve that pleasurable pain, he grabs your knee and stops you.

“I can feel you clenching around my fingers, baby,” he murmurs hotly against your lips, “I know you want to cum, so let go for me,” he whispers, “let go.” One more swipe against your clit, one last thrust, one more kiss to your neck and you come undone for your Eddie, leaking around his fingers as your body trembles beneath his.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He slows down his movements, looking down at your legs to see them shaking, just from this. He lets you ride out your orgasm, giving you a moment to catch your breath. He kisses your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your jawline and your lips. And then, he pulls his fingers out of you, his mouth waters at the sight of your slick, wasting no time to bring his digits up to his lips, he dips them on his tongue, closing his eyes at your taste, he moans loudly.

You open your eyes at the sound, stunned, you stare at him in hunger and lust, watching the way he laps at his fingers that were inside of you just seconds ago. His eyes are closed and he looks content. If you hadn’t been so feral already, you definitely would have been by now.

“You’re even sweeter than I thought,” he mewls after releasing his fingers with a pop, opening his eyes to look down at you with a smirk. “I can’t wait to take my time and eat your pussy.”

You grab him by the chain around his neck, tugging at it harshly, you’re surprised it doesn’t break by the force, you pull him back down against you and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Eddie smiles against your lips, loving the way you moan at your own taste. He feels your hands sliding down his back, tugging at his shirt, demanding him to take it off and he does so instantly, only breaking the kiss for a second so he can tear it off his skin before his lips are back on yours, his pants are next to go as you push them down further, with your help he kicks them off, not caring where they land.

He hooks his finger around your ruined panties, he begins to tug at them and you push your hips up so he can take them off, dragging them down your legs, he throws them to the ground beside his clothes before you both pull away from the kiss to take off the shirt that is still bunched up over your chest.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, looking at you in awe and then, his lips return to you and he places his elbows on either side of your head, pressing his chest against yours as you wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer until nothing separates you any longer, until he feels your heat against his aching dick and he is so close, so close to getting what he wanted, until he remembers.

“Fuck,” he curses in annoyance, clenching his jaw already as he breaks the kiss, “wait…” But you don’t listen, cupping his cheeks, you make it even harder for him when you keep kissing him, pleading for more.

Frustration bubbles up inside of him and he almost wants to cry.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, shakily. “Wait, wait, wait…”

Finally, you pull away, eyes filled with curiosity, “what?”

“I don’t–” he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes as he clenches his fists and closes his eyes for a moment, “I don’t have a condom,” he says through gritted teeth, feeling dejected but then he feels you pull him closer again, cupping the back of his neck, you press your lips back against his.

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control and I’m clean,” you whisper, pressing your heel against his bum, “I waited too long for this, so don’t stop… please, Eddie.”

A growl threatens to spill from his lips, the feeling of frustration is suddenly replaced by something else, not only the need he had felt for so long but something else, something much stronger, something that has him fighting his inner demons.

He opens his eyes, staring at you as though you had gone crazy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, sweets?”

You giggle so cutely at that, in a way that makes him want to pound you into this couch until you are nothing but a screaming mess.

“I have an idea,” you admit smugly, batting your eyelashes at him as your eyes flicker back and forth between his tattoos and his lips, hand already moving down his stomach, fingers reaching for him, you bite your lip as you look into his eyes, he is staring at you so intensely that it makes you blush. You wrap your fingers around his length again, mewling when you guide him through your wet folds, teasing both you and himself.

Eddie grips the pillow beneath your head, cursing at the feeling. You can tell that he is trying to control himself, trying to keep his composure but he is losing it quickly when he feels your heat, your wetness.

With your free hand, you hold onto his bicep, looking up at him with begging eyes, “please, fuck me, Eddie,” you whisper as you tilt your head up to kiss his lips, “show me how bad you want me, don’t hold back… please–”

With a growl, he lets your words die on your tongue, replacing your hand with his own, he guides himself to your entrance, nudging it with the leaking tip of his cock, he presses his forehead and his lips to yours as he thrusts inside of you, torturously, splitting you open around his length.

His heart could burst for feeling you so close, so intimately, his love for you burning stronger than ever, the immortal flame getting bigger and bigger, his body feels on fire, his soul feels at home and now he knows you feel the same, when you hold him close and you kiss him so passionately, tightening your legs around his waist in order to feel him closer, whimpering into him in such a needy way while you keep grabbing at him like he isn’t close enough despite being pressed against you, he knows you feel the same, in every way.

He pushes into you deeper and deeper, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration as he feels you fully, working you open with nothing between you. He feels your warmth, feels your heat around him, your wetness dripping down onto the couch beneath you as fills you up completely. He never felt anything like this before, he never thought he would but god, he is already addicted, he had always been to you but now even worse, he will never be the same again, he will come back to Hawkins a changed man.

“Fucking hell, darling,” he growls against your lips as he stills inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size and himself a moment to concentrate so he doesn’t ruin this by coming too soon, though the thought of filling you up with his seed drives everything in him crazy, he wants it, craves it so bad. “You feel so… so perfect.”

You’re wailing, squirming beneath him, already looking down, wanting to see your bodies connected as sensitive whimpers escape your mouth.

“Y-You’re so big, Eddie,” you say, eyes blurred with tears, words leaving your mouth breathlessly, “hurts so good.”

Your words don’t exactly do him a favor, especially when he opens his eyes and he looks down at you, watching the way your chest rises up and down heavily, the way you look down between your legs in desperation before your big eyes look up at him, glassy. Your lips are so puffy from all the kissing, your forehead glistening with sweat, your cheeks flushed.

Your walls flutter around him, making it harder and harder for him.

Eddie grabs your chin, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, baby, so fucking sweet and good for me but you’re driving me crazy, right now.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper, pouting at him as you hold his bicep harder, “please, fuck me, Eddie. I need it, I need you so bad– ah!” You scream out when he pulls out and slams back inside of you again.

“Shh, I got you, I got you, baby,” he shushes your words, “can’t believe you are so desperate for my cock.”

Your nails dig into his skin, your free hand gets lost in his hair, tugging at his curls as you roll your hips against his, going crazy at the feeling of him inside of you.

“Please, please, please!”

Eddie groans at your pleading, at the obvious desperation, at the need that you feel for him, and only him. His left knee digs into the soft cushions on the couch and he places his right foot against the floor, watching your face intently as he starts rolling his hips, making you gasp out loudly.

“Oh my–” He pants, eyes rolling back as your name falls from his lips.

“You… I…” You stutter, unable to find the right words, to even come up with anything as you lose yourself in this feeling. Your mouth waters and so do your eyes, his chain dangles before your face as he thrusts into you, faster and faster, deeper and rougher. You can’t help but clench around him, he fills you up so perfectly, his tip brushes against that one spot so rightly.

You throw your arms around him as he cups the top of your head, holding eye contact with you as he rolls his hips harder.

“I’m so fucking obsessed with you, do you even know that?” He kisses your lips, smacking them loudly against yours.

“Mmm, I’m obsessed with you too, baby,” you whimper as you meet his thrusts, rolling your hips as well.

“I never thought I’d get to have this, to have you.”

You only hold onto him tighter in response, leaning into his neck, you brush your nose against it and latch your lips onto his neck, pecking along until you find that one spot that makes him whine, you start sucking, marking him up the way he did to you, not knowing just how feral that makes him.

To wear your marks on his skin, to be claimed as yours makes his heart burst but it awakens something in him, because suddenly, he feels the need to pound you into this couch and he does so, he snaps his hips into yours, thrusting roughly.

“Eddie!” You scream out in a choked sob, digging your nails into his skin as you cling to his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans loudly, not bothering to hide just how desperate you make him feel. He cups the back of your neck and pulls you back down, wanting and needing to see your face, he wastes no second before his lips are back on yours and his hips strike roughly into you, cock slamming in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling the room, along with your moans and the slapping sounds as he fucks you.

Neither of you want to pull away from the kiss, no matter how sloppy it gets, you don’t want to break the kiss and neither does he, not even when you grow breathless. You cling to each like you never did before, welcoming the pleasure that becomes almost too much. There is soreness in your thighs, burning in your lower back and an overwhelming sensation inside of you, an itch that only he can mend.

And Eddie, he feels as though he is losing his mind, getting to feel this, to feel you, to kiss you and swallow your moans as your dripping walls cling to his cock, twitching around him and begging to be filled. Your arms and legs are so tight around him, you beneath him like he had only seen you in his dreams and in his imagination, you’re shaking, whining and trembling and you are close, he can feel it by the way you are getting tighter and tighter after each of his thrusts.

Reaching down, he hooks his forearm around the back of your knee and he brings it up, pushing it higher until he can thrust into you from a different angle, one that makes you scream out with a high pitched moan and the neediest look he had ever seen on your face.

“Fuck… just like that, baby, scream for me,” he rasps out.

“Y-You’re so good, fuck me… Eds! Your cock feels so nice, please don’t stop, don’t ever stop!” You sputter, not knowing just how those words make him feel.

You don’t know where to look, his pretty face, how he looks as he fucks you like you only ever dreamed of, how pretty his face is when he moans your name so sexily or how his glistening cock pounds in and out of you.

And Eddie struggles just the same, though he settles on watching your beautiful face, wanting to see you fall apart more and more.

And though you don’t want this moment to end, and neither does he, you both drag it out for as long as you can, not caring about anything anymore, not caring about the mess you are making on the couch. You are both sweaty, you are leaking down onto the cushions and Eddie is sure that he ripped a hole into the pillow beneath you earlier from how roughly he held it.

A strangled whine leaves your lips and he knows you can’t hold on any longer, so he brings his hand down your stomach, pressing his fingers against your clit, causing you to jerk and whimper against him.

“You’re close, baby, I can feel it,” he whispers against your neck, not slowing down his movements in the slightest, if anything, he starts fucking you even deeper, making you scream louder now as your fingernails rip through his skin from how hard you’re grabbing him and he welcome that pleasuring burn, “cum around my cock, do it for me, sweetheart. I know you want to be my good girl.”

With another loud whine, you finally let go of him, arching your back and shutting your eyes tightly, you cum around your best friend's cock, for the first but definitely not the last time. You tighten around him so strongly that his hips stutter and his knees almost buckle, heat spreads through his skin and his stomach tightens as his own body screams for release.

He can’t wait any longer either and panic ripples through him when you hold him tighter than before, locking him in as you refuse to let go. It makes his heart flutter and it does make him want to release but–

“I need to pull out, sweetheart,” he says shakily, knowing all too well that he doesn’t actually want it and apparently, you don’t either because you start shaking your head at him, opening your needy eyes.

“No, no, don’t make a mess– cum inside of me, please!”

His hips stutter once more, his dick twitches achingly inside of you, “you can’t just fucking say that–” he whimpers, unable to finish the sentence, one more thrust and he spills inside of you, coating your walls with his seed as your name falls from his lips before he smashes his lips to yours for the hundredth time tonight, swallowing your cry.

Tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, your leg starts slipping from his waist and his thrusts slow down, though his grip doesn’t loosen on you, he continues to hold you close, the way you do as well as you grab his shoulder and his bicep, squeezing him tightly while your tongue clashes against his.

Your walls spasm and contract around his length, sending shockwaves and an unbearable amount of pleasure through his sensitive body.

Slowly, he removes his hand from between your legs, sliding it up your hot body until he is cupping your cheek again, he makes you both whimper when he pulls his softening cock out of you.

Your name rolls off his tongue when you both pull away from the kiss, he says it like it’s a blessing, like a prayer. Your eyes make contact again and you stare at each other for a moment, lovingly, adoringly, and then, you both smile and giggle and press your lips back against each other, pecking one another again and again.

“My Eddie,” you whisper as you admire the marks you left on him.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he realizes that this isn’t just a moment, that this isn’t just for now, for tonight, that you waited for it just like he has. He looks down at you, brushing away and tucking your hair behind your ear as he caresses your cheek, his heart soaring in his chest. “I can’t believe this happened.”

You giggle at him, “I’m glad it happened.”

“Yeah?” He grins lazily, eyes dropping to your chest as he leans down and presses his lips to your jaw, “I’m fucking on top of the world right now.”

You brush your fingers through his curls, giggling yet again.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork, right?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, one that questions more than just this. He wants to be yours, he wants it so badly.

You nod happily, eyes flashing with happiness.

“Mhmm, you’re mine, all mine.”

“Fuck,” he whispers as he feels his sensitive dick twitching at your words, heart bursting inside of him, “I’m yours, all yours.”

You tug him closer and closer, breathing against his lips as you eye him hungrily again, you feel him leaking out of you and it only makes your thighs burn again, “and I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps as his fingers dip inside of you, he groans at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, he pushes it back into you with a moan, “you’re mine, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, Eddie,” you mewl, pushing your hips up and chasing for more already.

“You want more?”

You nod, “yes… more, please!”

Not needing to be told twice, he slowly pushes his fingers and his cum back into you, making you both moan at that.

“You know what, I'm glad we did this today,” Eddie mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah?” You moan, arching your back in pleasure when he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Mhmm, that means I get to fuck you over and over and over for the whole weekend,” he smirks before he slams his lips against yours again, kissing you passionately and sensually while his fingers move and in out of you, creating a mess with his cum leaking out of you and your own wetness sticking to your thighs and his.

You both fill the room with filthy noises, needy and desperately you touch each other, grabbing and pulling at each others hair as the night goes on, continuing to mark each other up, to taste one another, to fuck like animals in heat, the movie long forgotten as his tongue laps at your pussy when he is kneeled on the ground with your legs dangling of his shoulders and your fingers pull at his hair roughly.

This night never ends, the pleasure continuing until the early morning hours, until you can no longer take it, until you both get too sensitive, until you’re both nothing but a panting, sweaty mess and even then, you still kiss and cling to one another.

