#he probably will just push himself to run never ending laps in the rain so he can just get rid of the feeling

[toomanywordsnllines]

Being a little angsty here but...

Thinking about how Soap probably uses rain to cry and hide his tears, it's not like anyone can see the difference. And during rainy days everyone is inside so...

I gave myself emotional damage thinking about this so... I shall share it too! :'D

[lumi-nescentt]

I'd Run Away And Hide With You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: mention of Jos Verstappen, a bit of swearing

Words: 1.5k

Summary: Your boyfriend is determined and passionate, you love that about him. But when things get tough, his father's voice is a little too present in his head so you're here to remind him of who he really is.

A/N: I was watching the last season of Gilmore Girls and after seeing Logan and his Dad argue, I thought I could write something similar with Max, enjoy :)

This race weekend had started pretty well as usual. Max was doing great and had qualified first, Lando had invited you and your older brother to watch the race from the McLaren garage since he knew your brother was a big fan, everything hinted that the weekend would be great. Max’ family was here so you being at McLaren was actually a good thing even though Max wished he could have had his good luck kiss. 

However, from the moment the rain had started falling, you could tell something was going to go wrong. Spa was a pretty dangerous circuit with this weather and most of the drivers slowed down a little to be safer, the memory of the accidents still too fresh in everyone’s mind. 

Max and Checo had been battling all race for the lead because of a slow pit stop that had fucked your boyfriend’s advance. You could tell Max was fuming from his radio message just like everyone else but you also knew that when Max got like that, he wouldn’t stop until he had pushed too far.

Your brother could tell how stressed you were because of how Max was driving so he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. While every driver was driving at a reasonable pace, conserving the speed but driving more carefully, Max was pushing harder than ever to pull away from Checo. 

Inter tyres were definitely not meant to be pushed as far as Max was doing and you stopped breathing a few times as he went wide at a few turns, brushing the walls with his front wing. GP was trying to convince him to slow down and settle for the 2 seconds gap he had but Max’ mind was set on doing better, 2 seconds wasn’t far enough from Checo. Not when most of his mom’s side of the family was in his garage watching him. 

After a few more laps of arguing between GP and the Dutch driver while Max pushed as hard as ever without being able to really pull away, you heard Christian’s voice on the radio ordering Max to stop his little tantrum and listen to his engineer, shutting him up for a second before letting out a groan of anger as he finally lifted his feet from the throttle.

The whole message had been broadcasted and you couldn’t escape the comments about Max from reaching your ears. It was always the same thing, your boyfriend had too big of an ego and didn’t know when to back off, he was selfish and relentless. He was always a villain, someone who ruined the fans’ excitement, never a talented driver with a steel strong determination. 

If the comments didn’t seem to touch Max on the outside, you knew him, the real him. Jos was hard on him but Max was harder on himself behind closed doors. He said the comments didn’t matter as long as he was winning but deep down you knew Max wished he could have it all: the wins and the fans’ love. 

Even though he’d never admit it out loud, the Dutchman wasn’t as tough as he tried to appear. You had seen him shed silent tears out of frustration after he got called hideous names again for just being good at his job. You knew the comments from today would hurt him and that he would probably be harsher on himself than usual. 

The end of the race was even worse, Max’ tyres were done for but pitting would have gotten him out of the points so he was forced to stay out as he tried to wrestle the car through the sharp and quick turns of Spa. With so little grip, Checo was quick to overtake him even though Max didn’t go out without a fight. 

His determination had come back to bite him quickly because George had used the opportunity to get closer to the Red Bulls and he was right behind Max’ rear wing for a few laps. On the last lap, George finally overtook the Dutchman as your boyfriend cursed harshly, not realising that his message was broadcasted. 

The podium finish should have been a good thing but Max was brooding as soon as he took off his helmet. Nico Rosberg tried to wrestle more than a two word answer out of him during the podium interview but without success. Max was pissed and everyone could see it. 

As soon as you were sure he’d be done with his media duties, you excused yourself from your brother and sneaked off to the Red Bull garage, hoping to arrive there before Max lashed out.

You quickly climbed the stairs to his driver room, offering a sympathetic smile to his PR officer who was in an animated conversation with Christian before knocking on the door. Not hearing an answer, you got inside slowly not knowing what to expect.

Max was sitting on his couch, eyes closed, fists clenched and headphones glued to his head as you recognised some rock song he listened to when he wanted to forget about everything. He didn’t even flinch as you sat down next to him, only removing one side of his headphones so you could put your head closer to him.

-" I'm proud of you Max." you whispered with your head on Max' shoulder

-" Don't lie to me, please." he answered, removing his headphones completely but still not looking at you

-" When have I ever lied to you ? And why would I even lie, darling ?"

-" I don't know but if you're really proud of me then the bar is pretty fucking low because I was shit out there and you know it. My dad knows it, I know it, my whole family knows it and every single person with eyes saw it." Max muttered standing up abruptly

-" You know being first isn't always what matters most, right ? I'm proud of you because you did your best to hold on. Yes, it didn't go the way we wanted but what happened is done and that doesn't change how I feel about you. Everybody makes mistakes, Max. What matters is how you deal with it afterwards."

-"I can't deal with your pity, stop." he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose

-" I'm not pitying you Max, it's called being supportive and being here for the people you love."

-" I don't need your support now, it won't change what happened !" Max lashed out, immediately regretting his words when he saw the flash of hurt on your face 

-“ I don’t care if you want or need it. Like it or not, I’m your girlfriend and I love you so I won’t let you beat yourself up over one mistake you made.” you snapped back, Max’ face softening at your words

-"Listen love, I know you're trying to cheer me up and everything but I really don't have the energy for it right now."

-" Max come on, I'm not asking you to go out and celebrate with everyone. I just want you to come back to the hotel with me and have a quiet night in instead of working all night and torturing yourself over something you can't change"

-" y/n, stop. I don't want to fight so please can we not talk about this because my dad is probably gonna be here any second and I don't want to argue with you and him on the same night."

-" Darling we're not arguing. If you don't want to talk about it, fine but can you at least let me stay with you ? I don't want you to be alone."

-" I'm not sure, schatje. My dad will definitely be in a sour mood and you being here while he calls me a failure again isn't really something I want happening."

-" Max, look at me." you say, gently raising his chin with your hand when he doesn't comply " You're not a failure, never been one and never will be. You making a mistake doesn't take away from all the great things you've accomplished, alright ? I know racing is your whole life but the Max I know out of racing is pretty great with or without formula 1 and he's far from being a failure."

-" Thank you, love. I'm sorry for raising my voice at you earlier, I know you're trying to help. I just can't get my dad’s voice out of my head sometimes and I guess I don't want him to end up lashing out on you too if you stay."

-" Don't worry about earlier, I know that wasn't really you. You're not your dad, Max, you're so much better than he ever will be. Let him come at me for all I care, I won't let him say a single mean word about you or me."

-" You're cute when you get protective, you know ? Come here." Max says opening is arms for you

-" I was going for intimidating but I'll work on that before I see your dad again." you smiled, placing a kiss on Max' cheek

-" Do you still want to get out of here ?"

-" With you ? Always."

-" Let's go then, we have a movie night waiting for us, schatje."

[iamthecomet]

I saw an art on Twitter and I can't remember who post it but it was two Dewdrops, a water and a fire! It was so beautiful and made me think of Dewdrop angst. If there is water Dewdrop summoned through magic, how he used to be, and it looks to fire Dewdrop that other ghouls love water Dewdrop more... He is very fun and easy to hurt 🤭

Oohhh man. Yeah Dew is super easy to hurt. He spirals easily. And doesn't hide his insecurities well. I think two of him would be a nightmare for so many reasons. Not least of all the fact that it would make fire Dew spiral really really badly.

Thinking about this got me thinking about fire Dew and how even without another version of himself to contend with, he probably thinks his pack would like water Dew better.

I got a little carried away with angst Dew thoughts so they're going under a cut to save space.

Dew thinks about it when he's alone. At the end of bad days. After he's snapped at everyone to leave him alone and they've done it. It happens on tour mostly. There are places to go at the Abbey. He can go for a walk. Go visit Mist in the lake, or at the very least vanish into a dark silent room.

But on a tour bus? He can hear them. He's alone in his bunk. Knees drawn up to his chest. Phone playing the latest episode of whatever series he's watching. And when he takes his headphones off he can hear them. Laughing in one of thr lounges. Talking, playing cards. Swiss is plucking at a guitar. And Dew isn't there. He's here. He asked them to leave him alone.

So they did.

But water Dew would be with them. Water Dew didn't have outbursts. He never felt any emotion this strongly. Dew gets his aloofness from his past self. Sure, like Rain he could be distant. Hard to know if he didn't want to be. But at least he never snapped at anyone. Never singed the leaves of Mountains plants. Or melted the best fork on the bus just by holding it in his hand during a fit of overwhelm.

Water Dew was easy. Easier to like. Easier to be. If water Dew had stormed off, demanded to be alone, he wouldn't have been. Someone would have bullied their way into his bunk by now. Put their arm around him. Held him. But fire Dew? When he snaps everyone listens. Which is better in a lot of ways, less infantalizing. He gets what he wants, what he thinks he needs. But he knows it wears on them. He'll, it wears on him.

The way it rears up. The world too small his skin to tight. His own failures bouncing off of his skull begging to be let out. It's exhausting to live through. It can't be any better to be on the other side of it. To watch him shut down. And if they actually cared about it, they'd be here right? Standing outside of his drawn curtain. Checking in on him. He feels like the boy who cried wolf. Too many biting remarks. Too many "just leave me the fuck alone"'s and they're sick of it. They don't care.

He'll feel better after some sleep. Some food. After he reluctantly takes care of himself. He'll push it into the background when he stumbles out of bed in the morning and Mountain curls his arms around Dews shoulders and kisses him between the horns. When Cumulus settles into his lap to kiss him, tasting like green tea and honey. It will fizzle. Fade. He will feel, once again, like he is who he is supposed to be.

But right now? The sound of ruckus laughter cuts into his bunk and it feels like a twisted knife. A problem he can solve by sheepishly rejoining them. But he can't. Can't deal with the way they'll look at him. Better to just suffer. To put his headphones on and sleep it off. To isolate.

Water Dew was never allowed to isolate. Fire Dew can do whatever he wants. How liberating to be able to make these choices. To have everything he could ever want, and to run away from it , to spit in the face of it. To resent it.

He sleeps eventually. Always does. Drifting off to the sound of voices in the next room. But when he wakes he isn't alone. Aeon is next to him. Arms curled around Dews body. Breath huffing out over his horns. And Dews first instinct is to push him away. To shove until Aeon rolls out of bunk and onto the floor.

He doesn't want pity.

But Aeon pulls him tighter. Makes a noise in his sleep and Dew relents. It feels good to be held like this. And it isn't Aeon's fault for not knowing thr protocol. He doesn't know that he's supposed to ignore Dew when he gets like this, not yet. He'll learn. He'll disappear like the others have. But until then? Until Dew inevitably ruins this like he does everything else? He'll sink into it. Savor it. This fleeting comfort.

He drifts back off to sleep to the sound of Aeon mumbling into his hair.

[dracowars]

Hi love! Could I request an obi Wan X reader where it’s late at night and he finds her reading in a library and he joins her?

peaceful | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x jedi!reader

word count: 0,6k

summary: where obi-wan joins y/n in the library

a/n: enjoy <3

warnings: mentions of war

universe: star wars

With your face bathed in a soft bluish glow, you scroll through the pages of the holobook that sits on your lap, only reading the titles of each chapter to see if there is anything relevant to you. Sitting with your legs crossed, you lean against the back of the armchair, which is located right by a large round window and has recently become your new favorite spot. It is only here that you can finally rest, letting your mind wander, and enjoy the rain gently pattering against the window, hiding the dark and busy city beyond.

Coruscant never sleeps and, apparently, neither do you. Especially not these last few days, considering you only have one day left until you embark on one of your longest and probably most dangerous missions so far. For this reason, you try to acquire as much knowledge about the planet and its habitat and inhabitants as you can in the short time since the Jedi Council gave you the instructions.

It is always hard to keep your cool in times of war, but it is moments like these when you can just sit here in the Jedi archives, alone, thinking about everything and nothing. For some inexplicable reason, it gives you a sense of security. The mission will probably cost you the last of your strength, but the end of the Clone Wars is in sight, and if this single mission can bring you a little closer to the end, then you will do just that. Giving your all and fighting for your values, for what is right.

Your eyes get caught on a chapter you find useful, and it is only when you change your sitting position that you suddenly feel a change in your surroundings. You do not even have to look up to know he is here.

"Still out and about at this hour?", you tease him, carefully putting the book aside before looking at him because let's face the truth, you can't take your eyes off of him for more than a few seconds. As soon as you do look at him, however, your heart aches in your chest.

The man in front of you has seen a lot of terrible things in this war and it only makes you want to end it even quicker. His hair is disheveled, probably from tossing and turning back and forth for hours to get his well-deserved sleep, which was obviously not granted to him in the end. Obi-Wan only returned to Coruscant today after being sent out to Kamino for several days, and has to leave again tomorrow, with you. Which is why you made it your task to spare him as many difficulties as possible, dealing with the necessary information intensely.

"I knew I would find you here", is his answer as he sits down on the armchair next to you, a small smile on his lips as he can't help himself but to softly run his hand over your head. "And before you tell me to leave and get some sleep: I can't."

"I know", you respond sadly, only knowing too well how it feels to run on low fuel and still not being able to fall asleep, letting the misery of this galaxy behind. Grabbing his hand, you push your palm against his before closing your fingers around it, squeezing lightly.

Reaching over you with his other hand, Obi-Wan grabs another holobook that you have carefully searched out a few hours ago, leaning back in his seat. But not before placing a soft kiss on your hair, whispering 'I'm proud of you' along the way.

Your heart painfully beats for this man. You know that all of this, everything you have build up, can be over tomorrow, and yet he does not disturb the peace you have built around here. He fades in perfectly and, with your hands intertwined, reads on, the soft glow illuminating his beautiful face.

You can't wait for all of this to be over. Because once it is, you will finally make him yours. And he will finally make you his.

[lqvesoph]

just fuck it - mason mount

Summary: you not wanting to go official cuz of the hate, but then you rethink your decision after seeing kai's recent instagram post

fluff

warnings: mentioning hate on social media

masterlist

You and Mason have been dating for quite some time now but depite that, you never have posted each other on any of your social media platforms. You simply didn't feel comfortable as you were scared of the backflash you would be getting. Some fans just don't see the line.

You saw how it was with the girlfriend's of the other boys. Sophia, who had to put her account private after the Champions League final or Sasha, who admitted to getting over 200 death threads a day during the Euros. You were with the two of them when it happened and you saw how they both struggled.

That was a reason why you were so hesitant when Mason first asked you out. You didn't know if you could take it, you wanted to keep Mason to yourself, to keep this relationship to yourself. And he assured you, the two of you could keep it private.

You knew that Mason would never say anything about it or pressure you into going puplic but you also knew he really wanted to.

"Love?", you heard Mason calling from the hallway, he sounded exhausted. A quick glance at the clock told you it was already 7pm. "Tuchel made us do extra sessions. In the rain. Just because we were a bit too late", Mason complained, throwing himself on the sofa next to you and nuzzling his head into your lap.

You chuckled and let your fingers go through his hair that was still slightly wet. His hands wandered over your bare thighs and up under the hem of his shirt you were wearing. "Aren't you cold?", his muffled voice asked, drawing circles on your skin. You didn't reply and kept your gaze down on the back of his fluffly hair. The show you were originally watching completely forgotten.

When Mason didn't get a response he turned around in your lap so he was staring up at you now. His brown eyes looking tired but still sparkled at the sight of your messy self. A small smile formed on his face and he lifted a hand to tuck the strands that fell out of your bun behind your ears. His finger tracing your cheek and wandered to your lips. His fingeres were touching you like he was trying to make sure you were real.

"I love you", Mason mumbled, making you smile. You leaned down until your lips were touching his. "I love you", you whispered, pressing a last peck on his lips before sitting up straight again. "But go and take a shower now, you smell."

You gave his head a clap and pushed him down the couch. He tried to hold himself up but failed miserably and landed down to your feet. You laughed and slightly kicked him away when he didn't move further. "I'm gone, I'm gone", Mason laughed, picking himself up and disappearing to the bathroom.

You shook your head but with a slight smile on your lips and reached for your phone that was laying on the other end of the couch.

