#ignore the fact the word count in the second one doesn't add up to the total i hid a few x reader ships out of shame lmao

[parfaitblogs]

over the moon ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a bout of insomnia prompts the usage of your arguably overworked baking equipment. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. cliché flour fight into kissing... sorry... no i'm not. use of pet names. make out sesh (obviously).  word count: 1.4k a/n: also known as spencer and reader take on the margotlia bucket list for margovember!!! happy birthday to my lover @pathologicalreid!!! who has very quickly become my other half on this silly little side of tumblr. a prophet told me there are snickerdoodle cookies and a smithsonian date with our names on it in our futures ♡

"Honey, please tell me the light on in the kitchen is you getting a glass of water."

Like a deer in headlights, you're frozen in your beelined pathway between the fridge and the countertop of Spencer's kitchen, the carton of eggs in your hands preventing any attempt of a lie to him.

"Uh..." Your eyes lock with his, and he's visibly deflating upon spotting the pantry's baking ingredients arranged in front of you. "I'm just getting water?"

"I didn't realise you put sticks of butter into your water," he counters, voice meticulously picking apart your lie in front of your face. "Does that taste good?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure," he nods his head, his feet carrying him over to you behind the counter. "What recipe have you chosen to victimise today?"

"Snickerdoodle cookies," you mumble, as his arms wrap around your waist, and his chin sits on your shoulder, eyes peering at your phone screen that had the cookie recipe open. 

"Any particular reason?" 

"I couldn't sleep," you explain. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," he nods, and a beat passes where you mumble a quiet apology to him, before he's pulling away from you and picking up your phone. "Where do we start?"

It wasn't the first time you had baked instead of sleeping, and it certainly wasn't the first time Spencer had woken up to the sound of your hand mixer combining sugar and butter, or the oven timer dinging to accompany the smell of freshly baked muffins. In fact, he had become accustomed to not getting through an entire fortnight without at least one tray of baked goods taking up counter space. 

It was the first time he had offered to help you, though. He either accompanied you and watched you bake, or sat at his desk to get paperwork done (he said he should use the extra time spent conscious wisely). 

"You don't have to help," you're shaking your head, but he's already going to the sink to wash his hands. 

"You only slept for two hours before waking up to do this. I'd like to get you back to bed sooner rather than later," he answers, patting his hands dry. "I won't sleep until you do, anyways."

"Okay," you relent, staring at him almost stunned, before you return to the recipe you had up on your phone. "Um... could you combine the sugar and butter?"

Baking with Spencer Reid seemed to make everything a lot easier. Ignoring the obvious (the help an extra set of hands provided), his eidetic memory meant you could throw a step his way, and he'd know exactly what he was doing. Having asked him to add the eggs to his sugar and butter mix, he was already separating the yolk from the whites before you needed to say a thing.

"Have you ever stuck your hand into flour?" you ask him, and he lifts his head, eyebrows frowning together. 

"No. Why would I do that?"

"To know what it feels like," you say, dryly, though there isn't any malice behind it. "Have you never wanted to know what it feels like?"

"You can use context clues to figure out what it would feel like," he replies. "Correct?" 

"Spencer, you're entirely missing the point," you shake your head, and though he lifts his head from his sugar-butter-and-egg mixture to question you, he doesn't even remotely expect a large fistful of flour to explode across his chest. 

Then, you're laughing, and he's still battling with the initial shock of your flour attack for a few more seconds to laugh with you. But, when he does, he's almost mocking with it, and your face falls when he's putting his own hand into the container labelled flour, lifting it, and dragging his hand over your stomach. 

"Oh my God!" you say through a laugh, looking down at the smear of flour on your t-shirt. "Spencer!"

"Reap what you can sow," he retorts. 

So, you do.

You aren't too sure when the flour fighting gets more intimate. Somewhere between your fingers running it through his hair, and his hands landing on your ass, as he tugs you into him.

You're heaving, though the smile on your face is perfect, and he's certain he might be falling in love with you all over again. Cheeks stained in flour and all. 

"Hello," you sing, lifting your chin up to smile at him.

"Hi, sweet girl," he replies, ducking his head down to brush his lips against yours, and you pull a face at the faint taste of flour on them. 

Your finger lifts up to brush his lower lip, face growing concentrated as you brush the powder off it. "You've got a little... something..." 

"Do I?" he asks, condescendingly, and you're firmly nodding your head. 

"Yep. This is why I bake alone, Spencer Reid," you tut. 

His eyebrows raise. "I don't know if I want to even try to prove you wrong."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Duly noted. Anything you do recommend?"

You pause. "Kissing me might help in my journey of forgiving you for this mess."

If he's got any plan to defend himself, it crumbles beneath the words of your request, and his lips are stretching into a smile. 

"I'll do whatever I can."

His lips have a film on them from the brushed away flour, making them softer than they usually are, as he presses them against yours. Hands that were once resting almost teasingly on your ass lift to your hips, and your own drop to the countertop behind him as you lean into him.

As you usually feel in your slow moments like this with him, you feel your heart soar, your head tilting to the side as you accomodate his face being so close to your own. 

Arguably, his favourite thing about kissing you for longer than half a second, is the mewls and hums that leave your lips. Never too much to prompt anything more, but instead just enough to tell him just how much you enjoy kissing him. A feeling that is entirely mutual.

As soon as it starts, it's over. Which can't really be true, for you are panting when his head pulls away from yours,  and he's got that glassy look in his eyes that always makes your body warm. 

"We need to go shower," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. 

You want to decline, just to stay standing right there in the kitchen with him, the urge to keep kissing him almost overwhelming. But his fingers have lifted to brush against a patch of flour on your neck, and you're surrendering at the feeling. 

"Okay."

Thus, forty-five minutes and one unreasonably long shower later, you were standing back in the kitchen, a bowl with cinnamon and sugar in front of you. Spencer's t-shirt hanging off your body — after you had expertly coerced him into letting you wear it — and a fork in your hands as you whisk the two toppings together. 

He's sitting on a stool on the other side of the bench, stirring the dough together after you had complained it was too thick. He argued it was supposed to be. 

Heading over to Spencer once the cinnamon and sugar was combined in a bowl, you mumble, "Okay. 'm tired," your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

"Yeah, weaponising that flour probably exhausted some energy," he muses, letting go of the wooden spoon to wrap his arms around you. "We still need to bake these, though."

"Cookie dough is yummy too," you retort, hand reaching out to pinch a piece of the dough. 

"Cookie dough isn't safe for you to eat," he answers, catching your wrist before you can get ahold of any batter. Upon seeing your pout, combined with the tired look in your eyes, he relents, letting you pick up a small piece just to eat. "How about we put this in the fridge, and we bake them tomorrow?" 

"I like that plan."

"I thought you would."

Helping him with the clean up consisted of you putting the dough in the fridge and cinnamon sugar in the pantry, and him doing... everything else. He didn't seem to mind, though, and his hands found their place on your waist as he walked you back towards the bedroom. 

"C'mon, sleepy girl."

He laughs at your incoherent grumble towards the name calling, letting you drag him back into the bed adorned with wrinkled sheets. 

"Thanks for baking with me," you say, voice layered with your exhaustion as you're curling up next to him. 

"Thanks for attacking me with flour."

"And I'd do it again."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[everymlmhybrid]

Finally posting some of the data from my ao3 wrapped spreadsheet! This was an absolute blast and helps soooo much with keeping track of fics you’ve already read & it’s so cool to be able to show this off at the end of the year

all the way more than it looks like work to sort this all was worth it honestly, very fun!

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

"Strawberry Kisses"

Pairing: Show!Percy Jackson x demeter!fem!reader

Summary: your boyfriend percy wants attention while you are tending to the strawberry patch

Contains: fluff, kisses, and more fluff [established relationship]

Word Count: 573

A/N: I make a return (again have little to no idea about the pjo world). this is pretty short but cute hehe. also this is most definitely not edited. ALSO lets ignore the fact that i edited this later to add a title and summary which i somehow forgot

"Can you hold this?" Percy's voice reaches your ears.

You turn around from the patch of strawberries you were tending to, to see Percy holding out his hand. "What do you want me to hold?" you ask in confusion - his hand is empty.

"This," he says, shaking his hand.

"You want me to hold your hand?" you ask sarcastically.

