#damn this is my longest one yet

[mrsaltieri-real]

Partner in Crime (Victim!Mickey Altieri X Ghostface!Reader)

Reader is AFAB

Word count: 5.3k

Warning/s: ghostface!reader, “victim!mickey” (kinda not really though), blood, gore, gruesome murder descriptions, changes to canon scream 2 (obviously), violence, language, smut, p in v, blood kink, riding, choking, slight orgasm denial, teasing, biting, reader is bat shit crazy and so is Mickey, lying, deception, partners in crime (duh), etc

God this took me a long ass time but it’s worth it because I LOVE how it came out. Took a LOT of trial and error from my part trying to capture this just right but we finally got there and I can post this. I am so so excited about this fic.

Once again thank you to the gorgeous @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing this for me and helping me with ideas to make this come out just right. Could NOT have done this without you Bex <3

On that note, LETS FUCKING GO.

“Who could be doing this?” Sidney mused quietly, elbow propped on the rustic wood of the bench she sat on, hand resting on her forehead. “I mean, how could this possibly be happening again?”

Derek sat beside her, hand rubbing small soothing circles into her back, Hallie looked at her sympathetically and Randy was gently biting at the loose skin of his thumb, eyes scanning the crowd. Mickey seemed to be in his own little world, gazing at the hubbub of cameramen and reporters bustling around the college square, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on your thigh. Your eyes were set on Sidney’s anxious face trying to resist the urge to smile at her fear, everything in her body language was communicating the tension and unease inside her.

All of this was way, way too easy. After discovering last year that the survivors of the Woodsbro massacre were attending Windsor, you’d found yourself intensely curious and decided to transfer there from your previous college. You’d easily managed to fit into their friend group within about a month of being there and eagerly put your plan in motion.

It had been easier than you’d anticipated to get most of them, especially Randy and Mickey to tell you just about everything you didn’t know, making sure to spread your questions over the course of a few weeks rather all at once. You didn’t want suspicion to arise due to overly keen and pressing curiosity, so it was just small things only being spoken about if another member of the group brought it up. So, whenever Randy brought up in a pissed off tone anything about Billy Loomis, you’d casually slide in a question, like “Why would he even do something like that?” or “How did it happen?“ and Randy would eagerly start chatting like a parrot, telling you just about everything you needed to know under the guise of your concerned friend act.

It was almost amusing how easy it all was.

“I don’t know, Sid.” Derek sighed, looking with nothing but undiluted fear at his anxious girlfriend. “But they’ll find the sick fuck.”

“Honestly, it might have nothing to do with you.” Mickey spoke up, dragging his eyes away from the bustling crowd. Sidney’s eyes flickered to Mickey and she frowned, brow creased as she questioned him.

“Two kids who attended our college got carved up by someone in a Ghostface costume and you think it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Randy and I?”

Mickey shrugged, stopping the drumming on your thigh and leaned forward on the bench. “I don’t know, Sid. But it was opening night for a movie based on real events. Maybe someone was just playing some kind of sick joke and it just went too far?”

“Wow. You’ve had a lot of time to think about alternatives haven’t you, Mickey?” Randy spoke up, eyes narrowing at him. Your gaze moved from Sidney’s anguished face and focused on Randy’s.

“What are you implying, Randy?” You asked in a clipped tone.

“I’m not implying anything.” He muttered and you felt your nails cut into your palm as your hands clenched into tight fists.

“Calm down, Randy.” Hallie rolled her eyes at him with a scoff, “I saw Mickey in the library last night.”

Randy muttered something that sounded like, “Sure whatever”, under his breath and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks so you didn’t rip him apart right then and there.

You couldn’t begin to describe the sudden unbearable rage you felt when Randy had even hinted at Mickey being the killer. From the day you’d met him, you’d felt yourself utterly drawn to and infatuated with everything about him. There was an all too familiar darkness about him, about his aura that caused you to magnetise yourself to him, refusing to break away no matter what. Did anyone else suspect Mickey? Your eyes scanned the faces of your ‘friends’ but the conversation continued between the four of them, slowly merging into something else entirely and you felt nothing but Mickey’s anxious eyes set on your face.

“You alright, baby?” He asked, feeling his large hand covering your tightly clenched one and you quickly blinked, flashing him a small smile.

“Yeah, of course I am. Why?” You asked as innocently as you could muster, praying that you came off as genuine.

He raised his eyebrows a little and pointedly looked down at your other hand gripping the edge of the bench so hard your nails seemed almost permanently embedded in the cracked wood. You moved your hand quickly and shook it out as you sighed. “I’m fine.” You assured him, lightly pressing your palm against his stubbly cheek. “I’ve got a class in a few so I should get going.” You announced to the group and you felt all of them glance at you.

“I’ll walk you.” Mickey said, standing up from the bench and grabbing his bag and video camera.

“No, no it’s fine.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly pushing him back down onto the bench as you were shaking your head. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m sure the big bad monster isn’t going to attack me while I walk to class in the middle of the day.”

You lightly pecked him on the lips before turning on your heel and walking to class, feeling suspicious brown eyes watching you all the while.

—————————-————————-————

“So, you gonna tell me what the hell has been going on with you?”

You gasped, jumping as your hand clutched your chest and you glared up at Mickey, who was leaning against the wall outside your lecture hall. “Have you been waiting out here the whole time I was in there?” You asked with a frown.

“No,” Mickey lied and swiftly took your books out of your hands before you could stop him as he began to walk, begrudgingly you begin following after him. “So, are you?”

“Nothing is going on with me.” You insisted, rolling your eyes. “Why would you assume there is?”

“You’re not anywhere near as mysterious as you think, babe.” A smile toyed on his lips as you both walked down the hall, his free hand lightly resting on your hip.

“And you’re not nearly as intuitive as you think you are.” You muttered under your breath. He let out a frustrated groan before tugging you by the loop of your jeans into an empty classroom.

“Seriously, what is with you lately? You seem…” Mickey hesitated a little, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he spoke again “…Different. You keep brushing me off whenever I ask to hang out and you always seem like you're kind of somewhere else. I’m worried about you.”

“Mick, I’m just really busy.” You sighed, lightly removing his hands from your body. I’ve got a dissertation due in a few days, and-“ you cut yourself off for a second, realisation hitting.

You knew Mickey far too well. As laid back as he was, you knew deep down he worried about you far too much. His analytical and downright clingy behaviour must’ve been down to one thing and one thing only. The murders he had no idea you were committing. You let out some air from your mouth and looked up at him with a sudden fondness.

“Is this because of what happened to those two kids?” You asked, tilting your head at him.

“You’re distracted.” He said simply, shrugging a little. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the soft smile that lit up your face as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up on your toes to affectionately kiss him. You felt him relax a little, relief evident in the way he kissed you back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your skin from over your shirt.

“Nothing is going to happen to me.” You assured, your voice absolutely certain as you pulled back to look him in the eye. “I promise. And nothings going to happen to you either.”

“I’m not worried about me.” He mumbled insistently pressing his forehead to yours.

You sighed a little, moving your hand down to his and intertwining your fingers together. “I mean it, Mick. You have nothing to worry about. I can practically guarantee it.”

Mickey looked you up and down, confusion evident on his face at the way you’d spoken and you quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to the Delta Lambda party tonight?”

“Of course, why? Are you not?”

“No, no I’ll be there. I’m just making sure you’ll be. I might be a little late though I have some more work to do on my dissertation and call my dad. He’s worried given everything going on, you know?” You internally sighed. Now you’d actually have to fucking call him to stay true to your alibi. Great.

“I can wait with you and we can go together.”

You felt your teeth grind together and you wracked your brain for some kind of excuse.

“Mickey.” You said gently, looking at him sympathetically. “Randy’s suspecting you...” -another situation you’ll no doubt have to deal with sooner rather than later. “- so I think you need to stay within his sights for a while. You know how he gets. No doubt he’ll start stalking you so it’s probably best just to stay on top of that.”

Mickey looked unconvinced by your reasoning and something odd crossed his features but disappeared just as quickly as it came. “Alright, babe. I’ll be there the whole time.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered out toward the sound of a laugh and he rolled his eyes, making you turn to see what he was looking at.

“Why are you looking at Cici Cooper like that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just something she said in my film class.” Mickey said dismissively but you pressed, frowning.

“What did she say?“

“In a nutshell? My ideas on film and cinema are stupid. Apparently I’m biased because I believe there are a lot of sequels that are better than their original.” Mickey shrugged a little.

Your frown deepened.

Mickey had always been heavily passionate about films and extremely defensive about the films he loved. It may have been a tiny insult to any other person but anybody talking about Mickey in a way that was even somewhat negative? With the bloodlust you felt right now?

Well, it’s just a fucking recipe for disaster.

—————————-————————-————

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Randy slurred a little as he spoke to Mickey, flopping down beside him with a loud huff. Mickey recoiled slightly at the uncomfortable closeness.

“When I left her dorm she was talking to her dad. He seemed really worried so she might take a while getting here.”

“Hm.” Randy hummed, unamused and unconvinced before taking another sip of his drink.

“What, Randy.” Mickey sighed. “Got any more theories? Think she’s the killer now?”

Randy laughed too loudly and shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand that wasn’t holding his drink. “Her? The killer? Please.” Randy leaned back. “No way she could’ve taken down a guy as big as Phil Stevens.”

Mickey nodded slightly, completely dissociating after Randy confirmed he didn’t suspect her.

But did Mickey?

He thought for a second about your behaviour leading up to the deaths of those two students. You were erratic, excited and ridiculously horny. Your sex drive had been so high for a week prior that even he was beginning to struggle to keep up. It had been kinkier than ever, and you were oddly dominating in a way Mickey wasn’t at all used to. He was used to being the one in control but recently, it was like you were a completely different person. It would be messy and rough. You’d bite him, scratch him and leave marks all over him just as he enjoyed doing to you. The give and take was a lot more fun than he would’ve anticipated. It never crossed his mind that someone as sweet as you could have this much of a sexually repressed edge.

Of course, he didn’t complain. He liked that you were comfortable enough with him to bring it out. This side to you was just as exciting as it was endearing to him. But then after the murders, it didn’t change. It built up more and more. You’d come back to his dorm after “studying”, eyes bright and almost menacing and practically pounced on him. In all honesty, it was probably the best sex the two of you had ever had.

But after that night, it changed drastically in a very different way. You’d stopped touching him, started avoiding him. You became more on edge and agitated yet ten times more focused.

He would never tell anyone about these changes he’d witnessed in you, but he was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed. He paid so much attention to you day to day that even the slightest change couldn’t go past him. And now? What the fuck were you really doing?

Randy was distracted, leaning over the arm of the couch and chatting to some girl. Mickey almost laughed at his lack of game before standing up, deciding to go and check on you. Something didn’t quite add up in his mind and he was going to find out what it was even if it killed him.

——————-————————-—————————

The undiluted pleasure spreading through you spurred you on as you stabbed Cici in the torso, her feeble attempts to fight you off fading every time the blade in your hand came down and plunged the cold steel deep into her.

Tormenting her via the phone call was fun, but this was ten times better. Perhaps she didn’t deserve this, she was only messing around with Mickey in class. It was a debate about films after all. But that didn’t matter to you. The fact she’d insulted someone that was yours made killing this sweet girl all the more fulfilling. Besides, you needed to kill someone whilst Mickey had an ironclad alibi. You didn’t need him on anyone's suspect list.

You watched in glee as the light in her eyes turned into a blank, glossy stare and brought the knife down once more, directly into her throat. She let out a muffled gargle and her mouth went slack. Cici’s fingers and legs twitched a couple of more times before you heard the release of air burst through her lips and just like that, she was dead. You moved from straddling her to stand over her as you wiped the blood off of the blade with your gloved hand.

“Stupid bitch.” You muttered, eyes quickly scanning your surroundings before removing the mask, sighing and cracking your neck.

You’d caught your first two victims, Phil and Maureen completely off guard, so although it had been fun to kill them, they were almost too easy to overpower and that took away from it a little. It made it almost boring in comparison to this. Cici on the other hand? The slight blonde girl had put up quite the fight. She’d kicked and scratched, she’d screamed and tried her best to fight you off of her to no avail. Your bloodlust made her absolutely no match for you.

You finally understood why Billy Loomis and Stu Macher had called their victims to taunt them first. The taste of satisfaction on your tongue was almost overwhelming, the sight of her crying, begging for you to spare her made you feel a way you’d never felt before.

Whilst you were revelling in your victory you heard the snap of a twig and your head snapped in the direction, the Ghostface mask gripped tight between your fingers.

“Mickey?” You gasped his name as he walked toward you, eyes huge and mouth open while he looked from Cici’s badly mutilated corpse and to your shocked face.

“It’s you? You’re the killer?”

To your surprise, he didn’t sound angry, or surprised. He didn’t look disgusted or even the slightest bit afraid. He looked… Almost curious. His intrigued brown eyes finally focused on your face after they dragged up from the girl lying dead on the ground.

“I..” you couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought as you stuttered. The last thing you wanted was to kill him, not Mickey. Not your Mickey. As he stepped closer, your hands instinctively lifted the knife and pointed it at him defensively and his hands rose, palms up. “You’re not going to fucking tell anyone.”

Mickey’s expression turned from intrigued to almost offended. “You think I would?”

You gave him a doubtful look but didn’t drop your guard, eyes monitoring his every move as he asked, “Baby, why?”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Why Cici or why am I doing this?” You felt frustrated, a raise of your hands and a shake of your head as you said, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. Why the fuck did you leave the party, Mickey? I told you to stay there. That was your goddamn alibi so no one would suspect you.”

“I…I came to look for you,” His finger pointed in the direction of your building that was about a five minute walk from the sorority. “-and I heard screams and I was curious. So I walked up here and saw you stabbing the fuck outta Cici.” His shoulders turned up in a slight shrug.

“How the fuck are you acting so normal?” You hissed at him. It was hard not to be suspicious. Mickey was acting as though he caught you cheating on a damn test. This wasn’t normal behaviour for someone who’d just watched his girlfriend brutally gut somebody right in front of him.

He ignored you, asking once again, “Why?”

You sighed, briefly glancing around at your surroundings before your gaze focused back on your intrigued boyfriend. You hesitated a little, unsure what to do with the knife still pointed at him. It felt wrong pointing a weapon at Mickey. You loved him, but how could you let him live now? He was a witness, a loose end, and there’s nothing you hated more than loose ends.

Mickey watched as your face changed into a look of frustration and he lowered his hands, glancing down at the knife before hesitantly taking another step toward you. You didn’t stop him, suddenly needing to feel him closer. When you felt stress like this, you always needed him around. He made you feel better, normal somehow. Well, as normal as you could feel given who you were.

But can you trust him? The small voice in the back of your head muttered to you and you sighed, the agitated desperation evident on your face.

“Does it matter?“ you asked between gritted teeth.

“Baby, I swear I’m not going to tell anyone.” Mickey spoke gently, as though you were a wild animal he was trying to tame.

“How do I know that?” You snapped, glaring up at him.

“Because I wouldn’t do that.” Mickey looked offended at your comment, a small frown taking over his features. “I love you, and I’d never do anything that would put you at risk. Come on baby, you know that!”

“You promise?” You asked cautiously. One thing about Mickey is that he never lied to you. You always knew he had somewhat of an edge due to the movies he watched to his depraved sense of humour. Maybe that’s why you felt so bonded to him. Maybe that’s why you trusted him so entirely with even the darkest parts of yourself you’d never allow anyone else to see. As you felt his hand gently wrap around the knife in yours, you visibly relaxed as he gently pushed your hand down along with the blade, eyes filled with nothing short of admiration as he whispered, “On my life.”

“Okay.” You breathed as you nodded, sweaty hair falling into your eyes. You believed him, but still felt a little tense. Looking at him now, you knew he wouldn’t betray you, he loved you far too much. “I trust you. But Mickey, please go back to the party. I need to make sure you’re not a suspect and it won’t be long before someone stumbles across this.” You gestured down toward the mutilated body about a foot away from the two of you and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll go back. But what do I tell them if they ask where you are?” Mickey frowned again, not liking the thought of them suspecting you. What would he do if you got caught? He’d always needed you but now? He needed you more than ever. He wanted you to tell him everything, how it felt to kill, how you felt when you did it and more importantly why. He’d always had a dark curious side and knowing the woman he loved not only had that too but actively pursued that darkness? No way he could let anything happen to you now. No way you could leave him.

“Try and go back in there without anyone noticing. Call the phone in my dorm and I’ll answer and tell you I fell asleep. That’s the best we can do now if I do become a suspect and they trace my calls.”

Mickey nodded, hands moving to touch the back of your neck with his rough fingers and the other on the small of your back as he pulled you close to him, lips enveloping yours. It was tender and nearly desperate, making you feel weak as he pulled away, a smile on his face as he began hastily walking back in the direction he came.

You watched after him for a few seconds as he slowly disappeared into the black night before pulling off the Ghostface costume, rolling up the mask and knife inside of it, taking one last look at Cici Coopers mangled corpse, smiling in admiration at your work before turning and walking back to your dorm, thinking of all the possibilities that await you now you didn’t have to hide such an enormous part of yourself from the one person you’d never hurt.

—————-————————-—————————

It had been two days since Mickey caught you murdering Cici Cooper, donning the Ghostface costume. Within those two days, he’d been nothing short of bombarding you with questions with the most intense curiosity you’d ever seen. His questions were all about your motive and you told him without hesitation.

“I want to finish what Billy and Stu started-” you’d told him with a small shrug, sitting perched on your countertop as he cleaned the bloody knife you’d used to murder Cici. Watching him do this helps you, he offers to do it for you without prompting and it makes you feel warm, assured in what he said, what he promised, that he wouldn’t tell on you. He is an accomplice now, cleaning your murder weapon, there is a particular domesticity to it that you could really get used to.

“-but I didn’t want to go straight for Sidney and Randy. I knew I needed practice, and how better than to fucking terrify her than to kill people with names of the original victims first and work my way up to them?”

He’d listened intently, utterly fascinated by you and you had to admit, it felt good to be worshipped by someone. Especially Mickey who had zero judgement in him and if anything, desperately wanted to learn more.

You were no longer even slightly uneasy with answering his questions as you’d initially been, willingly responding to each query with heavy detail which he seemed to thrive off, eyes bright and expression keen.

According to Mickey, after he had gone back to the party, it had taken a matter of ten minutes before someone had seen Cici’s dead body and the police had been called. Luckily, nobody had noticed Mickey’s absence, but your small friend group had noticed you were nowhere to be seen. He’d lied smoothly after calling you and quoting what you’d previously told him to say.

The best part of being a woman? Especially one who looked as sweet and innocent as you did? Nobody thought twice about it.

Your original plan to attack Derek and bombard Sidney with hesitation and doubt about her own boyfriend would have to wait for a later date. Mickey’s little discovery had somewhat put a wrench in the works but much to your own surprise, it didn’t bother you. It felt incredible to have someone you could share the darkest parts of yourself with without an ounce of judgement.

And the sex? It had been non-stop since the moment Mickey had walked into your dorm room after he’d been interrogated. It had been intense in ways you’d never imagined. With him knowing everything, you didn’t have to hold back anymore and neither did he. He wanted to fuck you whilst you still had Cici’s blood on your hands and arms, something that did not only catch you by surprise, but instantly turned you on. How could you say no to that? The image of him, smudges of tacky and quickly oxidising scarlet painting his torso, along with hickey’s you left on his neck, shoulders and collarbone, hair a wreck post sex was burned into your brain.

You were straddling Mickey now, both of you stripped completely bare as you had been from the night he found out you were Ghostface, fingers woven through his dark hair as you angled and ground your hips down against him, small sighs falling from your lips as you felt him gliding in and out of your drenched pussy. His head was resting back against the headboard, dark lustful eyes watching your face as you leaned forward and moved your lips against his, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of your hips so hard they were bound to bruise.

“What’s it like?” He asks it softly and you pull back looking down at him, the smile spreads on your face and you ask, “What’s what like?”

Another fall of your hips, enveloping him totally once again, the roll of your body and the rhythm serving you both well, he asks, “What’s, ugh, what’s killing like?”

The laugh breaks out as you slow your pace, “That is what you are thinking about right now?”

You slam yourself down harder and he gasps out, “Yes,” The look in his eyes is practically pleading, “Please, tell me?”

Well how could you deny him?

“You want me to tell you what it feels like to slide cold steel into a warm body?” you whispered to him, one hand sliding from his hair to his throat, finger pressing gently against his racing pulse. “How it feels to see the terror on their face when they realise they’re going to die? Watch the life drain from their eyes?” A small whining sound escaped Mickey’s lips as you moved again, trying to fight the urge to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress as you spoke.

“Yes.” He murmured desperately.

“It’s like sex,” you said gently with another roll of your hips making him groan again as he felt your clit rub against him and your pussy clench around him. The slow, teasing pace you were giving him was driving him crazy, he needed either you to ride him with wreckless abandon, or be able to fuck up into you so hard you’d struggle to take it.

“-there’s something intimate about it. Nothing can compare to the feeling of having someone’s life in your hands and being the one with the power to take it away.” Your hands moved to his throat as you spoke, applying enough pressure so it wouldn’t really hurt him but it would definitely have an impact. He let out nothing short of a growl as you did, fucking up into you even harder.

His rough hands moved from your hips to your ass, kneading the soft flesh and his breath hitched as you began to move faster, eyes watching as your tits bounced in front of his face, thrusting his hips upward to match your pace. He moved one of his hands to slide down your torso, finding your swollen clit and began to move his fingers in small, deliberate circles around your swollen bud, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that he knew teased you in just the right way. You let out a small groan as he did, feeling the pressure begin to build in your stomach for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two days.

“Not yet.” He grunted, fingers slowing to an agonising pace. Even with you straddling him with your hand wrapped around his throat you listened, letting out a small gasp as he gripped your waist, flipping you over so you were on your back with him hoisting your legs around his waist as he started to thrust into you, eyes dark and almost menacing. He liked to be in control and although he knew your secret, it didn’t mean that was going to change.

“I want- fuck- I want to be there next time.” His tone was uneven as he fucked you, pinning your hands above your head with one hand, you groaned into your arm, relishing in the feeling of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you and the slight stubble of his trimmed pubes grinding against your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable as you tried to fight the instinct to let the pleasure completely envelop you. “And I want to help you.”

This made you snap back into reality for a moment and you leaned your head back, looking at him in shock. “You- you what?”

He didn’t stop but slowed down, releasing your hands and cupping your cheek. “I want to help you,” he repeated, a smile on his beautiful face. “I don’t want you to do this alone. Besides, Billy and Stu did it together. Why don’t we?”