The first thing you saw when you opened Instagram was Kai's recent post of him, the dogs and Sophia. You probably looked at the picture for over ten minutes, rethinking everything.

Why were you so scared?

Obviously the hate comments. But what do they really mean? Should you really take all these to heart? Written by people behind their screens, possibly hiding behind a false name.

You were the one who had Mason. He wasn't going to break up with you and run off with some 13 year old, you knew that, you knew him. You were aware he couldn't protect you from the hate that was bounding to come once you announced your relationship. But you knew he was worth it, your happy moments together were worth all the bad ones.

You were not alone.

"What are you looking at?", Mason asked, interrupting your thoughts. You slightly flinched since you were so in deep in your own little world that you hadn't notice him.

"Nothing", you smiled up at him, opening your arms to signal him to come closer. His hair was almost dry again and when you closed your arms around him you breathed in the nice scent of his shampoo. "Hmm", you hummed. "You smell amazing."

You pulled him closer and Mason made himself comfortable in the same position he was earlier. "What's that?", he asked, nodding at the TV. "Dunno, found it on Netflix. I think it's called Fate or something. It's about fairies, I really like it." 

Mason nodded and placed his head in your lap. Your fingers found their way back into his hair. Due to the fact it was freshly washed, it was softer than usual which you adored way too much.

You took a glance down, seeing how Mason was looking at the pictures Kai uploaded, staring longer than usual on the fourth, before he kept on scrolling. You took a deep breath and took your phone before going on Instagram.

How bad can it be? You've got Mason by your side, no matter what those kids say. In the end you were the one he was holding, you were the one he was hugging and you were the one he was kissing, you were sharing a bed with him at the end of the day and listing to him ranting about different football tactics for upcoming games or complaining about training. He was yours and some obsessed 11 year old's were not going to change that.

You saw Mason's notification pop up.

Y/N tagged you in a post

He immediately turned around and put all of his attention on you. "What are you doing?", Mason asked more than confused since he knew your opinion on going puplic. He clicked on your account, looking at the picture you posted and sitting up straight.

tagged: @masonmount

liked by: @kaihavertz29, @sophiaamelia, @benchilwell and 1,987,256 others

@yourusername: babe

comments:

@masonmount: I love you💙

→ @yourusername: I love you💙

→ @fan: Hold up, WHAT?!

@kaihavertz29: I am shocked

→ @yourusername: Oh...

@sophiaamelia: Phone. Now.

→ @sasha_rebecca: Now.

→ @yourusername: Have I done something wrong 👀

@benchilwell: You- Oh- Wow. I'm confused but happy😲

→ @fan: Chilly is all of us right now

@benchilwell: @yourusername @masonmount We need to have a serious talk, children

→ @yourusername: 👀

→ @masonmount: 👀

@cleo.brown: @masonmount you stole my best friend😠

→ @masonmount: I'm sorry😩

@cmpulisic: LORD FINALLY!!

@declanrice: @masonmount You're- you're cheating on me?

→ @masonmount: Sorry but she took your number 1 spot...

→ @declanrice: Since six, SINCE SIX

@fan: OMG THEY'RE DATING??

@fan: Wait, Mason has a girlfriend?

@fan: Since uh when?

@fan: This is pure pain but I'm so happy for you guys❤️

@fan: Who is she? Do we know her from somewhere?

→ @fan: She seems close with the other Chelsea guys

→ @fan: Well, she's dating one of 'em...

@fan: How do they know each other?

→ @fan: I think she's pretty close with Sophia

load more comments...

your story:

caption: adorable, isn't he?

"For real?", he asked, trying to hide his smile. You nodded smiling back at him. "You didn't have to-" "I know I didn't, I wanted to", you assured him.

Mason let out a small yelp before clinging around your neck and showering your face with kissed. You tried to push him away but he didn't let that happen and crashed the both of you back onto the couch. His chin was on your chest and he was looking up at you with a warm smile.

"I thought, 'Just fuck it', they can't take you away from me, doesn't matter if they know or if they don't, because I love you", you whispered, stroking through his hair. Mason's smile only grew.

"Besides, even tho I know you'd never say it, you wanted it badly", you send him a smirk and before he tried to protest you put your finger over his lips. "Don't even start, I know you did."

You felt both of your phones buzzing under you. But not only once, no it didn't stop. You tried to open it but were immediately greeted with over a thousand messages from all different kind of apps. Mason's were only from his friends while yours were coming from people all around the world. Next thing you saw was Jaz and your mum calling you.

"Let me take that", Mason said, seeing how overstrained you were by all these messages. "I'll turn your notification for social media off, or else you won't have a normal minute anymore", he explained his action and put your phone on the table next to his. You smiled, thankful for how caring he was.

"I love you", you whispered, caressing his cheek. "I love you more", Mason smiled, leaning up to kiss you before laying his head back down on your chest.

"Have fun at training tomorrow", you smirked, knowing your relationship would be the hot topic number 1.

Mason groaned and buried his head in your chest again. "They're gonna tear me apart with their questions!" 

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

Read the previous part: Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

“Get the fuck away,” she said against the pattering of the rain, still walking tiredly. She tried to blink to clear off her eyesight, but the rain was getting heavier. She hated the fact that her only choice was to get into the car, or else she would probably be sick until the end of the summer.

The car stopped, and whoever in that car sighed. “I don’t have time, and I won’t leave you alone. Get in.”

“Fuck off,” she said again, feeling her tank top sticking to her body. She felt extremely cold now, not wearing proper clothes or bringing some type of an umbrella.

“Get in,” he sighed again, and when the lightning struck a tree not far from where she was standing, she realised she really didn’t have a choice.

She placed herself into the Range Rover, wetting the seat and the carpet, and she could hear the faint music coming from the radio. She didn’t dare glance at the boy beside him, and he didn’t waste anymore time before hitting the breaks and speeding down the road.

“So you’re stalking me now?”

Rafe laughed, “I won’t call it stalking. Perhaps protecting.”

(Y/N) scoffed, watching the car freshener swaying from the rearview mirror. It was the freshener from before, and (Y/N) wondered if he ever changed It.

“What are you doing at the Chateau?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, slightly shivering from the rain before. “Why? Are you mad?”

He stayed shut, his eyes focusing on the road, and (Y/N) crossed her arms again.

“I saw you kissed him.”

“Of course,” she laughed shrilly, not looking at him. “What else did you see? Did you stalk me in New York too?”

He shrugged, “Should’ve.”

“Fucking psycho,” she muttered under her breath. “Now what? You’re going to kill me like you murdered that sheriff?”

She watched as Rafe’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his eyes staring straight at the road. For a second she was afraid of him, but knew he would never hurt her, not when he loved her a bit too much.

“I fucking hate you,” she spat, crossing her arms. “And I wish I’ve never met you.”

“Say that again, and I’ll fucking kill you,” he breathed, and (Y/N) gritted her teeth. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, his fingers still etched onto the steering wheel, his face contorted in anger.

“You should be in jail,” she said again, and she didn’t know why she wouldn’t just shut up. She guessed she was probably tired of being treated like shit, and she wanted to put an end to it.

Rafe accelerated the car, driving straight back to Figure 8, and all those time they didn’t speak, just sitting in the silence as (Y/N) cried, thinking of what she had gotten herself into.

She was covering up for a crime.

If this news ever goes out she would never get a place in college, and all of her future dreams would be ruined.

She jolted out of her thoughts when the car stopped abruptly, and she looked at the view outside. The bold font of ‘Kildare County Sheriff’s Station’ greeted her, and she turned to look at Rafe quickly.

“What the fuck are we doing here?” She grunted, her heart beating wildly.

“Go. You’re done covering up for me? Go. Go and fucking tell them that Rafe Cameron murdered Sheriff Peterkin!” He expressed, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Isn’t that what you fucking want?”

(Y/N) stayed silent, her eyes glassy. The boy in front of her was breathing heavily, and she noticed how different he was from before.

His face had become smaller, and his cheekbones were more apparent. He didn’t slick his hair back anymore and just let them messily part, and his glowing blue eyes were now dark.

She held him in her hands, placing her forehead against his. “I don’t mean it like that, Rafe.”

Rafe closed his eyes, breathing into her scent that he had missed so much, and his hands instantly went up to her hair. He bit his lips, feeling her now, and wished he would never have to part from her again.

“They’re having a hearing for John B,” Rafe said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’re calling you for the hearing too.”

She sucked in a breath, knowing this was bound to happen, “Rafe, I-”

“I’m not forcing you to cover up for me,” he whispered, “I get it if you won’t do it anymore. You hate me, and it’s okay. I would do the same.”

The tears were streaming down her face now, and she couldn’t bring herself to wipe them away. She held him close, still caressing his face, and bit her lips to stop a whimper.

“My dad’s going to ask you to cover up for me, and it’s okay if you won’t do it on the day of the hearing,” he continued, and she watched a tear roll down his face. He quickly wiped them away, pulling himself away and sighing before the steering wheel. “I just want you to know that I love you.”

“Rafe,” she sighed. This was exactly the problem; seeing him so weak under her, and she wanted nothing but to stay with him forever.

She held him close as he sobbed onto her lap, running her fingers through his hair.

Would she do it? Would she actually do this?

“I’ll do it,” she said, and Rafe quickly looked up to her, shaking his head. “I’ll do it,” she repeated, her eyes certain.

“You don’t have to,” he said, cupping her face. “Oh, baby, thank you, I love you so much. I love you so much.”

The news about (Y/N) having to stand for the hearing wasn’t accepted well by her parents, and Mr (Y/L/N) argued until the night sky settled in with Ward about how this will affect her college applications, to which Ward promised he would do everything in his will to help her get into the best college in the states.

The hearing was set not until next week, but (Y/N) could already feel the pressure building up in her stomach. It was between justice and Rafe now, and she didn’t know what to choose.

Rafe had been there with her throughout the whole week, just staying in bed with her, hugging her close and never letting go. It was just like their usual Sunday mornings last year, but this wasn’t as peaceful as that.

“I love you,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. (Y/N) shifted, so that she was facing the other way, and she wished she didn’t have to have such a hard time thinking about what she would be saying during the hearing.

All her life, she was told to always tell the truth, especially when there’s somebody falsely accused. But she loved Rafe too much, and she wouldn’t let him go even for a second again.

It was the night before the hearing that Rafe had to leave and see her tomorrow when Mrs (Y/L/N) entered her room, placing herself beside the lump under the blanket.

“Hey, mom,” she said, her voice croaky.

“Hey,” she smiled weakly, placing her hands against her cheeks. (Y/N) leaned into her touch, and wished she was still a little child. “Did Rafe do it?”

“Huh?” She sat up straight, rubbing her eyes. She laughed nervously, “Mom, what are you saying?”

“All I’m saying is,” she sighed, “It’s okay if he did it. You can tell me, (Y/N). I’m always here for you.”

She so badly wanted to tell her mother, to confess about the whole thing and cried against her arms. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to part with Rafe again, and she wouldn’t do it even for a few seconds.

“He didn’t,” she lied, laying her head against the pillow again. “It was John B.”

“Okay,” she nodded, but (Y/N) could feel that she knew all along.

“You must do the right thing, okay?” Was all she said, before she placed another soft kiss against her forehead and left her to cry her heart out until the morning sun appeared.

. . .

(Y/N) glanced at Rafe and his father behind her, and quickly looked back at the judge. She closed her eyes, feeling so shaky, and cleared her throat.

“I was with Rafe, we were just there to send, um, Ward off to the Bahamas. I was, uh, alone with him,” she started, her voice so shaky she felt as if she had just confessed the truth. She cleared her throat again, “We saw, um, Sheriff Peterkin and um, John B, Ward and Sarah.”

“Did Rafe Cameron shoot Sheriff Peterkin?”

It felt like a slap across her face, and she didn’t know what to do. She glanced at John B again, in his orange suit, looking at her with pleading eyes. She looked her parents, determined that she was not guilty, and back to Rafe, who was on the edge of crying.

“(Y/N)? Did Rafe Cameron shoot Sheriff Peterkin?”

(Y/N) thoughts wandered to the first time she and Rafe had sex. It happened in a party, and (Y/N) never regretted her actions on that day. That was only a few days after he had asked her to become his girlfriend, and 4 days away before the murder of the sheriff took place.

“You’re drunk,” she laughed, pushing him onto the sofa before climbing on top of him. This was usual between the two of them, always teasing each other but never really acting on it. But (Y/N) felt different that day, and she wanted the whole him.

“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow from under her, his fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. He turned her over so she was now under him, and she giggled ferociously, closing her eyes. His fingers trailed down to her cheeks, and he bit his lips as she let out a whimper.

He leaned closer, his lips nibbling on her earlobe. She groaned, tugging on his head, “What should we do then?”

“(Y/N), did Rafe shoot Sheriff Peterkin?”

(Y/N) looked up to the judge, her eyes glassy and her lips trembling. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and voiced out her own version of truth.

“It was John B who shot Sheriff Peterkin.”

The whole crowd went wild, Kie was screaming from the back, and she could hear Ward exclaiming happily, satisfied. She bit her lips, knowing she just committed a crime, and looked at John B.

Rafe went to put his arms around her, whispering an ‘are you okay?’ to which she nodded at, but she was far from okay; she felt like screaming her heart out.

Rafe placed another kiss against the back of her head before reclaiming his seat beside Ward, his body relaxing.

“John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section 14, you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. The maximum sentence would be the death penalty.”

The crowd broke out into chaos again, and (Y/N) had never felt weaker than before. Rafe quickly pulled her up, whispering comforting words into her ear, all while Kie and the other pogues tried to surround her.

“(Y/N), it’s not too late-” JJ tried to reach her, “(Y/N), please. Don’t fucking do this to me! You know the truth!”

“Fucking move,” Rafe muttered, still wrapping his arms around (Y/N) and walking towards the exit. She felt lifeless under his touch, so weak she could feel herself fainting.

She just sent someone to a death penalty.

“Murderer!” Kie yelled, just before Rafe could put her into the car, caressing her hair and letting her drop onto his lap, trembling intensely.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, soothing her hair as the car drove away, and the screams behind her slowly disappeared. “You’re fine.”

He kissed her on her forehead, “Thank you, baby. I love you. I love you so much.”

Her head had never felt more painful, and she could hear a ringing tone thrumming against her eardrums. She tugged on Rafe’s wrist, pulling him close. All in all, she was glad to be back into his arms.

[spikesbimbo]

Cloud 39

Pairing: Aran Ojiro x f!eader

Tags; big strong greek god aran (like 7ft tall in his human form), sacrilegious undertones(?), oral sex f!receiving, body worship f!receiving, possessive tendencies, size kink, anal fingering spit, snowballing, dacryphilia, choking, kinda angst at the end

wc:4k

a/n: happy birthday to my man!! And thank you for help with the header pic !!! @selfishwitch​

18+ Minors DNI

-

Your body splayed out across his, arms wrapped around his neck while his large hands held you close, leaning into him as you didn't care anymore, finding comfort in his warm body and cozy scent.

The warm air putting you at ease, eyes peeking out to see the many flowers bloom before you. If you were to die you'd rather do it here than the place you called home. So dark and dreary, always so foggy and gloomy, but here the sun was always shining though the clouds, golden light shining alluringly onto his skin, a place fit for a king.

“Aran, sweetheart.” His honey-like voice breaking you out of your trance. “That’s my name, so why don't you say it? His tall frame leaning into yours, head craning down into your neck as his eyes meet yours before you could look away. “I already told you that you could, are you still scared of me?

“N-no, i ju-. I'm just…. nervous.” You softly stammered out, quickly divertering your eyes from his, afraid you'd get lost in them as you adjusted yourself on his thigh. Legs dangling on the other side as you tried your hardest to ignore his almost naked body. His ivory robe wrapped loosely around one of his broad shoulders, and tied around his slim waist, not looking like he cared if it fell off.

“You okay? You look a little dazed. Don't worry love, m’not gonna eat you up like they said I would.”

“wh-” As if he read your mind, rumors spreading around your town. Never thinking you would get selected to be his yearly offering, your ‘family’ quickly throwing you away to appease the gods. 

His hands covered in gold up to his arms rested on your back, taking up the whole space as his thumb worked its way up and down, not knowing if he was making sure you wouldn't fall from so high up, or reassuring you.

”So,” you started, halting your words. Anxious feeling filling up in your chest as reality set it, remembering you were a sacrifice and not just his companion.