The night was filled with desperation, with pent up emotions, with filthiness yet with love and adoration, and this night has changed you both forever, for good.

“So… What you’re telling me is–…” Steve begins, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched as he stands before you and Eddie with a stern look on his face. You are both on his couch, looking up at him like scolded children. “You need to buy me a new… bed?”

You are blushing furiously, embarrassment written all over your face. You glare at Robin who is standing in the corner, sipping on her soda with an amused look on her face.

“Uh… yeah.”

You know how badly Eddie wants to laugh, he is smug, you can see it on his face but he stays quiet, for a second at least.

“And a new arm chair?” Steve mumbles, looking between you both.

“Yeah.” Eddie snorts to which you elbow him, shushing him.

“Don’t forget the flower vase,” Robin snickers.

Steve throws his hands up, “and a fucking flower vase, thanks Robin!”

You put your finger up and straighten your back, “actually, the flower vase fell by itself–”

“Because you were fucking on top of the table!” Steve retorts to which your boyfriend chuckles in satisfaction, not being embarrassed by anything in the slightest.

You turn to look at him, he only smirks at you and shrugs, holding your thigh tighter than before.

“I’d buy a new couch too–”

“Eddie!”

Robin moves closer and eyes you both, eyeing the matching marks on your necks.

“I hope you used protection, at least.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, looking at you both expectedly, your flustered face gives you away completely as you sink deeper into the couch, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in Eddie’s neck.

“Great, now I might be a fucking uncle.”

“Godfather,” Eddie corrects him, making you giggle.

“Go to hell,” Steve shakes his head, though he can’t hide the look on his face and how delighted he is to hear that he would be considered a godfather if it were to happen. And despite the clear distaste on his face after hearing what you did at his cabin, he can’t help but feel happy for you both.

Robin looks down with a smile on her face when Eddie wraps his arm around you and kisses your cheek softly and Steve’s eyes soften as well.

He sighs and rolls his eyes as he finally takes a seat, he reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“I’m happy my plan worked but you both will go back, replace the furniture and clean everything up before I lose my shit and I kill you before my parents kill me.”

You nod at him with wide eyes, while Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “clean up? Oh, we did clean up and besides, we didn’t waste a single drop.”

“Eddie,” you whine as you bury your face in your hands while Robin groans in disgust.

Steve only sighs but his lips twitch slightly, curling into a smirk as he nods at Eddie.

“At least I know your children aren’t running around my cabin.”

You give Eddie a warning glance but he is already smirking at you, gripping your thigh harder, slipping under your skirt.

“They’re somewhere else.”

“Oh, gross!” Robin coughs and turns away with a frown on her face.

“Eddie!” You whine and slap his chest to which he pulls you closer and kisses your cheek, chuckling in amusement.

Steve shakes his head, sighing.

“I’m never inviting you both to that summer house ever again.”

#my writing ♡#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

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nochepsicodelica · 4 months ago

Text

NSFW

"What are you doing? It's two in the morning, doll," Toji's voice drawls out, sleep morphing his voice into something quiet and gravelly.

You pause the show you have playing on your phone and look up at Toji, who's leaning against the dining room entryway. He has two random clumps of his hair sticking out, his eyes are slightly puffy with sleep, and there's this pout on his face that just pieces it all together.

"I woke up and wanted something sweet. I had a bite of cake and an orange. Well, two oranges," you say, giving him a glimpse of the progress you've made on the second one. He hums and goes quiet, groggily watching you continue to eat the fruit. "Go back to sleep, baby," you coo. "I'll head back in a few minutes."

"Come back, now. I'm tired," Toji says, crossing his arms over his chest. He really looks like the grumpiest of bears.

You chuckle at the almost whiny sound in his voice. "Five minutes."

"No. Too long."

"Three minutes?" You counteroffer.

Toji shakes his head. "No, baby. Now."

"But..." you hold up your remaining two pieces of orange.

"Finish up. I'm waiting on you."

You sigh and stuff the two pieces of orange in your mouth, before standing up to wash your hands.

You follow behind Toji as he leads you through the dark hallway, back to the bedroom. He waits for you to walk in before shutting the door and joining you on his side of the bed. Immediately, he tries to steal all your warmth, because the sheets and the blanket feel cold on his naked torso and his legs. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and throws an arm over your chest, while his legs trap one of yours between them. He's all consuming.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" You murmur, stroking the back of his head. Toji lets out a quiet grunt, falling silent, again, after. You smile and stop talking so that he can go back to sleep. You bring your phone up and start scrolling through your socials, only to earn another quiet, but more disapproving grunt. "Sorry," your whisper, turning down the brightness of your screen.

"Turn it off, ma. It's too early for you to be awake," Toji chides.

"But I can't go back to sleep. I'm not tired," you explain.

"I can put you down. Just turn it off, alright?"

You sigh, defeatedly, and turn your screen off, before setting it on your nightstand.

"Turn onto your side," Toji tiredly mumbles, instructing you so that he can turn as well and spoon you. His arm goes over your waist and below your shirt to caress the bare skin of your tummy. His thumb slowly strokes your soft skin, moving back and forth in a soothing manner. "Relax," he says, coaxing a relieved sigh out of you. "There you go. You've got sugar in your system, now, ma. It might take a little longer to get you to sleep."

"Sorry," you mumble into your pillow. Your eyes don't feel heavy and you don't feel the least bit sluggish. It always feels nice to have Toji rub your tummy, and this method of getting you to sleep is ninety-nine point nine percent effective, the point one percent being this time.

"I don't think me rubbing your stomach is gonna save you this time," Toji says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He gets a quiet, disappointed sigh from you, followed by silence. He doesn't want you to feel bad. You're not the first person ever to wake up craving something so badly that it doesn't let you stay asleep, and tummy rubs aren't the only method he uses to help you get to sleep. "Want me to go down there and make it all better?" He murmurs.

"You need to sleep, too," you say, considering his own tiredness.

"I'll sleep just fine without you tossing and turning all night. Let me help you."

So, you do. You let him go under the blanket and pull your shorts and underwear down, both in one go. You feel his lips on your thighs, slowly making their way towards the part of you that very quickly grew needy, and once his tongue makes contact with you, your first instinct is to bend your knees and plant your feet on the mattress.

"Relax, baby," Toji says, under the blanket. His hands push on your thighs so that your legs go down, again. "Don't tense up too much. We're getting you to sleep, 'kay?"

"Sorry," you mumble, shutting your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the way Toji's mouth works on you. His hands stay on your thighs and rub your skin, soothingly, with the same gentleness he uses for the tummy rubs he gives you.

All that can be heard as Toji builds you up through the quietness of the night, are your soft breaths and the rustling of sheets, as you squirm and slightly arch off the bed. His tongue offers gentle licks to your clit, before he envelops the sensitive bud with his lips and starts suckling on it. Every time your legs go up, he hums against your cunt and pushes them back down, and it keeps going this way until he's had enough. You don't listen and he's corrected you multiple times, so he had to resort to locking your thighs in place with his arms.

"T-Toji," you whimper out, writhing under him and the relentlessness flicking of his tongue. "Please- Please?"

"Shh... I know, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cunt, before continuing.

Your legs are quivering and it's so hard to lie still when you've been edged and denied of your orgasm three times, now—all work done by solely his mouth. His soft, warm tongue has been lapping at you for long enough to have thin strings of your arousal and his saliva connecting you to him, even for a mere second, before those strings snap.

It doesn't take much more than Toji sucking on your over sensitive clit for a couple seconds, for you to finally get that powerful orgasm you've been grasping, but never fully reaching. Your toes curl, your hips roll against the mattress as your back arches off the bed, and you gasp sharply, a sound that leads the rest of your sounds of pleasure out, as Toji helps you ride out the sensation. While, normally, he would be a little mean and overstimulate you, even just the slightest bit, he opts out of it, this time, because the purpose of this from the start was to get you to sleep, and based off the sounds you made, Toji knows you're going to sleep so good.

Once you've calmed down, your breathing steadied and your body still on the bed—now entirely relaxed—Toji cleans you up with his tongue. Slow, gentle strokes, because despite this act of kindness being for you to achieve rest, he can't—doesn't want to—waste your sweet essence.

When he's done, he slides your underwear back on and uses your shorts to wipe his face, before tossing them somewhere behind him on the bed. Toji peeks out from under the blanket and takes in your peaceful expression. Your eyes are shut, not a crease in your brows, and your breaths come softly through your nose. This is it.

He tries to be as careful as possible when crawling back up to his side of the bed, not wanting to wake you up after just getting you to sleep. It seems like the coast is clear when his head hits his pillow and he carefully shifts so that he can watch you until he falls asleep. Then, he sees you stir and he starts thinking that maybe the orgasm didn't fully wear you out, but just left you dazed. He doesn't say anything when you briefly open your eyes to look at him, but when you lean in to leave a chaste kiss on his lips, he's furthermore silenced. Immediately after, you bury your face in his chest and doze off for sure, this time. Toji coils around you and instantly returns to his all consuming way of sleeping with you.

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tojicide · 6 months ago

Text

⠀ REMIND ME! ☆ SYLUS.

summary. six months after your breakup with sylus, news broke of you moving on, which is something he simply cannot allow—not if he can help it.

warnings. fem!reader, infidelity, pet names, established history, hair pulling, face sitting, oral ( fem. receiving ), doggy style, missionary, creampie, aftercare. wc. 6.1k.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Once news broke the N109 Zone of a prospering romance in his district, Sylus couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. It was when he heard whispers of your name adjacent to another man’s that he began to listen.

He was out the front door of his home within a second, his leg swinging over his bike before Luke and Kieran could have a say in the matter.

The two men stood side by side, shouting a frantic ‘it’s normal to move on, man!’ and a ‘it’s been six months!’ from the doorstep as they watched their white haired boss speed away.

Sylus was sure that if he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle any tighter, they’d certainly break off.

If he was willing to harm his most prized possession over the pure frustration you’ve stirred within him, you should consider yourself the most lucky yet damned woman alive.

He liked to think he was headstrong, but when it came to you, he lost all of his sense. All rationale was long forgotten. You consumed him and he gladly let you, because all in all, it truly was a blessing and a curse.

For how much he loved to put the pedal to the metal, he’s never once arrived at your apartment as fast as he has just now. He didn’t even bother to properly leave his bike in between the lines of a parking spot before he was practically flying towards your front door, knocking rapidly until you answered.

Surprise is etched into your facial features as you crack the door open just enough to see who your uninvited guest was, but a strong hand pushed it open until it was agape. “What the fu—”

“Where is he?” he cuts you off with a question, his red eyes scanning your cozy living room like a predator on the prowl.

“Excuse you, I— what? Where is who?” Your questions stammer out as your brain tries to catch up to the scene in front of you.

Sylus forces himself to turn around and face you, realizing that his erratic behavior was likely confusing you. As expressed, his common sense was truly slipping from him. God, he’s missed you, and he absolutely hates the look you’re giving him. It was one that made him feel like a pure inconvenience to you (even though he certainly was behaving like it).

“Your… boyfriend,” he clarifies, almost choking on the word. The fact that the title was no longer his was already a problem in and of itself, but losing it to another man was something he simply could not allow. “Where is he?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as you give him a once over. “You think that you’re going to barge into my apartment and pummel the ever living shit out of my boyfriend?”

“More or less,” he answers, his long strides continuing a bit further down your hallway. “Preferably more.”

You scoff, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you watch your ex–boyfriend scope out your apartment that he’s all too familiar with.

“He isn’t here.”

“So I’ve gathered,” he replies, his head poking into your bedroom.

Sylus did his best to sound nonchalant, as aloof as can be, though his heart rate was through the roof. He saw no signs of any male presence—no messily discarded clothes, no misplaced shoes, no second toothbrush in the bathroom—which meant that your relationship wasn’t as serious as he’d imagined.

And boy, was he relieved to figure that much out.

You straighten off the wall as he enters your bedroom, hurriedly walking behind him as you speak, “Y’know, since your objective for coming here can’t be achieved, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Did I say that was my only objective?” he simply asks, eyes scanning your bedroom.

A bit had changed since he’d last been in here. You changed your comforter to a floral pattern, and you even matched the drapes to the shade of your bedding. Your attention to detail was something he admired about you, and his attention to detail was something you used to love, though as his eyes fell to your open underwear drawer—you’re growing to hate it. A lot.

“Get out of there!” you exclaim, rushing to shove it closed, only to catch his slender finger in the crossfire.

He winces slightly, lifting his already bruising finger to your line of vision. “You’ve wounded me, sweetie. Kiss it better?”

You scoff, slightly pushing his hand away from your face. In any other context, you would have apologized, but given the fact that Sylus had entered your apartment without invitation and threatened to harm your boyfriend within five minutes of his arrival was enough to make you think that this made the two of you almost even.

A small smirk tugs at Sylus’s lips as he presses his finger to his tongue, soothing the stinging that you caused. Your eyes linger on his mouth for a bit longer than they should, and if he noticed (which he certainly did), he didn’t say anything.

“I see you went shopping,” he mumbles, his eyes falling to your now closed underwear drawer. “That’s a shame, baby. A damn shame.”

You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Why’s that?”

“I hate the idea of another man seeing what’s mine,” Sylus answers, tilting his head to the side as he gives your body an agonizingly slow once over, “in such pretty fabric, at that.”

Heat rushes to your face at his implication, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable or if you’re flustered by his forwardness. You figure it’s a mixture of both, but you mask it with an annoyed huff.

“I can do what I want,” you refute, crossing your arms over your chest. “And if what I want is to buy panties that you’ll never have the privilege of seeing me wear, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Sylus clicks his tongue, shaking his head with the slightest smirk curving upwards on his lips. He finds your attitude to be just as adorable as it is frustrating. With the way you look, arms tightly crossed over your chest with the tiniest wrinkle in between your eyebrows, he’d liken you to an angry kitten.