You couldn’t help but let an almost sadistic grin take over your face. Maybe that could work? It would surely help you, and he was right. Billy and Stu worked together and Mickey was definitely twisted enough to be able to pull this off with you. You’d already killed three people solo and just imagining Mickey being there and helping you…

“I need to injure Derek and kill Randy next.” You breathed, smirking a little as you looked up at your boyfriend, legs still wrapped around his waist. You felt him twitch inside of you, anticipation evident on his face as he moved his hand down between the two of you. “I’ll start you off easy with Derek,” you said, voice cracking a little as you began to circle your clit once again. “Don’t kill him, but make it fucking hurt.”

You could hear the smile in Mickey’s voice as he began to roll his hips again, fingers moving expertly across your clit, a small moan falling from between his lips as he felt your teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder hard enough for you to taste his blood.

“I will, but I want to help you kill Meeks too, I wanna see him gutted.”

God, you loved him.

[ask-granite-pillars]

[TRANSMISSION REQUEST INBOUND. PARTICIPANTS: Ten Ounces Of Enriched Egg White (ADMIN, URAD), Unit of Radioactive Decay, Granite Pillars Stained By Statuesque Memories Of A Thousand Hands] [Live Broadcast] URAD: Hello? Is this reaching you? URAD: Your communications towers appear to be somewhat degraded. it took several tries to- TEN OUNCES (crosstalk, from out of frame): You degrade my efforts! Several tries and me fixing the formatting, as well. URAD: Several tries and my administrator's assistance in order to get a signal through. Your upkeep seems to be rather neglected, group senior. But I expect that it would be quite difficult to keep one of your age running in the first place. I am told that I should keep an amiable relationship with my group's senior, but I believe that Ten Ounces was more enthusiastic to meet you than I. TEN OUNCES (faint, from out of frame): Granite Pillars Stained By Statuesque Memories Of A Thousand Hands is the oldest surviving iterator, and it would be an honor to learn anything she might still have in her archives. URAD (directed towards indeterminate point to left of frame): As has been true for the past twelve times you have mentioned this. URAD: Truthfully, I do not know what value there is that I can gain from this, besides simply being aware of those above me on my local group's chain of command, but Ten Ounces was quite insistent that we at least try now that your communications are back online- TEN OUNCES (crosstalk, from out of frame): (undecipherable) TEN OUNCES: (very low voice, from bottom corner of frame): Don't say that to your group senior! URAD: -and so, here we are. Hello. I am Unit of Radioactive Decay. It is nice to meet you.

Oh, I remember this broadcast very well! We met (properly, at least- I did work on their genome and construction plans before they were activated fully) long after I had already grown obsolete. Unit of Radioactive Decay is the second-oldest in our local group, and I consider us to be good friends, research partners, and distant neighbors.

[BROADCAST TRANSCRIPT]

GP: Do I know you?

GP: Silent Embrace of Leaves? Is that you?

URAD: Your name data appears to be out of date.

URAD: To a nearly comical degree.

URAD: As of four thousand, three hundred, and twenty-six cycles ago, it is Unit of Radioactive Decay.

GP: Oh. 

GP: It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen you last- my apologies.

GP: It’s a pleasure to meet you once more!

GP: Have you been doing well?

TEN OUNCES: Um.

URAD: Have you been maintained... at all... in the cycles since you were constructed?

GP: Ha!

GP: Not much, these days! 

GP: I’m far out of date, as you can undoubtedly tell.

URAD: It shows.

GP: Would you believe that I put in a request for the repair of my communications systems over a thousand cycles ago?

GP: And yet, here I am, as my communications remain in this tragic state… my greatest gratitudes to your administrator for managing to connect us at all!

URAD: Your administrators sound very inefficient. Are you sure that you have technicians? If your memories are in the state they seem to be, you may have been sending your requests to the inbox of someone who has already moved on.

URAD: You should check your active staff. It would be very inefficient to make your current administrators comb through the emails of their predecessors.

GP: Perhaps I should...

GP: Ah, it's such a hassle to deal with seasonal administrators.

GP: I was never meant to have to deal with a city, and you'd think my administrators would be able to work around that...

GP: Sigh.

[The broadcast continues for some time as iterators Granite Pillars Stained By Statuesque Memories Of A Thousand Hands and Unit Of Radioactive Decay continue to exchange words.]

[spark1edog]

i think i may be somewhere on the aplatonic spectrum

[televinita]

GUESS WHO'S FINALLY NOT WORKING THIS SATURDAY

WHAT'S UP PARTY PEOPLLLLLLLLLLE!

[saicochomo]

Bruce in collage loved to dress feminly and do his make up and became weirdly good at doing female voices. But because of the batman and other life things he goes though he drops all of this.

Jason: *Burst into the room where the fam is just chilling* Yall I have found a gold mine

Dick: And that this?

Jason: So Roy has given me the greatest gift-

Steph: Removing that stick up your ass

Jason: Fuck off no, he raided Ollies room looking for what ever and found this *Holds up a tape*

*Everyone looks at it curiously*

Jason: This is Bruce in his collage years

Bruce who was sitting on the couch reading the paper minding his own business is now very alert of the whole situation, worried that his son has gotten a hold of a sex tape incrementing photo of him. mean while everyone eager to see what is on the tape

Bruce: Have you seen what's on it? *Starts sweating nervously*

Jason: Not yet, thought we as a family could have some bonding time. And would you out father, the man who want all of us get along really ruin this bonding moment for us

Dick: Yes Bruce, we are having some much needed family time

Damian: I do not believe that seeing Father in collage would warrant bonding time. Tim: Especially since he's a drop out

Jason: I may not have seen what's on here but Roy has and he told me it was well worth it.

Bruce is getting ready to jump to break the TV as Jason sets up the tape so they can all see what's on the tape

Que a video of Bruce drunkenly dancing on a stage like stripper dressed in the whorish thing known to man with make up that looks as if it was done by a professional. Oliver could be heard cheering Bruce on while Bruce sings to Material Girl.

All the batkids are absolutely shocked by this their eyes glued to the TV.

Tim: *Whiping his mouth after spitting out his coffee now being more awake then he has been in weeks* Damn Bruce I didn't know you where a raging femboy in Collage the hell?!

Dick: Or such a... talented dancer

Bruce is hiding behind his paper trying to avoid the gawking stars of his kids

Steph: More importantly who ever is singing is so talented give more air time to the chick singing Ollie! *Steph yells at the TV like he could hear her*

Bruce: That's me

Jason: I'm sorry what was that Bruce

Bruce: I'm the one singing

Batkids: Huh?!

Steph: WHY HAVE WE NEVER SEEN THIS SIDE OF YOU

Bruce: It's not that important

Dick: Not important Bruce! This is the most important thing. More so did you do that make-up yourself?????

Bruce: Yes

Steph: Do mine! Bruce do my make-up right now or I will commit mass murder

Bruce: I uh Steph that really isn't ness-

Steph grabbing reaching to grab one of Damians swords who is now getting ready to fight Steph

Bruce: Steph stop, alright I'll do your make-up

They all then spend the next few hours letting Bruce do full glam looks on them, while they listen to Madona. Damian even got in on it after pretending he is only doing this because Dick says he gets in on more family bonding time, but he is the one that keeps the look on the longest totally not sending photos to Jon to make him jealous

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[valyrianvibranium]

REDAMANCY.

Cregan Stark x female Targaryen!Reader (Part 4 here)

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept your younger brother’s offer to return to the capital for your child to receive his blessings. And when you‘re finally on the way, it’s your husband‘s duty to take care of you.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; p in v, lactation kink, lactating, pregnant sex, pregnancy, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight degrading, angst, fluff

WORDS: 3.3 K

NOTES: Redamancy means A love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you, and let me tell you: these two are in love. Thanks to @sylasthegrim, it‘s always good to know you help me with my zero grasp on English!

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Ravens from Winterfell flying all the way down to King’s Landing has always taken quite some time. And therefore it was no wonder you were surprised that one of your younger brother’s ravens reached the castle not long after you'd informed him you were with child, inviting you to birth it in the Red Keep for it to receive the young king’s blessings.

Being the ever dutiful Lord of House Stark, there was no way your husband would refuse the offer, and once your pregnancy had crossed the seventh moon mark, a carriage and your husband’s entourage were sent south.

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept the offer. Westeros’ capital has brought nothing but pain and grief to you, and you’re afraid coming back ruins the comfort and peace you’ve found far, far away from the castle in the North, in Winterfell. But a part of you misses and longs for your siblings and the part of your family that’s still left, hence it didn’t take too much convincing from your husband.

You’ve lost count of the days you spent in that damned carriage by now, solely accompanied by your maids as your dear husband rides at the front of his entourage, joining his men on horseback. But there’s one thing all days have in common: it’s you being exhausted beyond relief once night comes.

For the longest time you thought your unborn babe to be no-fussy and calm, which proved to be false just one week into the travel. It’s restless, kicking and moving especially when you finally find rest in the bed of the receptive inn you stay in for the night. Your feet are swollen, just like your breasts, and your body provides milk as though the babe has been long born already, and all you crave at this point is for the pregnancy to be over already.

As the wheelhouse comes to a stop, you rub your swollen bump with a sigh, looking toward the door with heavy footsteps approaching. Your beloved husband opens the door, and even though he won’t admit it, he looks just as exhausted as you do.

“Is it time?” you ask, slowly rising to your feet with another sigh. You place your small hand in his large one, allowing him to help you out.

He nods, bringing a hand to the small of your back. “Indeed. We have reached the crossroads. From here we are only ten days away from King’s Landing, which means the end of our journey is in sight,” he replies. “How are you and our son feeling?”

Cregan guides you away from the wheelhouse, escorting you through the crowd of his men towards a large inn sitting right where the river road crosses the kingsroad. And from old tales of your uncle you know it has to be the Bellringer Inn, a place where even your great-grandfather and great-grandmother have stayed at before.

“We do not yet know if this babe will be a boy or a girl, husband,” you chastise him in a teasing manner.

“You are right, we do not,” he says. “But I feel it in my bones. Just call it a father’s intuition.”

You roll your eyes at his words and nudge his ribs with your elbow, yet there also pulls a smile at the corners of your lips. He chuckles at that. “Careful, my love, I am not as nimble as I used to be.”

Shaking your head, you giggle softly. “Do not tell me that you are an old man now, Lord Stark.”

As you make your way through the courtyard and towards the inn, you can feel the curious glances of the passerby; a man of Cregan’s caliber always drew the attention toward him, just like your hair did. But you’re unbothered by it all. You carry a piece of your husband within you, and that thought fills you with a sense of fulfillment and pride.

He looks for the innkeeper as you reach for his hand, pulling it from your back around your frame, squeezing it softly. “Might you join me tonight? I know that you can not leave your men alone, but one night will surely do no harm. I must admit that I have hardly found sleep without your warmth for the past weeks.”

With a gentle, intimate gesture, Cregan brushes his fingers over your swollen bump, before pulling you against his side. “How can I ever be expected to refuse anything my beautiful wife asks of me? Of course I will join you tonight.” Leaning a bit closer toward you, he adds with a quiet whisper: “Your presence has been missed in my bed as well. The nights feel cold and lonely without you by my side.”

Heat crawls onto your cheeks at the proximity and the slight implication that comes with his words, solely interrupted when a stout man with a bushy beard but otherwise pleasant demeanor walks around the corner and welcomes you two.

Upon Cregan’s inquiry about the availability of a room, he hands over the keys and leads you toward your place of retreat for the night. More than once have you told Cregan you’re perfectly fine with sleeping in a tent with him, yet he always came back to your delicate condition, stating he only wants the best for you and his unborn child, and you eventually have given up and accepted it.

The room is decent. Not as big as your chambers at home, but still larger than what you’ve slept in for the last few weeks. Your maids already scurry into the room to bring some of your belongings and clothes to get you ready for the night, while Cregan leans in to kiss your temple. “Let me arrange for my man to sleep outside the inn for the night,” he mutters against your skin. “And then we shall spend the night in warm beds.”

Even with your maids bustling around you, you can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. The prospect of sharing the night with him is enough to make you forget the soreness of your swollen curves that has become a constant companion over the past few moons.

“I will freshen up in the meantime,” you say, leaning into his touch before he pulls away to take care of his men’s sleeping arrangements for the night. Once everything was adjusted in the chambers, your maids moved to help you out of your clothes, but you refused them, having planned something very special.

Standing in front of the small window, overlooking a stable with a thatch roof and a bell tower, you all but admire how quietly Cregan opens the door, and with the lock falling right into place behind him, the room grows even quieter and the atmosphere becomes charged with anticipation.

“Is everything sorted?” you ask, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“All set,” your husband replies with a low voice as he approaches you.

He comes to tower over your frame from behind, moving his hands over your hips up to your waist. Lifting your head, your eyes lock with his. “Alone at last, hm?” There’s a sultry smile on your lips now, and you gently reach behind you to cup his cheek with one hand. “Now you’re all mine for the night.”

You lean against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths against your back. Cregan seizes the opportunity and brushes your hair over one shoulder before he presses his lips to the crook of your neck. The touch makes you sigh, stirring something inside of you you have had to keep at bay for quite some time. When he brings his large hands to your swollen breasts, fondling them through the thick fabric of your dress, you can’t help but moan, the slight squeezing aiding against the heaviness.

But then his hands and lips leave your body, and he slightly leans around you to look at you – or rather your breasts – and you immediately know the reason why.

The gray fabric has become damp under his touch, two dark spots prominent in the front of it. While it brings a bit of shame to your cheeks, the low rumble that escapes his chest sends a fire straight down between your legs. “I should have warned you I started leaking a fortnight ago,” you admit ashamedly, biting your bottom lip.

“I quite enjoy the sight of it, you know,” he says, voice laced with a combination of awe, adoration and burning need. His hands shift to the lace in the back of your dress. “But let us put this to good use.”

The dress comes undone with ease, falling to the floor in a puddle around your feet. Damp spots are decorating your smallclothes, but this time you don’t mind the sight. Cregan’s hands now roam over your body, tracing the curve of your waist and your growing bump.

Although you know exactly what it is his words are meant to imply, you choose to tease him. “And what is it you have in mind right now, hm?”

His gray eyes briefly flicker to the bed close to you, before meeting yours again. “I have a few things in mind. But for now…” He cups your chin, tilting your head up so he can claim your lips in a slow, deep kiss that’s full of desire and passion. It makes you feel as though the air is sucked right out of your lungs by him, as if you can’t survive without his lips on yours. “How about we make the most of this night, my love?”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe against his lips.

His large hands roam your curves, helping you out of your undergarments, until they settle at your thighs, wrapping around them to effortlessly hoist you up. Although Cregan is quite the bull of a man and appears to be a brute, he possesses a tenderness you wouldn’t expect from him, gently keeping your body against his and lying you down on the bed not far away just as carefully.

Soft, gentle kisses are pressed to your collarbones, igniting a fire within you that has been smoldering for too long. As his fingers glide over your skin with featherlight touches, leaving a burning trail behind, he finds his hands drawn to your full breasts, cupping and holding them, and eventually squeezing them.

More droplets of your milk trickle into his calloused palms, wetting his skin, but he does not care–not when he has you writhing and whimpering beneath him at just the faintest of touches.

Your husband’s eagerness would have almost made you chuckle, watching him rise from the bed to rid himself off his clothes hastily, if it wouldn’t match your own desire and greediness. With his breeches falling to the ground, his cock stands to full attention, hard enough for it to almost seem painful.

His hungry gazes devours your bare form, tall frame slightly hunched forwards as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“Will you just stand there and watch, my wolf?” you tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What happened to ‘let us put this to good use’?”

It’s the teasing lilt in your voice that pulls him out of his stupor like a wave, the chuckle he releases low and throaty. “You are a temptress, my love,” he replies. “You are lucky I am a man of my word.”

“Then touch me,” you whine, words coming out more desperate than actually intended.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly approaching the bed, Cregan bows forwards and grabs one of your feet. He lifts your leg and starts to trail sloppy, open mouthed kisses along the inside of your leg, occasionally nibbling on the skin of your inner thigh.

Your back slightly arches off the mattress, body thrumming with desire. Entangling your hands in his dark curls, you use the grip as reigns to where you want him most, but your husband acts completely unfazed, not allowing you to tug him higher up.

He takes his time, kissing and nibbling your thighs, before he boldly presses a kiss to the apex of your legs, tongue briefly dragging through your folds. It elicits a shudder in its wake, and you can’t stifle a moan.

Making his way up, he licks your navel, and eventually traces the curve of your full breast, circling your hardened bud. Cregan laps up every drop of milk that oozes out of your bud like nothing else than a starved wolf, the edge of his teeth applying just a faint pressure to the sensitive skin to stimulate the flow.

But when his other hand comes up to fondle and squeeze your other breast, that’s the moment you lose your composure, shamelessly smothering him with your breasts. “Gods, Cregan…” you whimper, immediately bringing you relief. There isn’t even time to waste a thought about the indecency of it all, not when it feels just so right.

It’s your mewls, your whispered whines and moans, the sound of you saying his name in such a desperate manner that drives him to continue. “You make me ache for you,” he rasps against your skin, voice thick with desire. Your husband never falters to ignite a fire inside of you with his words, especially when there’s an innuendo hidden between his praises.

Bringing his hand from your breast down between your bodies, he aligns himself with you, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds in a way that makes you bite back a moan and grind against him. You grip his dark curls harshly as he finally eases inside, pushing into you inch by inch, agonizingly slow to make sure you feel him enter you.

His suckling falters with the tightness of your walls embracing him, overwhelmed by pure bliss and a feeling he’s missed for the past few weeks.

Every gasp and whine that escapes you only serves to embolden him further, continuing to tease and taste your breast with unrivaled enthusiasm. It juxtaposes the slow, sloppy thrusts of his hips, and brings you two different kinds of sensations at once.

Cregan has made himself home between your legs, rocking his hips leisurely back and forth. He has dropped his weight on one elbow and leant his upper body to the side, determined to not put any weight on your swollen bump. His lips are firmly wrapped around your bud while his hand teases the other, pinching and squeezing it between his fingers. The proximity is unmatchable, feeding into your constant desire to be as close to him as possible.

You can practically watch him lose every ounce of self control, his suckling becoming more intense and the thrusts growing in determination. His groans and grunts are muffled, and droplets of your milk trickle idly down his chin, getting lost in the dark, coarse hairs.

You fully expect him to say something when he releases your bud, but he’s far too eager to get his fill again. Pinching the perky bud of your other breast harshly, droplets of milk run down the curve of it, only to be traced by his tongue, liking a flat stripe over your skin. He chokes on a groan as the sight has you clenching tightly around his hard cock.

“Please– do not stop,” you whimper, applying a bit of pressure to his head to urge him towards your breast again. “... not yet.”

Dark-blown eyes suddenly flicker up to meet yours, and a shuddered breath leaves your lips. “My my, what a greedy wench I have for a wife,” he chuckles to himself. You don’t take offense, but the statement does make you duck your head and bite your bottom lip sheepishly. “I do not intend to.”

Despite the teasing, it’s obvious your pleas fall upon eager ears as he heeds your command and closes his lips around your bud again. Every hungry pull of his lips draws more and more milk from you, and while relief makes itself known in your breasts, a different kind of pressure starts to settle in the pit of your belly.

Squeezing him so well, you make it impossible for Cregan to move on his own accord, and quickly take over, rolling your hips against his. It’s a race for completion, making your pearl throb with anticipation.

The coarse hairs of your husband’s beard drag over your sensitive skin with his eager suckling, tickling you and causing you to arch against him even more. You have your arms wrapped around his neck at this point, keeping him tightly against you.

A string of yesses falls past your lips like a chant, and the pace of your hips increases as far as your bump allows you to. Your mind grows hazy with pleasure, until your peak washes over you with a loud gasp.

You haven’t noticed Cregan watching you through it all, too focused on the sensations coursing through your body. His gaze is mesmerized, clearly relishing in the relief that’s etched onto your features and the way your walls flutter around his cock.

He pulls back, droplets of milk resting in the corners of his lips, and lifts his body to tower over you. The thrusting of his hips grows sharper now, determined to help you through your pleasure.

“That’s it,” he rasps, one hand resting on the mattress next to your head while the other gropes at your now relieved breasts.

“Once this pup is born,” he emphasized the words by rolling your sore bud between his index finger and thumb, drawing out just a few more droplets of milk. “I shall put another in you to keep you round with my seed.”

Your head grows dizzy, lightheaded even, and you can’t do more than whimper and whine through your peak, not fully comprehending what he’s said.

Cregan snaps his hips into yours once, twice before he topples over the edge with a loud groan, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. Cupping your breast, his fingers dig harshly into your flesh.

You continue to roll your hips against his, prolonging his pleasure. Switching roles, it’s now your turn to milk him for every drop, taking everything his cock spills inside of you. Every muscle in his body tenses, until eventually, he collapses to the side, careful not to put his weight on your swollen bump.

With his cock slowly becoming flaccid again, the sensation of his seed leaking out of your cunt is more apparent, causing heat to spread throughout your body. If it wasn’t for you carrying his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit.

Cregan eventually lies down on his back, and you seize the chance to rest your head on his chest. It’s hard to keep your eyes open as his hand softly entangles into your hair, scratching your scalp in the manner that usually lulls you to sleep. His breath is slower now, his chest rising and lowering your head.

“I can not bear to spend another night without you by my side,” you all but whisper, bringing a hand to his stomach.

Your finger trails the contours of his muscles, before following the dark trail of coarse hairs down.

“You needn‘t worry about that,” he says. “We shall not stay in King’s Landing for too long. And I highly doubt that anyone could get me out of your chambers during the time we stay there. Once we arrive, we shall stay together.”

Nodding your head slowly, you hum a ‘mh-mh‘, too engrossed in the feeling of his hand in your hair and the other rubbing soothing circles over your back. Having trouble staying awake, you’re hardly able to process his next words, already drifting off to sleep.

“Let us sleep now, my love. We have another tiresome day ahead of us.“

Cregan Taglist: @nats-whore @aemondsbabe

[kurooh]

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.

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.

[kokokoula]

you fall first, but he falls harder

a/n: i can only write fluff, so please trust me that it's fluff. there's like, one usage of 'she', timeskip spoilers, and a bit of language. it's my longest fic yet (which isn't saying much), no beta we die like daichi

you don't know that tsukishima kei knows about your crush on him. it's so damn obvious, how you turn red so easily when he's around. unfortunately for you, though, he doesn't reciprocate, nor does he bother confronting you about it. you are his closest friend other than yamaguchi, and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to lose you as one. it's so tedious, anyways.

---

"it's our last year in karasuno, do you have anything planned?" you ask as you lay on the floor of tsukishima's room. you're supposed to be studying, since it was what you came over to do with kei and tadashi, but you gave up somewhere halfway in geography.

"it is my last year, but who knows about you? you've been slacking so much, you'd probably have to repeat a year. and could you get up?" he sighs and nudges your side with his foot.

"asshole," you mutter, cheeks growing red. if you knew that he just dodged your question, you don't do anything about it. "just you wait, i'll enroll into kyoto university and make you eat your words, beanpole."

"sure." his reply drips with sarcasm, but he doesn't doubt that you can make it far. there's a knock at the door.

"sorry for being late!"