“So what?” he continued, leading you on. Summery eyes still set on you as if he was watching your every move, feeling so little and insignificant under him. Clinging onto him like a child as the fact remained in your head, ‘he could drop you if he wanted’. His realm towering over your city and town, trees looking like grass as you finally got the courage to look down.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“What am i going to do with you?” He lightly chuckled into your temple, teeth smiling white as the clouds his throne was resting high above, skin glowing as his eyelashes fluttered so heavenly, the most beautiful thing you've ever laid your eyes on. 

 He looked like an angel.

“Whatever you want love, m’not going to make you to do anything you don't want to.”

“What do you mean ‘don't want to’?

“I mean sex pretty girl, fornicating. You ever heard of it?” He joked as your face curled up into his chest.

“Y-yes I have!” you stated loudly, quickly trying to cover up. Embarrassment rising in your face at the thought of doing it with him, not wanting to make a fool out of yourself even more.

“So what happened to the others?’ You said trying to get your mind off of it, hoping he didn't notice the way you were squirming on his lap.

“The others?....” Seeing what you meant click in his head as he tilted it. “They can choose whether they want to or not, then I send them on their way. Why my love?” A smirk appraising on his face, heat rising in your body at the word ‘my’.

“You thought I drained them dry and burned them up? The tease in his voice had you flustered, “Unfortunately, humans' heads always come up with the worst thoughts, fear always plaguing in the back of their mind. Even going as far as to do this.” knowing he was referring to you.

“Probably because they're not immortal.” You muttered under your breath, remembering the first time you've ever seen a god in real life. Playing with them as a child, not knowing the difference until one day you were running around in a storm, no one caring to tell you that the violent winds would knock your tiny body off its feet. 

Meeting them at the usual place, the cliff on the coast of the ocean, dancing in the rain with no cares in the world until they stumbled, fear replacing the untroubled, joyful look in your eyes as you saw them fall off the rock. Body moving on its own before you knew it, reaching your hand out, but it was too late, both of your bodies falling many meters down onto the jagged waves and rocks below. 

Grateful that you loved the water, as your body once again moved on its own, muscle memory making you break the surface of the water, voice immediately screaming out for your friend as soon as you caught your breath. 

Not even knowing you were injured until you saw the red stain surrounding you, eyes burning from the salt and the heavy rain drops landing in them as you tried your best to keep them open. Catching a glance of your only friend washed up on the shore, head bloody as they were limp above the sand.

Doing your best to swim up to them as your leg could barely move, finally crawling up to them with all your strength, almost gagging at the sight before you. Head cracked open as your trembling little hands did their best to put it back together, shock overtaking you as their eyes suddenly opened, standing up like nothing happened. Comforting you as they saw you were a shaking mess, asking why you were still bleeding , not knowing the divide between you until that day.

Coming home to your family berating you, saying at least it wasn't your face, knowing they could still marry you off for money. Afraid of death due to that day along with heights, never going above sea level again. Scared by just the thought of it, the reminder scaring you mind, but of course fate would turn out this way, sadly laughing at the thought.

Again as if he could read your mind, his hand traced your damaged skin, understanding your thoughts and comforting you at the same time. Lucky you got sent to such a man, no, a god. Glad to let him use you as he needed, the only one who's ever cared enough to listen to you in your life. 

Letting a little whine out as his hand brushed your inner thigh, involuntary jerking in his hold, grinding against him as you felt him grow harder against your back. "Can I?" he asked, eyes laced with need.

Remembering that this was the usual for him, remembering that you were just his plaything at the end of the day. Lip quivering as your eyes fluttered closed, unsteady hands moving towards your hips, pushing your tiny little makeshift skirt to the side, almost matching his.

"Stop."  

You froze in place. His hands meeting yours, pushing them to the side. Standing up as he took you off his lap, setting you back down. Him resting below you as he gently grabbed your jaw, burning cheeks cooling down. "Look at me, " His soft voice said in a tone that didn't take "no" for an answer. “Look me in the eyes while I undress you.” 

Letting go of your jaw as you listened, his hands moving; pulling off the sash around your waist, the ghost of his touch making you shiver. Eyes locked with his as his head rested on your chest, undoing the knots on your shoulders, the sigh of the top melting off of you. Clothes pooling around your ankles, nipples growing hard at the open air.

"-don't hide yourself."

HIs soft voice coming out in a command, not knowing if you even had control over your body anymore. Shyly lowering your arms, body exposed. The feeling being new, the first man to ever make your heart race this violently, his touch lingering on you.

He was the god and yet here you were getting worshiped, on his knees before you as you were on his throne, large calloused hands resting the weight of your legs as he spread them open, placing open mouthed from your ankles up to your thighs, lips following the scar, almost trying to prove a point, that this was the only difference between you two.

Trying to muffle your moans, skin so sensitive to the touch. His hand feeling like fire moving up to your cheek, thumbing it before tracing his finger over your lips. Freeing them from your teeth, wiping away the blood as he brung it back to his lips.

Not knowing that you were the only one could ignite such reactions from him in such a short time, making him the greediest he's ever been. Defying his own logic, becoming a hypocrite by wanting to snatch you up and lock you away, keeping you all to himself. Not even asking if you were anyone else’s before his hands roamed all over your body, not even waiting to find out. Knowing right now he'd probably snap and take their lives for touching something that was his.

His.

The thought sounding nice in his head, spreading the rest of you short lived life with him. Waking up to see your pretty, entrancing smile every morning, knowing he could easily get his way. Wanting to hear his name fall from your pretty lips, your voice so sweet and soft, wanting to make you feel relaxed enough to not call him the formalities that he's never believed in.

Stopping before your entrance, wanting to drag it out to make you completely crumble into his arms, working for it as he should. 

His hands encompassing your tits, soft lips following him as well taking your nipple between his teeth after leaves countless kisses on them. Groping and squeezing the other one as his tongue flicked your nipple back and forth, so hot and wet, finally getting you to release those pretty whimpers he knew you had as he once again towered over you. 

His free hand resting on the side of your tummy making it twist, feeling so small and puny under his lust filled gaze as his cold eyes turned warm after meeting yours.

Lowering himself onto his knees once again, releasing your tit with a lewd, wet pop sound, body shaking as he placed his face right in front of your aching cunt. The tip of his tongue parting your slit, kissing it so passionately. Kissing everywhere but your clit, licking and sucking every part of your body but the part that needed it most, so neglected that just his breath could make you cum, not even being touched. 

 Hips trying to best to grind, to get any kind of friction as his hands held you down, not even seeing him flex his muscles to do so, remembering that the only thing you were ever told you were good for had all the attention of a man of power that could take out as many people as he wanted. Sitting back and relaxing the best you could, wanting to be good for him as he'd been to you.

Letting out a squeal as his nose touched your clit, trying your best to not cum as he let out a chuckle, sighing as he pulled away.  “Guess I need to move further huh? Needy little thing.” He whispered into you. The soft tease from his voice making you clench around nothing, ashamed that you got off on the power difference, referring to you as a thing, as humans were just pests in the gods eyes. 

Knowing he definitely saw as he was still on his knees, hands moving to cover your face. Not knowing if his ego could get any bigger but he swore it did, having you right  in the palm of his hand. Thumbs parting your folds as his fingers teased your entrance, whimpers leaving your cracked lips as you tried to muffle them with your hands, teeth sinking into your flesh once again.

“You want my fingers, pretty girl?” he asked, voice thick and deep from arousal as he watched you lift your hips, unable to answer as you face contort in a whine. 

“....Got it.” 

So pliable as you easily gave way thanks to him. His middle finger stretching you out, the feeling so hot as he was curling it inside of you, finding out your body with ease like a second nature to him. Growing uncomfortable as your thighs were getting sticky and wet, feeling spaced out and dizzy at just his finger. Worried about how you were going to take him, pushing it to the back of your head because you were here for his pleasure, not yours.

Rubbing your clit in circles faster until you're coming all over his hand, dripping onto the seat under you. A sob escaping your lips as he doesn't stop, fingers continuing to thrust into you, stopping once he's had his fun with you.

“Came so pretty for me.”  He cooed, admiring your already so blissfully fucked out state.

Raising his soaked lips to yours, spitting your own cum into your mouth as he pushed his tongue in there. Lapping it up as your mind went foggy, legs beginning to tremble while he wrapped his other arm around you, pulling away.

“Just hang on, you're being so good, so good for me, ” Moaning as his fingers replaced his tongue.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” He murmured, trying his best to control his voice while looking at the sight of you lying there, eyes fluttering as they rolled back.

“Its getting dark, love.” he said breaking the silence. Picking up your limp body, bare as the day you were born, muttering out, “I'm taking you to my home.” The sun shining less, sky getting a deeper shade. Seeing the marble and stone pillars surrounding you while he closed the sheer curtains, slightly blocking your view as he set you down on the plush bedding.

“m’gonna make it dirty…” you whispered, legs shifting as you thighs slid together.

Not being able to care less, wanting you and your body so wet and needy for him that he'd need a new one. “I don’t care, my love. Just lay there for me, okay?”

Watching as you crawled to the center of his bed, letting your body collapse. Legs opening as your back arched as, face landing in between the soft ivory pillows. Gritting his teeth moving lower, lifting your thighs up. Moving them out of the way to bury his face into the softness of your ass. Running his thumb down your clit, so swollen as you twitched underneath his finger.

Placing kisses across your ass, the tip of his fingers making their way into your holes, trailing his mouth over your slit. Choking out with a whine embarrassingly loud as you arched your back even more. “Not today my love, wanna see your pretty face right now, wanna see it twist and turn.” 

Flipping you over, placing featherlight kisses all over your face down to your shoulder.  The jewelry was the only thing remaining on his skin, his robe discarded to the side. The gold complementing his perfect body on display for you as he reached over to the stand, grabbing a jug of wine. 

 “C’mere”, wrapping his arm around your middle, pulling you up chest to chest with him, feeling his heartbeat as your head looked up to him. “Drink some,”

Your head resting on his hand as it was tilted back, taking a slow sip from it, some slipping past your lips, falling down onto your chest. The burning feeling making you antsy and jitterish.

“Don't worry, I got you.” Not giving you a chance to respond as he pulled the bottle back.

Tongue tracing the red and purple liquid, lips taking their time moving up from your stomach to your chest, kissing every part of your body that was stained. Taking your nipple into his mouth once again, sucking the wine off of your breasts while you were squirming under his touch.

He grins, sucking and rolling it between his teeth, his fingers teasing the other. The stinging feeling he left behind as he moved on from your neck, finally reading your mouth, thumb tracing them before pouring more wine into your mouth, this time catching it before it spilled, lips meeting yours as he kissed you drunk.

His smile was thoroughly charmed, not just the liquid he was savoring, but your nerves and humiliation were being swallowed up too. “You trust me?” His teeth shining under the moonlight, the glow looking like a halo around him. Nodding out a simple “yeah.”. 

The heat radiating off of him as he hovered over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps as the warmth grew in the small space between you two. His lips meeting yours slow and controlled, still full of greed and passion while his hands roamed over your body with need.

“S’gonna hurt, love.” he muttered, trying to hold back a groan as his tip barely made its way in, legs spread as far as he could get them. Locked around his waist as he wanted so desperately to bury himself in your soft chest, but the thought of missing your face pulled him away.

“Fuck…”

The feeling of finally sliding his cock into you is unlike anything he's ever felt in his long life. Letting out a gasp of breath as he groaned above you, sinking you down pitilessly onto his cock. His hands ‘gently’ gripping your waist, your knuckles turning white as they clenched onto the fabric underneath you. “...hurts”

“Shh… s’okay. You’re doing so good, feel so good. So wet for me, gonna fuck you so good, love. Gonna make you cum over and over again, gonna fill you up.” he cooed, hands finally settling onto your thighs, resting there as he waited for you to get used to his length. The burning feeling quickly growing numb at the thought of not being enough for him, tears welling up in your eyes at the pain and need.

 “a-aran.”

He leans in closer to you, pride blooming in his chest, pressing your sweaty and slick covered body into his. “Hm, love. You okay?”

Nodding hesitantly while your eyes look over his shoulder. “m’not gonna break. I- wa-. No… I need you.”

Kissing your forehead to control himself. “I know you won’t, what d'ya you want?” Wanting to confirm what he thought he heard, hands getting impatient.

“Want you to fuck me, want you to use me,” The needy whine of your voice going straight to his cock.

White shining through his lips. “ I got you, love,” he said leaning back, taking a firmer grip on the top of your hips so he can slam back into you. Voice shattering as you squeal, back curving while your body tires to run away at his brutal pace. The sound of his balls wetly slapping against your ass and his hot breath are the only things you could hear.

“Ah, ara- cant , I-I-, can--”  His face beaming at the incoherent words coming from between your lips, knowing he was dumb fucking you dumb. One of his hands moving from your thigh, up to the base of your neck pushing your head down into the pillow. 

“Feels good? Gonna tell me how much you love my cock?” He groaned, hips getting faster.

“I--ah, hngh, ara-, I-- it f-feels so good, ah, so good--”  Your eyes fluttering shut, trying to stop your tears. “Hngh, p-please,...ple-!” 

“Please what baby? ya’ gotta tell me, or i won't know.” he taunted. Slowing his thrusts down with his pent up effort, making you miss the feeling of his cock bruising your walls.

“please, wanna cum, ple-, ngh, w-wan-, please, I--” You whimpered, hands reaching up to his chest, nails leaving imprints behind, nervousness overcoming your face that you left a mark on a god

His eyebrows furrowing as he leans into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna make you mine,” he breathed heavily into your ear. “I’m gonna show everyone, show the whole world below us who owns you. Who’s the only one who can fuck you like this baby, who can have you cross eyed just from the tip, huh? Tell me.”

“You!” you sobbed, more focused on meeting him halfway, more desperate for his cock, than answering him.

His tight grip on your hips, keeping you from kicking and jerking. “Huh? What was that?” He whispered, fucking you like he was competing for you. 

“Im gon-, m’gonna cum.” Body jiggling under him as his frame blocked your view, the only thing your eyes could see was him.  

“You just take it, don’t you love? You take my cock like that's all you were made for. You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my cock? You gonna let me stuff you full? 

Vision going black and starry, head drowning as your body felt like it was floating. Feeling him shove himself into, whining as he let out a sinful moan. “Fuck. m’so close. So close because of you, such a good girl, ” Body shaking as he fucked you into overstimualtion, grinding against your clit with each thrust.

“Mine, all mine.”

Hips stuttering and stalling as his balls were flush against your ass. Spilling inside of you and digging your fingers into his arms. Cock still hard even after you clenched around it, cumming onto him again and the bed sheets beneath you with a choked out moan. 

Thighs trembling as your body was so eased, sleepy and content. Focusing on the feeling of him stretching you out, and the internal feeling as making him proud. Slowly relaxing until he flipped you over on top of him, laying down. His cock slipping slightly out, the feeling of his warm cum escaping leaving you painfully empty.

Collapsing on top of him after your body gave out entirely. Only being able to breath as you felt his hand rest on your lower back. Turning your head to see his eyes closed, seemingly as worn out as you. The night sky being painted in the background, wondering how long you've been at it. 

But as your mind came back to yourself, you realized that you would never be his no matter what the circumstances. Closing your eyes one last time after admiring his face for what sempt like hours, the comfortableness growing as you drifted off to sleep in his big warm arms. Knowing that he'd be more than likely gone when you woke up, wiping your tears one last time.

 You’d done your part.

[yutahoes]

Love and Letter

pairing : college student! Yuta Nakamoto x secret admirer

word count : 4.5k words

genre : fluff

summary : A series of letters melt the anti-love’s heart.

warnings : cursing

For the “...dear you” collab hosted by @theje0ngs 😄

I had fun writing for this story. I’m sorry if I posted this early, I’m just so excited to show this to you. Please enjoy and leave feedback. 😁

Nakamoto Yuta. The perfect embodiment of the rebel guy moms would always remind young girls to get away from. Pierced ears, long hair that defies the school rule, a scowl on his face as if hating everyone which he does. A total rebel that is feared by students and teachers alike. The classic bad guy who never showed up for classes, only staying a minute for attendance roll call then skipping. 

And he wanted it to stay like this for the whole year. 

Why does he have to attend Creative Literature class when he’s not even a Literature major? Annoyed, he pushed the door of his locker and was startled when a piece of paper fell from the said locker. His name was written in front in cursive form. To say that he’s not intrigued is a total lie but he waited until he was seated in class when he unfolded the paper. 

‘Hi, Yuta. 

Please don’t be alarmed, I’m not a bad person. 