Percy looks at you with all seriousness "Yes."

You smile brightly at your boyfriend and intertwine your fingers together. "Happy now?"

Percy grins at you, "yep!" he lifts your hand up to his mouth and places a soft kiss on the back of your hand. "Now come on, I'm bored and want to go for a walk."

"Percy," you groan knowing full well that he doesn't want to take a walk at all.

"Come on y/n!" Percy urges. Instead of obliging him you force him to sit down and pick a ripened strawberry, kneeling you pop the strawberry in your mouth and chew. Percy is now watching your lips with an unbreakable interest.

"What, are you doin-" you cut him off by placing a soft kiss on his mouth leaving strawberry juice on his lips. Leans forward in search of your lips.

"Uh uh ah," you tut teasing him. "For every second ripe strawberry you find you get one kiss." Percy suddenly very, very keen to help pick strawberries jumps up and rushes around finding as many strawberries as he can.

"I got two!" Percy's voice fills your ear and you turn around and see you boyfriend grinning with two strawberries in his hand. You smile sweetly at him and take them both, placing one in the basket at your feet. Taking the other you bite into it and place the other half in on his lips before placing a kiss on his mouth.

Teasing him you pull back and say, "keep finding them!" Percy's eyes are trained on your lips but he nods eagerly, turning away and rushing to find more.

Thirty minutes later, Percy is sitting on the grass next to the patch with your head in his lap. "Y/n, listen to me - clearly you're not thinking straight," he says. "Ice cream is clearly the better choice."

"No, no, no," you say as he leans forward but trying not to move too much so he doesn't bother you. "Chocolate is better. What is wrong with you? Chocolate is-" Percy cuts you off you with a kiss.

"You're very wrong, but since I love you, we can shelve this debate for later, letting chocolate be the temporary winner."

"Yes!" you start to smile and chant about your victory.

"But, it's only temporary," Percy warns, placing another soft kiss on your lips.

You sigh, smiling up at the boy looking down at you. As much as you hate to admit it - Percy was right - this is much better than picking strawberries.As if he heard your thoughts, Percy smirks. "See, I told you this was better than picking stupid strawberries. Although, I definitely didn't mind those kisses," he says leaning over and plucking one before eating it himself and this time he places the kiss on your lips letting the strawberry juice linger on your lips.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th 

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“ 

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.” 

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?” 

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“ 

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“ 

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker. 

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod. 

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod. 

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.  

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "insomnia" ⎯୧ (lcy)

+*:🍓:*﹤descrip. : you help anton out after a rough week <3

+*:🧺:*﹤content : sub!anton x fem!reader/dom!reader (i think)

+*:🫐:*﹤warnings : smut, roommates/friends to lovers, 18+, so mdni 🤞(there are some really bad words in here), unprotected sex bc i forgot to add any </3 (please use protection), edging, wet dreams, overstim kinda, palming over clothes, blowjob, light nipple touching, petname babyboy, anton calls reader noona, i'm a year older than anton so i just made y/n older as well <3 this story switches povs bc im unprofessional, vaginal penetration, female anatomy for reader, clit rubbing

+*:💗:*﹤word count : 1.6K

+*:🍓:*﹤masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

Anton can't sleep. 

He tosses and turns just to wake up two hours later, hot, sweaty, and heaving. He writes it off as having nightmares, but that doesn’t explain the hard-ons he always has. He considers getting one off to help him relax, and that works for the first two nights. Then, in the days that follow, it's like no matter how long he goes at it, getting himself all whiny and desperate, he can't cum. That realization only makes it harder to stay asleep, lucky if he dozes off for forty minutes. 

It's so aggravating. During lecture, he can barely keep his eyes open, but when his head hits the pillow, it's like he can't shut his mind up. 

Tonight, he gives up around 1 AM after going in and out of sleep for an entire hour. He's restless but exhausted, and his mood is shot when you walk in the apartment. You had a long shift, so you can’t wait to snuggle in bed and watch a couple of comfort movies. You stop by the kitchen on your way to your room, unable to ignore your roommate's quiet grumbles. 

“Anton?” You call out, but his back is turned toward you, and he's still mumbling to himself, fiddling with a container.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” You ask, placing an arm on his shoulder and gently turning him toward you. 

“m fine, can't get this stupid box open.” He mumbles grumpily. In his hands, a box of hot cocoa packets is bent out of shape. You look at him in question (how did he bend the box like that? They aren't hard to open), but your attention is instead drawn to his features.

To put it short, he looks terrible. His eyes are puffy and red like he's been crying, his hair is tangled like he hasn't brushed it in days, and his oversized shirt is hanging off his shoulder, wrinkled and stretched out like he’s been pulling at it.

“Do you need help?” You reach for the box, but he moves out of your way, tucking the box to himself protectively as he continues struggling with it.

Anton knows he looks stupid, struggling to open this goddamn box, but ever since his problem of not getting off started, he hasn't been able to look you in the eyes. Every time you guys make eye contact, he feels ashamed.

What’s frustrating is that he doesn’t know why. You're beautiful, and he can't lie and say he's not attracted to you, but he's never thought about you in a sexual way, because he’s put in great effort to not do so.

So why is it hard to be around you all of a sudden? He can’t help but feel sad about the circumstances, as he was enjoying the friendship you two had been building for the past three months.

“I got it.” He mutters again, tone sharp and stern. You watch him for a couple seconds and conclude that he doesn't in fact have it.

“Are you sure, Toni? I can-”

“I said I've got it.” He snaps, voices suddenly raised and face scrunched up in annoyance. You slightly flinch at his outburst, a wave of your own irritation washing over you. 

“Excuse me?” You ask, offended by his tone. His face falls and he turns away from you again. Seconds later, his shoulders begin to shake with his sobs. 

He wishes you would leave him alone, because having your eyes on him makes him feel things he can’t explain. He just wants to have some hot cocoa, get off, then go the fuck to sleep. 

“Oh, Toni.” You coo, mood softening as you begin rubbing his back. “What's the matter?”

You and Anton aren’t extremely close, and not by lack of trying. You’re so attracted to him, but love being his friend and don’t want to mess it up by asking him out. Despite that, you've never seen him in this state before. His usually cheerful, even charismatic personality is completely gone, turned into something snappy and miserable. 

“I'm so tired.” He says, his voice shaky and so quiet you almost don’t hear him. The palms of his hands come to rub his eyes aggressively. “Can't sleep, no matter what I do.”

You wonder how long he had to be in this state to be acting like this, feeling a bit guilty that you hadn't noticed the signs earlier. You think for a second about how to help. 

“I was going to go watch some movies in bed.” You offer after a few moments of silence. “Do you want to join me? It might be nice to have some company for a little bit.” 

He lowers his hands from his eyes and thinks about your offer. You guys have huddled in bed for movies before, so it isn’t a wild suggestion, and your bed is always so warm, multiple blankets and plushies adding extra cushion. He turns around, ignoring the heavy feeling he gets from looking at you.

“Here, I'll even make this for you.” You gently remove the box from his hands, ripping its cardboard flap and opening it with ease. He looks at you in surprise for a second, then nods. 

“Okay, why don't you go get settled and I'll be there in a minute?” 

He pads softly to your room, shoulders slumped and feet dragging.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Anton is buried underneath your duvet and blankets, only his eyes up to his forehead visible when you walk into your bedroom. 

“Comfy, are we?” You ask with a light chuckle, reaching out to hand him his cocoa. He sits up in bed and takes the mug. After changing into pajamas in the bathroom, you settle into your own space and pull up a selection of movies on your phone. 

“How's The Cat Returns?” You ask, watching as he downs the drink and snuggles back into the sheets. 

“Fine.” He mumbles, eyes droopy. You feel bad for him again, hoping he'll be able to get some sleep tonight.

You get through that and a third of Coraline when you hear Anton huff loudly. You glance down to see that he's snuggled up by your chest, eyes shut and breath even. He’s never slept in your bed before, but you don’t want to wake him up from some much needed rest. You take a moment to appreciate his beauty. In the glow from your bedside lamp, you can see his rosy cheeks and furrowed eyebrows, and your heart swells with fondness. Maybe this will make you guys even closer. You smile in triumph and continue the movie. 