"tadashi!!"

---

kei knows you can read him like an open book. you can tell he's having a bad day just by a conversation with him through text. he also knows that when he says that he doesn't want to talk, you immediately ring his phone.

the first time it happened, he had tried to decline your calls, or just ignore them entirely, but you're insistent. eventually he picked up, filled with pure irritation at that point.

"could you--"

"i'm heading over. i promise i won't push for any details. i'll even get strawberry shortcake on the way." you immediately stated. he paused to mull it over.

"fine, but if the cake sucks, i'm kicking you out." it's safe to say that the cake was good enough to make this a habit, so much so that tsukshima doesn't even know why you still call him to let him know you're coming over. the both of you know you will no matter what.

so here you are, sitting on his bedroom floor with him and eating desserts in silence, save for the music playing softly from his computer.

"you're gonna get in trouble with your parents when they realise you snuck out." he remarks. you shrug your shoulders, stuffing the remaining taiyaki in your mouth.

"i know."

"don't talk with your mouth full." you roll your eyes with a furious blush. somehow, you being here with him becomes sweeter than the strawberry shortcake.

---

you were there when tsukishima made the decision to go professional with volleyball.

his last match as karasuno's middle blocker had ended. his body was sore all over, but somehow the freak duo managed to convince him and yamaguchi to play one more match back at school, just the four of them with yachi. but even with landing third in nationals and a final intimate match with his teammates, he still somehow felt so unsatisfied.

the walk home with you was silent. he was grateful you didn't say anything. he couldn't handle any more questions about how he was feeling when he himself was unsure. it was when you two stepped outside the convenience store after getting ice cream did he come to the conclusion that he never wants to have a last match.

"i'm not going to give up on volleyball after graduation." he announced out of the blue. you were caught off guard for a bit, before grinning at him. "i expected that."

"why?"

"you call hinata and kageyama freaks for being so insane about volleyball, but you don't even realise that you're just as equally crazy about it as them." you said it so nonchalantly as you eat your ice cream, like you're stating a fact. now it was his turn to be taken off guard. he took a while to let it settle in before chuckling softly.

he should have known that you know him better than he does himself.

---

it's graduation day. tsukishima and kageyama are stuck with their four teary-eyed friends by their side. kei awkwardly pats your head, not knowing how to comfort you. you laugh at his feeble attempt, your rosy cheeks burning red. have you always been this cute? in the midst of all the bittersweet interactions, you get distracted by something on your phone, and let out a gasp.

"what is it, (name)?" yamaguchi asks. you're trembling slightly, and tsukishima grows worried.

"i, uh, got into kyoto university," you say in disbelief. "i actually got in!" everyone congratulates you, but you only care about one thing.

"tsukki, remember that day i told you i'd make you eat your words?" he hums in acknowledgement. you shove the acceptance email in his face, but he can only focus on how proud you look with that shit-eating smirk. "what do you have to say now, beanpole?"

he smiles. that's my best friend right there.

"nothing."

---

you were gone before the new year, and kei was handling your absence well until semester started. he had believed it'd be fine, you were only across the country, not across the world. plus, you promised you would call as often as you could.

but he doesn't see you in his classes anymore, and you don't come over when he's having a bad day. he got himself strawberry shortcake to lighten his mood like it usually does, but he only feels hollow. it doesn't help that since he's going pro, his volleyball training is almost everyday now, and with your commitments, he rarely gets to call you anymore. it hurts like hell inside.

"hey tsukki, you've been off recently. is everything ok?" tadashi calls him one day.

"i'm fine, yamaguchi." kei lies. tadashi isn't convinced.

"does it have something to do with (name) being in kyoto?"

"why would you say that?" he answered too quickly for his liking.

"well, you bring (name) up quite a bit, and when you realise she isn't there, you get all quiet and snappy." tsukishima is about to retort back, but then it hits him.

oh shit, he's in love.

---

the day you finally return back to miyagi to visit, tsukishima waits at the station with yamaguchi. kei's eyes are constantly searching the crowd and flickering to his watch every so often.

"tsukki, relax, she'll be here soon." he ignores tadashi's reassurance.

tsukishima kei is a composed man, always able to think before he acts. but when he catches sight of you, he runs. before you can register anything, he hugs you, gripping onto you like a lifeline, like he will die if he lets go of you.

"tsukki--"

"gosh, i missed you so much, you idiot." he knows you could have easily lost feelings for him when you were away.

"wha--"

"i've suffered so much because of your stupid, dumb ass." he doesn't care.

"wait--"

"i like you, so go out with me before you have to head back to kyoto." you're back, and he's scared to lose you again. every second you stay quiet, the louder his heart beats in his ears.

"really?" you finally say, your voice barely over a whisper.

"yea." another pause.

"guess i'm yours then, beanpole."

bonus:

"you know, i knew about your crush back in high school."

"what the heck?"

"you didn't necessarily hide it well."

"then i'll have you know that yamaguchi told me everything that had happened when i've been gone."

"...fuck."

[januaryembrs]

CROSS MY HEART | Spencer Reid x wife!Reader

Request: read here

description: Spencer's wife struggles with the aftermath of JJ's confession

length: 1.5k

warnings: JJ's 14x15 confession spoilers (big ick, pull yourself together Jennifer) infidelity, thoughts of worthlessness, reader thinks Spencer is going to leave her for JJ.

authors note: I have loved JJ for all of fourteen seasons and fourteen episodes. this was a BIG ICK for me watching this won't lie

She should have known something was wrong the minute they left that damn store. 

It took her all of two seconds to throw herself into her husband’s arms, her voice choked with tears that had threatened to spill when she’d seen the video of Casey shooting at him, and she swore Spencer had never grabbed her so tight. 

“I thought you,” She sniffled, running her fingers through the back of his scalp, the entire spanse of his huge hands ran along her spine, counting every vertebra to make sure she was still intact, despite the fact he had been the one held hostage, “I thought he’d shot you- it came so close,” 

He hushed her mewls, a hand reaching to the back of her head and tucked her into his neck further, the sob rattling through her ribcage almost, almost, taking his mind entirely off what JJ had said in that stupid game of truth or dare. 

What the fuck did she mean she had always loved him? She had a husband and children who doted on her; Will, who loved every shred of her being like it was his only purpose in the world. His godsons who had known him as uncle Spencer since he’d held them in the hospital, covered in goop and looking like the cutest little aliens he’d ever seen. 

And yet JJ, his friend, perhaps one of his longest friends, was willing to throw it away for him? He, who had a wife he adored more than there were birds in the wind, leaves on an Autumn floor, more than there were galaxies in the damn cosmos. His wife, who had been there for him since the moment they’d met, who he’d known was the one since that first day she’d ran into him in the lobby, their files mixing together because neither of them had been watching where they were going, like one of those romcoms she forced him to watch and he pretended to hate, or like the silly thing she called fate that she insisted was very much real. 

Spencer was a man of statistics and numbers and facts; things he could see. But he was sure there was nothing in any textbook that could have ever made sense of how the one person so perfectly created for him, the blob of cells that made up his wife that seemed to call to his own as if they were coming home to one another, would have just so happened to bump into him on a random Tuesday in August. 

Most people waited decades for that kind of love, or something close, and he’d managed to get it at the ripe age of thirty three. 

And yet in the space of ten seconds, of four little words in a wretched game, he felt like the carpet had been pulled from beneath him. Because why would JJ, who saw as clearly as anyone else how much he cherished his wife and the future they were planning together, try to take that away from him?

And as if his own odd spiral of thoughts wasn’t a kick to the gut enough, his sweet wife had quickly released him from her grasp and thrown herself at JJ, who seemed to just now be understanding the gravity of her words as she looked around with wide eyes, tear stains wetting her cheeks, the guilt gnawing in her gut already. 

“JJ! Are you okay? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so scared,” She sobbed, wrapping her friend in a loving hug that was shakily reciprocated, like JJ was waiting for the second she would get a fat shiner to the nose for confessing such a thing. 

But that never happened. Instead, she pulled away from the frozen blonde woman, who looked like she could burst into tears then and there and apologise for everything until her face turned blue, and ran a kind hand over the JJ's hair, stroking it behind her ear tenderly as she tried to quell her cries because she wasn't the one who had been held at gunpoint. 

She didn’t know. It hit them both at the same time. She didn’t know what JJ had said, hadn’t even got an inkling into what had happened, and god did it make the sinking feeling in Spencer’s chest swallow itself up into something the size of the Mariana Trench. 

And what was left, what had for a second been a horrid mix of confusion, shock, fear and then another big dollop of confusion for good measure, quickly was dragged away by the current and replaced with anger. 

Anger that JJ could do something like this to his wife; he frankly didn’t care how her words had affected him, that if he had been single he would have been left feeling unworthy of her affection the first time it had been offered around, like there was something so disgustingly wrong with him this was what it took for her to say anything. He didn’t care about any of that. He cared that this would absolutely destroy his wife. 

And it was for that reason Spencer hurried the paramedics into fixing the small graze on his palm as he watched with boiling blood his wife tend to JJ like she would any other time her close friend was hurt in the field. He seethed whenever Jennifer would simper and avoid her friend's eyes, how his beautiful, caring, devoted wife would stroke the woman’s back and will her to talk, to tell her what to do to make it better.

Because it was her who should be fussing over his sweet wife, certainly not the other way around. 

But he couldn’t say that, not there at least, and so he didn’t, not until he had got the greenlight from the medics to leave and he had all but cut off the circulation in her fingers with how tight he’d held her hand as he led her to the car. 

Spencer said nothing, not wanting to fight when she forced him to sit shotgun as she climbed behind the wheel, not wanting to cause a commotion when there was a much bigger bombshell he was sitting on that he knew would change her feelings entirely. 

-

“What?” Her voice was soft still, a murmur in the quiet night air of their bedroom. She sat, fresh faced, minty breathed, kevlar vest long gone and replaced with one of his old Dr Who shirts and comfy bottoms.

She said the word again, like she hadn’t heard him, but judging by the way her expression had fallen into something dejected, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Sighing, drawing gentle motions up and down her legs with his warm hands, shuffled closer where he kneeled down in front of her submittingly. “JJ said that she has always loved me; that was her ‘truth’ in the game,”

“Well, she-she was lying right?” His wife said quickly, her voice shaking, trying to make sense of it herself. She didn’t get an answer right away, just her husband’s eyes casting down as he tried to think of the best thing to say, “Right, Spencer?” 

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly, and he saw immediately the way tears sprung to her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, her face warming in wet-anger, “But it doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, to me- baby, please don’t cry,”

“Ofcourse it changes things, Spencer, it’s JJ. She’s literally the hottest woman to walk the earth, Pen said you were like in love with her when you started the BAU, and now you have your chance,” She whimpered, fat tears rolling over her freshly moisturised cheeks, and he swore he felt his chest concave at her words. 

“My chance? I don’t want a chance, I want you,” Spencer said in earnest, his hands rubbing further and further up her legs until his hands went under her night shirt, grabbing onto the soft of her hips with pleading tenderness, “I want you forever, no matter what JJ or any other woman feels about me,” 

She sniffled pitifully, her eyes still unsure and he took it as a sign she needed more, so he leaned in fully to hug her to him. 

“But it’s JJ,” She said again, like that was going to change anything, and he shook his head, stroking over the back of her hair softly.

“I don't care,” He said, and she sniffed gently into the crook of his neck, his skin wetting with the contact. She finally wrapped her arms around him, and he knew he was close to getting it through to her, “I had the smallest crush on JJ, what, fifteen years ago? Honey, I want you for the rest of my life, and nothing and no one is going to change my mind about that, not even you.” 

“Really?” His sweet wife whispered tearfully, and he chuckled sadly, hating how hard she had cried that it had ripped the life from her voice. 

“Cross my heart,” He kissed her hairline softly, tipping her head upwards with one long, warm finger under her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her wetted lips, “Hope I never die,”

She smiled sorrowfully, kissing her husband as if it was the last time she could ever do so, hoping it made up for how puffy and ugly her tears had made her face. But he didn’t care, he never had, he thought she was perfect just the way she was.

And he’d remind her of that any time she thought otherwise. 

–

[shawtuzi]

you’re the bad boy that i’ve always dreamed of ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

here’s a little something of how plug!geto and reader went from strangers to lovers!! this will contain smut and some drug use so mdni thank yewww <3 pairing: plug!geto x black coded reader///wc:3.2k

STRANGERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• it was a friday night when suguru received a message from you on instagram asking for a 3.5–just from the message alone he could tell it was your first time doing this. it was cute the way you added exclamation points and a smiley face at the end of your message.

• the first time he saw you he was starstruck. it’s not even like you were dressed up, just a simple black tank top and some pink juicy couture shorts. the way you were so soft spoken and smelled so damn good—oh he wanted you, he needed you. thus began the long game of suguru trying to pursue you.

geto’s first impression of you: so damn pretty, smells like vanilla n for some amazing reason cookie dough, on the taller side, one of the most gracious people he’s ever met while dropping off some weed—srsly you said ‘thank you so so much!’ like four times before he even handed it to you, a little on the awkward side but he likes it heje.

your first impression of geto: drives a nice ass car, pulled up blasting partynextdoor so he must have good music taste, the longest n most prettiest hair you’ve ever seen on a man—you couldn’t help but wonder if it felt as soft as it looked, a little on the intimidating side but you did get a small smile out of him and mannn did he have a pretty smile, will definitely be messaging him again soon.

• the second time he dropped you off some weed he put in a little extra bc of as rn you were his favorite customer regardless if it was only your second time shopping. this time he made a little conversation:

“i like your hair, suits you really well,” it was a very mesmerizing burgundy color, reaching almost towards your bottom. you of course were very taken aback, your cheeks feeling like someone set hot coals on them. you picked at your denim skirt, trying to avoid his gaze. “thank you suguru i, uh, got it done this morning. i wasn’t so sure about the color when she finished but i’m starting to like it more and more!” you gave him a little smile, which he gratefully returned. geto scaled your weed one more time before giving it to you, his fingers brushing against any part of your hand/wrist he could touch.

“so you know how to roll?” he asked, using the elastic on his wrist to put his hair in a bun, you had to physically restrain yourself from giving it just a little touch </3 you puffed air from your cheeks, shaking your head, “nah i just use this pipe my friend gave me i’m not quite an expert at that yet.” suguru’s smile got wider at your words, now he had the perfect excuse to get you to smoke with him. he ran his tongue over his lips, a shiny ball on the center of his tongue catching your attention. “you should let me teach you how to do it sometime—ah, i mean if you want you don’t have to,” and that was the first time suguru heard you laugh and that sound might’ve gotten him higher than any strain he’s ever smoked.

“i’d love for you to teach me!”

• the third time you both saw each other it was not transactional, just a simple hotbox session. he taught you how to roll up and although it was very sweet of him to do so it was very hard to concentrate. his hands—which were both tatted tf up moved so swiftly as he packed the blunt and rolled it. don’t even get me started on the way he sealed the blunt with his tongue, there was something so sensual about it especially with the way he was looking at you. you both learned a lot about each other that night, and that my friends was the start of a beautiful friendship.

FRIENDS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• you and geto hanging out became a regular occurrence. he no longer charged you for weed, instead he would just send you on your way with some after each smoke sesh. every time he saw you his crush only got bigger and bigger, and he was sure he was starting to become not to subtle about it.

• every morning you woke up to a good morning text from him, followed by him bidding you a good day and to text him if you needed anything. some days he surprised you with lunch at your job, or brought takeout on nights that you invited him over to smoke. it was getting to a point if one of you didn’t hear from the other for even a day you’d think there was some tension bc you just hung out that much.

• it wasn’t often but suguru did let you hit the block with him whenever he wanted some company. you were his passenger princess—you had full control over the aux, he had some of your fav snacks in the glove compartment, and best of all he always had a preroll for you to smoke in case you got bored. sometimes if you were real bored he’d let you pack and scale the weed (he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little bit watching you do it).

• tons of ‘platonic’ hugs and cuddling. geto basically wishes he could live in your skin, you were just so soft and smelt so fucking good it gave him the worst cuteness aggression. one of your friends caught you two doing the good ol’ swaying side to side hug and from that day on they never let up on the allegations that you both had a crush on each other.

• i mentioned before that as the days went by suguru’s crush on you grew more and more and with that came his jealousy. geto considered himself a very levelheaded man, i mean with a temper like his he had to or else he’d be in jail right now. so when he saw some man come up behind you to feel you up while you were dancing with your friends livid wasn’t even the word:

“um excuse you,” you hissed attempting to push the stranger away, but before you could even touch him he was yanked away by a very angry geto. “do you touch every girl you find attractive without her permission? hm? speak the fuck up i can’t hear you,” while his words were harsh his facial expression was eerily calm, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. “i was just having a lil’ fun is all cmon sugu—” geto cut the stranger off and pointed to you, “do it look like she’s having fun right now? are you having fun y/n?” you scrunched up your nose, shaking your head. suguru kissed him teeth, glaring at the man, “now get the fuck on, seriously, you’re a good customer of mine i don’t wanna have to fuck you up yeah?” and that was the end of that.

the ride back to your place was quiet until geto spoke up, “i didn’t embarrass you did i? i know you could’ve held your own and your friends were there but—” you cut geto off with a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for just a few seconds longer than they should’ve. “you didn’t embarrass me sugu, thank you for sticking up for me i really appreciate you,” the way your eyes sparkled when you said those last four words had suguru’s heart pounding against his ribcage. you probably think he kissed you right?? WRONG MY MANS PUSSIED OUT!!!

• geto was totally convinced he fumbled his only chance to kiss you until one faithful night, during a hotbox session you lent over the console and kissed him. you’d think a lot of words would be exchanged after that but after waiting almost a year to feel your lips against his the last thing suguru wanted to do in that moment was talk. the hotbox consisted of lots of nasty kisses, suguru sloppily kissing n sucking at your neck, and a SMIDGE of dry humping.

FRIENDS W/ BENEFITS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• each hangout with geto after that night was filled with lots of kissing and grabbing, my man just could not keep his hands to himself even if he rlly tried. for a few weeks it never went further than dry humping, both you too scared that you’d cross a boundary.

• the first time suguru went down on you it was during your monthly movie night. you were making out, nothing out of the ordinary maybe a couple ass grabs here and there. it wasn’t until you gave a particularly rough tug to his hair that he noticed his self control was starting to crumble—he just had to indulge in you. that’s how you ended up with your legs over his broad shoulders while he made out with your pussy, making you cum four times consecutively.

•geto was obsessed after that. my mans never turned down an opportunity to eat you out—he didn’t care if it was in the car, on the floor, the shower, in front of his goddamn roommate one way or another his head was gonna end up between your plushy thighs. that tongue piercing did wonders for you, the feeling of it randomly brushing against your swollen clit always had your eyes crossing.

• now the first time you went down on geto he came down your throat a few minutes in like a goddamn virgin. of course it didn’t take long for him to get hard again and minutes later he was fucking your throat. you were taking it like a champ and he was sooo proud of you. he was a good six and half inches but incredibly thick, so thick it was almost impossible not to gag and slob all over him—but don’t worry you soon learned he likes his head very messy. you also learned that he’s a god tier praiser!!

some things he says when you give him head include: ‘that’s it babe take it nice n slow—hah! yeah jus like that’, ‘this tight ass throat is gonna make me nut already gorgeous’, ‘that’s right gorgeous take that fuckin’ dick lemme hear you choke’, ‘you’re so pretty like this—look so pretty, f-fuck don’t look at me like that or i’ll cum’ <3

• the first time you and geto had sex was after a block party, you already knew you were done for not even an hour in when suguru thought it would be a good idea to pour a shot in your mouth, his tatted hand snug against your throat as you swallowed. after that he was glued to your side the rest of the night, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. you felt people staring, mainly girls who have been trying to get at geto before you even came into the picture but you didn’t care one bit—it was even a little funny watching their fuming faces as you danced with him:

“and who’re you tryna put a show on for?” suguru whispered in your ear, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eyes. you pulled him closer by his chain, the alcohol in your system giving you a boost of confidence. “i’m just tired of those bitches staring, wanna give them something to look at since they wanna look so bad,” you whipped your head around, and sure enough those hatin ass hoes were still staring. suguru hummed, a smirk soon making its way onto his lips.

“follow me gorgeous, i wanna take you somewhere.”

• geto ended up taking you to his secret sanctum, a lookout point that had the most beautiful view of the city—a place where he can be alone with his thoughts about you. it didn’t take long for him to have you against the hood of his car, fucking into with everything his heart had to offer. you lost count of how many orgasms he got out of you, but what you do remember is the words he whispered into your ear as he finished inside you:

“wha’? what’d you say sugu?” you whispered, gently removing his face from your neck. his post-sex glow was ungodly, but there was something in his eyes that had your heart feeling heavy. “i like you. i like so you much y/n. i’m tired of being your friend, i wanna be your boyfriend n’ have you all to myself,” he said every word as slowly and clearly as possible to make sure you understood his confession. you were quiet, too quiet, it had his heart twisting with every beat of silence.

“i like you too suguru.”

LOVERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• suguru was the most attentive and loving boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for. he’s the kind of boyfriend where he doesn’t see why his girlfriend shouldn’t get everything she asks for, so best believe he took spoiling you to a whole other level. you needed you hair done? boom paid for. you needed your nails and toes done? he’s at the counter paying for it while you get pampered. you hungry? he’ll get you whatever you’re craving even if it means multiple stops.

• announced your relationship on his social media by posting a picture of you holding two zips of weed to your head, a geeked out smile on your glossy lips—he captioned it ‘all i need in this life of sin’ and OF COURSEEE put ‘03’ bonnie and clyde’ as the song for the background.

• suguru isn’t the biggest fan of pda but that doesn’t stop him from leaving little kisses on your shoulders or doing that one thing where he gives your hips the tiniest squeeze before wrapping his arms around you. if you get him lit enough though he’ll turn into the biggest fucking slut omg i’m talking pushing you against his front so you can feel how hard his underneath his pants, giving you a particularly sloppy kiss outta nowhere, but your favorite is when he gives you the low red eyes and lip bite combo. yup that’ll do it every time:

“n-no pda my ass you turned my cute lap dance into me—hah! almost riding you in front of—a-ah! everyoneeee fuck sugu! why’re you fucking me like that?” your mind was truly baffled at how rough and deep geto was fucking you against the bathroom stall. your words fell on deaf ears as geto fucked into you harder, the stall door thumping with every thrust. suguru groaned, shoving himself all the way in before stilling his hips. “it’s almost like you do the shit on purpose. . . wanna make me wanna lose my cool in front of everyone and act like a fucking slut just like you,” he removed his face from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. “i was chillin’ till you started do your little ‘lap dance’—had me humping on you like i was some fuckin’ virgin,” you both laughed at the last part. you brought your hands to suguru’s face, cupping his cheeks, “it’s okay babe let’s just be slutty together yeah?” geto hissed when he felt your pussy clench around his dick, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip.

“you’re so fucking nasty. . . i love it.”