I notice you a lot in the school hallways and honestly, you’re a little scary. 

I know you’re a nice person. Please lighten up a bit.

XOXO,🍎’

A chuckle escaped his lips. Just a little scary? Him? A nice person? Isn’t this weird? Who in their right mind would make an absurd letter like this? 

But a smile escaped his lips as his mind drifted on the letter in his pocket. Should he start smiling more? Talk to some classmates? Maybe he can find out who wrote the letter. Fuck, this is so dangerous. 

Although it is ultimately different from his usual aura, he greeted the discipline director waiting by the school gate. He also gave a bow to the teachers he passed, smiling lightly at his classmates he only recognized by faces. They were obviously surprised at the sudden shift in his attitude but greeted him as well. By lunchtime, he was hanging out with the guys in his Physics class and laughing at their jokes.   

‘I don’t know if you received my letter the first time but I noticed that you’ve been a little brighter and that you’ve been hanging out with some friends. 

That’s nice. 

I’m happy to see you happier. 

Thank you for making my days brighter, Yuta.

XOXO,🍎’

Yuta smiled. But it was the letter sender who made his days brighter. Does that person like him so much? Or is this something that is made up? He doesn’t want to know but he liked the feeling of receiving the letter. 

He’s used to it by now, saying good morning to the school guard and the discipline director before entering the school gate. He would smile at the other students who were early for class, even helping some with their things. 

Every morning, he would pass by the school’s soccer field. His turf back in high school. If only he continued playing soccer, maybe he can be a part of the team and defeat these guys with terrible form. He smiled while rubbing the back of his head, walking to where the Arts building is. Soccer isn’t for him. 

‘Do you like Messi? 

I noticed you’ve always stopped by the soccer field every morning. 

Maybe you can try out for the soccer team. Didn’t you use to play for the team back in high school? 

It will be cool to see you play again.

XOXO,🍎’ 

He glanced around to see if someone was watching him read the letter but the students are busy with their own things. That person knows that he plays soccer back in high school? Is that person a schoolmate from before? But he’ll have a hard time locating who it is considering that he went to a local high school near the university. 

Is this a sign from above? Should he really try out for soccer? He did miss the feeling of the ball in his feet, the smell of the grassy field, and the excitement it brought him. Why did he even stop playing for a girl who never cared about him?

With the letter in his pocket, Yuta got accepted in the soccer team. The coach even thanked him repeatedly for changing his mind, claiming that he had been coaxing Yuta into applying since his freshman days. The guy only smiled, rubbing his head while apologizing. “The soccer golden boy is back.” And he is. He’s happy to be back. 

But training is so tedious that it startled him. Back in high school, training is such a piece of cake. Why did you have to run fifty laps around the field now? Maybe his body is really startled that for the first time in his college life, he got sick. For two days, he skipped school and just stay at home to rest. Now, he’s debating if playing soccer is all worth it. Should he quit? But he just started. Can his body take on this intense training? 

His friends were greeting him when he returned to school. The other guys from the soccer team teasing him that it’s like that at the first time but he’ll get over this. Hopefully, he will. There isn’t a letter in his locker that made him feel odd. Well, what did he expect? Maybe it already stopped. But he kinda liked it. Even looking forward to it every morning. 

“Dude, you have to attend creative literature tomorrow.” Jungwoo, one of his classmates on the said subject claimed. “We already paired for the project. Your partner seemed really down.” 

Yuta laughed at that. “Who is my partner?” 

“Y/N. She always comes early in class, sitting on the back row.” 

“A girl? Can’t I pair up with you instead?” He revolted quickly that made his friend reason out that nothing will be done if they pair up for the project even asking him the golden question of all, ‘Why are you so scared of girls?’ But Yuta just shrugged, not wanting to explain it to him. 

‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away. 

I’m glad you’re feeling fine and that you’re back in class. 

Also, the apple juice from the vendo machine tastes great. 

I hope you’re not allergic to apples.’

XOXO,🍎’

Funny, that person will say that. He isn’t. And it’s not bad to try it out. 

When he entered the room for their creative literature class, he immediately saw the girl Jungwoo was describing with her face buried in the book. Why is he even scared of talking to a girl? 

Yuta breathed hard before sitting beside her. “Y/N? Am I correct?” He asked which made the girl turn to him. Yuta handed her the same apple juice he’s drinking. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto and we’re partners for the project?” 

The girl nodded, thanking him for the drink. “It’s an epistolary piece we should make…” 

“Epis…? What?” 

She lightly giggled at that which made him stare. “Epistolary.” She said emphasizing all syllables. “It’s a letter-type fiction. We write a story using letters.” Yuta nodded at that. Letters. “I have the idea already but since it’s a pair project, I can’t start on it until I show you.” 

Can’t she show it now? Can she just do the project without his help or without talking to each other? “Do you want to discuss it after class? I’ll be in the library if…” 

“I have soccer practice.” He immediately said that made her stop. He gave her his phone, asking if they can just talk through messages that made her nod, typing her number in. The moment she returned the phone, he immediately stood up to talk to his friend, Taeyong, in the first row.

---------

“You just ditched her?” Taeyong asked that made Yuta ruffle his hair. He shouldn’t have told him. “That’s a pair project, Nakamoto. You’ll both get a zero if you don’t cooperate.” 

Yuta showed the text message he shared with Y/N. “She said she’ll just do it. She’s smart. She can do it.” 

The other shook his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her? Y/N isn’t bad. The thing you’re scared of with girls. I’m sure Y/N isn’t like that.” He raised an eyebrow at him. “All I’m saying is that you should stop being this total jerk on her. He’s not like your ex, Yuta.” That took his attention. How did he know that? “There are talks around.” But before he could ask him to elaborate, Taeyong turned a sharp left. 

The rain was falling hard that made Yuta sigh while taking out his umbrella. Soccer practice ended early because of the muddy ground that made him hate the rain. Today, of all days? He just returned from sickness and yet there’s no training. As he neared the steps of the building, he saw a familiar girl with her hand held out in the pouring rain. “Y/N.” he called. 

The girl gave him a timid smile before returning to what she was doing. Weird. Does she love the rain so much? “Do you have an umbrella?” He asked that made her shake her head. “Do you want to share? I can walk you to the bus stop.” 

“It’s fine, Yuta.” Y/N whispered while shaking her head. Once again, she started playing with the droplets of rain. Truly odd. Maybe Taeyong is right, she really is different. Yuta handed the umbrella that startled her, “Yuta!” But he was already running in the rain. Shit, he might get sick again with this. 

‘It’s been raining non-stop this past few days. It’s so gloomy. 

Also, I learned a new word today.

Niwakaame. 

Isn’t it Japanese? 

Rain Shower. 

I love the rain shower. 

How about you? I hope you don’t hate the rain as much. 

It helps water the plants, you know?

XOXO,🍎’  

A giggle escaped his lips. It does, doesn’t it? 

He just had a reason to like the rain. 

Since soccer practices had been on hold because of the rainy weather, he would always find himself in the library working on that epistolary piece with Y/N. She would always type her ideas and he would check if it was alright. But really, what does he know about all of this? 

He was just thankful that she became his partner, she's really smart and creative. He'll probably pass creative literature with ease because of her help. Another thing is that she never talks when she's in front of her laptop and he was thankful that she's saving them from awkwardness. 

He put on the straw of the apple juice before slipping it beside her notebook. Yuta returned to his comic book when he heard her say in a soft voice, "I didn't know you like apples." Yeah, he honestly didn't know that he did either. 

‘Soccer is such a boring sport for me before. Why does it take so long for players to score a goal? 

But watching you play, scoring that goal in the last minute, I’ve never felt that thrill and happiness before. 

Congratulations! 

And if no one told you this before, I guess I’ll have to tell you now. 

You are really cool, Yuta Nakamoto!

XOXO,🍎’   

The class was cheering with excitement when Yuta entered the room, everyone was congratulating him for the amazing game. He beamed happily, thanking them as he poked a straw to the apple juice he was holding and putting it on Y/N’s table but she didn’t even look at him and was just typing in front of her laptop. 

“You’re being chummy with her.” Taeyong claimed while elbowing his side. “So what’s special about Y/N that she’s the only girl you talk to?” 

Yuta had to laugh, voice resonating to the whole room. Instead of the professor, it was the TA who came for class. He just asked them to talk with their partners that made the class scrambled on their seats. Yuta sat beside Y/N who kept on typing in her laptop as if not caring about anything. “Y/N.” He called softly. “Are you alright?” 

The girl almost screamed when Yuta held her shoulder. “Yuta?” She called then stared around. “I’m sorry. Is the class starting?” She immediately put down the screen of her laptop while biting her thumb. 

“The prof isn’t here. The TA just wanted the pairs to talk about the idea.” She whispered an ‘oh, I see’ before putting out her laptop which opened a document. “You seemed busy.” 

“Paper due today.” She answered while typing, bouncing her legs while she bit her lip. 

The TA started walking around the room to see what the students are doing which made Y/N close the document, groaning when she failed to save it. The girl bumped her head to the desk that surprised Yuta. “You can type your paper and pretend to listen to me.” Yuta suggested that made her look at him. There were tears in her eyes. “Just pretend that I’m telling you the story.” 

Y/N wiped her eyes then breathed hard before opening her laptop to start with her work. Yuta smiled when she started typing words on her laptop. “Someone is giving me letters.” But her typing didn’t stop and he wondered if she was even listening to him. “I don’t know why but that person gives me comfort all the time.” The TA approached their table and she started typing at a slow pace as he continued talking to her, “I always wait for that person’s letters every morning.” 

When the TA passed, Y/N returned to her usual typing that made Yuta shrug and just watch as she focused on her work. Maybe she isn’t interested in hearing his story but it feels good that he got this chance to tell someone about the mystery sender always giving him smiles. He placed his head on the table, facing her. “I hope you meet your letter sender, superstar.” Y/N said without looking away from her laptop. And he wished he did too. 

‘Ureshii. 

I’m happy you’re always happy, Yuta. 

I’m happy to hear your laugh echo in our room. I’m happy to see you smiling at everyone you pass by. 

I’m happy you’re coming to class and enjoying soccer. 

I’m really happy for you, Yuta.

XOXO,🍎’

A smirk appeared on his lips, so this person is in the same class as him? He usually passes by this person as well. He really wants to see this person once and thank him or her. 

A thought passed his mind. What if the sender is a girl? Can he actually talk to her? Maybe not. This is probably better. That he’s curious about the mystery letter sender. 

It was the midterm week. Everyone is super busy with the things they have to do, college life is so fast-paced that it scared Yuta. He’s used to getting left behind but what if he gets too left behind? He’s not super smart, not even studious. And a failing grade meant an automatic expulsion from the soccer team which he slowly grew to love. He should just be back from his usual rebel phase. 

The thing he was scared of happened because of Math, specifically Trigonometry. He had to admit that he was blank the whole time, the result of not going to class during the first few months of school. What’s more annoying is seeing everyone’s score on the bulletin board and his fifteen points in Math. 

“Take a tutorial class and retake the exam. It isn’t that hard.” The soccer coach said. “I don’t want to expel you in the team, golden boy.” But most of the tutors are all girls which scared him the most. Yet he didn’t want to fail. 

As he skimmed the possible Math tutors to help him, his eyes fell on one specific girl that he knew who could help him. The only girl he could talk to. 

‘Keep your head up. 

It’s Math. It is naturally hard. 

Don’t beat yourself up instead focus on what you did. 

You solved an entire equation, fifteen of it and that’s admirable already. 

Keep it up, Yuta! You’ve done a great job. 

XOXO,🍎’ 

“This answer is wrong, superstar.” Y/N claimed, circling her pencil to the number two which Yuta got as an answer. The guy looked at it curiously, sighing hard while bumping his head on the table that earned looks from everyone inside the coffee shop. The girl had to giggle at him before closing her book, “We can rest if you want.” 

Yuta followed her by closing the book then drank his apple juice that made her shake her head. “Y/N, do you remember the letter sender I told you about?” He asked before leaning his head on top of the books. The girl only nodded in answer. “Should I meet him?” 

“Him? Your mystery sender is a guy?” 

The guy shrugged. “But I want to think that the sender is a he so I won’t get too nervous.” But Y/N only gave him a confused look. “I’m not good with talking to girls. I mean, I’m really scared of holding a conversation with them especially after I broke up with my girlfriend.” Yuta breathed before continuing, “She gets jealous even if I just smile at another girl and maybe that was when the trauma started. When we broke up, I just can’t shake it off. I feel like it’s wrong for me to be talking to a girl.” 

Y/N nodded. “Well, you just told that whole sentence to me. And I’m a girl.” 

“Oh shit!” Yuta exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t be offended.” Y/N shook her head, smiling at him. “I think you’re really pretty and smart.” 

“You think I’m friendly?” He gave her a confused look. Friendly? But he clearly said pretty. Yuta chuckled before nodding at her. 

It was Y/N’s idea to give the mystery sender a response in a form of a letter, just Yuta saying that he’s thankful for the letters the sender gave him. He even shared how he liked Keisuke Honda better than Messi, how he thinks the apple juice from the vendo machine is the best drink there is in school, and how he started to think of the rain in a better light. He thanked the sender for encouraging him to study Math and the support he got from playing soccer. By the end of the letter, he told the sender that he will wait in a coffee shop to meet him or her so he can properly thank him or her. 

"Y/N!" Yuta called while running in the hallway to where she was. He kept bumping on other students, apologizing quickly to them. "Y/N! He took the letter." She shrugged, looking at him confused. "Do you think he'll come to the coffee shop and meet me?" 

"Did you tell her that?" He leaned beside your locker while she took out books for her consecutive classes. 

Yuta nodded, taking her books for him to carry. "I'm nervous. What should I do?" Y/N was startled at the action. "What if the sender is a she? How can I even talk to her?" 

The girl giggled. "Like how you're talking to me, Yuta." 

He stopped walking and she was steps ahead when she noticed Yuta was gone. "Can you come with me later?" 

Y/N sighed, shaking her head at him. “You can do this, superstar.” 

--------

Yuta was so nervous that he kept on ordering water to ease his nerves. Every time the chimes of the door ring, he would stare at the door and hope that it was the letter sender. He lightly glanced at his wristwatch, it's been an hour. Will that person even come? 

He's in his fifth cup of coffee, almost two hours have passed since the time he told the person in the letter. Yuta had already given up. Maybe she wouldn't come. He was about to stand up when Jungwoo came inside the coffee shop and sat in front of him. The younger guy handed him a folded piece of paper, "Someone wants to give you this." 

"You know who it is?" 

He nodded, "I saw her putting the letter in your locker once." Her? "But Yuta please know that she has her reasons why she doesn't want you to meet her." 

"Can you just tell me who she is?" Jungwoo shook his head, apologizing before standing up to leave Yuta alone. 

‘I received your letter and I’m so sorry for not coming to meet you. 

I’m scared. I don’t know why but I am. 

I don’t want to erase your smile when you find out that this is just me, I appreciate your letter, I really do. 

And I’ll treasure it all my life. Thank you, Yuta. I’m sorry.

XOXO,🍎’ 

That's it? He won't get to know who she was. He cannot thank her for giving him something to look forward to every time. Is it possible to have your heart broken before it can even beat for a person? 

Creative Literature class. Today is the last day of submitting the epistolary piece he and Y/N had been working on. He did the usual morning routine, go to the vendo and pick up a juice for him and her. But he can't seem to find the courage to push the button for the apple one so he settled to the orange-flavored juice. "Shit!" he cursed. He never knew Y/N's favorite juice flavor. He would always give her the apple flavored one. So with a heavy heart, he settled on the apple one. 

Weird, he thought. It's almost time and Y/N isn't here yet. Taeyong entered the room and placed a folder in front of Yuta. "Y/N wanted to give you this." He was startled. There's always something fishy about Taeyong and Y/N so he asked him the question that's always bugging him. The other guy chuckled, "We're cousins, stupid." Taeyong supplied that made Yuta nod. He didn't know that. 

"Where is she?" Yuta asked while opening the folder. There's a page full of computerized words, the story she wrote. "Is she sick?" Five pages of the story and on the last page, hers and his names are written in her handwriting. 

"She didn't tell you?" Yuta shook his head in a questioning manner. "She's going to New York for the Exchange Student Program. It's her flight today." 

Yuta skimmed the contents of the epistolary piece she made then focused on the handwriting. Why did it take him so long to realize everything? Taeyong called for his name but he was already outside the door of their classroom. He heard Jungwoo calling him but he was already out of the gates and hailed a cab. "Airport. Please step on it." 