Ten minutes later, you hear it. You ignore it the first time, but it happens again soon after. Anton lets out a faint whimper. For a second, you think he's talking to you, but he doesn't respond when you call out his name. Instead, he full-on moans. 

“N-noona.” He mumbles. The blankets have fallen from his chest and pooled around his pelvis, and you see his hips twitch slightly. “Please…”

Was he…having a wet dream?

Surely not, you tell yourself. The circumstances of this happening are quite unlikely. 

“Y/N…need you.” He whines quietly, and your eyes jump to the size of saucers. 

He was having a wet dream about you?!

Your cheeks heat up, feeling flattered but scandalized. He doesn't say anything else, but his breath picks up rapidly, becoming more choked off as it progresses. Seconds later, he jerks awake, gasping and panting, his fingers tangled into the blankets. You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to slow down his breath. Then, he opens them again and looks up from your chest. 

“Oh, Noona, did I wake you? I'm sorry.” He asks, voice thick and words slurred.

You ignore the way hearing him call you that now makes you hot all over, arousal manifesting in your panties. He sits up with messy hair and puffy cheeks. Is he just going to pretend like he wasn't dreaming about you? 

“What?” You scoff, a smile tugging at your lips. You can't help but laugh at how weird this situation was.

“Sorry for disturbing you, I'll head back to my room now.” You watch in disbelief as he sluggishly stands up from the bed and not-so subtly covers his boner with his large shirt.

The truth is, Anton can't wait to get out of your vicinity. Your scent is stuck to his clothes, and he doesn't know why he likes it so much. That shameful feeling is back, and he wants it off his skin.

“Wait, Anton.” You call out, dropping your phone on the sheets and just barely catching his wrist.

Shit. He turns back to you, eyes falling to your mouth, and he could've sworn you were almost…smirking?

“Did you get to sleep?” You ask, but your eyes lack genuine curiosity.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did.” He answers awkwardly, looking everywhere but your eyes. He’s so cute, and his nervousness makes you feel empowered.

“What did you dream about?” 

“What?” He looks at you finally with a look of confusion.

“Dreams? Did you have any?” You slowly lead him to sit back down. He follows easily, pulled back onto your soft, comfortable blankets.

“Uhm, no, not that I remember.” 

“You can't remember what you dreamt about?” You ask, incredulous. He looks away for a second, thinking, then turns back to you and shakes his head. 

“I think I've been having nightmares a lot recently. I keep waking up on the verge of a panic attack.” He explains. You hum in contemplation. You can’t help but wonder if any more of these “nightmares” have actually been wet dreams, and if so, how many of them have been about you. 

Slowly, your hand trailed along his thigh, and you delight in the sound of his breath hitching. His body is tense, eyes looking at you in question. “But that's alright, I guess I don't w-want to if they were that scary.” He stutters as your hand trails higher and higher. You’re giving him a sultry look, and he wonders if this is going where he thinks it’s going, and is surprised to realize maybe he wants it to go there, despite it being so sudden.

“That's interesting, because I think I know what you dreamt about, and why you can't get to sleep.” You say, circling your finger around a spot right on his hip. They twitch under your touch, and you almost coo again watching him try to restrain himself. 

You’re not sure where you suddenly got the nerve to act like this, but you say to hell with it. You’ve been harboring a crush on him ever since you became his roommate, and he obviously shares the same desire, if his subconscious is anything to go off of. His shy demeanor only makes you more confident. You move on from his hip and slide a hand up his loose shirt.

Anton’s almost relieved by your statement—he wants almost nothing more than to have a full night's rest—but he finds it hard to focus on your words as your nails lightly scrape his skin. His eyelids flutter prettily.

“When was the last time you came?” You ask abruptly, causing Anton’s eyes to snap open.

“I’m sorry?”

“You likely can't go to sleep because you're so tense. When you do, you can't stay asleep because you keep having wet dreams about me that eventually wake you back up.” You’re not sure if the last part is true, but that’s your working theory. You watch as he struggles to comprehend your statement as you graze a couple of fingers over his nipple, voice catching in a gasp. 

“What are you talking about? I'm not even having inappropriate thoughts about you.” He defends, because he tries so hard to not have inappropriate thoughts about you. He doesn’t want to be a pervert and take advantage of the friendship you guys have, so he pushes away any sexual thoughts that creep up in his mind. Sometimes it’s so hard, but he values your company so much, and doesn’t want to upset you.

“Oh, yeah? So when you moaned, ‘Y/N noona, I need you’ in your sleep, you weren't having inappropriate thoughts about me?” You ask, over-exaggerating the way he moaned. His eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of you tugging on his nipple, then you trail your hand back down to lightly trace his bulge. His hips lift towards your hand, and you pull it away. 

Even in his aroused, half-asleep mind, your words make sense. Why he feels shame looking at you, why he’s always rock solid when he wakes up. It’s not a far fetch to think he’s been having sexual dreams, nor is it to wonder if those dreams are about you, since you’re the only person he’s been attracted to lately. 

You wrap your hand around his member through his pants, snatching him out of his thoughts. 

“F-fuck.” He gasps quietly, surprised at your actions. “What are you doing?”

“Did you think you could get off on the thought of me and I wouldn't take up the opportunity to finally fuck you?” 

Questions swim around in his head. Have you been wanting to have sex with him? You’ve been thinking about him inappropriately this whole time? The mere idea of you finding him attractive gets him even more hot and bothered, but he has no time to dwell on these thoughts once you start palming him roughly through his sweatpants.

“Oh, g-god.” He whimpers out after a few minutes, hips finally bucking into your touch. “Please, ‘m close.” His breath quickens again, uneven and harsh like it was in his sleep. His cheeks are dusted with baby pink, embarrassed about how close he’s gotten so quick, but he can’t help it. You’re so beautiful and you’re touching him and he’s realizing maybe his feelings are bigger than he previously thought. 

“You're gonna cum from humping my hand?” You ask, unimpressed. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Your words make him feel like he’s being boiled alive. Part of him can’t believe this is happening, but he’s so desperate to please you. Anton gasps, pushing his hips back onto the blankets to get away from the stimulation.

“Please, stop. Wanna last.” He begs. He’s so cute, all weak and compliant, and you want to tease him more, see how long he holds out, but you can tell how much he wants to last, so you relent. He mumbles weak “thank you���s as he comes from the edge, and once his breathing returns to normal, you straddle him. He opens his eyes and looks at you in question, audibly gulping when he sees your dark, hungry gaze. He starts a sentence, but you cut him off as you grind your cunt against his member. 

“God, Y/N.” He groans, throwing his head back into the pillows. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask, giggling meanly. You keep the movement up, building a rhythm while watching him struggle to string words together.

“I can’t– ahh– can’t believe t-this is happening.” He manages, interrupted by a particularly rough grind. For a second, his head catches on the opening of your cunt, and even through two layers of clothing, the feeling has him reeling.

“Hm.” You sigh into the feeling and accept the fact that you were gonna have to throw these underwear away. “Why’s that?”

“You’re so pretty a-and nice and– Fuck, fuck, need you, please.” He whimpers out, echoing the words he spoke while asleep. You take in the sight of him, and he just looks so beautiful, brown hair fanning out beneath him. His lips are red from him biting them, and you can’t resist the temptation to lean down and kiss him. He tastes a little like the cocoa he had earlier.

It starts out slow, Anton taking a couple of seconds to comprehend the situation, overcome his shock, and actually kiss you back. Then it becomes more of him panting against your mouth, hips jerking erratically under your weight.

You still don’t want him to finish just yet, so you lift off of him and ignore the displeased whine he lets out. You pull his sweatpants off slowly while lightly scratching the skin of his thighs, reveling in the sharp gasp he takes. He’s so responsive, so fun to play with.

“Oh,” You whisper, shocked to realize he’s not wearing underwear. “So what’s this? Were you expecting to come in here and get your dick wet?” You ask in disbelief, eyeing his cock. It’s about average, but thick, and just thinking about having that in you has your pussy throbbing. You’re just teasing, but your words break Anton into a cold sweat. 

“N-no! No– these are m-my pajamas.” He explains desperately, words clipping off into a whine as you lift his hard cock with two fingers then let it flop back down. You can’t help but be mesmerized by it. It was a deep shade of pink, almost red, and a white bead of precum was forming at the tip. You subconsciously lick your lips at the sight. You professionally move on from the fact that Anton doesn’t sleep with underwear on in favor of running your tongue across the slit of Anton’s dick.