“If you’re trying to rile me up, you’re succeeding,” he states, drumming his fingers on your dresser.

Your eyes flit away. “I’m not trying to do anything. In fact, I want nothing to do with you.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely upset with you from the moment he arrived. “Your boyfriend may fall for this little act of yours, but I won’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sylus straightens up, his tall frame towering over you. You almost feel antsy under his gaze, but you do your best to hide it.

“I am what your heart truly desires,” he quietly murmurs, his finger tracing from the middle of your collarbones to the valley of your breasts. “And you can lie to him, you can even lie to yourself—but you cannot lie to me. I can see your deepest desires, remember?”

Betrayal is your body’s first instinct. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the pad of his index finger runs across your skin, and you physically have to fight off a whine from escaping your lips.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, you straighten up, glancing towards your bedroom door. “That’s… bullshit, Sylus. Get out of my head.”

“It’s nothing of the sort,” he replies with a much gentler tone than the one he possessed prior. “And I’ll do no such thing. Your mind is my favorite place to be.”

He studies his reddened finger for a moment, silently deciding to steer the conversation from its more serious direction. “It still won’t feel better until it gets a kiss from its favorite girl, you know.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes betray you by studying the reddened pad of his finger. It shouldn’t be as enticing of a view as it is. You find it to be almost criminal.

“You can lose that finger for all I care,” you scoff, trying not to remember how good it used to feel inside of you.

“So brash.” Sylus forces a pout on his lips, though it doesn’t last long. He presses a kiss to his own finger before he extends his arm to rest on the edge of your dresser, keeping you caged against your drawers.

“You’re awfully lucky that I’m a forgiving man,” he murmurs, his red eyes trained to yours. “You can do almost anything to me and I’d allow it.”

Judging by the way your expression lights up, that seems to give you an idea.

“Really?” you inquire, narrowing your eyes. “Say, if I punched you square in your face, would you allow it?”

“I’m not opposed to finding out,” he answers, his eyelids fluttering as he continues to drink in your beauty. “You know I love it when you’re rough with me.”

That comment forces a flush to your face, and you almost have to pinch yourself to keep your mind from bringing forward all of the memories that proved just how true that statement was.

It infuriates you how easily he could get a reaction out of you, no less than six months after you broke up with him. Perhaps that was why, in a split second decision (one that you’re hardly aware you’re making), your fist goes flying towards his face.

Sylus firmly stops your wielding hand before it can make contact with his cheek. His fingers unwind your fist and bring your hand close, allowing him to press a few chaste kisses to your knuckles.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled by the kisses he’s peppering along your palm and wrist. “So, so beautiful.”

Only he would say such a thing after you attempted to inflict bodily harm upon him. You wish you could rationalize his behavior, but you can’t—that’s just Sylus.

Your body betrays you in every way, shape, and form. Your face is flushed, your eyes are half lidded, and the mere contact of his lips on your knuckles is enough for butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Grasping onto the last bit of common sense you have, you pull your hand from his grasp.

“It’s time for you to go,” you insist, beginning to slide against the dresser to escape his gaze.

Sylus allows you to create a bit of distance between the two of you, lifting his arm up from your dresser to let you walk away. The last thing he wants is to make you feel suffocated—the very reason you broke up with him in the first place.

He tried to do better, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t an animal, though. He loved you more than words could ever describe, and he’d allow you anything you wanted. And if physical space was what you wanted, he’d grant it to you.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he quietly says, his voice carrying an unforeseen vulnerability to it, “but I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t let you give yourself to a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your eyebrows raise. “How can you be so sure he doesn’t deserve me?”

“I know you, baby. That’s how.”

A beat of silence passes, and he conjures up the courage to continue. “And I’m positive there isn’t a single soul who could possibly deserve your favor,” Sylus reasons, loosely crossing his arms, his toned biceps showing through the sleeves of his black button–up shirt. “Not even myself. I’m man enough to recognize that.”

His answer catches you off guard, but you do your best to maintain your front. You don’t want him to see how his words seem to squeeze at your heart.

“Then why are you here?” you genuinely ask.

Sylus knows he’s backed himself into a corner, and contrary to what you might think, he’d intended to do just that. He wants you to give him the green light to speak every word that he’s longed to say to you from the moment he’d seen you last, and now that you have, the floodgates are open.

“I’m selfish,” he admits, taking a tentative step towards you. “I’m drunk on you, and I can’t bear the thought of sobering up, even after all this time. It’s unfair, it’s horrible, it’s cruel—I know this, sweetie. But… I find my serenity in your eyes, and with you gone, my life is purgatory. The confines of hell must be more pleasant than what it is that I feel when I’m without you.”

Internally, you’re floored. Gobsmacked, even. Externally, you’re looking at him with the same soft expression you’ve worn this entire time.

Met with your silence, Sylus begins to internally panic. He slowly takes a few steps towards you, and when you don’t attempt to maintain the distance between you, his hands move to cup your face.

“Rid me of this life,” he whispers, his mouth so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips. “I cannot go on, not without you beside me.”

You truly hate how easy it is for him to reduce you to nothing but putty. You have a new boyfriend, you’ve moved on, you’ve allowed the love that you and Sylus shared to be nothing more than history.

You wanted to believe that moving forward was the best thing you could do, but if that was true, why is it that your heart hadn’t felt full until you laid eyes on Sylus? It seems to beat differently, like it’s finally come back to life in his presence.

Noticing the softening of your eyes, Sylus can’t help himself. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, holding both of you there for a few seconds. The sheer tenderness of his action was enough to make you melt, and you were sure you would’ve if his hands on your face weren’t grounding you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, tilting your head up so that he can look into your eyes.

Sylus was never one for verbal affection (or being desperate for a woman’s favor) prior to you, but he’d make this exception a million times over if it meant he could have you however you’d let him.

You’ve nearly forgotten all of your allegiances, and you can’t even blame yourself for it. You know that indulging in him is like eating a forbidden fruit, and even then, you can’t forbid yourself from its taste—not when you know how sweet it is. What you feel goes beyond want; it’s pure, unadulterated need.

“No response for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. You carefully slide out of his grasp and sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes trailing you as you do so.

You’re a firm believer that nothing is real until you’ve said it out loud, Sylus is more than aware of that. He doesn’t want to push you too hard, too fast, too much, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

As you sit, your thighs naturally part and your skirt rides up just a bit, enough for the pink fabric clothing your pussy to be shown. That sight alone was able to elicit behavior that you’ve never once seen from Sylus.

“God, you are a privilege,” he murmurs, taking a few steps towards you. Without hesitation, he slowly descends to his knees before you, his hands trailing up your thighs. “Such a sight,” he adds his eyes flitting to the dampening fabric of your underwear, “such a beautiful sight.”

If his words weren’t enough, the sight of him kneeling in front of you was enough to make you faint. (Or scream. Or cum. Maybe all three at the same time, you’re not sure.)

“Allow me the night,” Sylus pleads, his desperate red eyes finally locking onto yours. His hand moves to brush your hair from your face, tucking it loosely behind your ear. “Just the night. One night to indulge you.”

Lying would be no use, all things considered. He’d already shamelessly eyed the needy area between your thighs, knowing that the arousal collecting there is for him. Your stomach swirls with a mixture of guilt and need, and you honestly feel like you’re in an impossible position.

“Sylus,” you breathe, your heartbeat thumping so hard that you’re surprised your chest hasn’t burst. “This is so wrong.”

He shakes his head as his large, gentle hands move to rest on your knees. “Your pleasure means more to me than a simple case of right and wrong.”

“I wish it was as simple as you make it seem,” you say, a long sigh leaving you.

“Can’t it be?” Sylus questions, his thumbs idly stroking your knees. “Allow me this one night to remind you of how I feel about you, how you feel about me. If you want me to leave you alone by the time morning comes, I will accept that with a smile.”

You’d like to imagine that you’re stronger than this, that the idea of a final night of lovemaking with your ex-boyfriend to get him out of your head for good isn’t appealing—but it is.

It’s something you’ve thought about before (in the dead of night with your hand stuffed down your shorts), but never did you think it could become a reality.

Only now, with him kneeling in front of you, it was.

“Okay,” you sheepishly murmur. “Remind me.”

You know this is absolutely horrible of you to do, but you can’t find the will to deny yourself this. As much as you tried to get Sylus out of your head, you never could. Not long enough for it to make a difference, anyway.

(Perhaps this, a final intimate night between the two of you, will be just what you need to move on for good.)

Sylus knows that his time with you is limited, but he plans to make it the best night of your existence.

(Perhaps if he can remind you of how much he’s willing to give, how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you—you’ll change your mind.)

His large, strong hands trail up as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, pressing a few kisses to your calves and inner thighs. He presses a kiss to the fabric of your underwear, his tongue drawing out to taste the wet spot.

Sylus isn’t sure what’s come over him, but he honestly feels like he’ll either implode or cry at the sight of you right now. To have you again is something he’s dreamt about more than he’d like to admit, and he plans to show you just how much your absence has affected him as his fingers slide beneath your skirt to hook under the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Thank you,” he mutters against your skin, tugging the clothing piece down your legs. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters aloud the moment his eyes land on your heat.

He could seriously cum in his pants right now, and if he’s not careful, he will. His hands lock onto your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed to give him better access to your glistening cunt.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he breathes, licking a long stripe up your slit.

You would have replied if he hadn’t buried his face in between your thighs. His tongue laps at your wetness before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly at it with hollowed cheeks.

A cry leaves your lips at the sensation, your hand gripping onto his white hair as you revel in the feeling his tongue is giving you.

He’s eating you out like a man starved, his own moans rumbling into your cunt, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. Sylus could do this for days if you let him, but after not having you like this for so long, he can’t help himself from needing more.

Within moments, he’s slowly pushing you higher on your bed, still licking at your pussy until he’s physically unable to. He looks up at you with crazed eyes, licking his spit-slick lips as he kicks his shoes off.

“Sit on my face,” he murmurs, moving to lay on your bed. When he’s met with your hesitance, he’s grasping onto your arm to carefully pull you towards him. “I might die without it.”

You’ve never once seen a man so pussy drunk in your entire life, but you’re in absolutely no position to deny him. So, you move to hover above him, your hands resting on your headboard. You hear a satisfied moan beneath you, and he’s soon hooking his arms around your thighs.

“You won’t die without it,” you grumble. “In fact, you might die because of it. Suffocation—”

“Suffocation of this kind might be the best way to go,” he cuts you off, licking a faint swipe against your folds. “In fact, when we’re old and withered, it might be my last ask of you.”

Your face flushes, and you can feel heat rushing to both your cunt and your cheeks. Noticing the coy face you’re making, Sylus can’t help himself from laying a faint smack on your ass, squeezing its plushness as he stares up at you.

“For now, though,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want you to let go for me. Can’t have you dangling this pretty cunt in my face without letting me taste it.”

As you hesitantly begin to relax your thighs and lower on top of him, he lifts his head up to meet you halfway and gather your slick on his tongue.

“Very good, baby,” Sylus purrs, dropping his head back onto your sheets as he pulls your hips down the rest of the way, “now sit.”

When all of your weight crashes down on him, a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sheer passion behind the movements of his tongue. He almost seems to be more incentivized. His eyes flutter shut as he mouths at your pussy, the moans leaving his mouth in combination with the absolute filthy sounds of his tongue are enough to drive you insane.

Sylus feels like he’s finally left purgatory and has transcended into heaven. With his pretty girl on his face, taking her on his tongue, making the most beautiful little noises—he’s honestly never felt better.

(Well, there is that whole new boyfriend thing looming in the back of his mind, but he’s sure that you’ll take care of that once he’s done taking care of you.)

One of your hands leaves the headboard to grasp onto his hair, your eyes screwing shut as you rock your hips over his tongue. “Sylus,” you breathe out through a moan. “I’m— oh, shit—”

Sylus’s cock twitches as you moan his name, his eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands help to guide the rocking of your hips. With his other, he palms himself through his trousers, his mouth working tirelessly to make you feel good.

Even as self-admittedly selfish as he is, he can’t bear the idea of putting his pleasure above your own—even if the ache is physically eating away at him. With you writhing above him, the sounds you’re making, the look on your face, it’s all too much—even for him.

Your mouth lulls open as you let out the most beautiful whine he’s ever heard, and his tongue slows down, working you through your first orgasm of the night. He eagerly collects your juices with his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he finally presses a final kiss to your swollen clit.

“I can stay this way forever,” he says against your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your warm skin, “you and me,” he places another kiss, “together.”

You shift to lay beside him, out of breath and looking beautifully disheveled. Sylus licks his lips and lies starry–eyed beside you. Soon enough, a huff of laughter escaped his throat, realizing he might’ve said too much there.

Sylus turns his head to look at you. “Was that enough to get an ‘I miss you too’ out of that mouth of yours?”

You let out a breathless laugh, your hand running over your face. “No,” you lie.

That was the best orgasm you’ve had since your breakup, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You’ve developed quite the attitude,” he muses, rolling on top of you. He slots his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “That boyfriend of yours must not fuck it out of you like he should,” he adds, the low volume of his voice rumbling against your skin as he kisses along your jaw, “like I can.”

Before you can think twice, you’re lifting your hips against the bulge in his pants, a soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the very prominent shape of his hardened cock. With a grunt, Sylus pushes your hips down, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs.

“Such a needy little thing,” he chastises, his hand moving to cup your mound. “First you’re insisting I leave, and now you’re hoping I’ll give you my cock. You’re sending me mixed signals here, sweetie.”

You’re seeing stars, and your hand grasps onto his wrist, feeling the way his muscles tense as he begins to toy with your clit.

“I want it,” you whine, your toes curling as the pad of his middle finger circles your entrance, “you’re… you’re being a tease.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, licking a long stripe up your neck. “If you want it bad enough, you’re going to have to prove it, baby.”