He took out the letters that he kept in his notebook, nine different letters to be exact. Yuta smiled seeing the hidden message in the letters. She cannot hide from him anymore. "Where are you?" Yuta asked when she answered the phone, his foot stepped inside the crowded airport. 

"Airport?" He answered 'I know', "Gate four."

"Wait for me there." She called for his name but he was already running to where she was, putting the phone in his pocket. "Y/N!" he called which made the girl turn to where he is. He lightly bowed at her parents, asking if he can talk to Y/N for a while. 

"It's you, isn't it? The letters." He asked which made the girl stop. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Then he shook his head. "After confessing, you're just going to leave me?" 

The girl giggled at that. "It's just for two months, don't overreact." The guy breathed hard. "Did Jungwoo tell you?" 

"I saw the pattern with the epistolary you did. Saw how you wrote my name and realized you never told me the juice you wanted and just went with the apple juice I always gave you." The girl smiled then he showed the nine letters he was holding. "Why the hell are you so smart that you have to put a secret message in your letters?" The girl giggled. 

The announcement for the plane passengers heading to New York can be heard, "I have to board, Yuta. I'll see you when…" 

But he pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. "I like you too, Y/N." A final call for the passengers can be heard and he hesitatingly let go of her. "I'll message you every day." Y/N nodded before saying goodbye to him and her parents, facing the boarding gate without even looking back. 

----

Nakamoto Yuta. The perfect embodiment of the soccer superstar every university wanted to have. The model student who greets everyone, female or male, when he passes by them in the hallways. The loyal boyfriend who only has eyes for one girl. 

He couldn't believe only a month had passed. He misses her so much even if the time they spent together is much longer than the time they're away from each other. 

A normal day, a normal scenario for him. He quickly went to his locker to get his books for Physics class when a piece of paper fell, making his heart race. 

'Did you miss me, my soccer superstar? 

How many girls have fallen for that smile? 

Or are you just smiling for me? 

If you do, Room 3F.

XOXO, Y/N' 

He slammed his locker shut then passed by the vendo machine to get an apple juice, even tapping his foot when it took a long time to go down. Yuta ran to the third floor, catching his breath when he's outside room 3F. 

The moment he opened the door, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. "Hi, Yuta." She greeted that made him smile. 

She's here. She's really here. 

"Why didn’t you tell me you’re back?” But he just wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tight. “And I was complaining last night about missing you.” 

Y/N giggled. “That’s why I went home early. I heard you’re famous with the ladies lately.” Yuta sighed, bopping her nose while teasing her for being so jealous. “Too bad we don’t have the same class together.” 

The guy chuckled worriedly. “Well, you know I had to skip class that day and go to you to the airport.” Y/N nodded. “I didn’t submit our project so the professor gave us a zero.” 

“What?”

Yuta laughed, shrugging. “On the bright side, we’re going to attend the same class in summer.”  

And he knew, from her grin, his anti-love phase is over. 

tagging : @jenosdaemi @notworthit24​ @smrutiisiva-13​ @justpeachygirl​ @notmejustmymind​

I know someone is going to ask me about the secret message in the letters but I’ll let you discover it. 😁 

[elfwoodfae]

“Slow” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Author’s note: This is pure smut no plot or anything, thank you so much to @harrisonwellsisdaddy for giving this wings and to everyone in discord who feeds the thirst trap.

WARNING: Smut. Please don’t read if under 18.

Gif credits to the owner, I found this one on google.

Rain poured from the sky as he carried you, speeding you to a safe place. It had gone horribly wrong. The plan was for you to leave before he had let the meta-human out of the cell, but of course you had come back and had ended up caught up in the mix. Luckily it was a minor injury, a sprained wrist from being thrown against a wall, but even if you were some sort of an inconvenience, it was on him that you had gotten hurt.

You were still jittery and nervous around him, ever since finding out who he really was. Obviously he had threatened you to shut your mouth up but even as he hated to admit it the look of terror and the tears in your eyes that day had touched him. Before you had found out about him, you had gone on a date, the two of you. He didn’t want to, he tried to shrug you off but you were so persistent and so sweet to him that he had ended up agreeing, there had been sexual tension between both of you, with you always admiring who Harrison Wells was and him being alone for so long and trying to keep you on check had made him grow fond of you. Of course all of that went to hell when you discovered him.

Once he made it through the door with you in his arms he laid you in his sofa, you were soaking wet and he was trying to check your injury. After wrapping your wrist up you had tried to leave, but he wasn’t having it, you were to stay put until that meta-human was caught again.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked as he observed you.

“Since you are planning to keep me here, can I please have a shower? I am cold and uncomfortable.” You told him, avoiding his gaze as you had done since finding out.

Guiding you to the very luxurious bathroom, he handed you a black sweater of his to wear while your clothes dried. His bathroom was huge, a glass panel shower and very extravagant mirror on the walls. He probably loved looking at himself.

After getting cleaned up and drying yourself you grabbed the sweater. It was long enough to cover your ass and fall right before your knees, and loose enough to be comfortable. Opening the door he was right in front of it, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

He took you in, the way his clothes fitted you, your bare legs and the way your checks warmed up. Guiding you back to the sofa he reapplied the bandage to your arm, he sat in the end of the sofa, while you laid across it, the fireplace was lighted up to warm you up. Your feet grazed his lap and by instinct you tried to retract them away from him but he was faster and grabbed them, moving them over his lap while looking at the fire, his expression unreadable.

Out of boredom his fingers started caressing your leg, rubbing up and down, never going farther away than your knee. Turning on your back so you could look at him you spoke for the first time in a while without him having to prompt you.

“I wish I hadn’t found out, I am sure we could have been great together, I wanted it to work so bad.”

“I wish you hadn’t either. I didn’t want you, I didn’t want to go out with you, I knew it would only complicate things. But you were so pushy, so sweet and I couldn’t refuse you.” He said still looking at the fire.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this. Ever since that date we had you became stuck in my mind, I would observe you, wondering how I could have allowed you to screw up my plans so easily.” He finished.

“I always wondered what it would have felt like to kiss you.” In a moment of bravery you admitted. “I wondered how soft your hair was, or how you smelled, but none of that matters now.” You finish looking away to the fire.

Why did you had to tell him that, it was stupid to admit now, suddenly shame came over you and you wished you could just crawl under a bed and hide. Even if he was evil and twisted you still liked him, he still made you nervous and jittery.

His eyes trailed to your form, taking in the way your head was looking to the side, you jawline defined with the light of the fire and your neck exposed as your chest fell and rose softly. He moved your legs out of the way, and as if by instinct, as if a force beyond himself was moving him by command he started to crawl over you. Your head snapped in his direction as your knee lifted up to his abdomen to stop him out of nerves, forgetting that there was no underwear under your shirt. His eyes flickered for half a second down as a smirk played on his lips. Quickly you pushed the sweater down again in case anything had been revealed.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him warily.

“What does it seem like I’m doing?” He replied, moving his hands up your knee to grab it and move it to the side.

His arms came at either side of your head, the space cramped in the sofa. He wasn’t thinking straight and neither were you, but as you looked into his eyes and yours flickered to his lips only one thought crossed your mind.

He moved his lips to yours, softly, tasting you and seeing if you would push him away. Breaking the kiss he moved back, only for your hand to shoot up to his hair and bring him back down again. Kissing him deeply this time, he ran his tongue flat against your lips, asking you to open your mouth. He tasted all of you, exploring you, while his hand rested on your thighs. His lips moved to your jawline, kissing and moving down your neck, leaving love marks and sucking on the skin, making you moan while he bit into it, rubbing his tongue over it after.

He was making you a moaning mess under him, your skin was warm and the way it tasted was driving him insane. He wanted to touch more of you, to feel you. But the moment his hands moved up your thighs his body couldn’t contain the excitement anymore, making him vibrate all of him like the first time he had become a speedster, every cell in his body too excited to be contained, his eyes illuminated red for a second at the same time thunder roared through the sky, making you open your eyes and push your hand against his chest, your heart beating out of your chest.

He was moving too fast, your mind had been able to trick you into thinking that this was the man you knew but the moment he vibrated and his eyes illuminated you were aware who he really was, what he represented and what he could do.

“I’m sorry I just,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing, but you didn’t want to push him away. You just needed him to go slower.

“Can you,” you swallowed avoiding his eyes. “Can you just take it slower?” You finished while avoiding his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He was making sure you were okay with this, he could be a lot of things but he would never force you into something you didn’t want.

“Yes I am, I am just nervous, I honestly never thought this situation would happen.” You continued and to prove him you were serious you slowly moved his head back down to kiss him.

The hand on your thigh remained still while his lips kissed you softly, moving slowly down your neck again, kissing and nipping at the skin. His other hand tangled in your hair while his forearm held him up over you. He ran his tongue up your neck to your ear, biting the earlobe softly, making you squirm under him and moan at the feeling. He took his time working you to relax, kissing your lips, your neck, making you forget what plagued your mind.

Your hands moved over his abdomen to the hem of his shirt, running them under you could feel his skin, the muscles of his abdomen tensing up at the effort of holding him up. You grabbed on the hem of it and moved it up his body, signaling for him to take it off. He lifted himself momentarily off of you and removed it, moving back down to kiss you, when his mouth left yours and he moved to your neck you opened your eyes to admire his shoulder and his back, from this angle you could see the curve of his ass through his pants.

Your hands ran down his back, feeling his skins, his muscles, while the hand on your thigh started to move up, slowly as he worked harder on your neck. His fingers felt the softness of your skin, moving higher until they reached your hip. Once his fingers grazed over your hip bone, the realization that you didn’t have any underwear on made his cock twitch in his pants as a growl escaped him against your skin. His hand moved up the side of your stomach, until it reached your breast, squeezing it softly and grinding his hips into you out of pure need to feel you, to get some relief. He was making you a mess but he was a mess himself, desperate for some friction.

His hand moved back down, grabbing the hem of the sweater and lifting it over your body, exposing you completely to him. He threw the piece of clothe somewhere behind you and moving back down to kiss you, his mouth running lower to your breast, kissing the soft skin of one while his hand caressed the other, you were so soft, so delicious. He was going to explode in his pants if he didn’t go inside of you soon.

Your hands found the button of his pants, opening them slowly. His hand helped yours to remove his pants, getting his briefs out of the way too letting his cock free. He kissed you while his hand moved to your thigh, running up to your ass, squeezing it roughly and opening your leg to fit himself in between, he was too desperate to wait much longer, his hand moving down to feel you, the moment his fingers grazed your entrance and felt how wet you were he almost came.

Moving his cock to your entrance he moved it through your folds, letting you soak his head before he positioned it against your entrance, pushing slowly to let you adjust since he hadn’t stretched you beforehand with his fingers. When he was halfway inside he broke the kiss, growling into your mouth at the way you squeezed him, making his whole self vibrate of pure pleasure.

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, scratching down his back when he was fully inside of you, scratching him down while you took a moment to adjust to his size. He started moving slowly, going almost all the way out before thrusting back in again, making you moan and move your head back, he felt so good and full. His hand found your leg and he hooked it over his hip, giving him a better angle to enter you.

His hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while you squirmed under him, his half lidded eyes taking in your face as you moaned for him, it was taking all of him not to snap his hips against yours at full speed and fuck you into oblivion, he shouldn’t want to come this fast into it but you were maddening him. He moved to your neck, kissing you and marking your skin, making you get closer, while he speeded up his movement, holding your leg higher up his hip and squeezing it harshly. His body started to vibrate, not being able to contain the excitement of his fast approaching orgasm and every time his hips connected to yours the vibrations would go straight to your clit, making you arch your back into him. You were close, so close, feeling the knot tightening up in your stomach.

He felt himself about to come, moving deeper as his hip connected to yours, feeling you tighten around him as your orgasm hit you, making him feel impossibly tight. His hand moved to your chin, keeping you in place as he watched you come, your eyes half lidded staring into his red glowing eyes as he tried to keep his face from breaking down while he came, failing miserably as he came deep inside of you, closing his eyes and opening his mouth while throwing his head back.

Once out of your high he switched you, letting you lay on top of him while he played with your back, both of you looking at the fire while you grew sleepy, soon falling asleep on his chest.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Prompt: Vampire Chris drunk on blood?

CW: Drunkenness, drug addiction, blood drinking, vampirism, creepy abusive comfort, WWI-period-appropriate xenophobia and brief vague possible homophobia reference, dehumanization, war whump

"Now, that'll get you blotto faster'n French liquor," Kirk says, sinking back against the muddy trench wall, careless for the dirt caking itself into the hair at the nape of his neck.

His helmet lay beside him upside down on the ground, and his brown hair was free to explode in its wealth of curls, a kind of halo around his head. He had one arm out, sleeve rolled back. His hands were caked in mud and smeared with drying dirt - above the line of his sleeve, though, the skin was paper-white, almost clammy.

It was this white skin that the vampire's fangs were buried in.

"Shit, Holden, y'gotta have 'im bite you, too." Kirk's grin widens. The shells had gone silent but every man flinches, now and then, hearing a phantom sound or feeling a rumble beneath their feet.

At least it's finally stopped goddamn raining.

The venom rolls through Kirk's veins, soothing his jangled nerves. He can barely feel the trembling in his hands and it feels like his mind, when it's in him. He's a farm kid from western Nebraska, the second son and not needed so much as the first to bring the crops in. So here he is, learning to love the feeling of teeth in his skin.

Maybe when he gets shipped back home he'll stick to the cities. They say the vampires have their dens there, where they can hide. You can buy venom enough to quiet your mind for a day or two, the city boys tell him.

They're in it as deep as he is, now.

Feels like half the American army is itching for venom these days.

"No thank you. I'm not gonna get sent home and start chasing fangs like the rest of you." Holden squints, looking up into the dark sky, the rolling clouds that seem far too close to the ground. "It'll rain again soon."

"When isn't it going to rain again soon? Oh, right, when it's already bloody raining." That's a Brit, they just call him Tommy. No one knows his real name.

He claims to hate them all, but since half his unit was blasted apart two days ago, he's hung with the 'Yanks' close enough. Kirk thinks he's fond of them, even if he won't admit it. Or just scared to be alone. He can understand that. He's terrified of the thought himself. "Shove the little vamp over to me, Kirk, I want some."

The vampire pulls his fangs free, licking over the wounds he's made until they close. He's a skinny little thing, pale as paper with bright red hair they stuff under his helmet when he's running medic checks in No Man's Land, trying to make him less obvious. Sure, he can't die from gas, but he can be blown to bits by a whizz-bang fast as any living soldier can.

"Please," The vampire says, turning big green eyes up to Kirk. "I, I, I'm tired, please, can I sleep?"

He's got heavy dark circles under his eyes. It's kind of cute.

"No," Kirk answers, curt, shoving the vampire away by his head, watching him fall into the mud. His uniform is marked with it, now, a dab of dirt over the 'V' sewn next to his medic's cross. There's a satisfaction, in Kirk, just in seeing the little thing laid low.

He won't die in this war, and Kirk probably will, but before that happens he can at least hurt something he can see. You can't see old Fritz when you fire on him from a distance - but you can see a vampire flinch in the dirt. It's not much.

It's something.

"Must be daytime," Holden speaks up, still staring up at the clouds. "You can't tell, weather like this, but if the fangs're tryin' to sleep, must be day."

"He sleeps when we're done with him, and not a moment before." Kirk's voice is a murmur, eyes half-closed. He's drifting in it, the way the venom dulls and deadens the eternal ache in his back and legs. The Germans could come roaring over the bags right this second and Kirk wouldn't give a damn at all. Let them kill him, at least he can go with venom in his veins, not as a basket case carried off the field. "Not a second before. Go on, bloodsucker. Get over to Tommy and help him get some shut-eye, huh?"

"I've been drinking all night, pulled some rations off someone," Tommy groans, rubbing his fingers at his temples. "It's done no good at all." It's a funny little gesture, so oddly normal and casual. Reminds Kirk of home.

His throat tries to close, homesickness bowling him over. The wish to return to his mother's worn smile, sit down to dinner and have her ask him about his day, when his problems revolved around the harvest and the hard backs of the pews in church-

He takes a breath, forcing it back, and gives the vampire a vicious kick in the ribs, listening to his high-pitched cry and how he curls around himself with a smile of his own.

Oh, he'll die, probably. The others from his town already have. But he can remind himself he's still alive, for now. One way or another. He can cause pain he can't feel himself, for once.