He let out a choked sound and his hips jerk violently, but you’re able to back up before his penis collides with your nose. 

“Toni, if you want me to touch you here, you have to be still.” You warn, one hand coming to rest on his hip.

“Sorry, sorry, I can do that. I can-” His rambling is cut off by you taking his entire head into your mouth. “Shit, shit, I– ‘m.” His hands come to tangle into your hair, but you pull off of his dick and place his arms back by his side. You don’t say anything, but you’re sure he gets the command.

“Gonna cum already, baby boy?” You ask teasingly, rubbing his wrists gently. His breath hitches at the pet name, and you make a mental note to revisit that later.

“No,” he mumbles defensively. Your eyebrow lifts in suspicion, but you take his word for it.

“If you get close, let me know, okay?” You hold eye contact while saying it, and he responds with a nod. “No, baby. Answer with your words. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll let you know, promise.” He says, nodding quickly, so desperate to get your mouth back on his dick. You’re not sure how much you believe him, but you oblige, slowly taking his member into your mouth inch by inch. Since he’s on the shorter side, it doesn’t take long for you to bottom out, his tip barely even reaching the back of your throat, but he’s hot and heavy on your tongue.

You wait and adjust for a second then begin a pace. Under you, Anton doesn’t say anything, the only communication being his gasps and grunts. You can tell he’s close by the way his hips stutter, desperate to buck up into the wet heat, but still, he doesn’t say anything. You pull off his dick to instead suck at the head, tongue sliding across and dipping into the slit. Almost immediately, Anton verbally explodes.

“Stop! Stop, please– too much, ahh–” He rambles, stuttering around portions of a sentence. He’s so embarrassed, but it’s not his fault you’re playing his body like a fiddle. 

You love the sound of him begging, so you keep up the ministrations a bit longer until his whines are so loud that he’s practically screaming, squirming on your blankets. You pull off again and rub up and down his thighs slowly. He gasps and pants as he comes down, so tense, and his cock is even more red, twitching as a steady stream of precum leaks out of the tip. It’s so vulgar that it almost drives you insane, and you’re starting to think you’re gonna lose it if you don’t sit on his cock in the next few minutes, but you push through it.

“Aw, that looks like it hurts. Want me to help you, or should I just leave you like this?” You ask, rubbing lightly at the head. In Anton’s sleep-deprived, sexually frustrated mind, he can’t see how much you want him, how you’re just as desperate as he is, and thinks you’re serious.

“No, please, please, don’t leave me, it hurts so bad.” His hips jump lightly, drawing your attention to his member in an effort to prove his point. “I can’t–can’t get off alone, need you.” He can’t even fathom the thought of you leaving him like this, tender and submissive and so, so hard. 

You can’t help but coo at that. You slip your pajamas and underwear, as well as his shirt, off, then straddle him again. You grind your cunt against his member again, this time without the barrier of clothing. Before he can beg, you crash your lips into his, swallowing any small sounds that try to escape. 

You kiss him until your lips hurt, making up for all the time you spent silently pining after him, not knowing he wanted you just as bad. When you pull away, he’s struggling to catch his breath and looking at you like you hung the stars. 

“You’re s-so stunning, I c-can’t believe you l-like me.” He mumbles through stuttered breaths. His hands lay awkwardly by his sides, and you lift them up to rest on your hips. His thumbs rub circles into them shyly, which causes your heart to swell up.

“How could I not like you, sweet boy? You’re so handsome and smart, so caring.” You run your hand through his tangled hair, gently undoing a couple of knots as you remember the traits and quirks that made you like him from the beginning. He practically melts into your touch and praise, but you’re not done with him just yet. You raise your hips and lean into his ear.

“You’ve been such a good boy, do you want me to fuck you now?” You barely get the question out before he’s nodding again, all eager at the idea of finally feeling your walls against his cock. 

Anton watches with slow, bated breath as you line your opening up with his length, but then you actually take it in, bottoming out with no hesitation, and his eyes roll into his head. He screams, but the sound is muffled due to his teeth trapping his bottom lip. You sigh in pleasure while letting yourself adjust to the feeling, then study his features as you clench around his dick.

His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out another high-pitched keen, and you’re mesmerized by his beauty. Anton’s grip on your hips tightens as you lift up and slide back down, but you feel a bit annoyed that his eyes remain closed. 

“Look at me, Toni.” You request, hands resting on his chest to support your weight. His eyes barely open, fluttering like it’s a struggle, and you can't help but think again that he’s just so cute. You want to destroy him.

“Good job.” You praise and graze his nipples with your fingers. His hips jerk at the sensation, pushing himself deeper into you, and you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily as a wave of pleasure washes over you. You breathe through it in an attempt to hold on to some sanity. On the next inhale, you pick up the pace, sliding his length in and out of you rapidly. 

“Oh, oh god- fuck, th-that’s so good, you’re so good.” Anton rambles, his voice strained and high-pitched in a way you’ve never heard before. You’re instantly obsessed with the sound and make a tsk-ing noise when he bites his bottom lip. You lift your hand off of his chest and squish his cheeks. His bottom lip juts out in a forced pout.

“None of that, baby boy. I wanna hear you.”

“-t’s embarrassing.” He mumbles weakly, which tapers off into another moan as you sink down fully and roll your hips. You throw your head back, feeling his thick size touch you in places you’ve never reached. You pick up a rhythm of sliding him in and out of you a couple of times then bottoming out and rolling your hips.

“Damn, Anton. You f-feel amazing.” You moan, stuttering when his hips buck into your own. You look back at him and his eyes are still open, and he’s giving you that look again, the one that makes you want to shy away under all of that adoration. Before you can, he throws his head back, baring his pretty, flushed neck as another high-pitched noise rips its way out of his throat. 

“F-fuck, -m so-sorry, can’t look– gonna cum, I’m–” 

You still on his lap and ignore the frustrated noise he lets out. Next to his ear, you whisper, “Not yet, Toni. Don’t you want to make me feel good too?”

He nods dumbly, unaware of how good he’s already making you feel. His eyes are empty and glossed over as you guide his hand to your clit. He rubs it experimentally, and your pleased sigh has him speeding up a bit, pressing a little harder to hear more of those sounds from you. 

His entire body is tense and burning hot, so close to the release he’s been chasing for a week, and watching your beautiful body react to his touch only makes it worse. He wants to get you there first, but when you roll your hips down again, he doesn’t think he can do it.

“P-please don’t move, please, please.” He begs, words slurring and eyes shining with desperation. He’s so deeply submitted to you that it’s almost unbearable, and you have the sudden need to please him, make him cum so hard he forgets his name, then kiss him to sleep. You support your weight with your shaky arms and lift your hips up.

“Fuck me, baby. Don’t you wanna cum?” You ask, putting on your sweetest voice for him. 

“Fuck yeah, yes, need it.” Anton grunts out. He wraps your arms around his neck and grips your hips tightly before roughly thrusting into your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck, Toni–” You gasp out with your face burried in his neck. His desperation shows through his lack of rhythm, his strokes uneven and harsh. He’s hitting your sweet spot so aggressively it feels like you might lose your mind, then his hand comes to rub your clit again, the grip on your waist strong enough to hold you up with one hand. 

“Oh, god. Cum, please cum, I-I can’t hold it.” He begs, words interlaced with keens and gasps. Despite your previous permission, he’s still so desperate to please you, even with wet cheeks and eyebrows furrowed in agony. The sight, the feeling of him pounding into your sweet spot, and the harsh, uneven rubbing on your clit sends you into overdrive. You cum so hard your hearing almost goes out, but you can faintly make out his muffled screams, and you feel him cream in you, hot fluids spilling back over his cock as he works himself through it. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Eventually, the air stills, and for the first time in hours, Anton’s tense body fully relaxes, his bones melding into your pillows. You lift off of him to let him fully catch his breath, and slip into the bathroom. His eyes are closed when you return, and flutter open when he feels something warm and wet touch his skin. 

You’re clean now, having wiped yourself down in the bathroom, and he’s silent as you clean him up as well. His blinks are slow like his eyelids are heavy, and you’re overwhelmed with the desire to leave kisses all over his puffy cheeks. 