• it’s safe to say that after that geto warmed up more to the idea of pda

• your family is surprisingly obsessed with suguru, he had them all under his charming spell the first time he visited your parents’ house. when talking about his place of employment he might’ve left out the fact that he sells weed on the side but he was very honest about his apprenticeship at tattoo parlor.

• speaking of him learning to be a tattoo artist, he’s the one that gave you your first tattoo. nothing too crazy just ‘worthy’ tatted on your upper thigh—it hurt like a bitch but he praised you the whole way through it. this eventually lead to him eating you out after he was done to reward you for handling it like a champ <3

• the first time suguru says i love you is after he comes home from a little scuffle and you being the angel you were tended to him. it was so random yet rolled off his tongue so easily, it just felt right. you were shocked but nonetheless so happy to hear those three words from him, you returned them of course followed by a loving kiss. this is also the first time suguru has ever made love to you—hell made love to anyone:

“this is so nice—shit, why haven’t we ever done this before baby?” suguru was breathless, borderline gasping for air at how good you felt. as much as he considered himself to be a lover boy geto has never quite made love—at least not like this. everything was so slow, yet so sensual and filled with so much love he could’ve teared up. you paused your assault on his neck, removing your face to look up at him and wow you’ve never looked more beautiful. you had the tiniest pout on your lips—a silent plea for him to give you a kiss, which he happily gave you. “you’re so deep sugu. . .‘feel you in my stomach,” you gasped when you felt his tip hit a particularly deep spot inside you, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. suguru whined—yes you heard me WHINED when he heard you say that, his already slow pace faltering slightly. “don’t say shit like that please baby—shiiit, m’tryna last,” his hand was holding onto your hip so tightly it would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. you kissed your way from his jaw to his neck once more, sucking on the spot just below his ear. “let go sugu, want you to finish inside me—ngh! make me feel warm,” you whispered the last part in his ear and that’s what finally did it. with one final stroke geto whispered those three words in your ear, making shivers travel up your spine.

“i love you more suguru <3”

BONUS (a little aftercare scene bc i can’t help myself)

after making love to you geto couldn’t help himself and fucked you so damn silly you couldn’t move a limb after he was finished with you. “that was a little much wasn’t it?” you groaned, scooting your body to be closer to him. suguru chuckled, giving your forehead three sweet kisses. “i couldn’t help myself babe, i was filled with sooo much love i just had to let it out,” you squealed when he slapped your ass, his hand gripping onto the flesh roughly. you lifted your head up to glare at him, the pout on your face making him coo, annoying you even more. “did my pussy have to be the victim of it? i can’t stand you. . . or your stupid dick,” you grumbled, poking at his now soft dick. geto smushed your cheeks together, pulling your face closer to his, “now you know you don’t mean that.” a smirk tugged at his lips when you didn’t respond, “that’s what i thought now c’mere and lemme hold you.” you huffed, laying your head on his chest, the dull sounding beat his heart making you drowsier by the minute.

“i love you so much y/n.”

THE END ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Werewolf // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Werewolf!Geto x Fem!Reader, Alpha!Geto x Omega!Reader, A/B/O mechanics, marking, scenting, nesting, fated mates, description of violence including murder, NSFW, MDNI

Synopsis: Suguru knew you were his before you even presented as an omega, but the pack elders did not take too kindly to him marking you at such a young age. He kills anyone who gets in his way to you.

An: If you don’t like a/b/o or omegaverse, skip this one :3. If you’re a freak like me, enjoy! Also, this was my first time making my own banner in Canva.. what are we thinking?? I am also so sorry that this one is so late.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.”

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Living in a small pack has its perks. Everyone is protective over one another and will always offer to help no matter what. Pack relations are strongest when the pack is smaller, and the pack is more likely to survive.

There are, of course, some cons as well. Everyone knows your business, and everyone wants a say in how you live your life.

For the longest you can remember, Suguru has been by your side. You two would spend a lot of time down at the creek together as kids. You two practically learned everything together: how to hunt, fish, trap, and forage.

He was your insistent shadow, and the pack elders thought it was adorable when you two were younger. He would without fail abandon the other small children to always go hang out with you. The two of you were like little partners in crime together.

Though their adoration turned to concern when Suguru never quite left your side. In fact, it was getting worse as he grew older. By the time he turned 13, He was abandoning hunting trips early to come home to you. He’d sneak out of his tent to go to yours late at night. Your parents would have to kick him out every morning, chastising both of you.

Though, the straw that broke the camel’s back wasn’t simple sleepovers and abandoned hunting trips. It was when he presented as an alpha. Everyone knew he would with how physically gifted he was as a young teen. He was also too damn protective for his own good, going as far as to breaking another kid’s nose for simply grabbing your wrist.

You were only a few months younger than Suguru, but you hadn’t presented yet. When he presented first, your parents forbade him from sleeping over. They were just trying their best to protect you. You two were “too old” and “not old enough” at the same time to be sleeping together.

Suguru, given that he now had the talk from his parents, knew what your parents were suggesting, but he hated it. He didn’t understand how your parents could think so lowly of him overnight just from presenting.

He lasted three nights. Three whole nights of not snuggling against you, not smelling your hair while you two drifted off to sleep, not hearing your soft snores in the dead of night. It was three sleepless nights.

Suguru always had an inkling that you were his. It was a rather strange feeling of possession, like he shouldn’t have to listen to your parents’ rules because you weren’t theirs. You were his.

His frustration only heightened when the pack started to impose longer hunting trips on him. Shorter hunting trips were reserved for those who hadn’t presented and mated alphas. Since they were mated, they couldn’t be away from their mate for too long; thus, getting the smaller trips.

All these things led him to the conclusion: you’re his mate, and he needed to mark you to prove it.

After a particularly taxing hunting trip, Suguru’s eyes filtered through the camp. Everyone was as painfully jovial as usual: sitting around doing absolutely fuck all. His eyes landed on you, and he could feel the tension melting away from him almost instantaneously. You were in charge of looking after the small children, even though you yourself were still a child.

His feet stomped over toward you without a second thought, and his hand wrapped around your arm tightly, pulling you along behind him.

“Ah- Sugu. Where are we going? I’m working-!” You shout as he continues to drag you along silently. “Sugu- The kids…” You murmur as the two of you head further into the forest.

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes.” He responded calmly before he glanced behind him. The camp was far enough away now. No one would be able to see the two of you unless they were specifically looking for you.

“What are we doing, Sugu?” You asked with a small nervous smile. You had started to have to look up at him these days. It was as if he was growing taller overnight. No longer just a boy.

He also started to stink — well, it wasn’t like a smelly smell, but it was unfamiliar. Your parents had explained pheromones. You didn’t particularly like them since you hadn’t presented yet.

“I need you to sit still, and don’t scream.” He instructed before he dipped his head between your shoulder and jaw. He experimentally sniffed at your neck — completely scentless. The only smell coming from you was your strawberry shampoo that he had grown accustomed to.

“Why would I-“ His large hand covered your mouth before you could get out another word, and he opened his mouth before clamping down on your neck. His K9’s punctured your skin, allowing for blood to trickle down your skin.

A pained cry fled your mouth, but it was muffled by his hand. Suguru felt his heart begin to race. It was happening. You were finally officially his. No one could tell him otherwise — not even your silly parents.

He calmly reassured you that you were okay while you softly wept. Your hand covered the bloody mark on your neck. He was just marking you. You know, like it was no big deal.

After sweetly kissing your tears away, he proudly walked you back to camp once you had calmed down from crying, satisfied with himself. Your hands were laced together like true mates.

The first to immediately notice was Satoru, another alpha who was barely a year older than Suguru. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of your marked neck.

“Suguru, what did you do?” He asks like a mother scolding her son. Usually, this was the other way around. Satoru would’ve never expected Suguru to do something as reckless as this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Satoru. I just marked her.” He shrugs nonchalantly, still so proud of himself.

“You don’t understand. She hasn’t presented. This isn’t good. We need to-“

Your face was flushed a bright red, and Satoru could see your breath becoming more and more labored with each passing second. He frantically looked around, trying to think of what to do. Suguru probably didn’t even know that he just inadvertently forced your body to present. Having been marked, your body was now plummeting itself into a heat.

Suguru could feel you gently tugging on his hand, trying to get his attention. When he looked back at you, his eyes widened. He could tell what your body was going through, but he was just a boy. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“What are you three up to? Why aren’t the children being tended to-“ A clan elder asked after seeing the small children running around without you to watch them. His eyes landed on you, and he immediately tensed up at the scene. “What- How… Geto.”

*** *** ***

“He’s just a boy!” Suguru’s mom pleaded with tears in her eyes. Her hands clasped the young boy’s shoulders. “He has a whole life ahead of him! Don’t do this to him.”

“You’re right. He is just a boy, so it was your responsibility to teach him about these things.” A pack elder spoke.

“He’s an alpha. Even if they taught him those things, he would’ve acted on his own volition anyways.” Another spoke.

“Who even allowed him to be around her? He was suppose to be on a hunting trip, no?”

“We got back early. It was my responsibility, but we were carrying back a large buck. My mind was preoccupied. I accept full responsibility for his actions.”

“You can’t take on the full burden of responsibility. Geto is old enough to know right from wrong, and he chose the wrong path. He took that girl in the woods and marked her before she even presented as an omega.” The pack leader spoke.

Suguru stood completely motionless in front of his parents. He stayed looking down at the ground. While they argued over his future in the pack, his mind was stuck on you. They had ripped you away from him the second that the pack elder had realized that your body was in heat. He wondered if you were being taken care of okay. He wondered if you missed him as much as he missed you already. He wondered if he’d get to see you again.

“He’s done so much for this pack at such a young age. Please.. Don’t do this to him. He has his whole life ahead of him.” His mother pleaded once again. “We’ll keep a closer eye on him. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What about my daughter’s life?” Your dad finally spoke up after being silent for far too long. “That bastard tainted her. She could’ve presented as anything: alpha, beta, or omega, but no, he forced biology upon her with a godforsaken mark. He should be shunned from the pack.”

“He can’t be allowed to be in the same space as her. He’s already proven that he can’t be trusted. The last thing we need is for a young omega to fall pregnant because an alpha doesn’t know restraint.”

“Don’t you two have family anywhere she can stay with… just until she’s a bit older? The mark might fade after they’ve been separated for a while.” Another pack elder spoke up to your parents.

“You’re seriously removing our daughter instead of the problem child? That’s fucking rich. So, what will happen when he marks another omega far too early, huh?” Your dad argued, clenching his jaw.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Suguru finally spoke up, looking your dad in the eye. A stare off between the two ensued.

“If this is how this pack operates, fine. I don’t want her in here if we protect alphas simply due to their gender instead of the innocent.” Your dad finally grit out before stomping away from the meeting.

It took three full grown alphas and Satoru to hold Suguru back while you were leaving. They wouldn’t even allow him to say goodbye to you, not even when you cried out his name. Not even when you begged, pleaded, asked why.

*** *** ***

Suguru was never quite the same after you and your family left. It had been years. He was just a boy when they took you. Now, he’s a twenty year old brooding alpha. He was aloof towards everyone, and he only confided in Satoru. His friend seemed to he the only one who understood that he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He didn’t know that his mark would cause a great deal of stress on your body, and had he known, he wouldn’t have done it.

The rest of the pack looked at him with reserved disdain. He was a stain upon their community. Your parents were well liked in the pack, and he was the reason they weren’t there anymore.

Words kept getting tossed around, and the pack members who weren’t there for the meeting were terribly misinformed. As the rumors spread, the story became more and more horrid. They painted him out to be a monster who held you down while you begged him not to and bit your neck forcibly.

Suguru never tried to correct the stories. He had nothing to prove to these people, the people that sent you away from him. They could all think of him as a monster, especially if it meant they stayed the hell away from him.

The only thing that kept Geto from expulsion from the pack was his innate ability to hunt. His beast from was truly that of an apex predator. He went on extravagant hunting trips often, and he kept the pack fed on wonderful meats.

He looked for you, his mate, on every hunting trip. He tried to remember the faint smell that started to emit from you when your body went into heat. He looked for every sign of you.

He knew the mate bond was still strong because he could feel everything through it. He hated when you felt sad. He knew you experienced some sort of nightmares without him there to care for you while you slept. Your happiness made him feel bittersweet. He wanted you to be happy, but the thought of you being happy without him made him sick.

Your heats were the worst. Suguru would sulk in his tent in a state of horny depression. He should be taking care of you, tending to your body and every desire you had. He should be helping you nest and kissing every spot on your body while cooing praises to you.

Instead, he’s laying in his own sweat and cum, too much of a sad sack of shit to make himself go get cleaned up. His tent stunk of potent pheromones. Your heats, even while being so far away, managed to throw him into a rut each time.

He could feel your dissatisfaction. You were pining for him to come help you. It was as if you were screaming down the mate bond for him to come save you. He missed you so damn bad that he started to hate the smell of strawberries. They smelled too much of you and reminded him of what he couldn’t have

He knew that the elders still kept in touch with your parents. They were high ranking leaders in the community after all. They knew where you were, and they still opted to keep you away from him.

You and him were suffering because of the fucking elders. They caused all of this. If they would’ve kept their fucking noses out of y’all’s business, none of this would be happening.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.” Suguru was practically crying for help. He was sat in his tent, holding his head in shame. His arms and legs were practically trembling.

The homicidal thoughts started when you left. It was sneaky at first, but they only got worse over time. His friend was the only one who knew about them. He knew how badly Geto craved to end their lives.

“Let me talk to them. They might listen to me.” Satoru spoke calmly as he gazed as his heartbroken best friend. The tent was heavy with the scent of alpha rut and distress. He could tell Suguru was really going through it right now.

*** *** ***

Suguru’s beast form was nothing short of a monster. He was the strongest, right next to Satoru.

His black fur was matted with blood as he pawed at the remains of the pack leader. Satoru had tried to talk to them, but they instantly shut him down. Then, to make matters worse, they sent him away on a hunting trip that same day.

Without Satoru there to keep the thoughts at bay, Suguru literally couldn’t help himself. The beast shifted before he could even do anything about it, and he was instantly blood hungry.

Tears coated his face as he shifted back to his human form. Killing the elders didn’t even help soothe him. He just wanted his fucking mate for christ’s sake. He sat on the floor in a scatter of papers from where the two beasts had fought valiantly.

Nothing could replicate the feeling of emptiness that filled him in that moment. His best friend wasn't there. His mate had been gone for oh so long. The pack leaders were now all deceased. When tomorrow morning rolled around, he'd likely be ostracized from his pack for the murders.

He laid his head back against the wall with his hands covering his face. He just wanted to see Satoru one last time before he was expelled and shunned. He wanted to apologize and thank Gojo for sticking by him for all these years.

At some point, the sleep deprivation got to Geto, causing for him to fall asleep naked in the massacre that was the pack leader's tent. Nightmares of slaughter plagued his dreams. Your face haunted him. He wondered what could've been had he known better than to mark you at an early age.

It felt so real, that he swore he heard your voice, though it was different in his dream. Your voice wasn't as squeaky as it use to be. It was smooth with age and experience yet still soft spoken. Maybe he was forgetting the way you sounded? The thought terrified him. His memory was all he had left of you.

You were... laughing? No, it couldn't be you. The voice sounded more like Gojo's-

The tent unzipping. A gasp. "Shit. Don't-" Gojo's voice.

Geto fluttered his eyes open to see Gojo standing in the small doorway of the makeshift shelter. He had... a woman's eyes covered. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"Suguru, what did you do?" Satoru asked like he did all those years back, and suddenly, Suguru felt like a small child who had no impulse control. He quickly scrambled up to his feet, using a random sheet of paper to cover his manhood.

"You were gone, and I just... I just really fucking..." His words trailed as his eyes looked over towards the woman. His heart started to pound in his chest. She looked... so much like you. It was as if he was being confronted with the ghost of his past once again.

"I went to go get her, Suguru." Satoru calmly explained with a hint of bite in his tone. "You really think I'd listen to what those old geezers said about not going to look for her? I grilled every last one of them until they slipped up and gave me enough information to find her."

Geto's eyes were as wide as saucers, and his pupils were dilated as he stared at the woman who was quietly trembling next to Satoru. His hand covered most of her face. "Is that...?"

"In the flesh." Satoru said as his hand slowly dropped from your eyes. Chills shot through Geto's body as he saw his mate's face again.

"Sugu..." Your little nickname for him. His breath went labored as he took in the sight of you for just one moment. His eyes involuntarily filled with tears before he dropped the sheet of paper and lunged for you.

His large muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a tight embrace against him. "I'm so sorry.." He whispered in your ear like a mantra. His hands roamed across your back as if he was double checking that this was real.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He whispered again in a pained voice. This was not how he wanted you to see him. He was at his lowest. “I’ve missed you so much. It feels like I’ve been underwater this entire time.”

You gently nuzzled your face into his chest, and you took a deep breath, savoring his scent. A content hum fled your lips. He smelled like home. “I’ve missed you too, Sugu.”

Suguru had grown so much since you last saw him. His body was now muscular and toned. His hair was even longer. It was tied up in a half knot while the rest of it messily splayed down his back. He wasn’t just a boy anymore — a man now.

“I hate to be the one to ruin this reunion, but there’s dead pack elders that we have to deal with.” Satoru spoke up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Suguru reluctantly pulled back from you, not ready to let go of his missing mate. “I have no intention of staying here.” He said, eyes glancing over to the corpse on the ground. “This pack is a shit show.”

“So, what do we do?” Satoru asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. It was never a question in his mind. Satoru was going to go wherever Geto went.

“We start our own pack.” Geto casually threw out the idea with a small shrug. “It’s not impossible. If those incompetent creatures could do it, so can we.”

*** *** ***

You were happy and content to follow Geto and Gojo wherever the two went. It had been so long since you’ve seen the two males. You had almost forgotten how much mischief they could get up to.

Every day was filled with hiking, trying to find a new place to settle down. Every night was spent around a small fire, listening to the stories of the two while you were sent away.

When you and Geto would finally lay together next to the fire, he’d lazily play with your hair and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were and how there was never a day that went by when he didn’t think of you.

“Have I mentioned how terrible it was without you?” He murmured in your ear while his large hand was gently caressing your hip. He would carefully slip it underneath your shirt. The pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin.

“Only a million times.” You giggled in response, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

“Make it a million and one then. It was terrible.” He quietly laughed, not wanting to wake up Satoru who was snuggled on the ground on the other side of the fire.

“I missed you too.” You replied. Your hand carefully reached up and cupped his cheek. Your head was resting on his bicep while your legs were intertwined. “I tried calling out to you often through the mate bond.”

“I felt it each time.” He admitted as his hand slowly snaked higher up your torso. “I felt each time you went into heat and needed me.”

The fire calmly crackling masked the small whimper that fled from your lips. “I’m sorry. I know that probably drove you crazy.”

“You have no idea.” He muttered as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the mark on your neck. It hadn’t faded in the slightest. Your body knew you were his before you presented as well. “I dreamt of going out to find you.”

“Yeah? What would you do had you found me while I was in heat?”

“Mmm..” He hummed in a low tone as he gazed at you with a small smirk on his face. “I would sneak into whatever tent you were in like I use to when we were kids.” He spoke softly as his hand continued to trail up your side slowly.

“I’d find you lying there, already such a mess for me.” He went on, painting the picture vividly for you. Your eyes slipped shut as you imagined it for yourself. “Then, I’d pin you down to your nest, stopping you from taking care of yourself.” He went on, and he rolled on top of you, pinning your arms down with his free hand.

The sickly sweet scent of your arousal building lingered in the air, making Suguru’s heart pound in his chest. You smelled even more yummy than he imagined you to.

“What next?” You ask softly in a breathless voice.

“I’d kiss your lips until they were bruised.” He mumbled, and he leaned down to you before pressing his lips harshly against yours. He groaned softly as soon as he could feel you kissing back. He poured all of his love and hunger into his affections. He needed you like he needed air. You were his sole salvation - his reason for living

He carefully pushed your shirt up over your chest, and he skillfully reached behind you, unclasping your bra within a few seconds. You worked with him, pulling it away from your body before you wrapped your legs around his waist.

His hand came up and carefully cupped your breast. Hs kneaded on the soft pillowy flesh with another groan. He gently bit your swollen lip, asking for entry before proceeding to deepen the kiss. He swallowed up your small moans and gasps.

"Then," he softly pant out after parting from the kiss, "I'd mark up your neck again and again. I never want you to forget who you belong to." His head dipped into your neck, and his lips latched on to the soft skin.

He sucked, nibbled, and bit his way up and down your neck, making good on his promise to mark you up. Your hips raised up to meet his, needily searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs.

"My poor omega.." He mumbled softly against your skin before allowing his hand to trail down and to grope you at your core.

"Fuck- Sugu.." Your voice was a soft whine, forgetting all about Gojo who was asleep not even 10 feet away.

"Shhh, princess. Don't wake him." Suguru shushed you softly with a impish grin. His hands now worked to take your pants and panties off. "Want me to keep going?"

"Please..." Your face is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire before you two. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

"Mmm, then you have to be quiet." Suguru teased before he allowed himself the pleasure of gazing at your glistening cunt. "Oh, so pretty." He mused before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your folds.

Suguru's mind was running haywire as he generously lapped at your wet heat. He had imagined this happening so many times while he fucked his own fist. It's all finally worked out. He's finally gotten to taste you, to hear you moan his name.

Your fingers entangled in his hair, holding onto him for support while he devoured you thoroughly.

"Mmn.. Sugu~ S'close... please." You quietly whimpered out, warning him of your impending release while he slurped at your cunt, drinking down your slick as if you were a fountain of youth.

"Can you hold it, baby?" His voice was muffled as he didn't dare part from you.

"N-no, I-" You softly whine, starting to rock your hips back and forth across his tongue. You were desperate for release, nearly riding his face to get there.

Suguru tugged back away from you. "That just won't do, darling." He mumbles as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his pants and boxers down just enough. "I need your first time finishing with me to be on my cock. Think you can do that for me?"

You're quick to nod in agreement with his wish, desperately needing the approval of your alpha. You had already caught a glimpse of his size when you and Satoru first arrived. Even when soft, Suguru still isn't small. Now that he's fully hard, it's almost intimidating.

"Mmm~ such a good girl." He quietly praised as he carefully guided his cock between your slick covered folds. He held your gaze as he rubbed his tip up and down, creating a wet "schlick" noise with each movement. His poor neglected cock leaked sticky pre-cum along your core, making everything so messy.

"Bite on my hand." He instructed as he placed his hand over your mouth. "Don't want you makin' too much noise." With a small huff, you bite down onto his hand.

Humping you a few more times, Geto finally decided to push himself into you. Your body immediately went rigid as you tried to cope with the new pressure between your legs. It felt as if he was trying to split you in two, completely impaling you with his thick cock.

"Ohh~ fuuu... That's it.." Geto's voice was deeper and extremely breathy. His eyes were half-lidded as he continued to watch your facial reactions. The small tears crowding the corners of your eyes made him throb. "You're so fucking tight."