"I said get over to Tommy and smooth out his sharp bits, bloodfuck."

"Yes, um, y-yes, Kirk," The vampire says, pulling himself onto his hands and knees. His fingers are smashed into the mud deep enough to nearly disappear. If they could only get a few days of sunlight to dry out all this dirt, it wouldn't be such hell.

As it is, his socks've been damp for weeks, his boots feel like they're caging his feet in a swamp. He's worried about trenchfoot and trying not to think about it. He stole these boots off a dead German when his own started to fall apart, anyway.

He could've probably gotten new ones, but... it had felt good, taking something from Fritz after Fritz took so much from him.

Kirk tries not to remember that the German soldiers he fights have never caused him a single moment's harm on purpose. They're only fighting for the same reasons he is - because someone higher up who doesn't give a damn about them said to.

Kirk had been all gung-ho for the war until he'd been sent over here to fight it. All those articles in the newspapers, all the speeches given by men standing in town squares... it had all made it seem so patriotic.

They never tell you, Kirk thinks bitterly, that you'll be sent into a slaughterhouse. They don't tell you you'll spend your day breaking a vampire's fingers one by one just to watch them heal back into place and listen to his little cries.

Just to pass the time.

"Trade me your flask while the fangs takes care of you," Kirk says, and Tommy hands it over easy enough.

He watches Tommy grab the vampire by one arm and yank him over, vicious and violent, making the vampire boy cry out again. The sound is starting to grate on Kirk's nerves. It makes him sound too human. He hates being reminded that every vampire used to be a person.

He drinks whatever's in the Brit's flask, and it burns down his throat just the way he needs it to. Wipes out his worries, relaxes shoulders that seem always to be tensed up nearly to his chin.

His mama's a teetotaler, back in Nebraska. He'd been one, too, until the first bombardment. Now he drinks anything he could get his hands on, and the officers mostly looked the other way.

"Bite," Tommy orders. Kirk raises his eyebrows when Tommy doesn't roll up his sleeve but pushes the vampire's face instead towards his neck, turning his head to the side to bare it.

His eyes meet Kirk's, and he smiles, bitterly. "Works faster this way," He explains. Kirk just watches as the vampire's fangs glint in the eternal dim twilight, hesitating before they bury themselves in Tommy's skin.

The little monster's back arches, pressing them chest-to-chest. A low rumble comes from somewhere deep inside, the animal sound the vampire makes during a good feed. He doesn't do it much with the regular unit any longer, they mocked him for it and one day he stopped.

The vampire's throat works as he drinks, and Tommy's arm slides around the monster's thin shoulders, forcing him closer. He's nearly kissing his forehead, this way.

It's an embrace, and altogether more intimate of one than Kirk thought he'd ever see from the cold, standoffish Brit. He feels a blush creeping up his neck and his cheeks as Tommy lets his head fall back, groaning softly in a kind of contentment as the venom hits. The sound isn't quite like a groan at all, it's more like-

"Fucking hell, Tommy, are you an invert?"

"Invert suggests I give a damn what bites me," Tommy replies, without opening his eyes. His slurred speech deepens, goes slow. His hand curves around the vampire's shoulder, holding him tightly. "I'm after oblivion, lads. I don't care what parts the fangs have that give it to me."

"Fang-chaser," Holden says, good-naturedly. Clearly not bothered the way Kirk is. Maybe that's just his farmboy past talking, that he's even unsettled at all. Maybe Tommy's got a point - who cares what's between a vampire's legs if you're only interested in the damn thing's mouth in the first place? "Fucking fang-chaser, that's what you are. End up in a den getting your hips bit like Oscar Wilde."

"Who's Oscar Wilde?"

Holden laughs. "You should try reading a book or three sometime, Kirk."

"Sure, sure, whenever I get the damn time in-between running over this blasted nothing. In any case, Tommy's definitely a fang-chaser."

"Guilty as charged... just like you two." Tommy's hand slides up into the vampire's hair, gripping tight and gently pulling backwards. The vampire's fangs slide free, and it laps at the wounds, rapidly. Tommy groans again. Kirk finds himself unable to look away at the bob of Tommy's throat. How good does it feel, in the neck? He's never thought to try it. He thinks about it now. "Turn me in to face discipline for unnatural relations with the fangs and I'll do the same to you."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it. Fucking Limey bastard." There's no real animosity in Kirk's voice. He's too distracted, drunkenly considering the vampire boy's mouth. Wondering if he knows how to kiss. "You shared your liquor, I shared our bloodsucker, we're both of us in it to our necks."

"Not me," Holden says, innocent and pure as the driven snow. As if he weren't the one to give Kirk the idea to use the venom in the first place.

Kirk throws a clot of mud at him, which he dodges, laughing. They're all laughing, soon enough, except for the fangs.

The vampire lays there, his head pressed to Tommy's chest and forcibly held in place by his arm. His eyes are slightly wide, unfocused, and Kirk leans forward.

"What's this, then? What'd you do to the fangs, Tommy?"

"Hm? Nothing. Oh, I'm pissed as can be, do they feel the liquor in your blood?"

"I'm guessing they sure do. You drunk, fangs?"

The vampire's eyes drift over to Kirk, move too far to one side, come back again. He swallows, thickly. "I... I think I, I, I am," He says, and tries to push back against Tommy's chest, to free himself.

The Brit's arm crushes him back into place, his other hand moving up to run through the vampire boy's dirt red hair, petting him like one of the ambulance dogs. Kirk and Holden laugh at the vampire's weakness. "Stay right where you are," Tommy murmurs. "Or I'll run you through with my bayonet and let you squirm all day."

"Christ," Kirk says, blinking. "That's a bit rough, isn't it?"

"He's not alive, what does it matter?" Tommy lets out a bitter little laugh. "Might as well get a preview of our own ends, shouldn't we?"

"You two, maybe." Holden crawls into the dugout, the little bed-space, a kind of cave dug in underneath the upper layers of the trench. He lays down on his back, closing his eyes, hands behind his head. "I'm going to go back home and never think of you lot ever again."

"I pray every night to make it home," Kirk says, nodding along. "Not sure anyone's listening, but I got to try, don't I?"

"What happens to the fangs, anyway?" The Brit looks up, rocking a little back and forth. As if the bloodsucker were a baby needing soothing. The vampire boy has relaxed against him, the liquor-laced blood he drank lulling him into a complacent bonelessness. Kirk watches the vampire boy's fingers start to tap over the Brit's chest, a strange movement he's seen the boy do before in his few relaxed moments between the scream of the shells. He hums, low in his throat, tuneless.

"Huh?" Kirk blinks. "What d'you mean, what happens to him?"

"After the war's done. What are they gonna do with the bloodsuckers? Can't exactly pin a bloody ribbon for valor on them and send them on their way, now can they?"

"Nope. I don't know what happens. Maybe they'll just stake them all and have done with them."

The vampire shudders, giving a little whimper. Tommy leans down, lips moving against the vampire's hair. "Ssssshhhh. Not to worry, little fangs. War's not over just yet, now is it?"

"N-... no. Not, not, not, not yet." The vampire's eyes close, pink-tinged tears creating pale tracks in his dirty face. He's a sad drunk, then, Kirk figures.

Aren't they all, these days.

"Maybe you'll outlive us all, and make fools of us for keeping you." Tommy speaks with a patronizing affection, as mocking as it is tender, petting through the creature's hair still. It's... unsettling to watch. Kirk had figured the Brits and French probably killed all their vamps, since they were all disturbed by the sight of the vampire medics when the doughboys first arrived in Europe.

This, though... this makes it seem like Tommy's known a vampire or two himself, in his life. And he's sure as fuck not unfamiliar to what venom is good for outside of giving relief from agony to the injured.

Kirk frowns, thoughtful.

He's turned into a thoughtful drunk, too, thanks to this goddamn war. Sad and thoughtful. What a fucking waste.

"Sleep," Tommy says, almost gently, to the drunk little vampire. "I've got you. Sleep, little one."

The vampire's eyes slip closed. He doesn't breathe - there's no sense of his chest rising and falling. Kirk has to look away before the sense of wrongness, watching Tommy cuddle a corpse, makes him sick.

He takes a long, long draught from the flask, and relishes the burn that reminds him he's human, and alive.

His own eyes slip shut, and he prays for an hour or two of sleep before the next screaming shell bursts overhead.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part iii: words of affirmation (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: y/n thinks fred is losing interest in her after he catches another girls eye so he makes sure she knows just how much he loves her.

warnings: kissing, mentions of cheating, misunderstandings, mentions of a breakup, insecurities, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, very brief joke about a physical fight, ANGST but with a happy ending!!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is late and i'm very, very sorry but i started writing it and kinda hated it so i had to take a step back and come back to it! i kinda struggled with this one bc words of affirmation is the farthest thing from my personal love language but i hope i did it justice.

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part ii // part iv

The warm sunlight washed over Y/N’s skin as she stepped into the courtyard, a smile etched on her face at the thought of seeing her boyfriend, after spending the entire day in class away from him she couldn’t wait to revel in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. She scanned the sea of students before her eyes finally found him, her smile slightly dropped when she saw two Hufflepuff girls standing in front of Fred as he leaned against a bench on the ground. The two girls were older than Y/N, they giggled as they spoke to him, one of them twirling her hair around her finger. She could feel jealousy pooling deep in the pit of her stomach coupled with an overwhelming sense of guilt as Fred looked very uninterested with the conversation the two girls were attempting to initiate, constantly looking around in search of her.

“There she is!” Fred spoke when Y/N made her way to him, the smile on his face was so genuine that she almost forgot about all the anger that previously possessed her.

“Hi, Freddie.” She greeted, giving into his outstretched arms to let him pull her into his lap. He placed a sweet kiss to her temple. “Hi.” She spoke softly, turning her attention to the two girls, irritation lacing their features.

“Maybe we’ll see you around Fred.” One of them piped up before leaving, whispering to one another as they retreated.

“Your friends seem nice.” Y/N scoffed, biting the inside of her cheek as Fred’s arms tightened around her, sensing her discomfort.

“Not my friends.” He chuckled, littering the side of her face with kisses which earned a giggle from her. “Just some girls in my Herbology class, they won’t leave me alone.” He added.

“Can’t entirely blame them.” She joked, attempting to make light of the situation. “I don’t leave you alone either.”

“Mhmm.” He started, turning her head to face him so that he could place a kiss to her lips. “But your company is more than welcomed, princess.”

She giggled at his soft demeanor, taking his hand in hers whilst she leaned back against his chest as she listened to him babble on excitingly about some of the new products he and George were working on for the shop. She felt content here in his arms but her mind kept wandering to the girls that were obviously attempting to flirt with her boyfriend.

Y/N knew Fred loved her, knew that no matter how many girls flocked to him he would always politely excuse himself from the situation in order to find her, knew that he wouldn’t even think about cheating on her but was he losing interest in her? What if he was looking at all these other girls and thinking they were prettier than her, smarter than her, better than her? She pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to think about losing Fred to someone else, she could hardly stomach it. But truly, it plagued her, Fred had come into her life and made it completely different, he forced her to live in colour after so long of feeling like she was one of those sad black and white Hollywood starlets. He made her feel special, made the rain seem like a gift instead of an inconvenience, made the sun feel warmer and the moon feel like he hung it in the sky just for her.

Fred noticed that Y/N had something on her mind and spent the next few days constantly asking if she was okay but he knew that she was far too stubborn to tell him what was bothering her. Because of this Fred tried a little harder to make sure she knew how much she meant to him, Y/N knew what he was doing but she wasn’t ready to confess to him that she was jealous of all the attention he was getting from the girls at school, worried that her insecurities would push him away. But that was never something that crossed Fred’s mind, he had assumed that other people flirting with him would upset her which is why he always rejected the advances, always made sure she knew that there was no one else walking this earth more perfect for him, he truly wanted nothing more than to slip a ring on her finger and spend the rest of his days with her. Hell if he had a ring right now he’d propose to her no questions asked.

“Alicia, do you know who that girl is?” Y/N asked as she sat in the library, textbooks littering the table in front of the two girls as they poured over their homework. Alicia spun around in her seat to get a look at the girl in question.

“The Hufflepuff girl?” She asked to which Y/N nodded. “I think her name is Jessica, why?”

“It’s nothing.” She lied in reply, gritting her teeth. “Just asking.”

“No you’re not.” She spoke casually, seeing directly through Y/N’s facade. “You don’t seem like yourself lately, what’s wrong?”

“She was talking to Fred a couple days ago.” Y/N sighed. “I just can’t shake it, I’ve caught her staring at him at dinner a few times and she was so adamant about talking to him that day.” Her voice shook as she spoke, Alicia looked to her with a soft smile.

“Y/N.” She started. “Fred loves you so bloody much, so much so that it's kind of gross sometimes. He’d never even think about pursuing another girl, he looks at you like you have a halo hanging above your head.”

“Thanks.” She sniffed, giggling at her friend. “You’re a good friend, Alicia.”

“And if all else fails, you could probably take her in a fight.” Alicia added, earning a loud, genuine laugh from Y/N earning stares and shushing from those in the library.

She felt lighter after her conversation with Alicia and was excited to see Fred at dinner, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his entire face. Her warm and fuzzy thoughts of Fred were interrupted when she saw Jessica running her fingers up his arm, a devilish smile playing on her lips. Y/N could hardly process the sight in front of her, it was making her sick to her stomach so much that she couldn’t bear to look at Fred’s face not wanting to see his reaction to the pretty girl in front of him trailing her hand up his arm. She didn’t even realize that her feet were carrying her body away from the sight in front of her until she could hear him calling after her.

Tears spilled from her eyes, tracking down her face as she ignored Fred’s desperate calls to her, practically running through the common room and up to her room. She slammed the door, sliding down it as she pulled her knees up to her chest, sobs now freely leaving her mouth.

“Y/N, angel-” Fred started, outside her door, he was audibly out of breath from chasing her through the castle. “Open the door please.”

She sat there for a minute, contemplating never opening the door, never speaking to him again, just simply forgetting that she never ever heard Fred Weasley’s name. But she knew she couldn’t, knew she could never forget about him and she also knew she shouldn’t just shut him out, he would never purposely hurt her. With a sigh she lifted herself from the ground and opened the door to find her very disheveled boyfriend, his hair messy from running his hands through it, his face flushed. As soon as she saw him her legs collapsed beneath her, choked sobs making their appearance once again.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He whispered, taking her into his arms on the floor. “She just came up to me love, I told her she had to leave me alone, that there was never going to be anything between us because I was in love with you.” He rubbed circles into her back as she sobbed into his chest, placing barely there kisses into her hair.

“Are you-” She started, another brutal sob racking her body. “Are you losing interest in me? I-I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me if you don’t want to be.” Freds heart was aching listening to her, he cursed himself for the way she was feeling. He should have told her he loved her more, he should have woken her up every morning by telling her she was the only girl he ever thought of, that he ever wanted.

“I love you Y/N.” He began. “H-How-”

“You can love someone and get bored with them.” She spoke quietly. Fred sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders, he pulled her back to look at her.

“I will never get tired of you, you will never bore me and there is not a chance in hell that I will lose interest in you.” Her eyes found his for the first time since she first opened the door. “I think about you all day, everyday, from the second I wake up with you in my arms until I get to fall asleep next to you, all I think about is you. You’re everything to me.” He let a deep sigh leave his chest as he took her face in his hands. “I’m going to marry you Y/N, in the backyard, back home with everyone there and then we’re gonna have a bunch of little red-headed babies, send them off to Hogwarts and argue over what house they’ll be sorted in.” He said, pulling a giggle from her which he reciprocated with a relieved smile.

“You want to marry me?” She asked as he wiped a stray tear from her eye with the pad of his thumb.

“I have since the day you agreed to date a bloody git like me.” He joked, pulling her into his chest. “It’s only you Y/N, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you, you’re it for me.” She buried her face into his jumper, forgetting about Jessica, forgetting about her doubts, just breathing in his scent, just feeling his lips on her hairline, just her and her Freddie.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz @emma67 @gaycatlord-stuff @alicetweven @a-castle-of-glass @youcantbesirius @omghufflepuff @izzyyy-1​

if your url is crossed out i could not tag you!!

[xxreader-writerxx]

Stay. Please?

Word count: 1.1k

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angsty, Panic Attacks (Reader), Poor Plot, Mentions of drinking, Arranged Marriage,

A/n: I live! Sorry for not posting, school has been wild. I finally get a break and only doing online assignments because of a super high fever and stuck on bed rest (almost got sent back home due the nurse thinking I had COVID from how bad it was. Sent to the hospital. They said just the usual fever and I'll be fine soon). This is my sort of redemption for the Draco bash in my last imagine lol.