You put discarded clothing as well as any dirty blankets in your laundry basket, then climb under the duvet with him. He’s warm and cozy when you pull him to lay on your chest again.

It’s silent for a few minutes, but you know he’s not asleep, because his breath is irregular.

“...Noona?” He calls out so quietly you’re surprised you hear it, alert to make sure he’s got everything he needs, so you hum in response. 

“Did you mean it? That you think I’m…handsome, and stuff?” He mumbles. His voice is so soft and sweet that you just wanna eat him up, but you don’t wanna disturb his comfort. 

“I meant every word, Anton. I’ve adored you since we met.” You confess while running your fingers through his fluffy, tangled hair. 

Moments of silence pass.

“I think I’ve been denying my crush on you for the past four weeks.” He whispers again, almost uncertain. His words have your heartbeat picking up, the idea of him reciprocating your romantic feelings makes you so happy you could jump on the bed, because you don’t know how you would’ve gone back to being just friends after tonight.

Similar thoughts run through Anton’s mind. He can’t believe he didn’t see his feelings for you sooner. It feels like after a full week, he’s finally able to relax into his skin again. You’re so comforting, and remembering how you took care of him gives him butterflies. Curiously, he looks up at you, and your eyes are staring back at him, as soft and sparkly as they’ve always been. He can’t believe how deep his feelings for you actually run. 

Your lips curl into a big smile, then you're suddenly cupping his cheeks and pressing warm, wet kisses all over his face.

“So cute. You’re so, so cute. I can’t resist any longer.” You say through smooches. He grunts in feigned annoyance, pretending that his heart isn’t threatening to jump out of his chest. You lay him back down, but he still has one question on his mind.

“Noona, w-will you…be my girlfriend?” His uncertain tone is back, despite everything.

“I better be.” You say lightly, half-joking. You continue running your fingers through his hair, and Anton’s eyelids become so heavy that he can’t keep them open despite wanting to stay here in this moment with you. 

You want to be sure before you drift off yourself, so you wait for a few more minutes, and then his breath evens out, and Anton falls asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : this story on ao3 <33 pls lmk if i missed any tags i should add! this is my first ff so it's lacking, but i tried my best to fix up any obvious plotholes!!

[lvlyghost]

Hi I just read your “The Things I Never Said” oneshot and loved it. Can I get a kind of opposite version where Simon wishes to be a dad but the reader never wants to be a mom so she freaks out and gets an abortion with out Simons knowledge and later he somehow finds out? Maybe angst to fluff? Totally ignore this if you dont want to, have a wonderful day/night.

The Things I Wish I Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You decide to end things with Simon after what you did.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tw: hurt, comfort, angry simon, angst, implied abortion. Not proofread.Think that's it but lmk if i missed anything!🐸

A/N: here it is! I hope this doesn't disappoint and that it lives up to your expectations 😰🤞🏻 I really enjoyed writing this one and since it's similar to my previous fic decided to name it quite similar. ✨💞

Masterlist✨Masterpost

He doesn't know. You stare at Simon's gargantuan body as he barks orders to the new recruits. Things have been rather... tense lately. And it's all because of you.

Yesterday had taken a toll on you. A big piece of your heart and soul lost forever in that godamn clinic. You can still smell the perfume of the nurse, feel the hands of the doctor as he tried to comfort you. You're deadly pale, tired and numb. That's why you're sitting on the other side of the field, watching the rest of your team training as usual. Nothing changes for them. You on the other hand? Can't even look at Simon in the eyes. Not anymore. The one thing he wanted the most was also the one you were the most reluctant to. It just wasn't you.

You didn't have it in your DNA. To be a mother. To carry a baby in your arms. And not because you're selfish, but you had decided a long time ago that having children was off the table.

Even when everybody would say 'you'll change your mind when you find the one'. Well it was a blatant lie because you found him. You loved Simon. You'd do whatever he asked of you. Just not this. And you hate yourself for it.

You lied to him and didn't mention anything. Didn't tell him you were pregnant with his offspring.

Couldn't even bare to maintain a conversation with him. And he's starting to notice the way your body startles when he reaches out to you. How you avoid his gaze or not kiss him anymore.

"Feeling better?" He questions, strong arms crossed. Simon doesn't fully look down where you sit but side eyes you. He awaits. You're looking out to the field, ignoring his presence as you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Not really, Lieutenant." You simply add, in a hushed tone.

He sighs but doesn't move, starting to lose his patience. He's trying so hard to understand why you're acting like this. He's preoccupied. Anxious. Yet doesn't let it show, remaining stoic as ever.

"Wanna talk about it, Sergeant?" Biting down on your lip and fidgeting with your hands you shake your head. Simon rubs his face, annoyed that whatever the fuck is happening is driving the both of you apart, so he sits down on the bench next to you. "What is it?" He turns his head to you. Arms resting on his knees.

"Simon..." you warn him with a sad tone.

"No. That's an order."

"Sir, we're done here..." One of the recruits shouts from the other side.

"You bloody keep going until I tell you to stop!" He seethes, making you flinch.

Resting your head on your hands, start thinking about the inevitable. About what you're going to do. Your heartbeat racing when you feel his eyes on you again.

"Simon..." you say. "I... I- don't think we should be together right now." It hurts deep inside because all that's left is the rustling of wind and the voices of the soldiers around. You don't turn to see his reaction, probably wouldn't be able to stand it. It's not because you didn't love him. In fact, you loved him more than he could imagine. It's what you did behind his back what's eating you alive. And the best way you can seem to cope with it is to leave him.

Not a sound comes from him for the next few seconds. Until you finally find the courage to look his way. Blue eyes scan your body.

"As you wish, kid." He whispers. You can't see it but he's already spiraling down to a dark place.

The one good thing he had...

-

"I've had enough!" Soap's voice booms in the hallway and then your door bursts open. You shriek, standing up from the bed. "I can't stand it anymore lass. You've gotta talk to him." He says.

"Johnny... we've talked about this." You murmur.

"No. I'm being serious! Ghost is more irritated than usual, he almost punched me for saying he needed to get laid. The bloody hell happened to you both?" His eyebrows furrow. "You need to figure this out, otherwise..."

"It's complicated." You deadpan.

"Well then bloody make it right! Steaming fucking Jesus you two acting like fucking children. Grow the hell up."

You had never seen Johnny this mad.

Of course you were aware of Ghost's attitude since you two broke up. And it's only been three weeks. You've been attending the military counselor since then, it's a sorrowful feeling when you think about Simon, while you talk about him. About what led to the end of your relationship or whatever it was that you two had going on.

"I believe what you went through was hard and painful. But I do think that he deserves an answer." she had insisted. "He needs to know."

It was easier said than done. Every time you thought about going to his room or wherever he'd be you got this uneasy feeling, like he somehow despised you now. That all the soft smiles and gentle caressing that were once just for you had turned into frowns and harsh commands. Dismissing you whenever you showed up to training. Not even making eye contact during debriefs. Walking right past you in the corridor. You can't help but wonder if the baby's eyes would've been more like him or yours.

Stop.

The counselor said it was a type of ptsd and that therapy would help you get through it.

"The first step is to let yourself feel that pain, make amends with it, and then go see him."

"I'll try to talk to him Johnny. I promise." You murmur, jaw clenching.

The mere thought of going to speak to Simon made your hands sweat and your heart beat frantically.

Three days after the conversation with Soap, you stand in front of Simon's bedroom door. Blinking rapidly as your mind races with all the things you ought to say. It's almost one in the morning, unable to sleep you decided the conversation couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't wait anymore. Swallowing down saliva you raise your hand, two soft knocks on the door echoing in the empty hallway and you wait patiently, fumbling with your hands as the anxiety begins to raise.

Simon doesn't open so you knock again two times only to be greeted by more silence and a loud thunder outside in the sky.

A quiet huff leaves your mouth as you turn on your heel and leave. Wandering around the compound with no clear direction. It's dead silent, you're left with your own self destructive thoughts as you walk past the gym. A low thud can be heard from behind the doors so you backtrack and take a glimpse through the window.

Why is he at the gym at this ungodly hour?

Pushing past the door you walk sluggishly, Simon's quick to notice the disturbance, ready to snap at whomever is here to interrupt his midnight routine. It's been like this for weeks now; not being able to sleep. The nightmares that had disappeared for the most part came back with full force.