"it's not gonna fit-" You quietly whined behind the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, your fingernails were embedded into his back, decorating him with scratch marks.

"It's gonna fit, baby." He quietly reassured you as he pulled back a bit and sunk back in. Your slick coated his length, making it easier for him to push in more. "Gotta let me stretch you."

"Ngh~ ah.." Your voice cracked as your leaned your head back against the ground. Suguru's hips rolled, just barely fucking into your tight cunt. He'd add another inch with each thrust, allowing you time to gradually get use to him.

The air was filled with shushed panting and breathy whines. The sound of your sopping cunt squeezing around him was like a holy song to him. You were the only slice of heaven Geto would ever see.

He had been so caring; you hadn't even realized he was all the way in until you felt a thump towards your stomach. "Ohmygod-" The gasp fell from your mouth before you could even think to stop it. "Fuuuck... feel you right here.." You meekly murmured as you pointed towards your tummy.

"Yeah baby? Feel me all the way in there?" He humors your intoxicated speech as he's lovingly thrusting into you. "You feel so fucking good." He praised as he peppered your face in sweet kisses.

Your spongy walls cling to his dick with each soft thwack of his balls clapping against the flesh of your ass. You're completely soaked around him, allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

His fat tip was damp with sweltering pre-cum gathering at his slit. With each thrust, his tip was kissing at your womb, making you feel all dumb in the head. He occupied his mouth with kissing and sucking more love bites into your shoulders. "So good, baby... ah~ so fuckin' good." He continued to mumble praises in a pussy drunk tone.

Both of your bodies were glistening in a mix of sweat and slick. The fire raged beside you two keeping you very warm while he pumped in and out. "Can't get enough. Need more.. ngh~ M-missed you so much." He growled lowly in your ear as his tender thrusts grew sloppier - fueled by an intense need.

"Suguu~ fuck me." That little needy whine was all he needed to start forcefully pounding into you. Noise level be damned; he needed his omega on a biblical level that Satoru would never be able to understand.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your poor cunt was practically sobbing for him - making a complete mess between your thighs as his cock rudely drilled into you. Your back arched up off of the ground, and you could feel your eyes rolling back. It felt like you were ascending to a higher being.

Suguru caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. Strings of saliva connected your mouths like strings of fate as you muffled each others moans. "Need to knot you - f-fuck, please, let me knot you."

Your legs wrap completely around Suguru's waist. "Knot me, Sugu.. hngh~ I'm s'close.."

Suguru's legs began to shake as he could feel his balls growing heavy. Instincts completely drove him to keep fucking himself into your drooling cunt. His eyes stayed on you as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Sh-shit!" You hissed as your gummy walls suddenly tightened around him. The squelching noises slowed as he felt his knot starting to swell. His hands gripped onto your hips as he had to force his way deep inside your wet heat. The knot locking you two in place before he completely spilled inside you.

"Fuuucking hell..." Suguru breathed out as he stayed planted on top of you. His breath was labored as his hand brushed a few stray hairs from your face. "No one will ever take you away from me again. You're mine."

Bonus Scene!

Upon waking up the next morning on Suguru's bare chest, you sighed contently. Your body ached in the best way. Though, you knew it would only make this trek even harder.

You slowly sat up with a quiet groan. Your face was slightly sticky from sweat and drool. He had really wore you out last night.

"Morning, sleepy head." Suguru mumbled as his eyes rested upon your tired face.

"Mmm.. morning." You quietly hummed as your hands instinctively smoothed out your hair, trying to make yourself look presentable.

"Good morning, Satoru." The white-haired alpha spoke to himself in a grumpy, sarcastic tone as he stared at the two of you.

"It's too early for your attitude, Satoru." Suguru quietly laughed as he looked at his friend.

"You can deal with my attitude given what I had to deal with last night." He huffed as his lips curled into a slight pout.

"You didn't-"

"Oh, I did." He confirmed. "Oooohhh, please knot me, Sugu. Oh so big and strong!" He mocked your voice in a high pitched tone.

"Oh god, please stop." You whine as you covered your ears. A nervous laugh involuntarily bubbled up from your throat.

"Mmm, fuck. Gonna knot this tight cun-"

"That's enough, Satoru." Suguru playfully warned as he shook his head with a calm smile. It didn't bother him one bit that he heard the two of you last night because he knew that Satoru was going to hear you two again tonight as well.

Read the rest of my monstertober here !

[leahwllmsn]

wait for me to come home

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 14.1k

You and Alexia have been best friends your whole lives. You’re adamant that moving away from Barcelona won’t change a thing between you. Alexia fears otherwise.

or classic best friends to lovers :)

“Can’t believe you’re really leaving.” It was midnight. You were sitting on your usual spot at the beach with Alexia, your head on her shoulder, both of you staring out at the sea. Despite the tightness in her chest, Alexia felt at ease with you next to her.

“I can’t believe it either,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

Alexia took a deep breath. You were only going away for a year, you said. It did nothing to calm the nerves she felt all over. One year, but that would be the longest you've been away from each other. Alexia still didn’t know how to feel, she didn’t know what to feel. She figured it still hadn’t sunk in, that you were leaving. Leaving her.

In the morning when Alexia would drop you off at the airport and you’d wave goodbye, that was probably when she’d feel everything. That was probably when the feeling of emptiness would set.

“I’ll call you everyday,” you said, hugging Alexia’s left arm tightly. “It will be like I’m still in Barcelona with you.”

Alexia chuckled, “You don’t have to call me everyday, cariño.”

You turned your head towards your best friend. “Are you saying you don’t want me to call everyday?”

“Don’t twist my words!” Alexia laughed. “It’s just that I don’t want you to feel pressured to have to call me everyday. You’re a busy woman. I’m the one who waits for you whenever you have night shifts and I watch enough of your Meredith Grey shows to know how busy things at the hospital can be.”

You snickered at her mention of Grey’s Anatomy. Alexia would always complain about how unrealistic the show was whenever you put it on, yet she still stayed by your side and watched the damn thing. You placed your head back on her shoulder and sighed. “I don’t care if I’m busy, I’ll always make time for you.”

Alexia gulped. It was the way you said it, your voice small, yet your tone firm, as if a world where you didn’t have time for her was just impossible. “I love you, you know.”

Alexia furrowed her brows when you didn’t answer straight away like you always did. She was about to open her mouth to say something, when you pulled away and stood up, stretching your hand out for her to take.

“Do you want to head back?” Alexia asked.

“No,” you cleared your throat. “Let’s just walk around. The sand is making me itchy.”

“It’s because you’re wearing shorts,” Alexia took your hand and stood up. “I told you you can sit on my lap, you didn’t listen.”

You dusted off the sand from the back of your legs. “Didn’t want to.”

“Why? It’s comfy.”

“How would you know? You’ve never sat on your own lap before,” you said, your tone teasing.

“Idiota.” 

You kept walking along the beach, swinging your arms back and forth. It was quiet, but nice. Just the two of you, enjoying each other’s presence. Alexia felt her heart twinge when she realized that she didn’t know when she’d have another moment like this with you.

“Y/n,” Alexia spoke up after a few moments.

You hummed in reply.

This felt really nice, the way your hands were intertwined… Your shoulders bumping every now and then… Everything felt so right. Alexia took a deep breath and tried her best to not let herself get too emotional. She didn’t want to cry just yet, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop if she did.

“Ale, what were you going to say?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Alexia immediately shook her head, reminding herself not to let those words slip. She looked down and focused on the way her feet were kicking the sand with every step she took forward. “Nothing.”

You brought Alexia’s hand up to your lips and kissed the back of it. It was something you always did, but it still made Alexia’s heart drop every time. 

Maybe it was because the gesture had always made Alexia fall for you even more, or maybe it was because Alexia knew the platonic way it meant to you when Alexia wanted more than that.

“I know you, Ale,” you stopped walking and turned towards her. “You’re thinking about something.”

“Hm? What makes you think so?”

You poked Alexia’s forehead softly. “You have that crinkle between your brows. And you’ve been biting your lip for the past few minutes.”

Alexia hated the fact that you knew her so well, because it meant that she could never hide anything from you. The only thing Alexia successfully kept hidden were her feelings for you. Apart from that, you knew her better than anyone, and she was the same to you. 

Having known each other for more than two decades was a factor, but Alexia felt like it was simply because you were soulmates.

Alexia realized that no matter how hard she tried to move on from you, you would always be the one for her. Even though you didn’t feel the same way, she knew it would never change how she felt about you. She made her peace with it.

“It’s nothing,” Alexia said once more. “I swear.” You seemed to take the hint and didn’t pry further.

You tugged her hand and continued on walking, Alexia turning her head to the side every now and then, observing you. It was dark, the street lights were dim, and the moonlight wasn’t too bright, yet Alexia can still mention every little detail of your face—she had memorized them all after years of looking at you—from your warm eyes, to the delicate bridge of your nose, and the curve of your small lips. You were so beautiful that Alexia always felt breathless every time she looked at you, despite having known you since you were kids.

In that moment, with you humming along to a random song, your right hand interlocked with Alexia’s left one, there was nothing Alexia wanted more than to just confess her feelings for you. But she knew that you didn’t feel the same way, so telling you would just be pointless.

You turned your head to look at Alexia, catching her staring at you with that look on her face, the one look that you never could quite comprehend. When your lips formed a soft smile, Alexia couldn’t help but instantly reciprocate. Your smile was beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, your tone bashful.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m so, so in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you that my heart hurts every time you smile.”

Alexia shrugged. “Just thinking about how I will miss you a lot.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “So that was what you were thinking about earlier?”

“No. I was thinking about how I’m so hopelessly in love with you.”

“You got me,” Alexia replied instead.

You sighed, squeezing her hand. “I’ll miss you too. At least you have a million pictures of me in your phone that you can look at if you’re missing me.”

Alexia laughed at that. “You better have a million pictures of me too.”

“Of course, I do,” you snickered. “Even you in diapers, I have them all.”

“No, you don’t!”

“I do! Eli sent them to me.” You had asked Eli for pictures of baby Alexia and she didn’t disappoint. They were adorable, especially the one where Alexia was learning how to crawl, wearing nothing but her diapers.

“You better not show it to anyone.”

“I’ll post it on Instagram before I leave.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, “You’re such a brat sometimes.”

“I’m such a brat?” you let go of Alexia’s hand to pull out your phone from your pocket. You stopped walking so Alexia stopped too, arms crossed, waiting for whatever it was you were doing.

After a few seconds of you scrolling silently through your phone, you flashed your screen to Alexia, showing the picture you mentioned before. “Want to say that again, Putellas?”

“You’re so annoying,” Alexia groaned. “I swear to god if you post that—”

“Watch me.” Your face was smug.

“Y/n,” Alexia said slowly, her tone full of warning.

You grinned, tapping something on the screen before you started running. The sound of your laughter getting smaller and smaller as you ran further away.

“That little—” Alexia cursed under her breath before she started running after you. “Tonta! Come back!”

“No!” Your figure was getting tinier and tinier that Alexia couldn’t help but laugh along.

Eventually, Alexia was able to catch up with you once you stopped running. Your hands were on your hips, trying to catch your breath.

“Why are you making me exercise at one in the morning?” Alexia asked, exhaling loudly.

You shrugged in reply, still out of breath. Alexia had always been the more athletic one out of the two of you. “Just wanted to run.”

“I’m so tired,” Alexia groaned. “Training was tough today.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew she was just being dramatic. “That was nothing. You need to exercise more, Ale.”

“The nerve!” Alexia barked out a laugh. “Who’s the athlete here?”

“Not you if that run tires you out.”

Alexia smiled fondly at you. You get on her nerves a lot. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “Now what did you do? Did you post that on Instagram? Because I’ll kill you, idiota.”

“Oh no, I’m sooo scared,” you mockingly said, a pout on your lips. “Oh nooo.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes at you before she stepped forward and tickled your stomach.

“What are you—Alexia! Ale-Alexia stop it! Stop it right now!”

“Not until you delete that picture!” Alexia kept on tickling you. “Delete it!”

You were both laughing and Alexia didn’t show any signs of stopping until you tripped. You would’ve fallen to the ground if it weren’t for Alexia’s quick reflexes, her arms immediately encircling around your waist.

You were staring at each other, your breath heavy from all the laughter that had long died out. Alexia felt dizzy. Your lips were so close to hers, Alexia could just lean forward and all her questions about how your lips taste would be answered. Alexia saw you blinking back a couple of times, she even swore she saw your eyes dart to her lips. 

The street lights were illuminating your features perfectly and Alexia could see your lips twitching slightly—as if you wanted to close the distance between you too.

Suddenly your phone rang, breaking you two apart. You cleared your throat and answered your phone. 

Alexia let out the deep breath she was holding, rubbing the back of her neck. She had a feeling that she would kiss you if the phone rang a second too late, which would be a disaster. She was thankful to whoever called, because she would never forgive herself if she ruined your friendship just because of her stupid feelings.

“Sorry,” you said. “That was Leila, just asking what time I’d be at the airport tomorrow.”

“Right.” There it was again, the unsettling feeling in her stomach every time Leila was mentioned. Alexia swallowed hard, trying her best not to show her jealousy. She was the one who introduced you to Leila when you joined a night out with the Barcelona girls. Alexia didn’t know that you two would hit it off. She didn’t know that Leila would move to Manchester and shockingly, you got offered a job at one of the best hospitals in Manchester.

It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke.

Alexia had to keep reminding herself that you weren’t hers, that you had every right to be with whoever you wanted. Alexia had no right to be jealous.

“That’s very cool, by the way,” Alexia said, putting her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “How you two are somehow going to the same country, same city.”

“Yeah, Codi said it was fate or something.” 

Fate? Me tripping over your leg at the playground when we were five was fate. Me immediately crying and you wiping my tears away until my mom came was fate. That was meant to happen because it made my mom invite you and your mom over for dinner, and it made us become best friends ever since. That was fate. Leila going to the same city as you was merely a coincidence. 

“Sure,” Alexia said, swallowing the bitterness in her mouth. “If that’s what you think.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. Ask me again in a year or so and I’ll tell you if Leila and I are fated or not.”

Alexia didn’t answer, instead she just kept on staring at you, taking in the sight of you standing in front of her for the last time.

In the morning, you were leaving. You’d have a new life in Manchester, one that Alexia wouldn’t be a big part of, seeing how she was all the way in Barcelona. 

Alexia tried to bury deep, deep inside the pain that kept on reappearing every now and then, but it was getting increasingly difficult with the way you looked back at her—your eyes full of tenderness, as if you felt the same way Alexia did, as if it killed you to not be able to say exactly what you wanted to say. 

But Alexia shrugged it off. There was no time to think about these made-up scenarios in her head. You were leaving soon. 

Alexia stepped forward and hugged you as tight as she could, wanting to remember the way you felt in her embrace.

—

You kept your promise and called Alexia everyday. It lasted for two months before things became more hectic for the two of you and the daily calls stopped. In your defense, you really did try your best, but some days you had late night shifts and when you didn’t, you had date nights with Leila.

“Cariño! I haven’t heard your voice in two days! That is crazy. I was wondering if you were still alive.”

“Ha ha. So funny, Alexia.”

“Such a busy woman.”

Alexia was thriving even more if that was even possible, scoring more goals and assists, earning her more media duties and appearances. She was busy too.

You would catch her on your television sometimes, an interview or replays of her games. You were used to it, you knew Alexia before and after her rise to fame. But without the back and forth texts, without the calls and hearing her voice, without having her next to you, Alexia had never felt so out of reach.

“Hey, is it a bad time?”

“Hola, princessa. ‘m about to sleep. So tired. Call me tomorrow?”

“Okay, Ale. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you.”

Weeks with limited communication turned into months and the next thing you knew, you went from knowing everything about Alexia’s life, to finding out she had a girlfriend from your girlfriend.

Apparently Olga was a mutual friend. Leila had only good things to say about her.

You called Alexia that night, asking her about it. She didn’t have much to say, a tell-tale sign that she was uncomfortable, but why she was uncomfortable you couldn’t decipher it.

“Is she good to you at least?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she make you happy?”

“Sí.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

For the first time since you’ve known her, you felt like a stranger in Alexia’s life. You couldn’t tell exactly when things changed. It must’ve been the depleting texts sent each day, the less and less phone calls until it went down to none at all for a week or two, and when you two did have time for a call, it felt… awkward.

The first argument started when Alexia casually joked about how you were so busy and you didn’t have time for her anymore, how you have a more exciting life now in Manchester. She was laughing but you just got off a twelve hour shift at work and you were exhausted. 

“Like you’re not the same?” you fired back, feeling a headache coming through.

Instead of changing the subject like you hoped she would, Alexia rebutted your claim. “I do have time for you.”

You let out a laugh. “Between football and your new girlfriend? You don’t, Ale. Don’t act otherwise.”

“Wow. Okay.”

You seemed to instantly snap out of it at the tone of her voice. Alexia sounded hurt and for a second, you felt guilty for starting a fight. But what she said hurt you too, because even though she said it in a joking way, you knew she meant it.

“Sorry,” you sighed. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m not in the mood.”

“Right, yeah. Bye.”

The arguments seemed to snowball after that first one. Your calls were still rare, but when you or Alexia forced yourselves to call the other, it didn’t end well.

That should be the first warning sign for you—how you felt forced to call her when you used to want to hear her voice all the time.

“How was your day?”

“It was fine.” 

“Can you at least act like you’re excited to talk to me?”

“If we’re just going to fight, Ale, you shouldn’t have called.”

“Whatever. Good night.”

The next thing you knew, there wasn’t a call that went by without some small, unimportant argument.

It got worse when you told her you weren’t staying for only one year as originally planned. You liked it here in Manchester. You had a good job and you were surrounded by wonderful people.

Alexia ignored you for the whole day only to call you early in the morning, her voice raspier than usual. You knew that meant she spent the night crying.

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back in Barcelona, no.”

“How am I supposed to go for… what? Another year without you? Two years? More?”

“You’ve been doing just fine so far. I don’t see the problem, Ale.”

“I miss you every night that you're not here. I don’t think that's doing ‘fine’.”

“Oh c’mon. We haven't been the same.”

“Just because we haven’t been talking as much doesn’t mean that I love you less, but whatever.”

It got even worse when you were supposed to fly back to Spain for Alexia’s birthday, but you had to cancel at the last minute because you were stuck with an emergency case at the hospital.

In hindsight, it was a stupid reason, something you could totally resolve by having one of your co-workers take over for you. But your mind went into overdrive, you somehow convinced yourself that you couldn’t leave the country.

Maybe it was out of fear of seeing Alexia again, not wanting to see how the distance had changed your dynamics.

Alexia’s reaction when you told her you weren’t going to be there hurt more than you could admit. 

“You’d never miss my birthday and I’d never miss yours. That was a promise.”

“We were seven, Alexia.”

Alexia didn’t say anything else and you didn’t need to see her face to know how dejected she was. You ignored the pain in your chest, convincing yourself that you were doing the right thing. You didn’t need to fly for more than two hours for someone’s birthday.

The old you would’ve screamed at you if she knew what you were doing. Alexia wasn’t just someone. She was… she was your everything and more. 

When midnight rolled around and you would usually be next to Alexia, wishing her a happy birthday with a present in hand, and instead you were all the way in Manchester, you felt that maybe you were dumb to let the arguments get in your head.

You took a deep breath and texted her a happy birthday. You weren’t sure if she would pick up if you called. 

Alexia didn’t reply to your text until noon that day, saying how she was off to celebrate with her family as usual and she’d call you after dinner. She didn’t mention Olga, but you knew she was there from Alba.

You sat in your apartment alone in the dark, Leila was out with her friends. It was only then that it dawned on you how lonely you were. You couldn’t imagine how Alexia was feeling—that was, if she still cared about you.

You had been there for Alexia’s birthday ever since she turned six years old. You didn’t think that you’d ever miss one, ever. But here you were.

It was weird to see Olga in place of you, seated between Eli and Alba as she grinned at Alexia blowing the candles out.

That used to be you.

Instead, you were in a different country, wishing you were at a place where someone else had claimed your spot. 

When it was way after dinner time and you still hadn’t heard from Alexia even though she said she’d call, you decided to send her a text. Something short and straight to the point: can I call you?

Alexia didn’t reply and you fell asleep with a feeling so hollow in your chest, you wondered if love was supposed to hurt this bad.

stop making promises you can’t keep, alexia

The loud ringing of your phone woke you up. You didn’t think that you’d see an incoming call from Alexia this early.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hello to you too, Ale.” Your tone was curt. In your defense, you had just woken up. 

“You’re picking a fight,” Alexia stated. “I don’t know why, but it’s not nice.”

“Picking a fight?” You scoffed in disbelief. “Is this about my text? I was simply telling you to stop making promises, because you can’t keep them. You told me you’d call me, you didn’t.”

You said it so accusatory that Alexia felt a sudden rush of anger. “You’re being ridiculous. I fell asleep. I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”

“I’m being ridiculous? Is it not me who had to wait for hours for your call?”

Alexia let out a bitter laugh. “Saying all that like I don’t usually have to wait hours and hours for you too?”

“Well, you’re the one with the empty promises. You promised me that things won’t be different between us, well. Look at us now.”

“That’s not entirely my fault and you know it. If we’re playing that game, you said you’d call me everyday, you said you’d always have time for me. Look at us now, cariño!”

Alexia never raised her voice at you. That was how you knew things were truly different now. “I was busy. Some days I have twelve hour shifts, Alexia,” you replied simply, not wanting to raise your voice too.

“Busy,” Alexia scoffed at you. “But you still have time to watch Leila’s games every week.”

You immediately felt defensive at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “Why are you dragging Leila into this?”

Alexia was about to give you a piece of her mind, about how having a quick call with her wasn’t as time consuming as watching a 90-minute football game, but you still had more to say.

“Leila has nothing to do with us turning into… into this mess!” So much for not wanting to raise your voice at her. “Besides, you have Olga too. You spent all your time with her and forgot the plans we made first.” You fired back at her, a part of you hated that Olga took your place, that Olga was able to be in Barcelona next to Alexia, doing all the things you used to do.

People would think you were jealous, but you weren’t. You just didn’t like her. You didn’t like that she was taking up too much of Alexia’s time. That wasn’t jealousy.

“What plans? If I forgot something, then tell me. I’m not a fucking mind reader, Y/n.”

“What was I supposed to do? Ask you to pick between Olga and I? Why would I do that when I know you’ll pick her!”

(You might sound a little crazy. But you wouldn't admit that to anyone. In your defense, it was hard being demoted to second choice.)

“What’s your problem with Olga?” Alexia accused you, she knew you all too well.

“I have no problem with her. What's your problem with Leila?”

“Don’t change the subject. I was once your best friend, I know you more than anyone, and I know how you usually are when you don’t like someone.”

The use of past tense shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. You knew things had changed between you. “Glad to know you don’t think we’re best friends anymore.”