Your head tilts to the side as Sylus pulls away from your neck to look down at you. His fingers move to work at the button of your skirt, tugging it down your legs and tossing it onto the floor of your room.

“How?” you ask.

He presses his lips to yours as his hands tug up your shirt, breaking the kiss to carefully pull it over your head. His large hands palm at your breasts, bringing your perked nipples in between his fingers.

“Pick up the phone,” Sylus answers, releasing your breasts to sit up in front of you, his hands moving to undo his belt.

Your curiosity soon turns into something much more lustful as he pulls his trousers and boxers down his thighs. His shirt goes next, the articles of clothing decorating your floor. His cock looks even better than you remember, but he snaps his fingers in front of your face to gather your attention.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your trance.

“Pick up the phone,” he repeats, reaching to your bedside table to hand you your cell.

You take the device from him, looking at it with confusion. You were embarrassed that you hadn’t even noticed it ringing, far too distracted by the sight of him stroking his hand along his length, but your embarrassment soon turns into dread as you read the caller ID.

It is, of course, none other than your boyfriend.

“Sylus, that’s— that’s crazy,” you stammer out, looking between his eyes, his dick, and your phone.

He snickers, flipping you onto your stomach. His hands grasp onto the plush of your hips to pull your ass up. “What’s crazy is the fact that you expect me to fuck you without your boyfriend’s knowledge.”

“You’re above adultery?” you gasp out.

Sylus shakes his head, his hand moving to prod your entrance with the tip of his cock, his other hand grasping onto your hair to pull you back against his chest.

“Obviously not,” he replies, licking along the shell of your ear. “Just want to show him how beneath it you are.”

Your heart slams against your chest as he takes the device from you and answers the call, holding the phone to your ear.

“Let him hear,” he purrs, slowly pushing his cock inside of you. “The noises you make with my cock buried inside you are such a prize. It’d be a disservice to not share.”

A sharp whine leaves your lips as he tugs on your hair, tilting your head to give himself better access to your neck as he bottoms out inside of you. “Tell him what you’re up to, sweetie,” he simply says, sucking a faint mark onto your neck.

On the other end of the line, your partner begins to blab on about his day, though you’re hardly able to listen, not when Sylus is pushing his cock inside of you like a madman. Your body tenses as he stretches you out, the sensation forcing a moan out of your mouth, though the man on the other end of the line didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, resting his chin on the crook of your shoulder to press an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “taking my cock so nicely. Missed this pussy so much.”

“—so then, I told him… wait. Are you with someone?”

Your heart rate skyrockets as Sylus draws his hips back only to pound the length of his cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck… y-yes,” you choke into the phone, almost breathless.

“Thank you for your confession, my dear,” Sylus teasingly remarks, knowing that your response was a reaction to how good he feels inside of you rather than an answer to your boyfriend’s question.

He presses a faint kiss to your shoulder as he thrusts into you again, using his grip on your hair to push you back onto your stomach. A hand smoothes over the curve of your back, his long fingers hooking around the plush of your hip to remind you that he’s still present despite the situation. He then brings the phone to his own ear, watching with a wide grin as you arch your back to take as much of his cock as you can.

“Our friend can’t talk right now,” he says into the receiver, grunting as your walls clench around him. “She’s gotten lost and found herself on my cock, which is such a positive turn of events, let me tell you,” the pace of his hips thrusting into you only seems to get more intense with each word he says, “considering it’s right where she belongs.”

“W-what? Who the fuck are you? I—”

“I can’t stay on the line to talk much either,” Sylus continues, his free hand grasping a bit tighter onto your hair as he tugs on it to fuck deeper and harder inside of you, his skin slapping against yours with each heavy thrust. “Have to make her cum for all the times you couldn’t.”

You’re lost in a whirlwind of sensations, your mouth gaped open as you moan out with each thrust he makes, your back arched as much as you could make it. You can feel a pool of warmth building inside of your lower stomach, and you let out a cry of pleasure.

You haven’t been fucked this good in, well… six months. That much is obvious to the both of you, given the way you’ve been losing your mind with each forceful push of his hips. He knows your body in ways you’ll never understand, and luckily for you, you don’t need to understand in order to receive the pleasure that he’s desperately trying to give you.

“Sylus!” you gasp out, serving as a warning for how close you already are.

“Mm, I have to go, duty calls,” Sylus says into the phone, releasing his grip on your hair to move his hand between your legs, two of his fingers circling your clit. “Call my woman again and I’ll kill you.”

Tapping the screen to end the call, he tosses your phone mindlessly, and it’s only when you hear it drop against the floor do you turn around to look at him.

“Sylus!” you scold.

He gives you a wry smile as he slowly pulls out of you, rolling you onto your back. “I’ll buy you a new one, pretty. Don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to protest, but when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you again, you’re hardly in the protesting mood at all.

Sylus towers over you, his forearm propping him up as he slowly fucks into you, his red eyes trained to yours. “God, baby, I’ve missed you.”

Almost instinctively, your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. There was a hidden intimacy of this position that you’ve always loved. He obliges to your request, resting his forehead on yours as he thrusts harder inside of you.

“You take me so well,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “So, so beautifully.”

You mewl at the softness of his praise, your eyes glossing over as he continues to fuck you into oblivion, your walls tensing around him. He hisses at the feeling, dipping his head to press a kiss on your cheek.

He can tell that you’re close, and he knows just what you need. He won’t give it to you so easily, though.

“Sweetie?” he breathes out.

You nod your head before breathlessly replying, “yeah?”

Sylus gives you a smirk as he raises his bruised finger to your lips. “Kiss it better. Let me use it on you.”

Protest is not on your agenda anymore, not by a long shot. You kiss the pad of his finger without hesitation, and you proceed to capture it with your mouth, your tongue soothing the bruising.

He smiles at the sight, a groan leaving his lips as he continues to thrust his cock inside of you. “So pretty, baby. God, you’re beautiful.”

Sylus retracts his finger from your mouth to bring it to your clit, his spit-slick finger rubbing it in beautiful, moan-earning circles. He watches as your eyes almost immediately haze over at the stimulation.

He lowers his head to suck on your nipple, his free hand palming at your other breast as means of stimulating you in any way he can. After a moment, he latches onto your other breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak.

“God, ah— Sylus!” you moan, your hands wrapping around his neck.

He nips at your breast before he pulls away, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as he feels you clench around his cock. “Going to come for me again, beautiful?”

You nod your head, rising up from the pillow to press a kiss on his lips, and his large hand moves to cup the back of your head as he kisses you through your orgasm. His fingers gently thread through your hair, giving you the best of both worlds.

“Cream my cock, baby. It’s all yours, always will be,” he mutters against your lips, his thrusts growing slower as he twitches inside of you.

Sylus breaks the kiss to look down at you, a heavy pant leaving him. “Where do you want me?” he breathlessly asks.

As if that were a question you ever responded differently to, he still needed to ask, even though you answered just the same. “In… in me.”

He nods his head as he thrusts inside of you a few more times, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek as he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full of his thick, white cum.

A moment passes in which the two of you simply pant breathlessly to each other, your sweaty foreheads pressed together. It was a beautiful scene by all measures.

“I missed you too,” you finally pant out, a smile breaking your lips. “I missed you a lot.”

He chuckles breathlessly at that. “I missed you even more, sweetie.”

Sylus presses a soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly pulls out of you, traveling slowly to your bathroom before returning with a damp towel. He settles in front of you again, using the warm towel to gently clean up the mess he’s made of you between your legs.

You stare at him with the most lovestruck eyes he’s ever seen, and it only makes him smile. “You tired, baby?” he lowly asks.

Nodding your head, you extend your arms to him, and he pulls you in without question. He lies down on his back, holding you against his chest. His large hand runs over your back while the other one tugs your blankets over the both of you, giving you a bit of warmth.

Not that he needed anything more than your presence. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, holding the woman that he loves, running his fingers over her hair just as he used to.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. It’s almost concerning how much he loves you, but he can’t help it.

“I love you,” you lazily return the sentiment.

As you cuddle into his chest, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up today, if he’d left you alone, if he let you move on.

You know it’s crazy to think about.

After all, it’s Sylus. Your Sylus. He’s the only person you’ve ever needed, and now that he’s reminded you of that, you won’t forget it.

note. thank you for reading! please interact if you enjoyed!! <3 i don’t even know what the hell this is—we have possessive, dominant, and soft sylus in one go. but hey, it works for me, so i hope it works for you. pls pls pls give me ideas to write more for this sexy man—i never get tired of him!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

#♥︎ tojicide #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus qin #sylus #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus smut #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace #lads #love & deepspace

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maskedbyghost · 7 months ago

Text

it’s late, and you’re both curled up in bed, the room completely dark except for the soft glow of the moon peeking through the blinds. you’re lying with your back to simon, his arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin.

"you ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t a soldier?" you ask, your voice soft in the quiet.

simon doesn’t answer right away, his hand stopping for a moment before continuing its slow, comforting motion. "no," he says finally, his voice a deep rumble in the darkness. "never thought that far ahead."

you smile to yourself, knowing that’s so typically him—always focused on the present, on the mission, never on what comes after. "okay, but what if you had to choose something else? anything at all."

he’s quiet again, like he’s actually considering it, and then he mutters, "maybe a mechanic. or a farmer."

"a farmer?" you ask, trying to hold back a laugh at the thought of simon, the terrifying ghost, tending to crops and chickens.

"yeah," he says, completely serious. "quiet life. away from everything. i’d like that."

you turn to face him now, grinning in the dark. "you? a farmer? with overalls and everything?"

"don’t push it," he grumbles, but you can hear the faint amusement in his tone.

you laugh softly, reaching up to brush your hand across his stubbled jaw. "i think you’d look cute. you’d be grumpy, but in a charming, farmer simon way."

he huffs, but you can feel his body relaxing next to you, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "you’d get bored with me in a week."

"never," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i’d help you with the chickens. we’d live on a cute little farm with a big garden, and we’d sit on the porch every evening and watch the sunset."

"that sounds nice," he admits, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

you snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body as he pulls you tighter against him. "see? i think you’ve got the right idea. farmer simon. i’d take that over ghost any day."

he chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "you say that now."

you smile, closing your eyes as his hand moves gently through your hair. "yeah, well, i think i’d like you no matter what."

the silence settles again, but this time, it’s filled with a warmth that makes you feel like you could drift off to sleep any second, wrapped in simon’s arms and the thought of a peaceful life somewhere far away.

and just before you drift off, you hear him murmur, "i’d like that too."

------------------------------------------------

something short and sweet before i finish this longer fic i've been working on for a few days :) hope you like ittt

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

To Build a Home

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader x Charles Leclerc

Summary: after you and your husbands are left heartbroken by news that seemingly put an end to your dreams of a family, the three of you are drawn to two young orphaned siblings who need you as much as you need them

Warnings: struggles with infertility

Based on this request

The fertility specialist’s office smells sterile, like antiseptic and plastic. You’ve been staring at the same drab poster of the reproductive system for what feels like hours. A part of you wonders if it's designed to be boring, as if anything too colorful would be inappropriate in a place like this.

Max sits beside you, one hand on your knee, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles through the fabric of your jeans. Charles is on your other side, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers interlaced so tightly they’re almost white.

The doctor walks in, clipboard in hand, a practiced neutral expression on his face. You try to read him, but there’s nothing to read. He’s done this a thousand times.

“Thank you for your patience,” he says, sitting across from you. He glances at the three of you, clearly used to couples but perhaps not quite this combination. He doesn’t falter, though. “I have the results of your tests.”

You hold your breath. Max’s hand tightens on your knee. Charles doesn’t move.

The doctor takes a moment, flipping a page on the clipboard. “We’ve reviewed all of the tests extensively. There is no male factor infertility present. Both of you” — he nods toward Max and Charles — “have excellent sperm count and motility. No concerns there.”

Your heart beats so loudly you wonder if the others can hear it.

He looks at you. It feels like an eternity passes before he speaks again. “For you, we found a condition called primary ovarian insufficiency. It means that your ovaries are no longer functioning normally before the age of 40. In your case, this means lower egg production, and unfortunately, a significantly decreased chance of natural conception.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. Max’s hand turns ice-cold against your skin. Charles shifts beside you, inhaling a sharp breath that cuts through the sterile silence of the room.

“So … what does that mean?” You ask, and your voice sounds so small you barely recognize it.

“It means,” the doctor says gently, “that it’s very unlikely you’ll be able to conceive naturally. There are treatments that might help, but with this diagnosis, the odds are lower than average.”

“Lower than average,” Charles repeats, voice tight, almost robotic. He’s staring at the floor. You know that look — it’s the look he gets when he’s trying not to fall apart.

Max clears his throat. “What are the options?” He’s speaking through clenched teeth, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s anger or fear or both. Maybe both.

“IVF is one option,” the doctor says, unperturbed. “But with primary ovarian insufficiency, egg quality and quantity are concerns. You might consider using donor eggs or exploring surrogacy or adoption.”

Donor eggs. Surrogacy. Adoption. Each word feels like another blow, another layer of guilt and inadequacy. Your throat tightens, and tears prick your eyes. You try to swallow them back, but one escapes, sliding down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor says, and it’s genuine, but it doesn’t help. “I’ll give you some time.”

He stands and exits the room, leaving the three of you in a suffocating silence. You don’t move. You can’t. Your hands are trembling in your lap.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper. It’s barely a sound, but they hear it. Of course they hear it.

Max turns to you immediately. “No. No, don’t say that.”

“It is.” You turn to look at him, tears blurring your vision. “You and Charles … you’re fine. You’re perfect. It’s me. I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Charles says, voice cracking. He’s leaning toward you now, eyes desperate. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“But it’s true.” You pull away, needing the distance. “I’m the reason we can’t have kids. The big family you both wanted … it’s because of me.”