There's a hollow feeling inside of him ever since you decided to call it quits. He doesn't fucking understand, he's mad. Furious even. Can't help the anger whenever he wakes up and you're not there anymore. Can't bear the sight of you during debriefings and not even looking his way. The way you freeze when he has to order you around.

Had he done anything to make you fearful of him?

He needed to know, he needs answers. He'd ask tomorrow. He swears. Whatever it was. Then he'll walk away.

He stands from where he was about to start the second round of push-ups. Simon's able to recognize your silhouette with the lights off, he just knows you that well. Wherever you were, in a sea full of people he'd know it's you even then.

"Sorry..." you murmur. Simon's looking at you over his left shoulder through the mirror in front of him, you stand a few steps behind him. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

He stays silent. It's now that you come to realize that he isn't wearing the mask, instead lies on the room floor, discarded. "Was looking for you in your room but-"

"Say it." He barks, turning around and stalking towards you. His presence alone making you feel smaller. His brows are knitted, jaw clenched so hard you're sure he'll break his teeth. Simon is massive. Yet, despite all of this you know he'd never lay a finger on you, nor hurt you. "Fucking start talking, kid." The hurt in his voice is palpable. You fumble with your hands, it's getting harder to keep your eyes on his. You do not deserve his love at all. "Because I've been losing my mind ever since you shut me out."

A soft wail escapes your lips, you try to muffle it. Simon hesitates for a second. Wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he awaits.

"I... I- got pregnant." You cried. "And you've always known I never wanted that. I panicked and didn't say a word because it would be more painful or...-" you swallow through incessant tears. "Or so I thought. I decided to get rid of it, Simon. But seeing what's done to us. What I've done... I'm so fucking sorry I don't deserve-"

Suddenly you're engulfed by strong arms and a broad chest as you finally let go and cry rivers of pain and regret. He's murmuring sweet things in your ear that you can't understand die to your deteriorating situation.

"It's okay. It's okay, love. Fucking hell, should've come to me." He growled. "Don't you ever do this to me again, kid. You didn't have to do it alone. Christ."

There's a soft kiss on the top of your head as your cries start to die down and all there's left are soft whimpers.

"I never meant to leave you, but I couldn't be close to you after what I did behind your back." You sniff.

The ever gentle caressing of his thumb on your back never ceases, providing the comfort you so desperately seek.

"S'alright, love. Nothing to be sorry about." He takes a step back keeping you at arms length. "There she is." A little broken but starting to be pieced back together. He gently wipes your cheeks and breathes deep. "I'm here. Always."

[monicahar]

the wanderer despises the day of love; valentine's, was it? whatever, it's just a foolish mortal event that he swears to never participate on. he finds each nook and cranny of sumeru completely abhorrent when the day comes. sucking each other's faces in public? are you serious? handing each other cheesy flowers and gifts? what? and the irritable songs he'd heard that were sung to people perched on their windows and balconies—not much unlike a pathetic attempt of some animal's mating call? disgusting. absolutely puke worthy material.

which is why you're led to nothing but disappointment when he doesn't even mention the name of the special occasion you've looked forward to.

“it's today, huh?” he says airily to no one in particular, as if he could care less when his eye catches onto the fact that there were more flowers and bouquets around than usual, and there's a lot of those heart stuff around, much to his dismay and unfortunately keen observation.

red ceramic mugs, heart shaped candies, heart balloons, tulips and other florals with much more vibrant colours than the normalcy of contrast he's used to seeing around the city. it grates his nerves.

he hates this. all of this.

“hey—wanderer!”

[name].

he says the sacrilegious name in his mind, turning around to meet your approaching form whilst struggling to keep his lips from creeping up a smile.

his solemn and hate-filled day is immediately better with your appearance, but he'll never mention that outloud.

“and what's got you here, pipsqueak?” the former harbinger eyes you up and down, finding the whole conversation immediately suspicious with that nervous smile on your face. he'd also be an idiot not to notice the slight shake in your voice when you called out to him. fortunately for him, he's far from one.

although, all that ferocity and harshness of his—gone in an instant.

a bouqet messily bunched up with pink and red flowers is shoved onto his face before he could even add another insult to his less-than accomodating greeting—his eyes widening as he stares at the petals that seem to somehow also stare back with how small the proximity is.

wait, don't these colours mean...ugh! the power you hold against him is demeaning! he curses mentally as he tries to pull down his hat to quickly hide the rising of temperature that would show on his pale face.

in a split second, meeting your bashful face behind the main focus of his line of vision, which is hilariously slowly turning into the same hue of the flowers you're gripping. he wants to laugh at something—your face, the whole ordeal of foolish gift giving, the evident and embarrassing romanticism laced in your actions—but instead, he finds himself utterly speechless. unfathomably impossible to let out words at the moment.

no one had ever done this before, and he had never expected anything from anyone at anything at all.

muttering a near silent gratitude towards you, he gently accepts your generous gift, his first instinct being to put the flowers onto his face to have a small whiff. he deliberately ignores the cute and expectant look you have on your face, probably trying to search for a new reaction from him.

aha, as expected. he smirks against the flowers, hiding his smile in the bouquet. they're fake and scented, that much he could pick up, but he couldn't bring himself to return it to you and complain. he knows it's within your capability to get real flowers, but you probably got these fake ones because you both know that he'd just forget to water them.

it's the thought behind it that counts, even if he preferred something real. i mean...it's not like he'd water it everyday for your sake or something, right? pfft. who does that anyway? haha...

...?

staring at the bouqet for a second and then back to you—he promptly pats your head gently. once, twice, before he runs off once again, leaving you to melt in a puddle after his small act of affection.

he's a certified and avid hater of this type of love and whatnot but perhaps...valentine's isn't so bad after all when it's with someone he cherishes.

just a short drabble for my man lel happy valentines everyone!

[epickiya722]

I have made this argument before and I wanna see if it flies here: I don't think Sukuna counts as a hater. Because he doesn't care enough about anyone to truly hate them. He IS a huge bastard that treat people like plaything and disrespect them, but I never saw any of it as coming from a place of hatred? Even towards Yuji with how much bullshit he put him through and dissing him, I don't see that as coming from any feeling of hate, just the dismissness one treats a toy you not longer care to play with.

Ooh, okay hear me out because I do see where you're coming from, Anon. In fact, I do agree.

Sukuna does come off as someone who doesn't really spends his energy hating on someone as in "eh, what's the point".

Sometimes, you gotta have some bit of sense to care about something or someone to even feel anything else for them.

To care, is to acknowledge revelance and well, evident enough Yuji is the last person Sukuna would find important, huh?

But, hope you don't mind, I want to add onto this a bit more because I have thoughts and well...

I am (finally ╥﹏╥) finishing up a post I have had since January that is about how Sukuna views Yuji. (Kid you not.)

Now, before anybody says anything, yes, you can say Sukuna is a hater. He is indeed a Hater, with a capital H. But he really shows that behavior towards only Yuji verbally. Like... I can't recall him ever being so vindictive towards anybody else but Yuji.

He has expressed annoyance towards others and more recently even small moments of anger. Sometimes, he's even dismissive.

But with Yuji? Yuji won't even be in the same vicinity and he hates on him. He has this special animosity towards Yuji.

Why does he though? What's the reason?

This is what I suppose.

Sukuna definitely hated Yuji and probably still does because he was more of a cage to him than just a vessel. When Sukuna first was reincarnated and Yuji suppressed him, that actually was Sukuna's first L of the series. No doubt he despises him for it. Promised a second chance at life and a vessel and when you get that vessel? He controls you not you control him.

Come chapter 248, we get a bit more as to why Sukuna hates Yuji. No matter what he does, Yuji continues to get back up. His resolve is so strong that not even the King of Curses can break him at this point. And because of that, Sukuna decides to continue on where Kenjaku left off just to spite him.

But thinking about it... why? The thing is Sukuna never really had a goal in mind besides wanting to kill people for the hell of it. He does what he wants whenever he wants. He eats whatever he pleases. Something pisses him off, he gets rid of it.

So doesn't it seem off that Sukuna is actually going the extra mile just because of some teenage boy irks him? Is taking over for Kenjaku to merge humanity actually necessary? Just to spite Yuji?

Yuji ain't the only one attacking him, so why just antagonize him? He doesn't find anyone else boring?