Alexia let out an exhale. “You haven’t been acting like you’re my best friend for sometime. Don’t act all innocent.”

“Even though we haven’t been talking much, you’re still my person. But since I don’t seem to matter to you anymore, I’ll just…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for all of this.

Alexia could feel that familiar tug in her heart, the feeling of wanting to make everything in the world right for you.

But for once, she casted it aside. The anger she had at you overpowering everything. “I don’t think I matter to you anymore either, so I guess we’re even.”

There was a pause before you utter your next words. “You matter the most to me.” 

Alexia could only scoff. “Sure, you have done such a great job of showing that I matter to you—you couldn’t even spare five minutes of your precious 24 hours to talk to me!”

Deep down, you knew that. You knew that you were guilt-tripping Alexia when you had your faults too.

None of you said anything else. For once, in the two decades that you’ve known each other, you both didn’t know what to say—had nothing else to say.

When all Alexia could come up with was “I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re really hurting me this time,” you knew you had to put an end to all of this.

“I think we should just… take a break from all of this.”

Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. You didn’t think you had it in you to say those words either. Even though the conversations between you two had diminished, saying that you wanted to stop talking to each other felt so… final. 

“What?”

“I’m tired, Ale.”

“You don’t think I’m tired too?” you could hear the urgency in her voice. “What does that even mean? ‘Take a break from all this’? You want a break from me, you mean? What ever happened to ‘you’re my person, Alexia?’” Alexia mimicked your voice. She was getting angrier by the second, you could tell. 

“You told me I’m hurting you! I’m tired of hurting you. I didn’t even realize it, Ale. I never wanted that. All we’ve been doing is fighting each other. I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t see a solution to this, I really don’t.”

Neither of you knew where it went wrong. One day you two were fine—you two loved each other more than anything in this world—the next thing you knew, you couldn’t hold up a conversation where it didn’t end with exasperated voices and tired sighs.

It was the distance, you assumed.

You and Alexia were attached at the hip. The only time you two went separate ways was when she had away games and international duties.

It was a two and a half hour flight between Barcelona and Manchester, but neither of you had made the trip to see one another. Alexia seemed even more far away as the days went by.

She had Olga to turn to now, you could feel her not needing you anymore. 

It was the distance that took Alexia away from you, you would convince yourself that. It wasn’t the nameless feeling in your chest that felt a lot like yearning, jealousy, and regret all at once.

You ended the call, not knowing whether you’d ever talk to Alexia again.

—

Losing someone that had always been a constant in your life was devastating.

It was miserable. You were the most miserable you had ever been.

Leila kept on asking you what was wrong, your friends in Barcelona updating her that Alexia was in the same state as you. Not that you cared.

You didn’t know how to live without Alexia in your life, but you’d manage. You’d learn. This wasn’t the end of the world.

You steered clear of your social media, not wanting to see any posts of her from your mutual friends or from the Barcelona account.

Leila and a couple of your friends eventually stopped asking you about what went wrong with Alexia, to which you were glad, but the emptiness you felt when no one brought Alexia up to you was starting to make you uneasy.

Alexia used to be in all your conversations, she was a huge part of your life. Now it felt like she was never a part of it.

A few months passed by, your birthday rolled around and you assumed—you wished—that Alexia would break this silence between you two. It was your birthday after all.

But you should’ve known how stubborn she was. 

When you stayed up until the clock strikes midnight and there was no text from Alexia, when she used to pride herself on being the first person to wish you a happy birthday, you knew you had lost her for good. 

You spent your birthday with pain in your chest like no other. You just wanted Alexia back. 

Your friends in Manchester knew something was up with you, Leila figured that it was mostly because of Alexia. None of them could understand why it was upsetting you so much.

That night, you sat on your balcony and looked through the folder of pictures on your phone that contained decades worth of memories of Alexia. With each scroll, you could feel more tears running down your cheeks.

There was a photo of you when you were ten, Alexia next to you laughing at how ugly your haircut was.

Another photo was of you at prom, Alexia as your plus one. Despite the countless promposals you received, you’d rather have Alexia as your date than the stinky boys at your school.

When Alexia got called up for the national team for the first time, you were there with Eli to watch her score her first international goal. The photo you had was of her carrying you on her back. It was after the game ended and Alexia had too much energy that she had to carry you around the field.

The next photo was of Alexia sleeping at the library, you were studying for your exams when you were in University and Alexia had the day off. To her, nothing was better than spending it with you, even if it meant that she had to sit there and watch you study boring stuff. Alexia always had faith that you were going to be the best doctor in Barcelona.

You had a photo of when you flew across continents to watch her win the World Cup, grinning next to Alexia as she kissed your cheek, trophy in hand.

A photo of when she tore her ACL and you were there at her bedside as she was preparing to go into surgery. Alexia didn’t let go of your hand until she was in front of the operating room.

A photo of you and Alexia in a locker room, both in Barcelona jerseys. It was the day before your exam, but it was also the Champions League final. You brought your textbook and Alba kept on laughing when you studied during half-time.

Most photos were of Alexia doing mundane things. They meant the most to you because of how carefree she looked in all of them.

Alexia making stupid faces at you as you grocery shopped together.

Alexia laughing next to you in the driver seat as she drove you to work.

Alexia cooking dinner for the two of you, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration as she read the ingredients from her new cookbook.

Alexia sipping coffee in your favourite coffee shop in Barcelona. They served the best banana bread, you never wanted to share them with anyone, not even Alexia.

Alexia watching replays of her games on her iPad. She was laying down on your couch, your throw blanket draped over her feet.

Alexia smiling at you with that look.

As you reached the last picture you had on the album, a photo of Alexia taken by you the morning you left for Manchester—she was on the driver seat, a wistful smile on her face as she turned to look at you during a red light—you suddenly felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

You were in love with Alexia.

You were so desperately in love with Alexia, you had always been, ever since you let her become your first kiss.

You didn’t like any of Alexia’s relationships, because you were jealous. You thought none of her girlfriends could treat her well, no one lived up to your expectations. You felt like you were the only one who could understand her.

You hugged the blanket around yourself tighter, the gust of wind making your teeth chatter. You wanted Alexia there next to you, she would know that you were never a fan of the cold, always making sure that you were bundled up and warm.

You had a million thoughts running through your mind, mostly about how you missed all the signs of being in love with your best friend. Although deep down, you’ve always known that what you felt for Alexia was too intense to be strictly platonic. 

But when someone kissed you, having it meant the world to you, only for her to wish it never happened, you felt like it was justifiable that you decided to lock your feelings away.

Now that you’ve uncovered them, you didn’t know how to go on and pretend that you were fine with having Alexia out of your life.

—

Barcelona was playing against Manchester City at the Etihad. This wasn’t something you could get out of, you needed to be there to support Leila.

You had some friends traveling to Manchester to watch the match, you decided to sit with them instead of your usual spot at the Friends and Family section. You wanted—no, you needed someone to distract you from the person you hadn’t seen in almost two years.

You ignored your friends’ teasing at your Man City jersey instead of the Blaugrana colour (with Alexia’s name and number) you usually wore. They didn’t mention Alexia to you, having figured out the fallout, but a part of you wanted them to. You wanted them to tell you about Alexia and how she’d been doing.

Your resolve almost crumbled, Alexia’s name on the tip of your tongue. If it wasn’t for the players entering the field and the loud cheers from the audience, you would’ve asked them about Alexia.

Alexia, who was no longer blonde apparently. You saw her run to the field, her brown hair in a neat ponytail. Even from afar you could still see her smile. You hated that you still felt like jumping off a cliff at the sight.

You hated that your gaze was always drawn to her instead of your girlfriend.

Later when the game ended and Barcelona eventually won, you went to meet Leila at the barrier, whispering how great she played despite it all. 

You almost accepted her invite to a night out with some of the Barcelona girls. The temptation to see Alexia again was so strong, but you didn’t think you were ready yet. 

You saw her anyway, in your dreams that night. Maybe it was that deep yearning that caused you to text her as soon as you woke up.

good game yesterday. always proud of you

—

Your reconciliation didn’t happen all at once. 

You didn’t magically go back to being the same as you were before (there was some apprehension from both parties), but it was close enough. 

It was scarily easy to integrate Alexia back into your life even though you hadn’t talked to each other for so long.

First it was the likes on Instagram posts, or a reply to your Instagram story of gloomy Manchester sky, or a comment on Alexia’s post of her match day outfit.

Then the texts started. A simple text from Alexia telling you that she was through to the finals of the Euros. Or a text from you containing a picture of your cat, Mr. Oreo. They were evenly spaced out throughout your week, it wasn’t too often that it felt like you two were rushing back into being friends, but it wasn’t too scarce to leave you wanting more.

It was just perfect.

The striking difference now was that you were letting yourself fall for her. Every joke she made, every selfie she sent you, you took your time to admire her and let yourself fall even more.

Now that you were very much aware of your feelings, it didn’t feel right to continue what you had with Leila.

You loved her, but you must not have loved her enough because you were still able to think of another woman.

You ended it with Leila on a Tuesday. She didn't have a game until Sunday and you figured that was enough time for her to not be distracted. Surprisingly, Leila took it well, as if she knew this was coming all along.

And it felt like the universe was laughing at you, because after you broke up with Leila, you received a text from Alexia.

I’m getting married

You felt your heart drop. You had to put your phone back in your pocket because your hands were trembling badly.

You were suddenly desperate to do something, anything, before it was too late.

Even though a part of you felt like it was already too late.

—

Alexia arrived at the airport three hours early. She spent those three hours walking from one end to the other, flowers in hand. Her hands shaking and her mind racing with the thoughts of finally seeing you again.

She passed by the exact spot you said your goodbyes two years ago, both of you holding back your tears as you exchanged promises that things would be okay. The moment you walked away and went out of sight, Alexia finally let her tears fall, feeling that a part of her left alongside you.

In the middle of pacing around the airport, Olga called, and Alexia felt guilty because her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you. She instantly buried the feeling of discomfort the moment Olga talked about their wedding.

Alexia was getting married to Olga. Her mind shouldn’t picture you the moment weddings are mentioned. She closed her eyes and bid Olga goodbye, not remembering what her fiancé called her about. 

You were her best friend. Nothing more. Why was it that even after years apart, her heart still ached and yearned for you?

Hours later, when you texted her to let her know that you’ve landed, Alexia made her way to the gate. She stood there, flowers tightly in hand, tapping her foot anxiously. 

You two had been slowly rebuilding your friendship. You texted each other, but never a phone call, and Alexia was nervous to hear your voice again after going such a long time without it.

Alexia was the first to spot you. You were dragging your suitcase, looking from side to side, as if urgently searching for something. And the moment your eyes found hers, your entire body lit up—the whole airport could tell that you finally found what you were looking for.

Everything drowned out and to Alexia nothing else seemed to matter anymore, her only focus was on you. On how your eyes shone with happiness and how your lips slowly curved into the smile that Alexia had missed so much. When you were finally in front of her, something clicked within her, and every hurt, every anger, every sadness she had felt because of you disappeared and she was left with the feeling of nothing but love and fondness for the girl standing in front of her. 

You were here and no matter how hard Alexia tried, she couldn’t feel half of what she felt with you with anyone else.

“Alexia, hi.”

Alexia didn’t say anything back, instead she immediately embraced you, hugging you with everything she had. She leaned down and buried her face in the crook of your neck, closing her eyes and squeezing you even more��just savoring the moment of finally having you there again. 

Alexia thought back to the last time she hugged you, trying to remember every single detail—from the way your arms were wrapped around Alexia’s neck, to the way your breath tickled her ear—trying to decide whether anything had changed. 

And when you kissed the side of Alexia’s head, laughing into her ears because she wouldn’t let go, Alexia decided that no matter how many years had passed and no matter how many arguments you two got into, your hug still felt the same.

—

Alexia,

The moment that has always replayed in my head for years is the night of your 18th birthday. We went to the beach after dinner and crashed someone’s party, and we both got really drunk. It was fun but the thing that made that night so memorable was because it was the first time someone kissed me and that person was you. 

The moment it happened, it felt like everything fell into place, you know? I understood why even my five year old self hated seeing you cry and just wanted to protect you from everything so you’ll never cry again. I understood why out of all the people in the room, my eyes always search for yours. I love you, Alexia. It’s always been you.

I was the happiest I’ve ever been that night. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world for being able to be in your arms.  

But when you woke up the next day saying that you wished that night never happened, it felt like the missing puzzle piece in my heart that you completed the night before disappeared again. 

Ever since then, I tried so hard to fill this gaping hole in my heart. I made it my life’s mission to go out there and meet the most perfect girl in the world just to try and replicate what I felt for you. But every time I’m with someone, every time I’m face to face with some perfect girl, your face appears and I’m reminded that they’re not you.

I love you, Alexia. I love you more with all the ups and downs we’ve had. I love every part of you and I love you with every beat of my heart.

I think I’ve always known that I was in love with you. I was just never brave enough to label it as that. So I didn’t. It wasn’t until recently that I realized: I couldn’t just sit here and watch you marry someone else.

You could call it selfish, but I wasn’t going to risk the slightest possibility of you feeling the same way that I do.

I know Olga loves you, but I also know that she’ll never love you as much as I do. 

To quote your favourite poet:

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,    

so close that your eyes close with my dreams”

If you think that this is all wrong, please just ignore it, and I promise I’ll never talk about this again. But if you somehow feel the same, meet me at our usual spot at the beach tonight, 10 p.m.

Yours always, 

y/n

—

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this would happen. This was why you never wanted to risk your friendship because of some silly feelings. You knew Alexia wouldn’t feel the same, your confession would go to waste, and you would be sitting on the beach, alone at night, waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

You thought of calling Alexia, to ask her what she thought of your letter. But you decided against it, this was humiliating enough.

Maybe Alexia was embarrassed? Maybe she felt bad for you. Maybe she didn’t know how to talk to you now, knowing that you had all these feelings for her. Or maybe Alexia just didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You let out a big sigh and buried your face in your hands. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All those years of friendship… that was all it was: friendship. You should’ve known.

You checked your phone again. Nothing. No texts or calls.

You let out a laugh. Alexia wasn’t stuck in traffic nor was she late, she was simply not coming.

Feeling your eyes start to well up with tears, you took a deep breath before standing up. You didn’t plan on going back to your parents’ house just yet, stupidly enough a part of you still had hope that Alexia was going to show up. You needed to walk around and distract yourself, sitting in the same spot that contained so many memories of her wasn’t helping.

You took another glance at your phone, and when there was still nothing, you wished your heart wasn’t so weak when it came to Alexia.

—

Alexia never believed in fate or anything.

To be fair, she was five years old and watching movies where the princess always ended up with the prince and lived happily ever after seemed too good to be true.

That was until she met you.

You, who had your little legs outstretched on the grass as you snack on your cookies. You, who didn’t hesitate to wipe away Alexia’s tears when she tripped on your legs. You, who kept on apologizing even though it wasn’t your fault that Alexia wasn’t looking at where she was going, but you were trying to make her feel better.

You had been a constant in her life ever since then, with your wise wisdoms and never-ending ability to make Alexia laugh.

Alexia then understood that fate and destiny really did exist, because it was fate that brought Alexia to the playground at that exact moment—at that exact second—so she could meet you.

When Alexia lost you, she didn’t want to believe in fate anymore, because why was the universe so cruel that it left her on the floor of her apartment, crying and begging for you to come back.

You disappeared from Alexia’s life and Alexia saw firsthand how the world became gloomier, how her days seemed to drag on longer without your presence. 

Just when Alexia completely lost all hope, the universe had other plans, and it was destiny that she left her phone in her hotel room that morning, because if she didn’t, her phone would be in her pocket as she was thrown to the swimming pool because Vicky and Esmee decided that playing a prank on their captain was a brilliant idea. Her phone would be ruined and she wouldn’t be greeted with a text message from you.

A simple text telling Alexia that you were proud of her, but it left her breathless because she hadn’t talked to you in a year. You two had no contact for a year, yet you were still proud of her. Like always.

Fate, destiny, the universe, and all of that had brought you to her, took you away, then brought you back.

It was also fate that made Alexia reach down into her purse and open the envelope you’d given her before parting ways earlier—something tugging in her heart, screaming at her to read the letter you wrote to her, even though she told herself that she would do it after you’ve left the city.

And sometimes, the universe had a sense of humour, because at that moment, as Alexia finished reading the last sentence of your handwriting, her fiancé appeared in the doorway of their shared bedroom.

“Alexia?”

“I’m sorry.”

—

The only thought Alexia had as she drove over the speed limit was to hope that you were still there, waiting for her. Just like what you had been doing all of these years.

All of those wasted years where you two could be together if it weren’t for the doubts that forbade you from truly loving each other the way you were meant to.

“You’ve always loved her more than anything, Alexia. Even when she’s a thousand miles away, even when you two weren’t on speaking terms… She’s still the one you love the most. I could never compete with her.”

From this whole thing, Alexia was just sorry that she had to drag someone else into her mess. She would never forgive herself for saying “yes” to someone, knowing that her heart wasn’t fully in it.

“Olga, I never meant to make you feel like you were at constant competition with her. I really do love you.”

“But not as much as you love her.”

“I never planned on staying in love with her forever, I really did try to love someone else—with you. And I did. All these years together, I meant everything I said and everything I did.”

“I’ve always known that she would always come first to you, yet I still convinced myself that that would change one day. I know it made me a shitty person, but I was happy when you fought with her, because I thought that was finally it, you know? Finally you’d move on from her. But not even the fall out made you love her any less.”

Alexia would take whatever life will throw at her for hurting someone so deeply like she did to Olga.

But the only thing she could do right now was to find you and hoped that you were the happy ending fate had in store for her. The happy ending she’d dreamt of all this time.

—

When Alexia couldn’t find you at the beach, she figured she was too late. She tried calling and texting, but you weren’t replying to any of it.

So she went to your parents’ place, taking a slight detour to your favourite florist, picking up the bouquet they had ready, not wanting to waste another second away from you. Alexia figured you must’ve left thinking that she was rejecting you. Even if Alexia wasn’t in love with you anymore, she wouldn't have just let you sit there all alone, fearing the worst. She needed you to know that.

Your childhood home was dark and quiet. All the lights were off and Alexia remembered that your parents were in Mollet del Vallés, visiting your grandparents.

You weren’t here but Alexia wasn’t going anywhere else. She would just be there and wait for you—she had waited decades for you, a few hours would mean nothing. She sat down on the pavement, not caring how dirty her jeans were going to be, and pulled out her phone from her pocket. She called the only person she could think of.

It took a few more tries for Mapi to pick up, and once the call got connected, Alexia spoke into the phone, “I have a problem.” 

Mapi’s voice was groggy. “It’s midnight, you dumbass. Can you call me later?”

“No, this is urgent.”

Alexia can feel Mapi roll her eyes on the other end of the line, “When Ingrid kills me for being too noisy and waking her up, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Well, in that case, I hope she does wake up then.”

“Tonta.”

“María,” Alexia let out a tired exhale. “Do you know where Y/n is?”

Mapi groaned in reply. “Estúpida. I was asleep, how should I know?”

Alexia pressed her hand over her eyes and groaned, “I think I screwed up.”

Just when Alexia was about to elaborate further, even though she knew Mapi was half asleep, someone called out her name. Someone whose voice sounded exactly like you.

“Ale?” 

Alexia quickly opened her eyes. It really was you.

“Y/n.”

And there you were, standing in front of Alexia, head cocked to the side as if trying to figure out why Alexia was sitting there in front of your house at midnight.

Alexia quickly put her phone back to her ear, “Uhm, I’ll call you back—Tomorrow. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, María.” As soon as she ended the call, she quickly stood up.

Your arms were crossed over your chest, you were making yourself smaller, you looked so unsure of yourself that Alexia wanted nothing but to hug you and tell you that she loved you more than she’d ever loved anyone.

But all you had was apprehension written all over your face. Alexia understood. You must’ve thought that by her not showing up, Alexia didn’t feel the way you did. “What are you doing here?”

Alexia gulped. Now that you were in front of her, Alexia didn’t know what to say. “Did we really kiss on my 18th birthday?” Alexia blurted out.

“What?” You were confused and still reeling from the embarrassment of the whole thing. You couldn’t process what she said.

“I don’t remember it,” Alexia continued. “I swear. I swear on Messi.”

“What?” Your tone was full of surprise. “You don’t remember?” 

“No,” Alexia sighed, looking at you wistfully. “I would never stop talking about it if I did.”

You went silent for a few seconds, your face full of confusion. Alexia let you take it all in. “You don’t remember,” you stated in a questioning tone. “But you said you wished it never happened.”

“I couldn’t have said that, because I don’t remember—”

“Oh my god, you don’t remember?” It was like you finally realized what that meant. “Oh my god,” you groaned, placing your hands over your face. “I spent years thinking—I convinced myself that I wasn’t in love with you because you rejected me—”

“I didn’t!” Alexia interjected. “I would never– I was so hopelessly in love with you.”

You looked at her and your face turned paler if that was even possible. Your mouth agape, as if you wanted to say something but you couldn’t. How could you? When your best friend was telling you that she—

“Wait,” you realized something. “Did you say ‘was’? As in past tense?” You felt the hope that grew plummet to the bottom of the stomach. You knew it was too good to be true. “Is that why you didn’t meet me earlier?”

“No… No, Y/n, I read your letter too late. I didn’t know you were waiting for me. I would’ve dropped everything in a heartbeat to get to you.”

“Oh.” 

Suddenly you were laughing. Your laughter echoing throughout the empty neighbourhood. Alexia stared at you, unsure of what this meant but she couldn’t help the growing happiness in her heart with every laugh that escaped your lips. “I should’ve just texted you, right? I wanted to be romantic with the letter.”

Alexia shot you a comforting smile. At least fate brought you both here, to this moment.

After your laughter died down, you took a hesitant step forward. “But… do you really feel… the way that I do?”

Alexia sighed, being the one to close the gap between you and took your hands in hers. “If my years and years of pining weren't obvious, I feel the same. I’m in love with you. I still am. I never stopped, if we’re being honest. I broke things off with Olga, it wasn’t right to stay with her if my heart belonged to someone else. She deserves way better than some girl who was too much of a coward to confess that she’s in love with her best friend and ended up stringing her along for years, knowing that she would never love her the same.”

“So you…” you were at loss for words.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Alexia continued. “This whole thing is a mess. I need to cancel my wedding preparations, I have to talk to a lot of people, but the only thing I know right now is that… I can’t let you go again. You’re my soulmate, I’m sure of it. I’ve been sure of it ever since we were kids. I won’t love someone as much and as deeply as I love you. So… yeah.”

You didn’t reply to Alexia’s statement, instead you placed one hand on the back of Alexia’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Once your lips met, Alexia’s mind went to two things: how she never wanted to kiss anyone else in her life and how exactly did she forget your soft lips when they tasted like heaven? 