“Hey.” Max’s hand moves to cup your cheek, turning your face to meet his. His blue eyes are so intense, so full of pain and love it almost shatters you. “We will have a big family. It might not be the way we planned, but we’ll get there.”

You shake your head. “But it won’t be the same. It won’t be-”

“It doesn’t matter how we get there,” Charles interrupts, his voice firmer now. “You think it makes a difference to me if our children come from your body or someone else’s? They’ll still be ours. They’ll still be loved. You’ll still be their mother.”

You look down, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s not fair to you two. You deserve someone who can-”

“Stop.” Max’s voice is low, dangerous in a way that makes you pause. “Don’t ever say that again. We love you. We chose you. We would choose you again in every lifetime.”

Tears are streaming down your face now. You can’t stop them. Charles takes your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is tight, unbreakable. “We didn’t marry you just to have kids,” he says quietly. “We married you because we love you. This doesn’t change that.”

“But it changes everything,” you insist, frustration and heartbreak mingling into a mess you can’t untangle.

“No, it doesn’t,” Max says, leaning forward until his forehead touches yours. “It just means we have to find a different way. And we will. We’ll figure it out.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. “I’m scared.”

“We are too,” Charles admits, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But we’ll face it. Together. Like Max said.”

Silence settles in again, but this time it’s different. Less suffocating. More like a fragile, tentative peace. Max wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, and Charles leans in to press a soft kiss against your temple.

You exhale shakily. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Max says, and there’s a small, almost broken smile on his lips. “We’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

Charles nods, and his eyes are filled with so much hope it’s almost unbearable. “No matter what, we’ll have our family. One way or another.”

You nod, not because you believe it yet, but because they do. And maybe that’s enough, at least for now.

***

The orphanage is a charming old building tucked into one of Monaco’s quieter streets, its stone façade softened by ivy and strings of twinkling Christmas lights. The sound of children’s laughter spills out onto the sidewalk, where a handful of staff is arranging a small Christmas display. It smells like pine needles and freshly baked cookies, and you think it’s the kind of place that tries its hardest to be warm, even when life isn’t.

You tug your scarf tighter against the chill, glancing at Max and Charles. Max is holding a large bag of wrapped presents, the bright paper peeking out through the opening. Charles, as always, has a warm smile ready for anyone who passes by.

“I think this is going to be fun,” Charles says, glancing at you. “I mean, how often do kids get to meet Santa and two F1 drivers in the same day?”

“Santa’s still the headliner here,” you tease.

Max smirks. “I don’t know. I’ve seen Charles in a Santa hat. It’s a close call.”

Charles rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding his amusement. He looks down at the bag of presents you’re carrying. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The three of you step inside, greeted almost immediately by the matron, a kind-faced woman named Madame Ricard. She clasps her hands together in delight when she sees the three of you, her warm energy a perfect match for the festive setting.

“Oh, this is such a treat for the children,” she says, her French accent thick but easy to understand. “They’ve been talking about it all week. Come, come, let me show you the way.”

You follow her into a large common room, where a group of children is gathered around a tree that looks like it was decorated by a dozen tiny hands. Tinsel hangs in uneven loops, and ornaments are clustered in some places and sparse in others. It’s perfect.

The kids freeze for a moment when they see you, their eyes going wide. Then, as if a switch has been flipped, they erupt into cheers and giggles.

“Charles! Max!” One of the older boys shouts, his voice cracking with excitement.

“Santa!” Another yells, pointing at the man in the red suit who follows close behind you.

Max laughs, setting down the bag of gifts. “I think they’re more excited about you, mate,” he says to Santa, who waves jovially.

You step forward, kneeling to hand out the first few presents. The kids swarm you, but it’s all happy chaos. Max and Charles are instantly surrounded, signing autographs on toy cars and posters that some of the children miraculously seem to have on hand.

As you hand out another gift, your eyes wander to a quieter corner of the room. There, separate from the laughter and commotion, are two small figures.

The older one is a boy, maybe five years old, with a mop of dark hair and a protective posture. He’s standing in front of a little girl who can’t be more than three, his arms spread slightly as if to shield her from the world. Her tiny face is buried in his shirt, her small hands clutching the fabric.

Your heart squeezes.

You tap Charles on the shoulder, nodding toward them. “Who are they?”

Charles follows your gaze, frowning. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them move at all.”

Madame Ricard notices where you’re looking and sighs softly. “Ah, those two.” She kneels beside you, her expression full of a sadness that doesn’t belong in a place this joyful.

“They’re new,” she explains. “A brother and sister. Their parents died in a car accident a few weeks ago. They were on vacation here in Monaco when it happened.”

You feel your stomach drop. “They don’t have any other family?”

She shakes her head. “No one we’ve been able to find. And to make things more difficult, they don’t speak French, Italian, or English. It’s been hard for them to adjust.”

“They’re completely alone,” Charles murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Max steps forward, his jaw tight. “What language do they speak?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Madame Ricard admits. “They haven’t spoken much at all. A few words here and there, but we haven’t been able to identify it.”

Max’s brow furrows, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He glances at you and Charles before stepping closer to the children.

“Hey,” he says softly, kneeling a few feet away from the boy. His Dutch accent is more pronounced when he speaks to children, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m Max. This is Charles and …” He glances back at you. “This is our wife. We just wanted to say hi.”

The boy doesn’t respond. His eyes are wary, darting between Max and the little girl at his side.

Max tries again, switching to Dutch this time. “Kan je me verstaan?”

Still nothing.

He exhales, then tries German. “Verstehst du mich?”

The change is almost instantaneous. The boy’s eyes widen, his grip on the little girl loosening just slightly.

“You speak German?” Max asks, his tone careful but hopeful.

The boy nods, just once, but it’s enough to make Max smile.

“What’s your name?” Max continues in German.

The boy hesitates, glancing down at the girl before answering in a small voice. “Lukas.”

Max’s smile grows. “Hi, Lukas. Is this your sister?”

Lukas nods again, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Her name is Leni.”

“Hi, Leni,” Max says, his voice impossibly kind. Leni peeks out from behind Lukas, her wide, tear-filled eyes meeting Max’s.

“She’s scared,” Lukas says quietly.

Max’s expression softens. “That’s okay. It’s a scary thing, isn’t it? Being somewhere new.”

Lukas nods, his lip trembling.

Max glances back at you and Charles, switching briefly to English. “They’re German. Lukas and Leni.”

Charles kneels beside him, even though he doesn’t understand the words being spoken. “Can you tell them it’s okay? That they’re safe?”

Max translates, and Lukas looks at Charles, his expression uncertain but a little less guarded.

“Does she like presents?” You ask, holding up a small, brightly wrapped box.

Max repeats the question in German, and Lukas hesitates before nodding.

You crouch down, holding the box out to Leni. “This is for you.”

Lukas whispers something to her in German, and Leni reaches out with a trembling hand to take the gift.

“Go on,” Max encourages. “You can open it.”

Leni looks up at Lukas, who nods, and then she carefully tears into the paper. When she pulls out a soft, plush bear, her eyes light up for the first time. She clutches it to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Lukas looks up at Max, his voice barely above a whisper. “Danke.”

Max smiles. “You’re welcome.”

You exchange a glance with Charles, your chest tight with emotion. You didn’t come here to find anyone, to change anyone’s life. But looking at Lukas and Leni, it’s hard not to feel like something’s already shifting.

“They’re so small,” you whisper.

Charles nods, his voice thick. “Too small to be alone.”

Madame Ricard watches the interaction, her expression unreadable. “They’ve been through so much,” she says softly. “But I can already see a difference. You’ve made them feel seen.”

You glance back at Lukas, who’s now sitting cross-legged on the floor with Leni, showing her how to properly hug the bear. Max is still beside them, speaking softly in German, his tone soothing and patient.

Charles leans closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “What are you thinking?”

You swallow hard, your throat tight with emotion. “I’m thinking they shouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone.”

Charles doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches them, his expression as soft and full of unspoken things as you feel. “Neither should we.”

You’re not sure what he means, but you think you might know.

***

The bedroom is quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. The three of you are wrapped in the warm cocoon of your shared bed, but it feels different tonight. There’s no teasing banter, no sleepy laughter, no idle conversation about the race calendar or holiday plans. Just silence.

You’re lying between Max and Charles, your head resting against Max’s chest, while Charles holds your hand loosely under the blanket. Normally, you’d be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of Max’s breathing or Charles’ absentminded humming. But tonight, your thoughts are elsewhere.

You can’t stop thinking about Lukas and Leni.

Their little faces flash in your mind over and over again — Lukas’ wary but determined expression, the way his body shielded his sister as if he alone could protect her from the world. Leni’s wide, tear-filled eyes and how tightly she clutched that bear once she finally opened up enough to take it.

You blink against the sting of tears.

“Alright,” Max’s voice cuts through the silence. He doesn’t sound annoyed, just concerned. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, though it’s half-hearted.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” Charles says, his accent softening the words. He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “Lost in thought. We can tell.”

Max’s hand moves to your back, drawing slow, soothing circles. “Talk to us.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to say what’s been swirling in your mind since you left the orphanage. It feels big — too big to articulate. But when you look at Charles’ gentle eyes and feel the steady comfort of Max’s touch, the dam breaks.

“It’s Lukas and Leni,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

Max stops rubbing your back, his hand stilling as he waits for you to continue.

“I can’t stop thinking about them,” you admit. “The way Lukas was protecting her … the way they’re so alone. They don’t even have anyone who can speak to them in their own language.”

Charles sits up more fully, his brow furrowing. “It’s heartbreaking,” he says quietly, and you can tell he feels it too.

You take a deep breath, trying to organize the mess of emotions inside you. “I don’t know how to explain it, but … it felt like we were meant to find them. Like they were meant to find us.”

Max’s hand moves to your hair, his fingers threading gently through the strands. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “I keep thinking about how scared they must be. How lost. And I … I can’t stand the idea of them spending Christmas alone, in a place where no one understands them. It doesn’t feel right.”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, and you quickly wipe at your eyes. “I know it sounds crazy. We just met them. But I can’t shake this feeling that … I don’t know. That the five of us were meant to be together.”

Neither of them speaks for a moment, and you immediately regret saying it. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, sitting up and turning your face away. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s just-”

“Hey.” Max’s voice is firm but gentle, and his hand catches yours before you can pull away completely. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

Charles shifts closer, his hand brushing your arm. “I feel it too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turn to look at him, your tears blurring his face. “You do?”

He nods. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them either. Lukas especially. The way he looked at us … like he wanted to trust us but didn’t know if he could. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Max exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “And Leni,” he says, his voice tight. “She’s just a baby. They’re both so small, and they’ve already been through so much.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes again. “What are we supposed to do? We can’t just … leave them there.”

Max and Charles share a look over your head, one of those silent conversations they’ve perfected over the years. You’ve seen it before — on race days, in press conferences, during moments of unspoken understanding between them.

Finally, Max speaks. “We’re not leaving them there.”

Your heart skips. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes your hand again, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean that we’ll go back. First thing tomorrow morning. We’ll talk to Madame Ricard, figure out what we need to do.”

“To adopt them?” You ask, your voice small but filled with hope.

“If that’s what it takes, yes,” Max says without hesitation.

You feel your breath catch, the weight of their words settling over you. “Are you sure?”

“We’re sure,” Charles says. “It’s like you said — it feels right. It feels like they’re meant to be with us.”

Max nods, his expression serious. “We’ve already been talking about starting a family. This … this might be how it’s supposed to happen.”

Your tears start again, but this time they’re different. Lighter. Full of something you haven’t felt in a long time — hope.

“I love you both so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Charles pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you completely. “We love you too,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair.

Max leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re going to do this.”

For the first time all night, the silence in the room feels peaceful. The three of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, until sleep finally comes.

And when it does, it’s with the quiet certainty that tomorrow will bring something new — something life-changing.

***

The drive to the orphanage feels longer than it did yesterday, even though the streets of Monaco are quiet in the early morning. Max’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter than usual, his knuckles pale against the leather. Charles sits in the passenger seat, his phone resting in his lap, while you’re tucked into the backseat, staring out the window. None of you speak, but the air is heavy with anticipation.

As soon as Max parks, Charles is out of the car, opening your door for you before you even have the chance to unbuckle. Max grabs the bag of gifts you’d brought back in case you see the other children again, though it feels secondary now.

Inside, the orphanage is quieter than yesterday. Only a few children are up, milling around the common room, their laughter softer in the early light. Madame Ricard greets you near the entrance, her warm smile faltering when she sees the determined expressions on your faces.

“You’re back early,” she says, glancing between the three of you.

“We need to talk to you,” Charles says, his tone polite but urgent.

Madame Ricard’s brows knit together, but she nods. “Of course. Come with me.”

She leads you to her small office, its walls lined with books and photographs of smiling children. There’s a wreath hanging in the window, and the desk is cluttered with papers and a half-empty cup of coffee. She gestures for you to sit, but none of you do.

“We want to adopt Lukas and Leni,” Max says without preamble, his Dutch accent more pronounced in his urgency.

Madame Ricard blinks, her surprise evident. “That’s … that’s wonderful, but adoption is not something that can happen overnight. There’s a process — an extensive one. Home studies, background checks, legal clearances. It can take months, sometimes even years.”

You feel your stomach drop, but Charles steps forward, his expression firm. “We understand there are steps, and we’re prepared to take them. But surely there’s something that can be done to expedite the process. They shouldn’t have to wait in limbo if there’s a family ready to take them.”

Madame Ricard sighs, her hands folding neatly on the desk. “I don’t doubt your intentions. You all seem like wonderful people, and I’m sure you would make excellent parents. But the system is in place to protect the children. It’s not something I can simply bypass.”