You said the right word, Anon. Sukuna treats Yuji as a "toy". He treats Yuji like a toy. But he also does for everyone else. Everyone else (except Uraume really and he really doesn't pay much mind to Kenjaku and we don't know his relationship with Tengen) is a toy for Sukuna. There is not one person he genuinely cares enough for spare their life. Everyone he has fought was just entertainment for him. He killed people just because. He breaks people because he can.

And even though Yuji is one of those toys to him, Yuji is a toy that Sukuna keeps picking back up. He ignores him, but then goes right back to turning his attention on him. No matter what he does, Yuji is a Nokia phone. He's practically immune to Sukuna's tomfoolery.

If I had to say, if Sukuna doesn't hate Yuji, he hates what he stands for. He hates the idea that Yuji is fighting him and willing to die because he's selfless and wants to save people. Opposite of Sukuna's selfishness and entertainment to torture people.

[d-p-f-m]

To love, to protect, to claim |💕|✖|🍑|

Pairing: Alpha!Jimin x F!Beta!Reader

Genre: a/b/o!au, wolf!au, friends to lovers, fluff, smut-ish, angst with a happy ending

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut, slight insecurities

Word count: 5621

Summary: You've loved him for so long, you don't even remember when you stopped hoping for him to want you back. Maybe it's time for him to prove you wrong.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

"You would make the perfect luna."

Looking up from where you're watching Jimin playfully tug at a loose threat attached to your shorts, you raise an eyebrow at him in amusement. As always, the alpha seems to be even more at ease in your own home than you are, his usually assertive gaze just the slightest bit drowsy from the nap he had taken earlier and body thoroughly relaxed.

You really don't know why he chooses to spend most of his free time at your place in particular when his room alone is bigger than your whole living space, but it's not like you mind including him in your daily routine, so someday you just came to the silent agreement that your door is always open for him to walk in and out whenever he pleases.

When the male continues to stare up at you with curious eyes, waiting for some kind of reaction, you shrug half-heartedly and tap his nose with your index finger to give yourself more time to think. He scrunches his face cutely at the action and your lips pull into a fond smile in return.

Admittedly, his words caught you off guard. How your initial conversation about the last pack meeting even managed to convert to him calling you luna material is beyond you and you're not sure if you're emotionally ready for whatever direction this is starting to turn into. One moment you were discussing the next hunting party and suddenly he's ranting to you about how his second in command is nagging him about finding a mate.

Having been at his side for more than half your life, it's obviously not the first time you talked about it, yet it manages to dampen your mood every time without fail. Still, you're doing your best to not react when he mentions other females in front of you, only casually throwing in your opinion on what you think would be best for the pack when he asks you to. You've already come to terms with the fact that your feelings for him are one-sided and that you aren't the one he's going to choose.

Well, at least that's what you're trying to tell yourself everytime the topic comes up.

"You think so?" is all you can bring yourself to mumble out, tone carefully neutral. Jimin hums easily in response, as if he doesn't even have to consider his answer.

"You're smart, strong and perfectly in sync with the pack's needs. You think I don't see how everyone comes to you for advise or when they're stressed out? Your presence soothes them. Aside from a capable leader, there's nothing more important to a pack's survival than a luna who has everyone's hearts and trust."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give your own hum in reply and shuffle against the back of your couch to ignore the way your heart misses a beat or two at his praise.

The hand that comes up to touch your face out of nowhere startles you out of your thoughts and when you look back down, Jimin's eyes are already on you. His thumb softly wanders along your jawline, slightly tilting your head.

"You're also extremely beautiful," he adds with a breathy whisper, like he's in awe. As if he hasn't seen your face a million times before.

You can't help the snort of surprise that comes out at his compliment and when Jimin cranes his neck to get a better view of your expression from where his head is positioned on your lap, you inadvertently turn your attention away from him out of embarrassment.

Aside from not knowing how to react to all the praise he's showering you with, you also don't want him to notice the blush that most definitely colors your face, if your warming cheeks are anything to go by. You silently curse yourself for not being able to control the rapid beating of your heart, every time he looks at you like that. Like he couldn't take his eyes off you, even if he tried.

As if he knows you've already written off his words as empty flattery, he suddenly shifts his body until he's half on top of you, his hands flat against the couch on either side of your thighs, caging you in. With one cheek pressed against your shoulder as he accommodates to his new position, he gives you a pointed look.

"I'm serious."

The alpha in front of you lets out a good-natured huff at the playful roll of your eyes, but refuses to move even as you subtly push against his chest to get him to back off. Instead, he leans in further to brush his nose over your scent gland, making you shiver involuntarily. "None of the other wolves I've met so far ever came close to compete with you."

Jimin doesn't stop you when you reach out one arm to run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to distract yourself, not sure how to respond. It's already painful enough to remind yourself that he isn't interested in you romantically without him giving you false hope and the way he holds onto you like he doesn't have important duties to go back to sooner rather than later is definitely not helping either.

Thankfully, he doesn't press you for an answer and only sighs happily to let you know he enjoys your touch. Both of you sit in comfortable silence as you let him cuddle you closer, body relaxing against your smaller frame and face buried in the crook of your neck. Slightly pulling down the collar of your sweater to have better access to your warm skin, the older wolf inhales deeply, a pleased hum rumbling low in his chest and your breath hitches at the sound, no doubt catching his attention.

He's told you before that he likes your scent specifically, despite having to get so close to you to actually get a good whiff of it.

It's not that your scent is weaker than others' per se, but while alphas and omegas smell more alluring or prominent by default due to their natural roles within the pack hierarchy, yours is more neutral and less provocative, and therefore harder to fully catch from a distance.

The way Jimin exhales against your skin with a small grunt sounds almost frustrated now and you wonder if he's pouting into your neck, but when you start to lean back to check on him, he growls in warning and pushes your hips down to keep you from moving.

"Don't."

Shocked at his uncharacteristic display of possessiveness, your body immediately becomes pliant beneath him and you barely manage to suppress the whine that's threatening to spill from your lips as his grip on you tightens in response, your instincts telling you to submit to the stronger wolf pinning you down. It's pitiful, really, how eager you are to please him while you're not even sure what triggered his reaction in the first place.

Maybe his rut is coming up soon. Although it's unlikely, considering you can't sense any changes in his scent. Plus he's never asked you to help him out during his cycle before, always preferring one of the many unmated omegas living outside the main camp. And even though you can't deny that it hurts to see him choose another pack member over you time and time again while you're right there, it's not really surprising. Being the head alpha, he can have his pick out of many.

Compared to all the available females in your territory, you're nothing special. If you hadn't been raised side by side since your early childhood, he probably wouldn't even spare you a second glance. Or maybe your friendship is the reason he doesn't see you as a potential partner in the first place. Maybe he simply can't bring himself to pursue you because he's known you for too long.

But you wish he would.

Even if just once, you wish he would acknowledge your desperate pining, no matter how skilled you are at pretending to be unaffected by his presence. On some days, the thought of him with someone else physically hurts to the point where you can't even bring yourself to meet his eyes out of shame.

And now that he finally has you underneath him, canines carefully prodding at your collarbone while you absentmindedly play with his soft locks between your fingers, you can't bring yourself to ask what's gotten into him. Not when he's pushing up the hem of your sweater to trace the bare skin of your waist with both hands, your name falling from his lips in a low murmur.

With a shuddering breath you close your eyes and let your head fall back to expose your neck further, hesitant and confused about his behavior, but more than willing to let him do whatever he wants with you.

Strangely enough, something about your act of submission seems to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. Slowly, he detaches his mouth from you and nuzzles his forehead against your shoulder as if attempting to soothe you. You're about to ask him what's wrong, when he suddenly lets out a defeated sigh, his voice still low, yet a lot softer than earlier.

"It sucks that you're a beta."

Instantly, your eyes snap wide open. There's something about the implication behind his words that doesn't sit right with you and your stomach starts to churn unpleasantly as you wait for him to say something else. He can't possibly mean what your anxiety is pushing you to read into it. Not him, not Jimin, not your alpha.

Your hand has long since stopped stroking Jimin's hair and you let it fall back to your side to dig it into the cushions, nearly ripping the material with how tight you hold onto it.

Grumbling at the loss of contact, he nudges your chin with his nose affectionately before laying back down to mold himself against you, basking in your warmth.