Alexia’s hands wandered to rest on your neck, caressing the smooth skin that felt electric under her touch. Alexia’s mind was full with thoughts of you. Your lips on hers. Your hands around her waist. Your perfume engulfing her. Your nose brushing against hers. Your laugh vibrating against her lips.

Your lips curved upwards into a grin and Alexia could taste the happiness on your lips. She leaned forward once more for a peck on your smile and when you scrunch your nose in response, Alexia pressed another kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“That was… everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” Alexia hoped that you couldn’t hear how erratic her heart was beating. 

“We can take things slow,” you whispered against her lips.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you, I don’t want to take it slow,” Alexia whispered back. “But… I agree. We don’t have to rush this. We have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time.”

Suddenly your eyes drifted to the flowers on the pavement, raising your eyes at that. “Is that supposed to be for me?”

Alexia’s eyes widened when she realized the discarded flowers, quickly taking them and shoving them to you. “Uhm. Yes. These… these are for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, taking the flowers from her but your gaze never leaving her face. “Thank you.”

She pouted when she realized you hadn’t even glanced at it. “You didn’t even look at it!”

You grinned at her, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around her waist. Your face back in its favourite spot against her neck. “I bet they’re beautiful, just like you.”

“Okay, flirt.” 

Alexia quickly stepped back when she noticed that the flowers were squeezed in between you two. “You’re ruining my flowers.”

“I’m not,” you scoffed. You looked down and scrunched your nose at the sight. At least they still had the beautiful pink colour intact, your favourite. “Okay, kind of. But that was your fault.”

Alexia took your hand that wasn’t holding the flower and brought it to her lips for a kiss. “How was it my fault?” 

“I couldn’t resist hugging you.”

Alexia laughed and wrapped her arms around your shoulder. Swaying you side to side and sighing in content. Everything felt good. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

“Now you’re ruining the flowers even more!” your voice muffled with the way your face was squeezed into Alexia’s neck.

“I’ll get you new ones, mi amor. In fact, I’ll get you the whole shop.”

You laughed into her neck, placing a gentle kiss there. “I’m holding you on to that.”

Alexia hummed. “I love you, cariño. I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” you replied. 

“Say it back,” Alexia prodded, placing her cheek on the top of your head.

“Huh?”

“I… love… you.” Alexia said slowly.

Alexia felt your giggles tickle her neck.

“Princessa, say it back.”

“You already know the answer anyway.”

“Mi vida.”

“Alexia. I love you too.”

Alexia did know the answer—she had heard you say it a million times over and over. Despite that, Alexia still wanted to hear it a million times more.

—

Alexia had been to Manchester before but it was still hard to keep up with how busy the airport was. She couldn’t spot you—not at first. All she could see was people rushing to get somewhere despite it being the early hours of the morning. 

Alexia dragged her luggage to a secluded corner and pulled out her phone to give you a call. She put her phone to her ear and kept on looking around while waiting for you to pick up.

It was on the second ring when Alexia spotted you. You were sandwiched between people and you looked so small that Alexia would’ve missed you if she didn’t see the giant flower bouquet you were holding. 

Once you answered the call, Alexia laughed into the speaker, feeling her heart grow ten times bigger with the amount of love she felt for you. Alexia still couldn’t believe she was finally here, just a few steps away from the person she had missed so much.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Alexia sighed in content. How did she spend so long convincing herself that she would be fine settling for someone other than you? “That bouquet is way bigger than you.”

As soon as Alexia said that, she saw you move your head in all directions trying to locate her. “You’re here. Where are you?”

“I am here.” Alexia stated, enjoying how clueless you looked. 

“Alexia.” 

“You always complain about how tall I am, how can you not see me?” Alexia kept her eyes on you—from your furrowed eyebrows to the small pout on your lips, one hand holding your phone to your ear and the other holding the flowers. She laughed even more when you kept on whining and your pout kept getting bigger as each second passed.

“You are annoying,” you groaned. “Can you just tell me where you are? I’m hungry.”

“Not because you miss me?” Alexia teased. “You only want me because I spoil you with lots of food.”

“Yes, that’s true!” you laughed. “So hurry up and tell me where you are so we can get food, Alexia Putellas Segura.”

“Ooh she’s using my full name now.” 

“It’s because I’m getting impatient!”

Alexia laughed, finally dragging her luggage and walking towards your direction.

Once she was behind you, Alexia ended the call and tapped your shoulder, making you jump slightly. Alexia chuckled to herself at how ridiculous she was for finding everything you did adorable.

You immediately turned around and once recognition settled in, you squealed and jumped to hug her. “Alexia! You’re blonde again!”

“Mi amor! I missed you.” 

When you broke apart, Alexia’s eyes started to well with tears. You were finally in front of her, smiling at her with your big smile and sparkly eyes. Two months without having you near felt so long.

“Baby,” you cooed. “Why are you crying?” 

“Just emotional,” Alexia squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping. “I missed your stupid face.”

“No one will be able to guess that you're the crybaby in this relationship.”

Alexia scowled at you. She would never admit that she cried more than you. Besides, no one would be able to verify this fact because she never cried in front of anyone, except you. “I am not.”

“Sure. Can we get that breakfast now?”

Looking at you behind your big flower bouquet, Alexia felt breathless, only because she still couldn’t believe that you were hers. At the same time though, she felt like she was able to properly breathe again, because you were finally back in her arms.

—

“Hey, Ale?”

“Yeah?”

You sat on the passenger seat, absentmindedly playing with Alexia’s hand that wasn’t holding the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

Alexia gave you a side glance. “Are you questioning my driving abilities? When it was me who drove you around most of your life.”

“Maybe,” you kissed the back of Alexia’s hand. “You’ve never driven outside of Spain before. I’m kind of scared right now. For my life and for my brand new car.”

Alexia laughed, “Driving is the same everywhere, amor.”

“Fine,” you leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to Alexia’s cheek. “I trust you.”

Alexia scrunched her nose in response. “Stop kissing me and tell me where I should go next instead.”

“Just keep on going straight,” you responded. “Then turn left.”

“Now?”

“Are you seeing any left turns right now?”

“You just told me to turn left,” Alexia whined. “You’re such a bad navigator.”

“You should’ve let me drive.”

“You must be tired from work,” Alexia let go of her hand that was in your grip to caress your face. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You looked at Alexia, taking the her hand in yours again. “So thoughtful, always a gentlewoman. Thank you, Ale.”

“I am thoughtful huh.”

You poked your tongue out at her in response. “I should stop before your ego gets too big.”

Alexia grinned at you. “I think my ego has been big ever since I knew I was your first kiss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re my first kiss, Alexia Putellas Segura. Just like I am yours.”

“The one I don’t have a single memory of,” Alexia noted. “How could you let me forget what would be the most meaningful experience of my life?”

“It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight,” you pinched Alexia’s cheeks to which the blonde laughed in response. “But hey, at least I tried to remind you of that night, didn’t I? About a thousand times these past few days if I remember correctly.”

Alexia hummed in thought, puckering her lips. “I think I need the reminder once again.” 

You giggled and kissed the palm of Alexia’s hand instead. “Later at home, okay? I can’t have you crashing my car.”

“I’d like that.” Alexia took a quick glance at you and smiled—one that reached her eyes, one that showed you just how happy she was. 

But you were suddenly thinking of home and how you used it to describe your Manchester apartment, even though you never thought of it that way. That was, until Alexia came to visit, leaving her things scattered around like she always did in your old place in Barcelona.

You yearned for days like this, with Alexia driving you back home, eating takeout on the couch as you watched a football match you couldn’t care less about. You let Alexia talk your ear off, giving her commentary on the game, you nodding along like you were totally invested in it too.

Home. 

Manchester had never felt like home. It was an apartment with all of your things, where you slept and showered and ate, but you never considered it to be your home.

Alexia visited one day and changed the meaning of the place entirely.

You lived here for years without Alexia, but you couldn’t imagine it without her anymore. 

You looked at your best friend as she sang along to a Spanish song, she was so off-key. A grin instantly made its way to your lips.

Home was wherever Alexia was. 

—

It was a no-brainer, really.

There was no reason to stay in Manchester when your heart lived in Barcelona.

It had been on your mind since you had to leave Alexia again as you boarded the plane back to Manchester a few months ago. It was the only thing you could think of as you waved goodbye to Alexia as she went back to Barcelona, her black cap and sunglasses covering her face, but you could tell there were tears running down her cheeks.

You knew she was scared that history would repeat itself and you two would argue again. But you also knew that it was different this time. There were no uncertain feelings in your chest, no other girl next to Alexia making you feel replaced. You were certain of your love for Alexia.

But it was time to come home. You knew that the moment Alexia kissed you for the second time.

You hadn’t told Alexia, but you were planning on coming back in a couple of months. You wanted it to be a surprise.

But the night before Alexia left, as you savoured the feeling of her pressed up against you, you came to the conclusion that you need to come back to Barcelona sooner than planned.

Having Alexia next to you felt so good. You missed it a lot. You knew you couldn’t stand even another month being away from her, so you changed your entire timeline and decided to move it up so you were coming back in two weeks.

You had a lot on your to-do list. It was a hassle to move away from the place you’ve lived in for years. It was even harder when you wanted to do it within a few weeks.

Alexia thought it was starting again—the space between you.

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“Ale, you're just being a distraction right now.”

Which was true—you had less time to reply to texts and calls in between trying to get rid of your furniture and trying to cut your lease short—but Alexia didn't know that so it wasn’t the right word to use.

Out of context, it sounded harsh, and you figured you could’ve said it better. 

Alexia ended the call abruptly and ignored all your texts for the rest of the day. 

—

Turns out, Alexia decided to ignore you for a whole week. It was understandable, you royally screwed up, but the only thing that kept you from flying to Barcelona as soon as you figured out she was ignoring you was the thought that you were coming back soon. For good.

You left Manchester and years worth of memories behind on a Monday. Your parents welcomed you back with open arms and you spent the night eating your mother’s home cooked meal.

The next day, you knew Alexia had training until noon. So you went to a florist, bought the biggest bouquet of Alexia’s favourite flowers, and you met up with a Barcelona staff member with clear instructions that he was to give it to Alexia. And to make sure that she actually read the note attached to it.

Alexia, my love

Meet me at our spot at 4pm

You’re going to be done by that time, so you better show up

Yours,

y/n

—

You sat at your usual spot by the beach, the same spot where you got your heart broken a few months ago when Alexia didn’t show up. This time, instead of waiting for Alexia with dread and a heavy heart, all you felt was excitement at getting to see her again. 

This time, you knew that Alexia loved you too and you didn’t have to worry about her not showing up.

Alexia loved you too and you weren't going to let her go. It was that thought that kept on repeating in your head, the one that propelled you to leave Manchester behind and come back to Barcelona. As much as you loved it over there, you knew it would never beat the feeling of having Alexia next to you. 

You couldn’t wait to be with Alexia. Really be with her, not through a phone screen where her sleeping face would disappear once her phone ran out of battery.

“Amor?”

You craned your head as soon as you heard that voice. Alexia was still as beautiful as ever, despite only wearing some sweatpants and a hoodie that she stole from you when you were still in high school. 

“Hi.” Alexia put her hand up in a little wave. You smiled because Alexia looked so nervous, it was adorable. 

You stood up and walked towards her slowly, your face still amused at the way she was biting her lips—a nervous habit of hers. When you were inches apart you spoke, “Hi back. Why do you look so nervous?”

Alexia’s eyes drifted anywhere but you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You totally are,” you said, trying to catch her eyes. “Can I hug you?”

Alexia finally returned your stare and once your eyes met, Alexia’s entire posture softened and she leaned forward to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you,” Alexia exhaled deeply. “It’s only been a few weeks but I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around her neck, whispering that you missed her too. You breathed in her familiar scent and sighed. You felt at home.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Alexia said once you broke apart.

You shrugged. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, I am very surprised.” Alexia took your hands in hers. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Can I kiss you now? Or are you still too nervous to do that?” you asked, your tone teasing. “ I can’t have you passing out on me.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. “I’m not nervous.”

“So can I kiss you or not?” you asked once more, a grin on her face.

“Of course you can.”

And that was all you needed before you leaned forward and captured her lips with yours.

You kissed your girlfriend gently, you kissed her slowly while trying to convey just how much you missed her—how lonely your nights were without her to cuddle you to sleep and how cold your mornings were without her warm smile.

And when Alexia traced your bottom lip with her tongue, you couldn’t comprehend how fast your heart was beating. After countless kisses, you still felt the same way you did when Alexia first kissed you at eighteen—all fluttery as a thousand butterflies rummaged around your stomach.

Alexia’s lips on yours felt tingly, and Alexia’s hands that were caressing your waist felt like they had belonged there all along.

When you broke apart, Alexia’s hands stayed where they were, her forehead resting against yours while you both tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” Alexia whispered. “I know I say that a lot, but I mean it every time.”

You hummed, your lips curling up into a smile. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, cariño, for ignoring you. I was just… sad, I guess.”

“No, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have called you a distraction.”

“It’s just–” Alexia sighed, she was really beating herself up over this. “You’re supposed to tell me if you’re unhappy. I’m your girlfriend.”

You immediately shake your head. “I’m not unhappy—I could never be unhappy with you.”

“Then?”

You took a deep breath before continuing, “You were a distraction, but only because—Ale?”

Alexia blinked back, as if she didn’t quite understand what you said. She took a step away from your touch and turned her back towards you.

You were confused for a moment before you remembered how much of an overthinker she was.

“Ale. Baby,” you gently placed your hands on her shoulders and turned her around. Your heart broke at the sight of Alexia’s furrowed brows and the slight tremble in her bottom lips.

“Are you—Did you come back to break up with me?”

“Of course not,” you laughed. “Alexia—”

“Don’t—” Alexia tried to turn back around and leave, but you quickly grabbed her arms to prevent her from leaving.

“Alexia,” your hand travelled down to her hands, intertwining them with yours. “Look at me.”

You could see tears starting to well in her and you sighed at how much she resembled a kicked puppy. “Baby,” you cooed. “It’s nothing bad, c’mon, please don’t cry.”

“It’s not?” Alexia whispered out.

“No,” you flashed her a comforting smile. “I would never break up with you, you should know that by now.”

“Oh,” Alexia looked down, sniffling. “Then why? I’m a distraction to you?”

You lifted Alexia’s chin up with your finger. “Moving across countries isn’t an easy thing to do, you know. I have to talk to the hospital about my contract, I have to talk to my agent about my lease, I have to sell all my furniture, I have to meet with my friends to say goodbye—”

“What—”

“That’s why you were kind of distracting me, because I need to get a lot of things done if I want to come home to my girlfriend as soon as possible.”

When realization dawned on Alexia, her eyes widened and you laughed at how comical she looked. Alexia placed her hand on your mouth, muffling your laughs. “Stop laughing at me. You’re coming back?”

You took Alexia’s hand away from your mouth and grinned at her. Alexia’s eyebrows were raised, her face expectant as she waited for an answer.

You smiled fondly at her expressions before you answered her question with a kiss.

One second into the kiss, a giggle escaped your mouth, causing Alexia to break you apart, narrowing her eyes at your interruption. “Sorry, you were just too adorable.”

“Glad to know you think me crying is adorable.”

You placed a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t like seeing you cry but I wasn’t even breaking up with you, you big baby.”

“You’re so mean,” Alexia pouted. “But you’re really coming back? For good?”

“I am. I can’t be apart from you anymore. I love you and I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night.”

“Cheesy.”

You scrunched up your nose. “Shut up. I’m trying to be cute.”

“So… will you be asking me to move in with you then?”

“Well…” you gave a sheepish grin. “I was hoping you would be the one to ask me that, since I don’t exactly have a place here anymore. Unless you want to move in with my parents, that’s okay too.”

Alexia laughed and pecked your lips. You felt warm all over. “Let’s go look for a new place. My place is too small for all our kids anyway.”

“Kids?” you looked at Alexia with wide eyes. “Alexia. Did you skip the entire wedding?”

Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m talking about Nala. And Mr. Oreo, your stinky cat. Add Vicky, Jana, Esmee to the list too.”

You slapped Alexia’s arm in response. “You scared me there for a second. We need to get married first, you know. No skipping a chapter.”

Alexia laughed, kissing the top of your head. You looked at her and the sight of your girlfriend with a big smile and eyes that displayed so much happiness gave you the sudden urge to kiss her again. So you did.

With the feeling of Alexia smiling against your lips, you knew that no matter where life takes you, you’d always come home to her.

—

Y/n,

I still remember the moment you left to go to Manchester. I remember watching you leave and I remember feeling so helpless because I knew that things would change. I saw you walk away and I have never wanted to scream your name so badly—just so you would look at me one last time. But I didn’t. 

I didn’t, because you were off to do amazing things and I couldn’t keep you here as much as I wanted to. And because a part of me felt relieved that we’d be spending less time together because it would give me the time I needed to move on from you.

It worked for a while. My heart didn’t break into pieces every time I saw you and Leila on social media, and my heart didn’t feel like it’s being squeezed every time you talked about her.

My daydreams about you stopped, I didn’t hear your laugh in the back of my head at random times of the day anymore. I thought that was it. I was moving on, and I started to swallow the bitter truth that we weren’t meant to be together.

But then one night you called me. It was in the middle of the night and you couldn’t stop laughing because of a joke you just thought of. You asked if I was asleep, and I knew you’d tell me to go back to sleep if I said yes, so I lied. Only because I missed your voice and because hearing your laugh again after so long made my heart feel whole again when I didn’t even realize it had a missing piece.

I realized that, no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I would never love anyone as much as I love you.

I started to spend each night cursing at the stars, being angry and asking why the universe gave you to me, but at the same time, never letting me completely have you. 

I settled for someone else because I thought that you’d never look at me the way I looked at you. I loved someone else and their name tasted just fine on my lips but I kept on wishing that it was your name that I was whispering into the dark nights instead. And I had to come to terms that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life with you in the way that I’d hoped, so I said ‘yes’ to someone else.

But things happened, and I found out that you had been looking at me the same way all along—hidden glances, longing gazes, the desperate yearning to know how it feels like to love each other in ways no one but us can understand.

You’re my best friend, Y/n. You’re the bestest friend I’ve ever had and now, instead of cursing at the stars, I thank them each night because the universe gave you to me and now I have the chance to be able to love and admire every part of you.

Now your name is the only one I’d whisper into the nights—the nights where it’s just us two and your face that’s illuminated by the moonlight is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Now you’re the person I said ‘yes’ to because you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.

It’s been a journey, hasn’t it? I never would have thought that we’d be here, and that in a few hours I’d get to call you my wife. 

I love you, mi amor. I have loved you since I was five and didn’t know anything about the world. I have loved you when we were apart, when nothing else was left to say between us, when the mornings without your texts turned my world darker.

And I have loved you when we’re together, when I look to the side and you’re always there next to me, when your hands feel like they’re my long-lost limb—your hands holding mine, your hands around my waist, your hands tangled through my hair, your hands around my neck, your hands holding me at night when it’s quiet except for the sound of your heart beating in sync with mine.

I have loved you for so long that it’s now a part of me and I know that I would never go a day without loving you.

And despite knowing you for most of my life, I still get nervous around you. So I’m writing this letter in case I couldn’t blurt out my vows because of how you’d be looking at me—as if I’m the only star in your sky. I hope that by reading this, you know just how much I love you and how I don’t ever plan to stop.

You make me the happiest. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you’re the happiest too.

I’ll see you in a few hours. Can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle :)

Yours forever and ever and ever, 

Alexia

----

a/n: thank you for reading. this is my longest fic yet, please let me know your thoughts!<3

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pretty tipsy ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ he brings you home after a night out drinking┊2.5k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: alcohol & intoxication, this man is WHIPPED, age & size difference, emotional drunk human reader, ooc? calling him kitty

➤ author's note: idk what this is but it’s my longest logan piece yet because i have yet to write any more than a thousand words for him

tonight was one of the few nights logan could finally have some alone time. wade was going out for drinks with vanessa with the plan to stay over at her place, the ever so mysterious blind al was off doing her own thing, and mary puppins was resting peacefully in her little bed, tuckered out after a long day of playtime. he could finally get some long-awaited peace and quiet, a moment to himself to relax and breathe. while he’s grateful for the presence of others since he arrived in this dimension, he’s still a lone wolf at heart who treasures his privacy above all else.

humming a little tune from the eighties, he sunk into the beat-up leather couch with a beer in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, taking a long drag on it and preparing himself for a relaxing evening until his flip phone started ringing. when he opened it up to read the “wade wilson” contact name staring back at him, he rolled his eyes with a groan before answering.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“not even a ‘hello?’ damn bitch, okay then— well, we ran into some friends and had some drinks together, but one of them is pretty shit-faced right now and her phone is dead, could you pretty please with sugar on top come and pick her up?”

“the fuck? that’s not my problem, just call her an uber—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard a familiar giggle in the background, one asking a different partygoer to have another drink with her, “is that the neighbor who lives at the end of the hallway?”

“yeah, it’s your little crush~! you recognize her from just her voice over the phone, oh my god, you have it bad wolfie!! well, if you don’t wanna come, then fine, whatever, but you know, it’s not unsafe for a pretty lady to be alone this late at night! some guy might just swoop her up, actually, there’s some guy asking for her number right now—”

“alright, alright, i’m coming! send me the address.” he nearly shouted into the receiver, putting out his cigar on the ashtray atop the coffee table and slipping on his jacket to leave the comfort of his shared apartment.

the night was chilly in comparison to the cozy warmth of the indoors and the bar was filled with loud chattering and cheers, the clinking of glasses, yelling at the game being televised, and the general buzz of extroverted fun on a weekend night. 

“ayyy, there he is! come here, peanut, sit, sit, sit, have a drink with us!”

logan hesitated, not because he would ever shy away from free booze but because he was here on a mission with one sole goal in mind (and because he wasn’t familiar with this particular group of people, he didn’t feel like socializing tonight) “no, it’s fine, i’m just here to take her home.” his voice was uncharacteristically mellow, finding you napping on the table with your arms folded to be a makeshift cushion for your head. 

you peeked at the man coming up next to you and your face changed from exhausted to ecstatic to upset in the span of a few seconds, “looggann!! how are you doing, i feel like i haven’t seen you in foreverr— how come every time i see you in the hall, you always run off, are you avoiding me? did i do something wrong?” you cling onto his hand and shake his arm, paying no attention to your friends giggling at your behavior in the background, pouting and tearing up. 

oh god, you’re an emotional drunk, that’s so cute. neither he nor wade could get drunk at all on account of their systems constantly cleaning out the effects of the alcohol as soon as it’s consumed, but when he drinks around others, it’s a trait he typically finds so annoying quickly becoming so endearing when worn by you.

“i’m not avoiding you, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he consoled in the most gentle voice a wolverine could muster, also cringing at the fact that he wasn’t half as discreet as he thought he was. it’s true, he has been avoiding you, but only because he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel, smoothing out the rough edges of his personality and making him feel stupid butterflies he was far too old to be feeling, not to mention the nonstop teasing from everyone else when they noticed the way he seemed to look at you from afar. it was as if he was a child who thought hiding from it would make it go away, but it has become apparent it has only grown stronger.