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House

Requests! Open!

(I'll write about anyone from Harry Potter! I'm desperate for ideas lol)

I'm going through RVSPs when a certain name has a big fat "Sad To Miss It" I grab my phone and go to my balcony, dialing his number. "Yes?" I hear a groggy Fred answer. "What the hell Fred?" I ask and I hear him sit up. "Hey beautiful. What's up?" He asks and I close the door behind me. "Why the hell are you not coming to my wedding?!" I ask and he sighs. "I don't have a date and I'll probably get drunk and ruin everything." He explains and I groan. "You have to come. Fred if you don't go... I won't go." I state and he laughs. "I don't think you can skip your own wedding dear." He tells me and I tear up. "Fred please come." I whisper and I hear shuffling. "Don't fake cry so I'll pity go." He jokes, not knowing my tears are real. "How bout I ignore the RSVP, act like you never sent it back and you can show up if you want. Please." I ask and he sighs. "Ok fine. But don't ask what type of meal I want or any of that." He tells me and I nod biting my lip. "Alright, I'll see you there." I choke out.

I hang up at the sound of my door opening. "Ms. L/n, you must meet your parents and future husband down stairs for a fitting." She states and I nod, wiping my tears. Her eyes hide a silent pity.

"I love it." Draco says more towards my parents than anything. "Us too. This one Sylvie." She tells the woman sewing my dress. I finally get released and I stiffen when Draco kisses my hand. "I'm feeling ill." I state, running to the bathroom, vomiting from the feeling deep in my stomach. I hear the door open as I sob/vomit. "Are you alright my love?" Draco asks softly. "Please go away." I whisper through my tears. "What's wrong?" He asks and I tear up again. I turn and look at him. "I don't love you! That's my problem! And you don't love me! I see how you look at Pansy! Why must we do this!? I can't! I love someone else! He holds my heart and he will never let it go!" I cry and he leans on the tub behind us nodding. "I know... I know..." He whispers, wiping my chin clean and allowing me to lay against him. "But we sadly must." He tells me and I shake my head. "I can't. We should run away, go to our lovers. Love them." I cry and he clutches me, not allowing himself to cry. "We can't."

***

He's not here. He didn't come. I look through the crowd trying to find the one boy I do love. Nothing. He didn't show. I look Draco in the face tearing up. "I can't. Draco I can't." I whisper, eyes filled with tears. "Hey you can, keep your eyes on me, imagine I'm him." He tells me, tearing up as well. "And do you Y/n L/n take this man-"

"I can't I'm so sorry." I whisper, running back down the aisle. I hear my parents yelling behind me but I ignore them. There is a storm inside me as I run that takes a physical form as rain pours. I get to his apartment and bang on the door. He opens the door and I keep my eyes on his. "You didn't come." I state and he looks at me surprised. "I didn't think you were serious." He says.

"Why didn't you come?" I ask. "I told you why Y/n." He whispers. I ram my body into his, wrapping my arms around him, letting the tears pour. "I needed you there." I cry and he closes the door still holding me close. "What's wrong? Why are you so worked up on this?" He asks worried. "I-I-I" I stutter, feeling the air from my lungs be taken. I feel my entire body shake, my heart throb, every noise I can hear and it's unbearable, I hyperventilate as he sits me down. "Woah woah... Beautiful shh shh shh..." He whispers, rubbing my arm softly. "God I look insane right now!" I cry out in stutters. "No you don't your just upset. Calm down..." He whispers.

He wrangles me into the bath to clean the mud and tears from my face, staying outside except for when I ask for any spare clothes . I walk out, eyes still puffy and lay my head on his lap. "Why weren't you there?" I ask, my voice gravely from the tears. He sighs putting his book down. "I'll sleep on the couch." He tells me and I shake my head grabbing him. "Stay. Please?" I ask and he shakes his head. I don't let go staring up with pleading eyes. "Fine you know why I didn't go? It's because... God... I- I'm in love with you Y/n L/n! You have trapped me in a chokehold of love. Ever since I met you in our first year, ten years ago, I've loved you. Your eyes sparkle when you laugh, your loving hold when someone is sad, god your clingy in the best way! But I can't- I can't be loving you. Not when you love someone else." He rants and I pull him down. "You're an idiot Fred Gideon Weasley." I whisper, pushing my lips against his. He holds my face against his, his lips moving with mine until he pulls away. He backs up wiping his lips. "I shouldn't of done that..." He breathes out.

"Why not?" I ask, forgetting all the events of today from the kiss. "Because! You're married! And-And..." He tries and I hold up my hand. "I left. Freddie. I didn't want to marry him!" I say and he looks at me confused. "Th-Then why... It was an arranged marriage." I nod slowly and he starts to slowly walking towards me. "So th-that means... You aren't married... You are single... And if I snogged you right now... I wouldn't feel any guilt?" He says, taking a step each sentence. I nod biting my lip and he rushes to kiss me, laying me on the bed. I smile into the kiss as he kisses me passionately. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long..." He pants, kissing my face here and there.

"I could say the same." I whisper and he smiles.

We fall asleep an hour later, our limbs entangled as he lays on my chest, listening to my heart beat. Feeling the happiest than we've been in a long time. And knowing our happiness will never end as long as we are with the other.

[bored-storyteller]

34 for Kaeya please? 🥺

Hi Anon!

Ahem, when it comes to Kaeya, I always get a little excited. And I am also afraid because I am always in doubt if all this in the future will prove to be extremely OOC, but I cannot know this yet.

(Anyway, it's angst/comfort, but if you just want angst and just angst then you can stop before "...")

Hope you like it anyway!

66- Genshin Impact, Kaeya Alberich x Reader

From the prompt list

34- “Will you miss me at all?”

"I give you my heart completely, it is yours, I give it to you." The Captain of the Knights of Favonius had whimpered as he comically clung to the half-empty mug.

You smiled with a slight sigh: "Your heart is mine as it is owned by all of Mondstadt."

His pleading face had turned into an offended pout as he threw the remaining alcohol down his throat.

"Hey, my heart isn't that cheap!" He had almost scolded you as he slammed his empty glass on the wooden table.

You don't know what you'd give to hear those stupid flirtations of him right now. Those sweet and mean jokes that sometimes flattered you, sometimes made you laugh, and still others hurt you.

You don't know what you'd give to run to the tavern to share a drink with him, to hear him laugh, to get mad at him or to be able to feel the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.

But all you feel is the wet cold that threatens rain, a bitter and hateful cold, a miserable and dead cold that you would have gladly exchanged to curl up in the dry and majestic chill of ice.

"Kaeya ..." His name escapes your lips like a faint prayer as you look at his one visible closed eye "Kaeya, don't sleep ... who's the lazy one, huh?"

You swallow as your fingers brush his blood-soaked hair. You caress his cold cheeks, you cuddle his head as it rests in your lap. "Everything will be fine ..." you whisper to him "everything will be fine ..." you try to convince yourself.

A rumble too close makes you scream. Your arms instinctively pick up the knight's helpless body and your body bends over him to protect him.

What is happening? You don't even remember, you don't even know, probably.

"Kaeya don't sleep ..." You repeat again, holding on to every faint breath of him.

"Hey…"

For a moment you don't even distinguish that that's his voice, for a moment you think you've just imagined it, that you've mistaken a breath of wind for the sound of him.

But weak and frail, Kaeya calls you back to him.

You call him too, a new hope is born in your gaze, now that you can admire his iris periwinkle of him.

Your voice trembles, like your hands, and your lungs. It hurts you to breathe as long as you need to cry, but you resist and instead you go back to caressing him slowly, trying to give him relief, affection, whatever you can give him in that moment - all your heart.

"Kaeya, hold on, you'll be fine." Try to put all the conviction you can into it "You were great."

On his tired and dirty face you can still see the ghost of that smile so familiar to you, yet in him there is a sadness that you do not know how to erase.

Your fingers intertwine with his blue locks, which loose and wild now rest on him, and on you.

"Always so kind ..." His murmur is sweet, yet it burns like a hot iron. What is his personality is drowned in melancholy and fear.

You would like to tell him that you are not kind, you have never been, but his face leaning towards you in search of your warmth silences you. Why does everything, from his smile, to his breath, to his blinking, smell of latest deeds?

"I think ... it's selfish to ask you ..." he gently calls all your attention "but ... will you miss me at all?"

You had prayed until then that he would not speak, not hint at that dark prospect. Because you know that at this point you can no longer breathe, the tears that blurred your vision can no longer be held back, and your throat hurts so much as you try not to sob.

How could you ever imagine getting up tomorrow knowing that Kaeya is gone? How could you tackle the streets of Mondstadt remembering his footsteps, his voice behind the walls, and his smiles peeking out from around the corner? How could you have tolerated the scent of Death after Noon anymore? How could you ever face Teyvat, the whole world, who would have moved on without him?

"Yes ... it's selfish ..." your murmur is so broken that you hardly understand it yourself, and you clear your throat, forcing yourself to be firm in your words "You said it's mine ... isn't it?"

Your hand slides across his chest, still warm under your cold numb fingers.

Under his skin you can feel the faint pulsing movement, like a little bird moving under your palm. And you pray with all of yourself, so that this little bird doesn't stop flying.

“You gave it to me… right? Here inside of you ... here is my heart. You can't be so selfish as to take it away from me, right? Sure ... sure I will miss my heart ... "Your every word turns into prayer, supplication, to the Archons, to heaven, to whatever can save him.

Your eyes can't see his expression, not now that your face is hidden in his hair and tears run down your cheeks without giving you peace.

Your fingers grip his clothes as if they could hold him there one last time, before he is pushed away from you and arms of fire envelop you.

"I'll miss you…"

. . .

Kaeya listened to every beat of his heart. Even in the dark, all he cared about was feeling that constant movement inside his body.

"So good." he thought every time the muscle twitched "keep it up, like a good guy."

Even when his pupils began to perceive reddish hues behind his eyelids and distant voices began to reach his ears, Kaeya never stopped worrying about that heartbeat that had suddenly become like this. precious.

The object that is pushed into his throat is so bitter that he would like to spit it out without restraint, but with a big sip of water he forces it to fall into his stomach. Anything to help that heart to beat stronger and more vigorous again.

"Kaeya ..." Your weak voice reaches him, and his only eye that can see crosses you.

"Hey ..." He greets you with a smile, one of his.

He doesn't think you've ever seen him in bed, covered in bandages as he is now. It is already a lot if he can sit in that semi-sitting position, leaning against the pillow on the headboard of the bed.

"You have finally arrived." He barely laughs as you shyly approach his bedside. You still look shaken, you look tired, you look like a frightened fawn.

"They wouldn't let me come ..." guilty whispers "they thought ... they thought it was better that I didn't see ..."

You don't continue the sentence, but he knows it. He had foreseen that ending, not that he was happy about it, but he had thought that dying in your arms wasn't such a bad ending, at least until he met your pain.

"Ah ... I had a bad time huh?" He laughs, but you don't. He's back to himself, or he never stopped being, but the sight of him so miserable can't hearten you, it's as if you still fear for him.

"... You really would have missed me." The realization he exhibits is not playful. It is quiet, but serious and light, as if he hadn't really believed it up until that moment.

Your shoulders shake again, under the weight of the anguish you have endured, under the pressure you never gave in. Because while you waited you never cried, nor bowed your head, it was not your right to do so.

But now that he's okay, you can cry over his wounds and you can throw all the fear out of yourself.

"Oh ... what a bad knight I am, I made you cry again ..." he murmurs, but there is no real guilt in his voice, but a tender affection for you "come here, let me make me forgive."

His arm gently pulls you towards him, letting you rest against his chest.

"Listen" he murmurs as he rests his cheek on your head "I protected your heart like you asked me, I was good, right?"

He wouldn't need to take on other responsibilities, he already has a lot of them, more than you think, yet he can't help but take care of you. He loves you so much that he is even willing to live if that makes you happy.

"You've been good."

[saphirered]

I Don’t Hate You (Vagrant pt3.)

The lady at the front desk gives you a dirty look as you come straggling in, leaving a wet trail behind you, boots sopping with an equally disgruntled expression on your face. You toss her a coin, if only to be done with it all and go back up the stairs. There you see, Fjord is no longer sitting in the hallway and probably either has gotten himself a room of his own or Molly’s taken mercy upon the half-orc and let him sleep peacefully and undisturbed in their shared room. A sense of dread still lingers as you approach your door and you take a sip from the opened bottle in your hand, hoping to find some courage to push you over the edge and just get it over with. You can see the hint of orange light bleeding through the small gap. 

When the door opens Caleb looks up from his book, or well, your book. You look like an absolute mess and he knows you know you do. It’s an unspoken agreement to not comment on this fact made in that brief moment of eye contact, for both of your sakes. 

“Do not question my terrible life’s choices, Widogast.” You grumble as you let yourself fall backwards on your bed. You don’t even have the energy to magic away the remainders of the rain that kept you company from your soaked person. Well, that or the fact that the droplets rolling down your skin hid the tears from the panic attack and brief existential crisis you had on that rooftop before you came down. 

Caleb puts down the book, gets up from the bed and slowly and carefully inches over to your side of the room. He hesitantly sits down on the edge. You have half the mind to kick him off just because but can’t find the energy to do so. Despite your distaste for magic users like him, being alone after your mental breakdown you just experienced, really sucks. Caleb pats your knee awkwardly in an attempt to comfort but not wanting to cross any boundaries. It’s pathetic, he knows because one can hardly fix a stab wound by slapping on a bandaid. His own past experiences have left him a tad bit at a loss when it comes to comforting a person in pain, especially one so stubborn and crass as you have been towards him. 

Still, Caleb has figured out your hatred isn’t directed at him personally. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s people with abilities like him that have played a part in your past causing you pain and suffering and the wound is still very fresh, hence your trauma being reflected onto him, despite his complete lack of involvement in your before the moment you met. It may not have helped that your hostility towards him hasn’t exactly encouraged him to try and build a proper relationship with you. He hardly even knows you yet still he feels as if he knows your tells, the things you go through and why you act like you do. He may not know the details of your life but he feels safe to say he knows you better than any of the others. 

It’s not his lack of knowledge and insight into your life beyond what’s surface and what he can read off you that holds him back. It’s the fear of what he might find within you that will tear open wounds of his own he’s worked so hard to cover up. It’s the fear you might be one step ahead of him in a similar story and there is no hope for people like you and him after all. It’s the fear those you run from are the same people he has tried so hard to escape. It’s the fear of you, that you might be each others’ salvation, or undoing because he knows what he has the capability to become, what you could become. 

But here you lie, upon your bed curled up, traces of tears long since fallen, possibly even ran out, tightness in your throat, indents of your nails in your palms from clenching too much, frustration and anger in your eyes is still overwhelmed by pain and hopelessness and a wish the void would just come and claim you, where you no longer fear the consequences of running and will be able to obliterate those who caused you so much hurt, or die trying in the process. Caleb is reminded of himself in that cell of his own, for years, a broken mind piecing itself together from the shambles it was left in, barely a shell of what it used to be. 

When he promised himself he would do anything and everything in his power to take down these tormentors and their accomplices so no one would ever have to suffer like he had, still is suffering, Caleb didn’t expect to find you. He still remembers himself begging, praying, screaming just to not be alone, to have someone tell him there is still hope and not all is lost. There’s still good in this wretched world and if the world turns bleak, it’s up to you to be that good despite everything. Those were the pretty words and empty promises of a dreamer but does that make them a lie? 

“Don’t patronise me. I’m not some fragile broken child in need of mothering.” Caleb retreats his hand, clasping them together in his lap as he studies your face. Your eyes are cold, your expression matching. A mask, he knows. A way to protect yourself. 

“Good. Because I have no intention of doing so. I want you to be blunt and truthful and I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to humour me and answer some questions.” You raise an eyebrow expecting there to be something behind Caleb’s request but his stare is unreadable, like a practiced mask of his own. 

“You want me to be blunt and give you a peace of my mind?” You humour. You’ll tell the asshole okay. You’ll bicker and fight and quarrel if that’s what he wants no problem. Maybe a battle of wits and words will get you back into your groove. 

Little do you know that is in fact not what Caleb is looking for. Not exactly. He isn’t looking for a fight. He’s looking for answers, how to help you despite your differences because no one deserves to go through this, especially not alone. So because of that, he will not humour you in turn with his usual reply to your attempts to push him. He doesn’t intend this to end in another futile empty argument. Not now. So he’ll drop the game and go straight for the jugular. 