Charles glances at you, then at Max, before pulling out his phone. He scrolls for a moment, then presses a number and raises it to his ear.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, but he holds up a finger, his focus on the call.

“Bonjour,” Charles says smoothly, switching to French. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Your Serene Highness.��

Your eyes widen, and Max mutters something in Dutch under his breath that you’re certain isn’t polite.

“Yes, it’s Charles,” Charles continues, his voice calm but determined. “I need a favor. It’s urgent.”

Madame Ricard’s mouth falls open slightly, her gaze darting between Charles and the phone. You can barely process what’s happening as Charles explains the situation to the Prince of Monaco, his words measured but impassioned.

When he hangs up, he turns back to Madame Ricard with a small, triumphant smile. “Prince Albert has assured me he’ll do everything in his power to help expedite the process. You’ll be hearing from his office shortly.”

Madame Ricard stares at him for a moment, then laughs softly, shaking her head. “I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment. Well, if the Prince is involved, that does change things. But you’ll still need to go through some initial steps before we can begin the process officially.”

“That’s fine,” Max says, his voice steady. “We’ll do whatever we need to. But can we see them?”

Madame Ricard hesitates, then nods. “Yes, of course. Follow me.”

You walk through the halls in silence, your heart pounding in your chest. When you reach the common room, Lukas and Leni are exactly where you’d seen them yesterday — off to the side, separate from the other children. Lukas is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his arms around Leni, who is curled up against him with the plush bear you gave her.

“They’ve barely moved since this morning,” Madame Ricard says softly.

You exchange a glance with Max and Charles before stepping forward together. Max crouches first, his tall frame folding easily as he kneels a few feet from Lukas.

“Hallo, Lukas,” Max says gently in German. “Do you remember me?”

Lukas’ eyes lift, wary but familiar. He nods, his grip on Leni tightening slightly.

“This is my wife,” Max continues, gesturing to you. “And you remember our husband?”

Lukas nods again, his expression unreadable.

Max glances back at you, and you lower yourself to the floor beside him. Charles follows suit on the other side, forming a small circle around the children without crowding them.

“Lukas,” Max says softly, his tone careful but warm. “I want to ask you something. It’s very important.”

Lukas tilts his head slightly, his curiosity piqued despite his guarded demeanor.

Max takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto the boy’s. “Would you and Leni like to come home with us?”

For a moment, Lukas doesn’t respond. His brow furrows, and he looks down at Leni, who is clutching her bear tightly, her small face pressed into his side.

“Home?” Lukas echoes, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max nods. “Yes. With us. We want to take care of you and Leni. We want to be your family.”

Lukas’ eyes widen, his grip on Leni loosening just slightly as he processes the words. He looks at you, then at Charles, his gaze searching.

“You want us?” He asks, his voice trembling.

You feel your throat tighten, but you manage to nod. “Yes, we do. More than anything.”

Charles leans forward slightly, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. We’ll take care of you. Both of you.”

Lukas’ lower lip trembles, and he looks down at Leni, who finally peeks out from where she’s been hiding. Her wide, tear-filled eyes meet Max’s, and she whispers something in German that you can’t understand.

“What did she say?” You ask quietly, glancing at Max.

Max’s voice is thick with emotion when he answers. “She asked ‘are you going to be our Mama and Vatis?’”

You feel the tears welling in your eyes, and you don’t bother trying to stop them. “Yes, sweetheart,” you say, your voice trembling. “We are. If you’ll have us.”

Lukas looks at Leni, then back at the three of you. His small shoulders square, and for the first time, his expression softens into something that looks like hope.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “We’ll go with you.”

You reach out cautiously, your hand trembling slightly as you place it gently on Lukas’. He doesn’t pull away.

Charles exhales a shaky breath, his hand coming to rest on Leni’s bear. “We’re going to take care of you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Both of you.”

Max nods, his jaw tight as he fights to keep his own emotions in check. “You’re not alone anymore. You have us now.”

And for the first time, Lukas smiles — a small, tentative thing, but a smile nonetheless. It feels like the most important thing in the world.

***

One Month Later

The apartment is chaos. Wonderful, heartwarming chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

You can’t remember the last time it was this loud, and that’s saying something considering you’ve lived with two world-class athletes, three cats, and two mischievous dachshunds for years. But the addition of Lukas and Leni has turned the volume — and the energy — up several notches.

“Lukas, no running in the hallway!” You call, stepping over Jimmy, who is sprawled across the kitchen floor, his tail flicking lazily.

“He’s not running!” Max’s voice echoes from the living room. “He’s just … moving very quickly!”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as Leni tugs at the hem of your sweater. She’s clutching a small pile of bath toys in one hand and pointing toward the bathroom with the other.

“Bath time?” You ask gently, crouching to her level.

She nods eagerly, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“Okay, let’s find Lukas and-”

A loud crash interrupts you, followed by Charles shouting something in rapid French that sounds suspiciously like a curse. You turn the corner to find Lukas standing in the middle of the living room, an overturned laundry basket at his feet and Leo gleefully chasing a pair of socks across the floor.

“Lukas,” you sigh, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“It was an accident!” Lukas insists, his hands flying up in a defensive gesture.

Charles appears from behind the couch, his hair slightly disheveled and his expression exasperated but affectionate. “An accident that somehow involved the dog stealing my socks?”

Leo lets out a triumphant bark, the sock still dangling from his mouth, before darting under the coffee table.

Max leans against the doorway, arms crossed and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think it’s a team effort,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, enough chaos. It’s bath time.”

“Bath time?” Lukas groans, his face scrunching up in distaste.

“Yes, bath time,” Charles says firmly, scooping up the laundry basket and tossing the scattered clothes back inside. “You’re covered in dirt from playing outside.”

“And Leni’s ready,” you add, holding up her bath toys as she beams up at you.

“I’m not dirty,” Lukas mutters, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow. “There’s literally mud on your knees, little man. Let’s go.”

It takes some coaxing, but eventually, everyone makes it to the bathroom. Lukas and Leni sit on the edge of the tub, Leni excitedly dropping her toys into the water while Lukas looks like he’s planning his escape.

“Okay, clothes off,” you say, trying to keep things moving.

Leni complies immediately, but Lukas hesitates, his arms crossing over his chest again.

“It’s just a bath,” Max says, kneeling down to Lukas’ level. “Nothing to be scared of.”

“I’m not scared,” Lukas mumbles, though his voice is quieter now.

Charles crouches next to Max, his tone gentle. “Do you want us to stay with you? Or we can leave the door open if that makes you feel better.”

Lukas glances at Leni, who is happily splashing her toys in the water, then back at Max and Charles. Finally, he nods. “Stay.”

You exchange a relieved look with Max as the two of you help the kids into the tub. The next ten minutes are a whirlwind of water, bubbles, and shrieks of laughter.

“Careful, Leni!” Charles exclaims as she flings a handful of bubbles at him, catching him squarely on the nose.

“Lukas, not the cat!” You yelp as Lukas splashes too enthusiastically and sends a wave of water cascading over the edge of the tub, directly onto Jimmy, who had wandered in to investigate.

Jimmy bolts, his tail puffed up like a bottlebrush, just as Leo decides to join the fray, leaping up to chase the bubbles floating in the air.

In the chaos, Max slips on the wet floor, catching himself on the edge of the sink. “This is a disaster,” he says, laughing as water drips from his hair.

“No, this is parenthood,” you reply, grinning as you wring out the hem of your sweater.

By the time the kids are clean and wrapped in fluffy towels, the bathroom looks like a hurricane hit it. Charles is soaked from head to toe, Max’s socks squelch with every step, and you’re pretty sure you’ll be finding remnants of stray bubbles for days.

But when Leni giggles and tugs on your sleeve, pointing at the three of you with a wide, toothy grin, it feels worth it.

***

That night, the apartment is finally quiet. Lukas and Leni are tucked into their new beds, Leo and Nino curled up at the foot of Lukas’ mattress, while the cats have retreated to their usual perches.

You’re sprawled on the couch between Max and Charles, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“I can’t believe how much energy they have,” you say, your head resting on Max’s shoulder.

“It’s like they’re powered by chaos,” Charles agrees, his arm draped over the back of the couch.

Max chuckles softly, his hand absently playing with the ends of your hair. “Chaos is putting it lightly.”

Despite your exhaustion, a sense of contentment washes over you. Your home feels fuller now — messier, louder, but fuller.

Just as you’re starting to drift off, a soft noise catches your attention. It’s the sound of small footsteps, hesitant and quiet, but unmistakable.

You sit up slightly, and a moment later, Lukas and Leni appear in the doorway, clutching their blankets and looking small and uncertain.

“What’s wrong?” You ask gently, swinging your legs off the couch.

“Nightmare,” Lukas says quietly, his free hand gripping Leni’s tightly.

Your heart clenches, and you’re already on your feet, moving toward them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lukas shakes his head, his eyes darting toward Max and Charles.

“Do you want to stay with us for a little while?” Max asks, his voice soft.

Both kids nod, and before you know it, they’re climbing onto the couch. Lukas settles between Max and Charles, while Leni crawls into your lap, clutching her blanket like a lifeline.

Charles pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over all of you, his hand resting gently on Lukas’ back. Max leans down to press a kiss to Leni’s hair, his eyes meeting yours over her head.

For a long time, no one speaks. The kids slowly relax, their breathing evening out as they drift back to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of your little family.

“I think they’re starting to trust us,” Charles whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. I think they are.”

Max tightens his arm around Lukas, his gaze soft. “We’re going to be okay,” he says quietly. “All of us.”

And in that moment, with the kids nestled against you and the warmth of Max and Charles surrounding you, you know he’s right.

***

One Year Later

The sun filters through the trees lining the courtyard of La Maternelle, casting dappled light on the cheerful faces of parents waiting to pick up their children. You stand between Max and Charles, your hands wrapped around a paper bag from the kids’ favorite bakery. Inside, two perfectly iced pastries sit, waiting to be devoured.

“Do you think they liked it?” You ask, glancing at the colorful mural decorating the preschool’s front wall.

Charles, leaning against the railing, grins. “Of course. Lukas was practically vibrating with excitement this morning. And Leni …” His voice softens. “She’ll love anything if Lukas does.”

Max chuckles, crossing his arms as he watches the doors. “Let’s see if they’re still smiling when they come out.”

You nudge him playfully. “Stop worrying. They’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the large doors open, releasing a flood of tiny, chattering students. Teachers lead them in pairs down the stairs to their waiting parents, and the air fills with the sound of children’s voices, an overlapping mix of French, English, and the occasional giggle.

“There they are!” Charles says, pointing.

Lukas and Leni appear, hand in hand, walking down the steps alongside their teacher. Lukas is gesturing animatedly to a boy beside him, and Leni’s face lights up when she spots the three of you waiting.

“Vati! Papa! Mama!” Lukas shouts, waving so hard his backpack bounces with every step.

Your heart swells as they break into a run, dodging around other parents and children. Leni nearly trips, but Lukas catches her arm and steadies her before continuing their dash.

“Look at them,” Max murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You crouch down, arms open, and Leni barrels into you, wrapping her little arms around your neck. Lukas follows a second later, colliding into Max and Charles with equal enthusiasm.

“How was it?” You ask, holding Leni close as her curls tickle your cheek.

“It was so good!” Lukas exclaims, switching to German mid-sentence. “We painted, and I made a dog, and the teacher said it was good, and-”

“Wait, slow down,” Max says, laughing. “One at a time.”

Leni tugs on your sleeve, her voice quieter but no less excited. “I made a friend,” she says in French, her big eyes shining.

“You did?” You ask, your chest tightening with pride.

She nods. “Her name is Amélie. She has a pink dress.”

“Amélie is very lucky to have you as a friend,” Charles says, reaching out to smooth her curls.

Lukas jumps in, switching to English this time. “And there’s a boy who likes dinosaurs like me! His name is Leo-”

“Like our Leo?” Max asks, his grin widening.

Lukas laughs, shaking his head. “No, not like the dog!”

The four of you are caught in a swirl of excited recounting — art projects, new words they learned, and the rules of a game they played — when a sharp voice cuts through the happy chaos.

“Well, isn’t this quite the picture?”

You look up to find a woman standing nearby, her arms crossed and a thin smile on her lips. She’s impeccably dressed, her posture stiff as she surveys your little group.

Max tenses immediately, his arm moving instinctively to rest on Lukas’ shoulder. Charles straightens, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“They’re yours, then?” The woman asks, her tone laced with something you can’t quite place.

You rise slowly, still holding Leni’s hand. “Yes, they’re our children.”

The woman’s gaze flicks between Max and Charles, her thin smile sharpening. “Which one of you is their father?”

You feel Max stiffen beside you, but it’s Charles who answers first, his voice calm but firm. “We both are.”

The woman lets out a laugh — short, clipped, and dripping with condescension. “Right. But which one actually is? You know, biologically.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you keep your voice steady. “Neither of them is.”

The woman raises a perfectly plucked brow. “Ah, so you’re one of those.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step forward, still holding Leni’s hand. “One of those?” You echo, your voice low and icy.

The woman shrugs, her smile now openly smug. “A whore who managed to get her claws into two wealthy men.”

Max moves before you can even register it, his eyes blazing. “What did you just say?”

“Max,” Charles says sharply, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from advancing. But his own voice is tight, and his hand trembles slightly.

The woman doesn’t back down, her gaze flicking between the three of you like she’s daring you to challenge her.

You step forward, letting go of Leni’s hand to stand your ground. Your voice is cold, clear, and unwavering. “None of us are their biological parents because Lukas and Leni are adopted. But we are their family in every way that matters.”

The woman snorts, waving a dismissive hand. “Adopted. So you’re not actually their parents.”

The dam breaks.

Max’s voice rises first, his Dutch accent sharp as he glares at her. “We love those kids more than you can possibly understand. How dare you suggest otherwise?”