“you’re telling the truth?” you sniffled.

“yes, i am. come on, bub, let’s get you outta here. i’m here to take you home.”

you didn’t protest or try to convince him you weren’t wasted, knowing your limit had been reached, and slowly picked up your things to follow him out of the building. he allowed you to intertwine your arm with his, providing support to your unbalanced mind and stumbling legs since you couldn’t even walk straight.

“why would you drink so much if you’re such a lightweight?”

“how do you know i’m a lightweight? you weren’t there, i could have drunk an entire bathtub full of booze before you showed up!” 

“nah, i can smell it, there’s no way you drank anything more than a few pints.”

“oh, so the kitty is a dog now? i thought you were more cat-like this whole time, but i guess i was wrong.” 

“what?” they say what a person says when intoxicated comes from their soul and true thoughts with little to no filter, but he certainly wasn’t anticipating those words to come out of your mouth.

“you look like a kitty, you know? with the way your hair does the little swoopy things— do you wake up like that or do you need to style it? you act like one too, grumpy ass kitty.”

“don’t call me that, kid, i hear it enough from wade already.”

“i’ll stop calling you kitty when you stop calling me kid! i know you’re old as hell, but i’m a grown-ass adult!”

“yeah? well, you’re certainly not acting like one right now.”

you were silent for a minute, making him worry for a second that he offended you by calling you childish, but when he looked back down at you, you were simply staring in astonishment. “i’ve never seen you smile before! you look a lot more handsome, you should do it more often!”

was he smiling? he didn’t even notice, grinning ear to ear and revealing his pearly white teeth, chuckling at your ridiculous words. was this really the first time you saw him smile and heard him laugh? no wonder you assumed he was avoiding you, he was surprised you didn’t hate him just because of a misunderstanding.

it took some time to get you up all of the stairs to your floor without tripping, and logan was almost sad the night was over so quickly. even if the conversation was mostly one-sided and you were intoxicated with slurred words, he swears he listened to all you had to say between comedic bits, insightful knowledge, random bullshit, and found it all fascinating. luckily for him, his time with you wasn’t up yet as he watched you fumble with your purse and frown.

“oh, fuck… i lost my keys… oh no…” you slumped against the wall until you fell to the floor, feeling yourself starting to cry at this inconvenience with heightened emotions. 

“god, please don’t, not again…” he’s the absolute worst at comforting others, it isn’t his strong suit, and acknowledging this weakness seemed ten times more difficult when you were the one in need. “come on, you can sleep at my place for the night and charge your phone.”

“...really?”

“yes, come on.” 

you took his outreached hand and found yourself in his grasp again as he held onto your shoulder to steady you, unlocking the door and leading you into his shared apartment. he felt somewhat grateful that you were too drunk to notice how messy the site was, seating you on the couch as he got you a glass of water to sober up. you looked so out of place among it all, so young and feminine with your vibrant club clothing around all of the aging, scratched-up furniture and muted colors.

“thank you,” you murmur, downing the entire tall glass with a few gulps, “uh, where is the bathroom?” he directed you to where it was and allowed you to use it, quickly hearing you turn on the shower after a minute and just as quickly hearing you swearing in regret over the loud pitter-patter of the steaming hot water. “i’m never drinking again, why am i being so fucking stupid?!” 

“are you okay?” 

“yeah, except for the fact i forgot that i don’t have a change of clothes and i stepped into the shower with my current ones on because i forgot to take them off!” your voice cracked, feeling yourself starting to cry once again from yet another inconvenience. you were really just embarrassing yourself and couldn’t wait for this shitty day to be over.

he let out a sigh of relief, “god, don’t scare me like that— i’ll get you something, hold on, please don’t cry.” he could have stolen some of al’s clothing since she wouldn’t have noticed, or he could have stolen some of the clothes vanessa left behind after spending time with wade, but for some odd reason, he pulled out one of his canadian hockey jerseys for you. the fabric was soft and worn with time, smelling slightly of him and laundry detergent, and arguably the most comfortable thing he had at his disposal. “i’ll leave it outside the door, okay?”

“thank youu!!” (and thank god your underwear is still clean and dry enough to wear again, you have no idea what you would have done if you didn’t realize your mistake soon enough and stood under the water for long enough to be soaked to the bone.)

logan allowed his fatigued body to rest for a moment, sinking into the couch just as he did an hour ago in hopes of relaxation. what the fuck was he doing? since when did the wolverine play babysitter for drunk young women, walking them back to play guard dog against possible creepy men, letting them into his home, and lending them his clothing to wear? this was so uncharacteristic of him, he couldn’t think of a single person he was willing to do this for other than laura, but you certainly weren’t nearly as close to him as he was to her! lord, he’s so pathetic, he thinks he probably would have carried you back bridal style too if you asked him.

the water stopped and he waited for you to exit so that he could show you where you could sleep, but he could now see he didn’t need to. your apartment layouts are nearly identical, and it looks like your brain was switched onto autopilot after cleaning up, mindlessly strolling into his bedroom and plopping down on his mattress as if it were your own. (his shirt was practically a dress on you, falling to your mid-thigh and ill-fitted on your smaller frame, his eyes lingering on it for a second longer than what would have been polite.)

he leaned against the doorframe, watching you make yourself comfortable and preparing to stay there until the early afternoon with a banging headache. “are you comfortable? do you need anything else?”

you murmured something in response and stretched out your arms, making grabby hands and inviting him to join you, “come cuddle with me! herree, kitty, kitty, kitty~”

are you really calling a fifty-something-year-old, six-foot-tall killer mutant with adamantium bones and razor-sharp claws that come out of his knuckles ‘kitty’? yes, yes you are, and you’re going to scream into your pillow from embarrassment when you recall it the next day.

“i don’t do cuddles, princess,” he chuckled even though he intended to scoff. “and i already told you to quit calling me that.”

“pleaseee? pretty pleasee?” you chirped, eyes going big and round just like a puppy in a cartoon, begging him to humor you in this request.

are you truly a human, or are you secretly a mutant who has hypnotic powers? the answer is obvious, he’s just an old loser who apparently answers at your every beck and call now because all he could do is sigh, slip off his jacket, and get under the blanket with you. 

you rolled on your side and wrapped your arm around his body, nuzzling your face into his comforting touch and inhaling the mild scent of pine and tobacco. humming a satisfied “good night” and dozing off within a few minutes, you clung to him as tightly as a koala onto a branch, and he couldn’t separate himself from you without making you stir and whine. 

trapped in the embrace of a beautiful neighbor whom he possessed a soft spot for, wearing his clothing and laying in his bed, he would be trapped like this until morning it sounds like a dream to most men, but to logan, it’s the fear of getting attached and losing someone else important to him rearing its ugly head to the forefront of his mind. it scares him to think what could happen if he allowed himself this pleasure of becoming close to you, and yet when he admires your slumbering face, he feels like it would be okay and work itself out in the end somehow.

he fell asleep more quickly than usual when you held him, and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t tormented with horrid nightmares of the past that always plagued him before now. when he woke up, his weary soul was well-rested and energized, almost as if he was twenty years younger again. the wonders of a good night’s sleep, or perhaps, the wonders of being with you. 

it felt so… natural to wake up with you next to him.

you were practically a dead weight by now, not rousing in the least when he slowly got up to leave the bed. he did feel a little back about undoing the grasp you had on him though, felt a bit like abandoning you in a vulnerable state. he sauntered into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee as per his routine, only to find the most annoyingly loveable scarred face sitting in a chair waiting for him, legs crossed and hands in his lap like a supervillain. 

“sooooo, how was your night, you smitten kitten? you dirty dog!” there was a stupid smirk on his face, trying his best to hold back a fit of giggles. he knows nothing suggestive happened and was just teasing, but he still wanted to hear him say that it was a wonderful night nonetheless and to thank him for playing matchmaker.

“shut the fuck up before i stab you again. don’t ruin this morning for me.”

[ozzgin]

IM SORRY, but I need a whole smut fanfic with yandere ASMRtist where he just straight up fucks reader and posts it, and people like it

Even better if it was an accident! Although let me add a little disclaimer that this concept turned more BDSM-oriented than I initially planned, but it has no correlation whatsoever to ASMR. Just wanted to point it out because the community already struggles with the sexualization of content. The guy just happens to be kinky. Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, NSFW, BDSM themes (bondage, spanking, collaring, name-calling)

He’s doing his usual sound recording, yet today it a little different. You're particularly cheeky, kneeling before him, back arched and bottom up. The pillow is soaked with your drool, lips forcefully parted by a bit gag. You're a mess.

Today, he's particularly aroused by your hooded eyes and damp skin. No harm in taking a break from his work, is there? His hand lands another rough spank, followed by his fingers tracing across your privacy. It seems he isn't the only one terribly pent up.

He gives you a little encouraging jolt before clarifying with a spoken order: "Spread."

You obediently follow his instructions, eager to be touched by more than his hand. He grins at your visible excitement.

"My, what a greedy whore you're being today. You're still red and swollen from the spanking, are you sure you want me to do even more damage?"

He presses himself into you as if to prove his point, though the feeling of his throbbing erection really only makes matters worse. You nod desperately and groan.

Once he's done pounding the life out of you, he stands up nonchalantly and dusts off his hands, gazing at his masterpiece: you're sprawled onto the mattress, heaving, dripping with his seed. Another fruitful day of pleasing his Darling.

He quickly finishes the last retouches of the recorded ASMR session and uploads it to his channel, distracted by the thought of a potential second round.

"Don't get up", he demands from his chair. "I'm not done with you yet." Judging by your expression, however, it's not likely you had any other intention to begin with.

Later in the evening, he idly checks his phone, somewhat surprised by the sudden influx of views and comments.

"Wow, this is probably your longest video so far. You're spoiling us", someone writes.

"What's the stuff at the end? Sounds bizarrely wet, yet tingly", someone else wonders.

His smile abruptly pales as it dawns of him: he never stopped recording. In a moment of anger, he throws his phone into the nearest wall, and you stumble over, startled by the commotion.

Damn it! That was his special moment. He feels like he'd just fucked you before the masses. His precious time - meant to be savored - has been tainted by the ears of plebeians.

He marches towards the bedroom, pulling you after him by the little house collar you must wear inside. No matter, he tells himself frantically, he'll just have to redo it. He'll fuck you even better this time, and it'll be for him only.

[Yandere!ASMRtist Concept] | [More yandere works]

[heartyluv]

💋⌖༺𓆩🍷𓆪༻

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,839

Summary: Sylus hates being away from his wife, always has.

Reader/Husband!Sylus w/ Breeding Kink

You're so close and you can't wait to be where you belong. It's always hard to leave your husband and your home behind for any reason, but you haven't seen your best friend in so long that the trip to see her was needed. After two weeks in your hometown, you were now in the car Sylus sent for you, getting closer to being in his arms again.

Your phone rings in your purse and you fish inside the bag to answer it. The photo of Luke and Kieran posing with the peace sign is the first thing you see, making you smile.

You press the phone to your ear after accepting the call. "Hey, guys. Everything okay?"

"No, everything is not," Kieran mumbles. "This is the longest two weeks I've ever experienced. Boss Man has been so moody."

"Please tell us you're almost here," Luke says plainly.

"You're not used to Sylus' moods by now?" you joke.

"Of course we are. But we will never get used to how flip-floppy he can be about you. It's gross, yet oddly adorable... Please don't tell him I said that," Kieran pleads.

"What's he doing?" you ask curiously.

"That's the thing. He's doing nothing," Luke answers.

"Since you've been gone, he's been to himself. I know what you're thinking. 'Isn't that typical of the Boss?' Well yes, you are 100% correct. At least typical behavior with us. Boss cannot be without you for more than a second if he can help it. Anyways," Kieran sighs. "He hasn't made a sarcastic comment, joke, or insult during your entire absence. He's been the most... "regular" since you told him you were coming home today and even more so to see you're two minutes away," Kieran adds.

"How do you—?"

"Oh, you must know that he has a tracker on you."

Of course Sylus tracks you. It's not necessarily surprising, just newfound information.

"Tell him I'm—"

"Open the door, open the door! She's here!" Kieran screeches.

Your phone beeps, indicating the call has been disconnected. Yours and Sylus' home come into view, and you feel so giddy inside. The driver rounds the small bend of the driveway, putting the car in park, and steps out of the vehicle to help with your bags. Before you can even get your fingers to the handle, your door opens.

You turn your head to the right to see you husband, the smallest but ever so meaningful smile on his face. He for sure used his Evol to get here as quick as he did because he was not present when the car pulled up. His hand is out, reaching for you. You slide yours into his and he's pulling you as politely as he can muster to bring you closer to him.

He's in his long sleeve brown top that you bought him a few months ago and his tailored black slacks, making him represent the perfect combination of comfy and classy like he always does.

He doesn't say a word, not at first. Immediately when he has you close enough, his hand cups the side of your head and he dips his to kiss your lips. The kiss is hungry and desperate. He doesn't give a damn who's around and who's watching him suck your tongue into his mouth.

This is his house, his choice, and most of all, his fucking woman.

He growls and you feel the rumble in his chest vibrate against your own with how pressed together you are.

"Sylus—" You try and speak, but he's engulfing your mouth with even more vigor as if your voice has only spurred him on more.

He realizes he needs to let you breathe, knows that he's likely making your whole body flush with embarrassment, but he can't seem to care. It's only when you bite down on his lip a little too hard, forcing him to pull back, does he finally look into your eyes.

You can barely breathe and just like he thought, your cheeks are tinged red and you're breathing deeply. You lick your lips, your smile uncontainable when his piercing red eyes bore into your large ones.

"My apologies, kitten," he finally speaks. "Can you blame your husband for being so eager?" His thumb trails your lips, mixing his saliva and yours.

"I missed you too, handsome," you respond once your breath finally stabilizes. The driver announces that he'll be on his way, and you close your eyes as if it'll make you disappear, hoping that he didn't pay attention to the way Sylus kissed you.

Who are you kidding? Even if the poor old man didn't look, he definitely heard it and is most definitely judging a little bit.

Sylus makes the hesitant decision to separate from you for a moment to tip the driver before he departs. He thanks the both of you, tipping his hat, and you two watch the red headlights depart away from your home after he got inside the car.

Sylus gets close to you again, seemingly ready to take you right here on the driveway pavement, but Luke and Keiran come running out the house, exclaiming with happiness that you're back.

"Thank god you're here. Please, fix him," Kieran exclaims.

Sylus sighs, shaking his head at his—what he deems—ridiculous behavior, but if you were in their shoes, you're sure you would've been feeling the same way.

"Bring her bags inside. Take a car and one of my cards for the next few days. Don't come back until I instruct you to," Sylus commands and all of you damn near snap your necks to look at him.

The twins chuckle, nudging at each other before throwing your husband a loud "yes sir". They both make quick moves to grab your things and Sylus holds your hand as he guides you into your shared lavish home. Kieran is the first back out the door after showing Sylus what card he took, and Luke shuts the door behind himself after following his brother's lead.

"Why are they leaving?" you ask, but you know the answer. How could you not?

Sylus tilts his head in amusement, licking his lips. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly..." you breathe.

"Hm," he hums. The radiant glow of the descending sun is the only light you have to see his face, to see the mischief he has written all over it. "But I am, sweetie. A treat such as yourself could satiate a hungry man like me."

He kisses you again, barely giving you the chance to respond. He's quick to kiss your jaw, then your neck. His tongue traces your skin, holding you up so that you don't crumble before him.

"Do you know how insane I've been without you?" He bites the section where your neck and shoulder meet. "The way I ached for you..." He inhales your scent deeply. "It must be what Ares felt when he was separated from Aphrodite."

Your body shudders. He chuckles smugly at that. "Tell your husband how much you missed him, kitten."

Your hand snakes up to trail into his white-gray hair. He sucks on the places he knows makes your panties flood, decorating your neck with love bites. "I missed you so much," you tell him truthfully through your lust. "Thought about you every day..."

"You did, did you?" he teases, peeling your cardigan down your shoulders. "I don't know, I'm not convinced. Perhaps actions truly do speak louder than words. Shall we put it to the test?"

As if you weigh nothing, he picks you up and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. You've seen this man lift couches over his shoulder as if he was moving a single bag of groceries. It's insane— and it makes you want to let him do every filthy thing possible to you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sylus brought the both of you to the upstairs bathroom and you stand behind him like a lost puppy as he cuts the water on, steam pooling out of the grand shower. He removes his clothes first and you watch as every single article of clothing is thrown to the side. You can't help but to stare at his cock, hard and standing tall.

He then approaches you, gently peeling off your own clothing. After you're naked before him, he takes you inside to stand beneath the pouring stream of water. "Tell me about your trip."

Behind you, you hear movements as your voice shakily attempts to tell him what you and your friend did while you were away. He hums every so often in response, to let you know that he really is listening. Then his large hands come into view in front of you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, not sure of what he's getting ready to do. Your words are cut off when his hands grab handfuls of your breasts, making you arch your back, and your ass press against his aching cock.

He groans as the soap begins to lather, as he runs his hands all over you. Your soaped breasts are his erotic sight. His wedding ring trails over your nipple as he massages you, causing you to call out his name.

"Don't stop, kitten," he whispers lowly. "Keep going."

"Sylus, please..." you beg. You know exactly what you want from him, but to put it into words feels impossible.

"Please, what? Speak to me. Tell me what you want." He licks your ear.

"Please... I need you."

He tsks, bringing his head down to kiss your shoulder. "I'm a man who requires details before I act. Tell me more."

"I need you to fuck me... I need you inside of me," you beg sheepishly.

"My good girl," he praises. "But what about me? You left your poor husband all alone. What about what I need?"

"What do you need? I'll do anything.."

"Anything?" he chuckles and you feel him smirk against your neck.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them behind you with his Evol. You're thrown off and the whole shower is long forgotten when mixes of black and red energy constrict your wrists. He kneels in front of you, taking your foot and bracing it on the shower bench.

"Then feed your husband, sweetie." His mouth attacks your hot cunt, your soft curls tickling his nose as he ravages you. His tongue is skilled and determined as he drinks your juices like a man on the verge of dehydration. You shake and writhe, struggling to stand upright. But Sylus has you, he'll never let you fall.

His hands grab at your ass, pulling you closer as he sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth.

"Baby... I can't, holy fuck.." you pant, moaning and whining. Your sounds echo off the tile walls and with no one here, you have zero hesitancy to be loud.

"You can," he encourages through heavy breaths. "You said you'd do anything. So, be good for me and let me taste my sweet wife's cum."

His words are filthy and so fulfilling. You want to touch him, want to press him deeper, but your bound hands prevent you like a punishment. Your orgasm approaches and he can feel you constrict around his tongue, making his efforts double.

You can't even warn him that you're about to come because it hits you before you're even ready. Your thighs shake, your body nearly doubles over, and your pussy sings for him as he swallows all of you down. He kisses your weeping cunt as you start to come down then you jolt when he licks at your sensitive clit one last time.

"Please, Sylus baby. I want to touch you. I need to feel you.." You look down at him and he kisses your thighs, then your stomach, all the way up to your wet breasts.

"Maybe you have a gift, my sweet." He licks his lips, biting them as if he'd needs another fix of the ambrosia between your legs. "Your actions and your words could move mountains."

He kisses you and your hands are still bound. You taste your heady scent on his tongue, but you're so frustrated that it nearly brings you to tears. He senses this, knows this, and the relief that washes over you as your hands are released is inexplicable. You immediately grab at his neck, then his hair. You just want to be close to him.

He lifts you up, pressing your back against the cool tile wall, but your body is so hot that the pinch of cold fades immediately. "Put me in, kitten," he looks into your eyes. "Bring me home."

You nod feverishly, looking down between the two of you. His cock is leaking. If you don't get him inside you now, you're convinced you will actually cry.

You wrap your hand around his thick length, feeling the veins that will be inside you in milliseconds. He helps you, jutting his hips forward and the tip of him opens you up like a flower. You gasp, biting your lip as he gets deeper, as you and him become one.

He starts to rock his hips and his pace is excruciatingly slow. "I want to put my baby inside you," he admits as his hips start to increase in speed, giving you what you need. The declaration makes you clench around him.

"Does my wife like that?" he presses his forehead to yours. "My baby in your stomach, my ring on your finger, my money in your pockets. Everything I am, everything I own, it belongs to you, doesn't it?"

Your emotions are at an all time high. "Yes... I want it. I want to have your baby, Sylus..." You can barely speak right.

"You'd do me the honor, wouldn't you? You'd let me fill you with my cum until it's leaking out of you, then you'd let me fuck it back into all over again until it takes."

His tip kisses your cervix ever so lightly as he slams into you with purpose. The sound of skin slapping together is orgasm inducing and your flesh ripples deliciously in his hands. He uses his Evol for a moment to keep you up and still as one of his hands comes to your stomach, pressing down. "You can feel me, hm? Feel how well we fit? We know how perfect we are together. Let's find out how even better we are when we mix."

You need it. You want it. You crave it. You need to have the family you and him have always talked about. And you need his cum so desperately that you'd get on your knees and beg. But you don't need to beg. Not when he's more than willing to give.

His hands come back to you and his thrusts become stronger, more ruthless, and your body welcomes every brutal motion. "Hold it," he demands as he feels you tighten uncontrollably. And you do. You hold it like your life depends on it.

He caresses your flushed cheek. "My sweet kitten. You listen so well for me, don't you?" You nod quickly, unable to speak to the man who's taking your breath away.

"Listen well for me one more time." His cock pulses and each vein massages the inside of you. "Come for me again. Reward your husband."

You don't need to be asked again as you scream for him, your body relieved to let out what it could no longer hold. Sylus knows how much you need him, need contact, so he brings you close and you grab at him while he groans in your ear, his own release painting your walls and filling you up. You're astounded that he's not falling to the floor because if it were you depending on your legs right now, you'd be a melted mess as much as you are in his arms.

You feel how his cum warms you. With bated breath, you tilt back your head to see your husband not as collected as you initially believed. He's just as much of a mess as you are. His cheeks and ear tips are red and his hard chest is rising and falling in quick succession. Even now, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He brings you both to the bench, sitting on it with him still nestled deeply inside of you.

The water has been running the whole time, likely cold but you and him couldn't care less. You rest your head on his shoulder.

"Staying together like this could increases our chances of pregnancy, no?" he whispers before kissing your head.

You chuckle. "I hope so."

“I really did miss you,” he mumbles into your hair. “Deeply.”

It's quiet for a moment. "I did, too.” You kiss his chest. “And I meant it, Sylus. I really do want that, want this. To start a family with you."

"I meant it too, my love. Every last word."

"Yeah?"

"Of course." He cups your face to bring your pretty eyes to him. "And I don't plan on stopping until it happens."

It already made sense why he had the twins leave, but now? It definitely makes sense. You would not know rest these next few days and you couldn't think of a better way to be welcomed home.