“Why do you hate me?” You freeze at the abrupt and sudden question. Caleb knows you don’t really hate him personally but coddling you won’t work and some things you’ll have to realise by yourself first. Finding the strength to lean up on your elbows you tilt your head at him as a half smirk creeps upon your lips.

“Because you’re an egotistical self-serving bastard who cares for nothing but himself and the people useful to him, until they outlive their usefulness.” The words are meant to cut like knives and usually you’d get a rise out of Caleb by such a statement but when you don’t see any response to your words, nothing but those blue eyes staring into yours so… unbothered, it feels as if those knives are turned onto you instead. You’re not quick enough to get rid of that tiny hint of guilt slithering across your features. 

“Why do you hate me?” Caleb asks again, voice still calm like it’s the most unremarkable question ever. He could have asked you about the weather with that tone. 

“Because you’re an asshole.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Seriously? I already gave you an answer. Was I not clear the first time?” That guilt in your stomach starts growing, festering. There’s something in your mind pushing through but you try to fight it off, not liking the thought of being faced with those emotions. You’ve worked too hard to push them away. 

“Just answer the question. Why do you hate me?” Caleb sees you struggle. Your first answers where in the blink of an eye, a defence mechanism slipping into place. That works, for a while, until it doesn’t, until you start questioning it and give yourself a moment to think.

“Because…” Because you’re a coward. Because you run from your problems. Because you leave other people to swipe up the mess for you. Because you’re a monster to blame for the pain of others. Because you’re to blame for your own pain. Because you couldn’t save them. Because. Because. Because. Those are not reasons you hate Caleb. You take in a sharp breath, clenching your jaw in anger, nose scrunching holding at bay the curses from passing your lips and the threat of all your emotions from spilling out like a breaking dam. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words now, do not sound void of emotion, but instead are filled with a warmth and pity. Damn him! Damn him to the hells and abyss! When you don’t answer he repeats it again. Caleb gives you amicable time to answer, leaving a long silence to give your mind the time and space to think for itself, analyse and process and you hate every second of it because you can’t stop it. The cracks in the walls you’ve tried to hard to build become more apparent by the second. He asks again. 

“I don’t bloody hate you!” You shout, pretty sure you may just have woken up the entire floor. The silence after the words leave your lips is deafening. 

“Then what do you hate about me that causes you to act the way you do?” Your hands clench back into fists, your nails pressing down again in the still tender skin from but minutes ago. You don’t want to say it. You really don’t but that pain raging through your body wants to get out and you feel the floodgates opening inch by inch despite your efforts to fight it. Then there’s that voice in the back of your mind; maybe speaking the unspoken will give you some peace. 

“I don’t hate you! I just hate what your remind me of. It’s like you’re here to personally torture me so please just leave me alone to suffer, get over it and move on.” You don’t want to remember the last time you pleaded for something, and had hoped to never plead for anything again yet here you are. 

“I am going to give you a choice and I’ll only offer it once, so listen very carefully.” You’ve never seen Caleb look so intense, so genuine, and so determined. You can’t do anything but listen so you nod, signalling him to continue and that you’re paying attention to his every word and not to twist them for your own amusement for once. Whatever previous relation, or rather lack thereof you’ve had is gone now. There’s only you two, in a place of vulnerability and without judgement. 

“You’ve got two options. One; you tell me to piss off, like you usually do. I’ll go back to bed, back to sleep and leave you alone. We will never speak of this again, never mention this and go our separate ways. We will remain cordial when interacting and won’t let our own grievances get in the way of the others.” You take in the words, nodding to confirm you understand. 

“Or two; you and I are going to talk. You are going to tell me what you wish, and can tell me provided it’s the truth and I will listen. If you wish to tell me your life story I will listen. If you wish to tell me all your troubles I will listen. If you wish to share your pain, I will listen. And know that I will help you if you’ll allow me to. Because if you keep doing this on your own, let the guilt and grief and pain swallow you whole, I know exactly where it will lead. Do not allow it to be your undoing, or turn you into a person beyond your recognition.” Midway through his offer your eyes have closed and your brow furrows. You bit your lip and that combined with the movement of your eyes behind your eyelids are the only indication to Caleb you’re still listening to him. 

Caleb gives you time. He doesn’t expect an answer right away. That’s not how this works but he does study you, attempting to get an inkling of what’s going through your mind. He feels warmth wrap around his wrist, glancing down to notice your fingers have wrapped around it and hold on tightly. You’re holding onto a lifeline and he knows it. 

“Why?” Your, words a pained choke, you don’t dare open your eyes, don’t trust the look in Caleb’s eyes to tear down what last defences you had up and turning you into even more of a broken mess. 

“Because despite what people might have you believe, there is still good in this world.” You’re unable to stifle a sob, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. 

“I’ve not known much kindness in my life but I feel confident in saying this is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. It’s why my pervious actions and words towards you make me feel like an absolute ass even more. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.” You release Caleb’s wrist, feeling grounded once more despite the buzzing in your head and twiddle with your fingers awaiting a response, the tense air slowly lifting as you sit in peace and silence. 

You nod, wiping at the corners of your eyes before you open them, a bit more red and puffy than they were before you entered the room. You finally look at the wizard and take in a deep breath before nodding again. If it were anyone else, any other moment you might have said no. You’d even have laughed at whoever tried this emotional shit on you. But it’s time. You’re not getting any better nor can you repress everything forever. It’s time to face some of these troubles head on. Luckily you won’t have to do it on your own. It will take time and effort and it’s going to hurt like hell but it has to be done. You have to move on and learn how to live. You owe it to yourself, if not the people you’ve left behind. 

“Now this doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends from now on. You’re still an asshole and so am I so don’t think I’ll let you off easy for your comments and the trouble you cause.” The corner of Caleb’s lips turns up slightly as he speaks and you mimic his expression.

“I don’t think anyone else could handle it, so I’m sorry to disappoint but you’re definitely stuck with me, Widogast.” You muster a smile, exhausted. It’s mutually understood the conversation as per your agreement won’t happen right here, right now but instead when you’re both ready. For now, at least you won’t pretend to hate each other anymore and start over. 

“Hey, Caleb?” You ask.

“Yes?” He answers but before he knows it your arms wrap around him and pull him into your embrace. Caleb’s form goes rigid shocked by not only the gesture but by the physical touch itself. After a good few moments he finds himself ease just a little, enough to return the embrace lightly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

[melliflovs]

Ball Game - Gojo x Reader

Word Count: 2,238

Warnings: 18+ smut, wall sex, oral, slight praise kink

Summary: You go to your boyfriend's baseball game and find a special way to celebrate his home run.

A/n: This ended up going on too long so expect an equally smutty part two!

Never in a million years did you expect to date someone who was famous, especially not a jock. Yet here you are with a beaming smile on your face as your boyfriend stepped up to the home plate. The crowd going wild as he spun the metal bat in his hand, shooting a wave and a wink to the crowd.

"And here's number 69 Gojo Satoru stepping up for his turn to bat." The announcer began over the speaker, listing off his favorite color and pass times. "Bases are loaded and he's the right guy to finish this game off with a bang!"

The white and blue uniform stretched tightly against his muscles as he lifted the bat getting ready for the pitch. He always looked amazing when he played, radiating confidence and a level of calmness that you couldn't imagine with every eye in the massive stadium on him. He always used to joke about how he was so good at baseball that he could do it blindfolded.

He was probably right.

Even though he was the best in the league you couldn't help but feel anxious for him as he awaited the throw. Music started playing in the background as you watched Gojo nod to the pitcher, taunting him subtly.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as the man across from him cranked his arm back. Propelling his body forward. You saw a flash of white, the baseball hurtling over 90 miles an hour towards Gojo.

The familiar crack of the ball hitting metal brought breath back into your lungs as the stadium erupted into cheers, "It's going, it's going, and it's gone!" The announcer yelled as the ball disappeared into the bright blue sky. "Another home run from Gojo, making it his 12th his season. Beating his previous record of 10 last year"

You grinned from ear to ear as he jogged around the bases in a victory lap. So incredibly proud of him. As soon as his cleats touched home base his teammates ran from the dugout, surrounding him as three people lifted an almost full cooler over his head. You clapped and whooped as they dumped bright red liquid over him, drenching him.

Gojo looked so happy, jokingly shoving his teammates in fake frustration, dripping on the dirt. The team waved goodbye to the crowd as they headed to the lockers.

Slowly the crowds started to clear out now that the game had ended, the sun starting to set on the horizon. By the time you'd gathered your things, almost everyone was gone. You smiled at some of the usual vendors that stayed to clean as you began walking through the stadium for the last time today.

Gojo had been playing for the team for three years and for three years you were happily cheering at every game rain or shine. Most people who worked there recognized you by now and were always very welcoming. Some of the other player's girlfriends would sit in a group during the games but you preferred to be alone, it was easier to focus that way.

At this point you knew the stadium like the back of your hand, easily making your way towards the locker room and in turn your boyfriend. As the sky got darker you heard the click of the lights turning on around you, the warm summer air sticking to your skin. You'd need to take a shower when you get home.

You passed some of his teammates as they walked out of the locker room, they stopped for a moment to say hello and you politely congratulated them on tonight's victory.

"Didn't Gojo do great tonight, (y/n)?"

"Yeah, Geto. I was really proud of him. I bet he's in a good mood." Geto was always close with Gojo even though you always considered them to be opposites. He had his hair tied back in a bun, still wet from his shower. "Yeah." He grinned, "I bet he's in some type of mood."

You giggled at his comment. "Is everyone out of there?" You asked, gesturing at the locker room doors.

"It's just him in there now."

"Thanks, have a nice night." You said, bidding him goodbye as you headed into the lockeroom. It smelled slightly of sweat and men's body wash after their shower. Sunflower seeds littered the ground.

"Hey." You said approaching your boyfriend, "You did amazing tonight."

Gojo looked up at you with a smile, standing up from the small wooden bench he was sitting on. He still had his wet clothes on, stained red as his hair stuck loosely to his face. He leaned forward and gave you a soft peck.

Jokingly you scrunched your nose up at him when he pulled away. "You smell like fruit punch."

"That's what happens when you get Gatorade poured on you, babe." He teased. "You're sticky too." You said, shoving him away lightly.

"Oh, yeah? He grinned, lunging towards you and hugging you tightly against him. You felt his dirty clothes and skin stick to you. The sugar from the drink previously poured on him beginning to dry.

"Gojo!" You yelled, giggling as you tried to escape his grasp. Squirming around in his arms. "Now we're both dirty."

"Then I guess we both need to take a shower."

You froze as he held you, "Here?" you whispered quietly, your face growing hot at the idea. Anyone could walk in and the janitors would need to do their rounds soon but he didn't seem to care.

Gojo answered you by dipping his head down and kissing you. His hand resting on your cheek as his thumb stroked your soft skin. You melted into the kiss, your body relaxing as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His lips were smooth and tasted like fruit, you readily opened your mouth for him. Eager to give him access. He pulled you flush against his strong chest. One hand slipping down and tugging at the hem of your shirt, "Off." He purred, his voice smooth as he pulled away for a moment, eyeing your still clothed body before he lifted your shirt over your head.

Satoru wasted no time and pulled down one of the cups of your bra, your breast spilling out. The cold air around you made your nipple pebble, goosebumps rising on your skin as he flicked it lightly. His smile widening when you moaned quietly.

He twisted it carefully, the feeling going down to your core as you rubbed your thighs together trying to find subtly ease the tension. Gojo never took his eyes off you, relishing in watching you squirm under his gaze. It was no surprise your action caught his attention. With a smirk, he pushed you back against his locker and used his knee to separate your legs. You let out a gasp as he bent his leg, his thigh rubbing against your heat. The small amount of friction made your pussy begin to throb as you slowly rocked against him.

"So hot watching you get yourself off like that." He murmured before leaning down and locking you in a kiss. Your tounges playing a game of push and pull as you ground down on him. Your legs began to feel weak, your body relying more and more on him to keep you up. The cold from the metal behind you and the firm body in front of you made your head spin. As he pulled away his bit your lip lightly, tugging it between his teeth.

Gojo was intoxicating to be with and the man most definitely knew it. All smirks and smooth words when you were around him. Your breath hitching in your throat when his hand rose. He tilted your head up, forcing you to make eye contact. His face was flushed and his pink lips were swollen as he looked at you. You were simply enamored with him as he started to unbuckle his belt. The soft jingle of metal made you tense, the sound practically echoing in the empty room. Your eyes strayed down, trying to watch his hand.

The grip on your face tightened, bringing your attention back to his face. His actions never ceasing as he freed himself from his white pants, the black belt falling to the floor. "Eyes up." He said with a growl, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

Mesmerized you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, catching his finger and sucking on it lightly. Gojo's eyes darkened as he watched you. His bulge growing increasingly harder at the sight of your lips wrapped around his finger.

You felt pride swell in your chest as his breathing deepened. Releasing his digit with a pop you smiled up at him, leaning forward and putting a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I've had enough of this." His words confused you, "What-" You began, quickly cutting yourself off with a squeak as he dropped his leg from in between your thighs. The feeling in your stomach dissipating as his warm leg disappeared. Your clit still throbbed, missing the pleasure you were just receiving.

Gojo swiftly moved onto his knees, a playful glint in his eyes as he dropped down in front of you. His fingertips made quick work of the button on your jeans as well as the zipper, pulling your pants down around your thighs and exposing the plain pair of black underwear. You blushed in embarrassment, you hadn't planned for this, especially no in the locker room. Otherwise, you would've put on something nicer.

"How beautiful." He murmured before removing them too. The cold air left you exposed, almost completely aside from your bra. Gojo may have been on his knees but you still felt vulnerable as his hungry eyes raked over your nude figure. It set your body on fire, knowing that he only looked at you like that. So needy and hard, just for you.

A gasp left your lips as Gojo lifted you effortlessly, your legs resting on his shoulders and your back pressed against the lockers. His lips quickly sought out the soft skin of your inner thighs. He sucked bruises into your skin, his tongue and teeth claiming what was his. You let out a moan when he bit a sensitive spot, your back arching off the metal. You heard him chuckle in between your thighs, the vibrations traveling to your core. You must've been practically dripping by now, pathetically clenching around nothing. A lewd sound left your mouth as he licked along your slit, his tongue lapping along your folds and tasting you. "So sweet."

Your hands were quick to thread your fingers in his hair, letting out a low hiss as his tongue circled around your clit. His lips latched onto it, sucking and toying with the bundle of nerves as you felt your pussy throb. "G-Gojo." you moaned, thighs tightening around his head. His hand moved to the inside of your thigh massaging you softly as he spread your legs open again, easily holding you up with just one of his strong arms.

His eyes never left your face while he was buried between your legs, addicted to watching your reaction as he pumped his finger in and out of you while he sucked your clit. Your hands threaded into his white hair still stained pink from earlier, tugging him closer to your core. Gojo let out a deep groan.

He looked up at you, admiring the way your chest would rise and fall as you moaned. Your eyes were hooded, clouded with lust as you gave him a small smile. Teasingly you tugged on his hair hard, pulling him up slightly. With a glint in his eye, he curled his finger inside you. "Fuck, shit, Gojo." You arched off the locker again with a lewd moan, clenching around him.

Gojo's finger sped up, inserting a second as you gushed around him. He eagerly lapped up your slick. Your hips began to buck into him, quickly beginning to lose control as he continued to finger fuck you. The pressure in your stomach blossoming as your legs shook around him.

"M' gonna come." You stuttered, making eye contact with him as a blush coated your cheeks.

"Gonna come around my fingers like a good girl?" You felt his fingers curl again, arching deep inside you. With a high-pitched moan, you nodded dully as you coated his fingers in your slick. Gojo kept pumping, riding out your orgasm as you breathed in and out deeply, your breasts straining against the material of your bra.

He kissed the inside of your thigh one last time before lifting his head. You reached down moving some of his hair out of his face with a shy smile. He was still visibly sticky from earlier, his uniform and hair tinted light pink. "I like that color on you." You teased as he shifted to sit on the ground, moving you and placing you on his lap. "I think we could both use a shower though."

"Yeah," He agreed, shifting you slightly against his crotch. His erection was prominent once you looked down, you could feel it from how he'd placed you as well, "I could also use something else."

You drew him in for a kiss, shifting your core against his bulge and grinding down lightly. "Let's do it."