Charles follows, his words laced with steel. “It doesn’t matter if they share our blood. They are ours, and we are theirs. That’s what makes a family.”

You step closer, your voice trembling with controlled fury. “You don’t get to stand here and insult us or our children because you can’t understand what love and family look like.”

The woman opens her mouth to reply, but Lukas beats her to it.

“Let’s go, Mama,” he says loudly, tugging at your hand and looking pointedly at the woman. “She’s not nice.”

You blink down at him, your heart swelling with pride and affection. “You’re absolutely right,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Charles bends down to pick up Leni, who has been watching the exchange quietly, her big eyes fixed on you. “Let’s go get a treat,” he says softly, his voice warm again.

As the five of you turn to leave, Lukas pauses. He looks back over his shoulder at the woman, his little face scrunched in determination. Then he sticks out his tongue, the gesture so quick and childish it takes you a moment to register it.

Max bursts out laughing, the sound startlingly loud after the tension of the moment. “That’s my boy,” he says, ruffling Lukas’ hair.

You can’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling up as you walk away, hand in hand with your family.

“Good job, Lukas,” Charles says with a grin. “But next time, let’s not give her the satisfaction of a reaction, okay?”

Lukas looks up at him, confused. “What’s satisfaction?”

“It means she wanted us to be mad,” you explain, bending down to meet his gaze. “But we don’t have to let her make us feel bad. We know the truth, right?”

Lukas nods slowly, his brow furrowing in thought. “The truth is that we’re a family.”

“That’s exactly right,” Max says, his voice filled with pride.

As you hand Leni her pastry and take Lukas’ hand again, you can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude. For all the challenges, for all the moments like this, you wouldn’t trade your little family for anything in the world.

***

The paddock is alive with its usual pre-race buzz — team members rushing to and from garages, media personnel chatting with drivers, and fans craning for a glimpse of their favorites. You’re seated on a bench near the Red Bull motorhome with Lukas and Leni perched on either side of you, their little legs swinging in excitement. Max and Charles had just been whisked away for team meetings, leaving you in charge of keeping the kids entertained until they returned.

“Can we see the cars now?” Lukas asks, his eyes lighting up as a Red Bull engineer walks by with a shiny front wing. “I want to see the wheels up close.”

“Not yet,” you say, smiling as you ruffle his hair. “Soon, I promise. But first, we’re staying here. Your Vati and Papa will be back before you know it.”

“I want to see the helmets,” Leni adds, holding tightly to the small Ferrari flag Charles had given her earlier. “Are they shiny?”

“They’re very shiny,” you assure her, leaning in conspiratorially. “Maybe we’ll even help your fathers put them on later.”

Before Leni can ask another question, a young woman holding a camera and a phone approaches you hesitantly. “Hi, um, excuse me? You’re … you’re Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc’s wife, right?”

You blink, caught off guard. “I am.”

Her face lights up. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m a TikToker, and I do these short interviews with fans and families at races. Would you be okay with answering a few questions? It won’t take long.”

You glance down at Lukas and Leni. “If it’s quick …”

The TikToker nods eagerly. “Super quick! Thank you so much!”

Max’s mother, Sophie, materializes beside you before you can even turn back to the kids. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them,” she says warmly. “You go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

Sophie waves a hand. “Of course. We’ll stay right here.”

Reassured, you follow the TikToker a few steps away, keeping the kids in your line of sight as the camera starts rolling. She asks about life as part of a racing family, what it’s like juggling everything, and even sneaks in a cheeky question about whether you think Max or Charles is faster.

You laugh, answering her questions as best as you can, but your attention keeps flicking back to Lukas and Leni. They’re sitting with Sophie, but a flash of orange catches your eye, and you see someone kneeling in front of them, grinning. Your stomach drops when you realize it’s Lando Norris, holding out what appears to be a chocolate bar.

By the time you wrap up the interview and return to the kids, Lando is gone, and Max and Charles are back from their team duties. The kids are bouncing with excitement, but something seems … off.

“Where did you get that?” Charles asks, pointing to the bright orange cap perched on Lukas’ head.

Max’s jaw drops. “Is that McLaren merch?”

Lukas beams. “Do you like it?” He gestures to his T-shirt, which features McLaren’s logo in bold black and papaya across the front. Leni twirls to show off her matching cap and scarf.

Max puts a hand to his chest, staggering back dramatically. “I can’t believe this. Our own children. Betraying us.”

Charles crosses his arms, giving Lukas an exaggerated glare. “What did we do wrong? Was it something we said? Something we did?”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head as you crouch to Leni’s level. “How did this happen? We were raising Red Bull and Ferrari fans!”

Leni giggles, her smile wide and bright, but you notice something unusual — a faint smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. Frowning, you reach out to wipe it away with your thumb. “What’s this?”

Max’s eyes narrow. “Chocolate? Where did you get chocolate?”

Leni freezes, her eyes going wide like she’s just been caught. Lukas, sensing danger, jumps in quickly. “We didn’t get chocolate. Nope. No chocolate.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because it looks a lot like chocolate.”

Charles kneels down beside Lukas. “Tell the truth, mon petit. Did someone give you candy?”

Lukas shakes his head firmly. “Nope. No candy.”

But Leni, blissfully unaware of her brother’s attempt to cover their tracks, nods enthusiastically. “Lando gave us sooooo much candy!”

You gasp, trying not to laugh. “Lando?”

“Lando!” Leni repeats, still grinning. “He said we have to cheer for McLaren now. He gave us these hats and shirts, too!”

Max stares at her, slack-jawed. “He bribed you? With chocolate?”

Charles leans back, laughing despite himself. “I knew Lando was sneaky, but this …”

Max, however, is not laughing. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face the kids. “You betrayed us for candy?”

“It was good candy!” Leni defends, crossing her arms in defiance.

Lukas looks sheepish, pulling at the brim of his cap. “It was a lot of candy …”

Max throws his hands up. “First McLaren merch, now this. What’s next? Mercedes?”

Charles smirks. “Careful, Max. If Toto hears about this, he might send over cupcakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t think the kids even know what a bribe is. They were just excited.”

“Exactly!” Leni says, nodding vigorously. “And Lando is nice!”

Max sighs, crouching down to meet Leni’s gaze. “Listen, princess. You can like Lando, but you’re not allowed to switch teams. Okay? Red Bull and Ferrari are the only acceptable teams in this house.”

“And no more taking candy from drivers,” Charles adds, his tone firm but playful. “Especially if it’s Lando.”

Leni pouts. “Not even a little candy?”

“Not even a little,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “Besides, the caterer made your favorite treats. Remember?”

Their eyes light up, and the McLaren drama is momentarily forgotten as you hand over the brownies. Lukas takes a big bite of his, mumbling a happy “Mmm” through a mouthful of fudge.

Max shakes his head, still looking slightly betrayed. “I’m going to have words with Lando. Bribing our children …”

Charles grins, wrapping an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Think of it this way. At least they didn’t run straight to Mercedes.”

“Yet,” Max mutters, glaring at Lukas’ orange cap.

You laugh, watching as Lukas offers Leni a bite of his dessert. Despite the chaos, the sight of your family — all five of you together, happy and healthy — makes your heart feel full.

***

Ten Years Later

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon at home, the kind of day that feels rare amidst the usual whirlwind of racing, school, and travel. The living room is bathed in soft sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You’re curled up on the couch with a book, while Max and Charles are in the kitchen, bickering good-naturedly over who makes the better omelet.

Lukas and Leni are sprawled across the floor nearby, surrounded by textbooks and laptops, pretending to study but clearly more interested in each other’s company. Leni’s hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her feet propped up on a throw pillow, while Lukas is lying on his stomach, tapping a pen against his notebook.

“Do you think,” Leni begins, breaking the silence, “that people become like their parents? Even when they’re not, you know, biologically related?”

You glance up from your book, curious. “What makes you ask that?”

Leni shrugs, but there’s a playful glint in her eye. “Because Lukas has your stubborn face.”

Lukas looks up, feigning offense. “What stubborn face?”

“That one!” Leni says, pointing at him and grinning. “The one you’re making right now.”

“That’s not stubborn,” Lukas protests, though his furrowed brow and set jaw suggest otherwise. “It’s just … concentration.”

“Sure,” Leni teases, dragging out the word. “You do it all the time. Especially when Vati tells you to clean your room.”

You laugh, closing your book. “I hate to admit it, but she’s right, Lukas. You do have my stubborn face.”

Lukas groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Great. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

From the kitchen, Max’s voice rings out. “What’s this about Lukas inheriting something from you?”

Leni twists around, calling back, “His stubbornness! It’s practically genetic.”

Max appears in the doorway, holding a spatula, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, definitely. But he’s got my competitive streak, too.”

Lukas sits up, crossing his arms. “How do I have your competitive streak?”

Charles joins Max, wiping his hands on a towel. “Because you turned folding laundry into a race with Leni last week. And you were genuinely upset when you lost.”

“That’s because she cheated!” Lukas argues, pointing at Leni, who bursts out laughing.

“I didn’t cheat! I’m just faster than you.”

“You shoved my pile off the couch!”

“It fell!”

Max leans against the doorframe, smirking. “See? Competitive.”

Lukas mutters something under his breath, but the corners of his mouth lift in a reluctant smile.

Leni turns her attention back to you. “And I think I got Papa’s ... what’s the word? Dramatic tendencies.”

Charles places a hand over his chest, feigning shock. “Moi? Dramatic?”

You snort. “Charles, you once said the grocery store running out of your favorite cheese was a personal attack.”

“It was a personal attack,” he says, deadpan, which only makes everyone laugh harder.

Leni grins, leaning forward eagerly. “See? I’m dramatic like him. Remember when I fell during P.E. last week and told my teacher I’d never walk again?”

“I do remember,” you say, shaking your head. “And I also remember getting a very concerned phone call from the school about it.”

Leni shrugs, unrepentant. “It worked. They let me skip the rest of class.”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you didn’t get detention.”

“I’m lucky I inherited Papa’s charm,” Leni counters, flashing a smug smile.

“You mean his overconfidence,” Lukas quips, and Charles gasps in mock outrage.

Max chuckles, stepping fully into the room and sitting on the armrest of your couch. “You both definitely picked up things from us. But it’s not just the big stuff, you know. It’s the little things, too.”

“Like what?” Leni asks, tilting her head.

Max gestures toward Lukas. “The way you bite your nails when you’re nervous? That’s all me. I used to do it so much when I was younger, my mom had to put gross-tasting polish on my fingers to make me stop.”

Lukas looks at his hands, startled. “I do not bite my nails.”

“You do,” Leni says, nodding solemnly. “All the time. Especially before exams.”

“Great,” Lukas mutters. “Now I’m going to be self-conscious about it.”

Charles points at Leni. “And the way you tap your foot when you’re waiting for something? That’s definitely me. I used to do it all the time before races when I started karting.”

“I do not tap my foot-” Leni starts, but she stops mid-sentence, catching herself as her foot bounces against the floor. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, I do.”

Lukas smirks. “See? You’re not as perfect as you think.”

Leni sticks her tongue out at him, but there’s no malice in it. “At least I didn’t inherit Vati’s terrible taste in music.”

“Hey!” Max protests. “What’s wrong with my music?”

“Everything,” Leni says, grinning. “You play the same three songs on repeat every time we’re in the car.”

“They’re classics!”

“They’re old.”

“They’re timeless,” Max insists, turning to you for backup. “Tell her.”

You shrug, hiding a smile. “I don’t want to get involved.”

Charles grins, sitting on the floor next to Leni. “It’s okay, Max. At least she didn’t say you passed on your terrible cooking skills.”

Max glares at him. “You’re one to talk. Remember the time you burned spaghetti?”

“It was one time!”

“Burned spaghetti?” Lukas echoes, looking genuinely impressed. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s a talent,” Max says, smirking.

Leni laughs, leaning against Charles. “See? We’ve got the best parts of all of you. Except the bad cooking. That we avoided.”

You watch them, your heart swelling. It’s moments like these that remind you how deeply your family has grown together over the years. Despite not sharing blood, there’s no denying the ways Lukas and Leni have absorbed pieces of you, Max, and Charles — through habits, quirks, and inside jokes that only make sense within the four walls of your home.

“Do you ever wish you remembered what you got from your biological parents?” You ask softly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

Leni and Lukas exchange a glance, their playful banter momentarily replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.

“Sometimes,” Leni admits. “Like, when people ask where my freckles come from, I wonder if my mother had them too.”

Lukas nods. “Or when I see someone really tall and think maybe my father was tall. Stuff like that.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Leni adds quickly, looking at you, Max, and Charles in turn. “Because we’re like you. In all the ways that count.”

“And we wouldn’t change it,” Lukas says, his voice steady.

You feel your throat tighten, and when you glance at Max and Charles, you see the same emotion mirrored in their eyes. Max reaches out to ruffle Lukas’ hair, while Charles pulls Leni into a side hug, kissing the top of her head.

“We wouldn’t change it either,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

“Not for anything,” Charles adds.

Leni leans into him, smiling up at Max. “Even if you do have bad taste in music.”

Max groans, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll let that slide. This time.”

Lukas grins, leaning back against the couch. “See? We’ve got the best family.”

Leni nods in agreement, and for a moment, the room is filled with a comfortable, loving silence — the kind that only exists in the presence of people who truly know and understand each other.

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rensukepie · 4 months ago

Text

𐚁๋࣭⭑ “you say it’s big, but you take it.” ┈─★ n. s

contains : virginity loss, big d!ck nagi :3, size difference, slight tummy bulge, praise, he’s talking you through it A LOTTT, nagi teaches reader how to give a blowjob ^___^!, pussay eating, established relationship, nagi jerking off to you ^3^, pull out, this one’s a little longer than my other works!!, aftercare, dumbification(?), kinda possessive nagi if you squint

you’re scared of losing your virginity, you really are. that is, until you ask nagi to take it from you.

character is aged up!

mdni!!!!! (minors do NOT interact)

a/n : ty @kittenish0 for requesting some nagi smut! happy new years to you as well! i’ve wanted to write him for a while now :3

nsfw under the cut

he was surprised to find out you were a virgin early on in the relationship.

“how could someone so pretty like her be a virgin?” he thought to himself frequently. you were so, so pretty to him.

you were glad that he wasn’t pushing you to have sex like the other people before. he’s so gentle, so patient with you. you wonder how someone like him can handle someone like you—behavior wise.

every time you two kiss, you always have to pull away before it gets too heated. you’re scared of having sex, you really, really are, but you’ve always considered nagi to be the one to take your virginity away from you.

“m’sorry sei…. not ready yet…” you say, face buried into his shoulder along with your arms hung around them.

“it’s okay baby… when you’re ready, you’re ready, right? doesn’t have to be immediately…” he reassures, kissing your cheek.

…. ┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

it got him so, so fucking hard when you told him that you’re a virgin. the thoughts rushing to his head on how he can teach you how to take his dick, the pretty sounds you’d make, the possible bulge his cock can (will) show in your stomach, everything is rushing to his head.

so after that little restaurant date between the two of you, he goes back home to his apartment and jerks his cock off to every single thought about you, pretending his fist is your pretty, wet cunt taking all of him.

“fffuck— baby… gonna make me cum.. so tight…”

…. ┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

it’s been a couple of months since the two of you got together. you’ve done so many things together and your friends and his friends combined both think you two are cute together.

you figured it was about time to have sex at this point, so you decide to make your move tonight, but how? you’ve never done something like this before, nor ever felt this way for someone ever.

“you ready for our movie night date? :x”

“mhm! coming over right now sei!”

“can’t wait to see you angel, really missed you”

for some reason, that text he sent made your face so red and flushed! anticipation, maybe?

…. ┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

you’re currently on his bed, blanket on both of your laps, head on his shoulder as you two watch the movie you both agreed on.

“sei… can i tell you something?”

“hm? go ahead.” he says, reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

“i wanna try it…. want you to be my first time sei…i’ve been thinking about it all week…” you say while grabbing his arm, face flushed in a shade of red.

“are you sure, baby? this is so sudden… don’t wanna hurt you or anything..”

“im sure sei… think m’ready…” you say in that sweet, sweet tone you always have, the one that he hears every time you speak to him.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“gonna take it slow for you, ‘kay?” he whispers in your ear, his body hovering over yours on the bed with his knee in between your thigh before kissing your soft, pretty lips, your arms over his shoulders with his hands at your waist.

“s—seishiro…. mm…” you whimper into the kiss as he brushes his knee slightly against your clothed cunt.

“hm? feels good?” he teases, breaking the kiss to start kissing all over your neck and down.

you love the way his lips feel on your body. the way he asks you if it feels good—it’s all too much! and he knows that it’s too much for you with the way your already whimpering on the fact that he’s getting closer to your pretty pussy.

“you’re so pretty… can kiss your body forever, angel.” he murmurs, placing kisses on your inner thighs before he places a kiss right on your cunt that’s still clothed in a pair of lacy panties. “fuck—these are so cute on you, baby…”

he plays with your sensitive bud with his fingers through the wet—soiled fabric, but not for long before he’s asking to take off your panties.

“gonna take these off of you now, that okay with you, pretty?”

“mhm… go ahead sei… please…” you plead desperately to the point where it’s almost embarrassing.

“mm— that’s a good girl..” he says as he takes off your panties slowly, kissing your pussy once more before licking the slit with his skilled tongue along with sucking your sensitive bud. “does it feel good, hm?”

“seishiro—! mmf… fffuckk—!” you moan at the new feeling, gripping at his soft white hair. if you knew it felt so good, you would’ve told him to do this sooner!

you swear that he’s humming into your cunt on purpose to make you squirm around him! he’s moaning saying how good you taste and fuck— it’s having an effect on you. you can feel that your about to cum despite the fact that you don’t even know how it feels to do so.

“s—sei… i think m’gonna cum soon… haah…—“

“yeah? you feel it, angel? cum for me… you’re doing so well.”

you swear that you could see literal stars as your orgasm washed over you. little whimpers of “m’cumming sei… mmf…!” coming out of your mouth.

“mm.. thats it, sweet girl… feel good?”

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“gonna teach you how to suck my dick now, yeah?” he whispers, kissing your neck before he takes off his sweatpants and boxers, his rock hard cock on display for you.

he knows that his cock isn’t the average size. it’s thick with pre all over his pink tip and it has a little prominent vein and holy shit—it’s making you so wet!

“seishiro… it’s s’big… don’t think i can take all of it…” you say, looking at it with big, curious eyes.

“s’okay baby… don’t need to take all of it..” he says, thumb rubbing your face.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“focus on the tip… ‘s sensitive there…” he says, your lips and tongue on his tip tasting his pre. “ahh—shit…! you’re doing so well, angel. so good f’me…” he moans, his hand on your head. “you think you can take a bit more of me, hm? just a little more down?”

“m—mhm… i wanna try it… want to make you feel good too, sei..”

fuck.

it takes everything in him to not plow his big cock into your insides and completely ruin you. but of course, he holds back, it is your first time after all. he doesn’t wanna ruin his pretty girl juuust yet!

“mmf… you’re such a sweet girl, so perfect..” he smiles, thumb rubbing your face once more.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“spit on your palm f’me… that way, you can move your fist up and down for the part that you can’t take, ‘kay?”

you spit onto your palm, globs of it falling down. you begin to suck him once more, taking more of his cock into your mouth this time.

he doesn’t expect you to take all of him into his mouth, especially since it’s your first time, but again, it really, really takes everything inside of him to not grip your hair and bob your head up and down on his cock.

you’re doing a lot more then he expected from a virgin. you’ve taken a good amount of him inside of your mouth, using your spit covered fist to jerk off the rest of his cock that couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“fuck—are you sure you’re a virgin, baby? you’re so good at this…haah—such a fast learner, aren’t you?” whimpers coming out of his mouth, the familiar feeling of cumming soon rushing over his body.

“gonna cum soon, angel… ohh shitt—… take it baby, take all of my cum in your mouth… that’s it…”

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“tell me when you’re ready, okay? gonna take it nice and slow f’you, sweet girl.” he responds, looking at you from underneath, his cock in his hand.

“m—mhm… think m’ready now… you got me so wet sei…”

“she’s so cute when she gets like this…” he thinks, moving his cock back and forth on your folds and slapping his cock onto your clit, teasing you so that he can hear your pretty, soft moans.

“mmf—! stop teasing me seishiro… please…” you pout for a little bit, finally feeling his cock stretch you out for the first time. it burns, but the feeling begins to turn into pleasure.

“fuck, you feel so good, baby…” he murmurs into your neck, thrusting his big cock inside of you slowly. “you alright? does it feel good, hm? want your first time to be perfect..”

“ahh..! s—sei! you’re too big—haah… can feel your cock in my stomach…” you whimper, pulling his hand to the bulge in your stomach that shows each time he thrusts deep inside. “feels sooo good, baby… love your cock so much… mmf—!”

“yeah? you like it, huh? only my cock can make you like this, sweet girl…” he knows you’ve gone dumb on his cock already! only babbling words out of your mouth from what you can hear from your knowledge.

“m—mhm you’re the only one seishiro….gonna cum again soon…” you start rubbing your clit with your fingers, your cunt squeezing itself on his cock as you get closer to the edge.

“mm!— m’cumming again sei…! gonna cum… ahh—!”

right before he’s about to cum, he pulls his cock out of your warm cunt, jerking it off infront of you as his cum goes right onto your stomach.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

he gets you a fresh pair of his clean clothes after your shower together, leaving a kiss on your cheek when he sees you on the bed.

“you okay, love?” he asks with a gentle tone, water droplets falling from his hair since you both had just gotten out of the shower.

“mhm… it felt really good, sei… thank you… wanna do it again soon…” you giggle softly, holding him tighter into your hug.

“don’t thank me, baby… wanted your first time to be as perfect as possible.” he says, kissing you once more before you both drift off to sleep.

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nitadllyss · 3 months ago

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Waking Up Next to Your Boyfriend

-Hyung Line x Reader -

Maknae line here

Genre: Fluff, Headcanon (too sweet)

Warnings: None

---------------------------------------

Bangchan:

• He has trouble sleeping, so when he finally does, he’s completely out. A sleepy koala .

• He’s always the big spoon.

• He unconsciously throws a leg over you and pulls you close with his arm whenever you move.

• When you check the time, you turn off anything that might make noise and go back to sleep, hoping he takes his time waking up so he can rest.

• Considering you woke up with Chan's fluffy hair and his pajama is basically no pajama, it's totally understandable that you didn't want it to end.

• When he finally opens his eyes and sees the time, he flinches a little. It’s late (well, actually, it’s early, but Mr. Workaholic doesn’t see it that way).

• But when he sees you, his heart skips a beat. You look so comfortable next to him.

• He doesn’t resist (not that he even tries) and showers your neck and jaw with kisses, whispering a deep, raspy "Good morning."

• You’re so asleep you barely understand what he’s saying. It’s honestly way too early for your brain to function properly.

• You manage to kiss his cheek just as he’s getting up to leave for work :(( .

• You know he’ll make it up to you with all the cuddles when he comes back.

• In the meantime, you bury your nose in the spot he left on the bed, inhaling that Chan scent.

---

Lee Know:

• At this point, the bed feels way too small.

• Minho is lying down, and you’re lying on top of him, your head resting on his chest. His arms wrap around your back and waist, his chin resting on your head. You’re practically fused together.

• Soongie is curled up on your back, purring contentedly.

• Doongie is sprawled out at Minho’s feet, belly up, deep asleep.

• Meanwhile, Dori is wide awake, tail flicking as he plots his next move. Suddenly, he pounces—straight onto your head—trying to catch Minho’s nose, waking both of you up in shock.

• You laugh in confusion while Minho just lazily drapes an arm over Dori, trying to keep him still, then drifts back to sleep.

• When you finally grab your phone to check the time, you’re surprised by how late it is and try to get up. But before you can leave the bed, Minho grabs your arm and pulls you back in.

"Just a little longer," he mumbles without even opening his eyes.

"Babe, I have to make breakfast," you say, completely mesmerized by how soft and relaxed his profile looks.

"If you stay five more minutes, I’ll help you make it," he says with a lazy smile. He knows he’s won—who would say no to a breakfast made by him?

• Those five minutes turn into a sleepy make-out session. You kiss his nose, jaw, forehead, chin, cheeks, the corners of his lips—before finally pressing small kisses on his lips.

• When his children (the cats) start getting fussy because they also want breakfast, you both have no choice but to get up.

• In the end, he ends up making the whole breakfast while you feed the cats.

---

Changbin:

• He’s a soft, fluffy ball of curls—the cutest and coziest thing you’ll ever see.

• He’s asleep on your chest, his hand resting against your ribs, securing his spot.

• He won’t say it, but he loves sleeping like this because the sound of your heartbeat soothes him. It’s his favorite lullaby.

• Your hand never stops running through his hair. If you stop, he’ll probably let out a grumpy little growl in protest.

• When it’s time to wake up, he clings to you even tighter, mumbling in a pouty tone, "Just a little longer..."

• He doesn’t give you a choice. Every time you try to move, he buries his face deeper into your chest and tightens his grip around your side.

• After a while, your hand drifts down to his face, replacing the hair-stroking with soft caresses on his cheeks. You’re definitely trying to get something.

• "Binnie, baby . We have to get up for breakfast," you whisper sweetly.

• He lets out another grumpy groan, and just as he’s about to complain, his stomach growls in sync.

• Maybe breakfast doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all...

---

Hyunjin:

• He’s a mess.

• He’s completely sprawled out—one arm stretched above his head, the other tangled in your hair. His wrist is probably numb by now.

• One knee is bent in one direction, the other leg is draped over yours.

• He sleeps with his mouth slightly open and changes position every ten minutes.

• First, he turns and clings to you like a koala. Then he buries his face in your neck. Then he rolls over and gives you his back. But he misses you, so he wraps himself around you again.

• He’s a beautiful disaster.

• When he cracks one eye open to check the time, he realizes it’s late but just shuts his phone off and decides to go back to sleep. (He’s not lazy, he’s just way too comfortable.)

• Before drifting off again, he stares at you, completely captivated—memorizing every detail, every little movement you make in your sleep. He’s definitely going to draw you later.

• But his intense gaze wakes you up.

• His eyes widen, and he immediately whines, "No, no, no. Go back to sleep. We’re still sleeping."

• Like a spoiled kid, he pouts, pushing his bottom lip out. When you insist it’s late, he sulks even more.

"You just want to go to work because you don’t want to stay with me. You’re heartless."

• In the end, the drama queen makes an appearance, as always.

• Somehow, you manage to wiggle out of his hold.

• When you return with his iced coffee and he sees you getting ready for your shower, reality finally hits him.

• Grumpily, he drags himself out of bed, accepting that responsibilities exist.

---------------------------------------

This is my first Headcanon! I hope I did it right.💗

English is not my first language, so let me know if you spot any mistakes 🙏🏻.

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kurooh · 4 months ago

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PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh.

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you.

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly.

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out.

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you.

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.”

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back.

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way.

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties.

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.”

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts.

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily.

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself.

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop.

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . .

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk.

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time.

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?”

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up.

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead.

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass.

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding.

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change.

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?”

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation.

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them.

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go?

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections.

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders.

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence.

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless.

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time.

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you.

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy.

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.”

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out.

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft.

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands.

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath.

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on!

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?”

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say.

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

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