"Things would be so much easier if you had presented as an omega." The words are slightly muffled from the way he hides his face in your sweater and the whine in his voice would be cute, if you could acknowledge it over the deafening sound of your heart shattering into a million pieces as the realization hits you like a punch to the face.

If you had presented as an omega.

"Maybe you would have wanted me then," he adds so quietly you don't even register what he said over the blood rushing in your ears, before he moves again to look up at you through unreadable eyes, chin resting on your stomach. "I would have asked for your permission to claim you right after your first official shift, you probably would have said yes and we'd be raising a whole litter of pups already. Gosh, just thinking about it... they'd be so pretty."

You watch apathetically as he carefully shifts to one side until he's back in a similar position as before, laying on top of you with his head nuzzled against your inner thigh.

"Instead, you're stuck with your position as delta until you find someone you're compatible with and I'll have to start looking for a suitable mate in other territories. It's such a waste."

Someone you're compatible with. A suitable mate. Not you. An omega. Not a waste like you.

He reaches out to take your free hand in his like it's second nature to him, and maybe it is. He has held your hand countless times in the past, his touch always managing to put you at ease, making you feel valued, protected, loved.

But when he starts to absentmindedly play with your fingers, completely unaware of the sorrow slowly beginning to rip you apart from the inside, all you want to do is curl away from him like he burned you. You feel numb and hollow and sick all at once. Your skin grows ice cold as you think back to all the times you let yourself think that maybe, just maybe, Jimin would someday love you back. Stupid. You're fucking stupid.

The drastic shift in your emotions must have finally caught up with your scent, because Jimin suddenly stills against you, head shooting up in alarm to look at you with wide eyes. Using the opportunity to slowly pull away from him while he searches your face for an explanation, you fight the useless urge to run and hide, body instead pressing into the back of the couch behind you to make yourself as small as possible.

You can see it in his gaze the exact moment he realizes what's going on. It's a strange mixture of shock, regret and something else that you can't quite place. Softly shaking your head as he opens his mouth to say something, you mindlessly look around the room as if it would help you find the best way to escape from this whole situation. You don't want to hear what he has to say. You don't want him to comfort you and say that he's sorry for not rejecting you more politely. You just want to be left alone.

"Hey... no, I... that's not what I meant. You don't-"

Your brain shuts down the second the alpha tries to touch you. Body acting solely on instinct, you slap his hands away and jump to your feet with a warning growl that sounds more hurt than threatening, even to your own ears. Teeth bared, you glare at him through glowing eyes.

"Why are you still here, then? Go and secure our pack's future, instead of wasting your time with someone like me."

The venom coloring your voice sounds in total contrast to the distress heavily souring your scent to the point it's almost unrecognizable. Jimin has never seen you so upset before.

Visibly doing his best to ignore the blatant disrespect of your actions in favor of letting you express your anger, the alpha simply shakes his head at your words, his own voice calm but firm when he eventually decides on what to say.

"That's not fair. Y/N, what's wrong? Why are you so on edge all of a sudden? You know I wasn't trying to belittle you."

He's lying. He didn't have any reason to say it if he didn't mean it.

With an agitated huff, you take a provocative step forward instead of giving him an answer, stance bordering on challenging. You wouldn't actually attack him, not even if you had just the slightest chance of winning. But with your back facing a wall and the other wolf in front of you, you suddenly feel like a trapped animal backed into a corner.

Unease and exasperation burn the inside of your throat like acid when you realize there's no way Jimin will let you out of his sight anytime soon. And you'd rather let him kill you than submit to him right now.

Ignoring the predatory growl you receive in return to your defiance, you narrow your eyes at him.

"How else am I supposed to take it when you tell me it 'sucks I'm a beta', right after explaining how I would be your first choice, if I hadn't been born with the wrong subgender? Because to me, it sounded like an abstract of all the various reasons as to why I'm worth less than some random omega bitch you fuck in your free time."

There's a certain edge to your voice as you repeat his hurtful words. It's raw and painfully vulnerable, causing the man in front of you to restlessly shift his weight from one leg to the other, his instincts probably telling him to comfort his distressed pack member, while your body language is warning him to keep his distance.

"It might come as a shock to you, but I'm actually comfortable in my skin. Presenting as a beta was never something I felt ashamed of and I never wanted to change into something else."

Except for you. I would do anything for you.

It's only now that you register the fact that you're shaking, and you have to forcefully suppress the tremor in your voice to keep talking through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry an ordinary beta like me isn't good enough to serve as breeding tool for your superior alpha genes, but you didn't have to spell it out like that. If you wanted to hurt me, you could've just mauled me instead of spitting on my pride."

Your accusation has Jimin visibly flinching back. He breathes out harshly and takes a few cautious steps towards you while you watch him intently, eyes flashing gold when he gets too close.

"No. No, you got it completely wrong! I just thought you... shit, shit, okay. I need you to calm down, y/n. Be good for me and come here, yeah?"

The snarl that rips from your throat as Jimin reaches out to pull you into his arms causes him to freeze mid-movement, surprise mixing with the worry in his dark eyes. Through your clouded mind, you silently acknowledge that you still have all your limbs, the amount of self-control the alpha displays being more than impressive.

You know you shouldn't test his patience like this, but he's far too close now, his familiar scent confusing your emotions more than you can handle in your state and aggression is the only way you can think of to try and keep him at a safe distance.

"As you so accurately pointed out, I'm not one of your precious omegas. I don't need you to console me with your fucking pheromones, Jimin."

This time, the alpha does react. Straightening to his full height, he bares his canines and slowly takes the last few steps until he's right in front of you.

"Y/N," he rasps right against your ear, a violent shudder wracking through your body at the threat in his tone. Immediately, you have to fight the urge to bow your head, instead forcing yourself to stand your ground. He doesn't touch you, but the menacing growl you receive the second you try to move away is enough to freeze you in place.

"I know you're upset with me, but I am still your alpha. Fucking act like it."

With every single one of your senses on high alert because of the potential danger he's posing to you, your muscles are so tense you feel like you're going to snap any moment. Rationally, you know Jimin would never harm you. At least, not on purpose. But you aren't the only one almost solely running on instinct now and you can't be sure what it would take to set the alpha off.

Forcing your body to slightly relax, you let out a dejected whimper that gets stuck in the back of your throat, making it harder to breathe. You wish he would physically hurt you instead of using his status to compel you into submitting. Having to fight your wolf at the same time as being in Jimin's overwhelming presence is pure torture.

"I think you made it quite clear that you would never consider me as anything more than good company. You didn't come here as my alpha, you came here as my friend. And right now you're the insensitive asshole that told me he'd prefer literally anyone else over me as long as they're born with the only thing I can't change about myself."

Your voice audibly cracks at the end and you squeeze your eyes shut in humiliation. There's no way you'll ever be able to go back to how things were before your argument.

Mentally, you're already planning to move in with one of your cousins living at the furthest corner of your pack's territory. Or better, join another pack entirely. That way, you won't have to live with his pitiful stares while you force yourself to act like he didn't make you feel like a worthless piece of shit.

Another whimper tumbles over your lips, hands at your sides tightly clenching around nothing in the need to touch him. To pull him closer or push him away, you're not quite sure yourself.

"I would have never dared to ask you to choose me, even if you didn't point out how ridiculous it is for me to even wish for it. If you wanted me to take a hint, you could have simply picked your mate and I would have silently stayed by your side as your delta. You didn't have to insult me."

For a few seconds, it's deadly silent, the only sounds in the room coming from your uneven breathing. Then you feel him move to gently grab your chin, warm fingers lifting your head up until you have to look at him.

"You wanted me to choose you? You want to be my mate?"

You can't stop your eyebrows from furrowing in confusion at the strange tone of his voice, sounding almost relieved and in pain at the same time. Studying his unreadable expression with a slight tilt of your head, you hesitantly wrap your fingers around his arm holding you in place. You're significantly calmer now, heart still pounding against your ribcage but the anger that was clouding your mind a few moments ago slowly dissipating. You're more concerned for your alpha now than anything.

"I... That's not the point. I always knew you don't see me as a potential partner. Just... please go. I can't keep pretending that it doesn't hurt. Not after you told me how you actually feel about me."

The words are barely out of your mouth before Jimin softly hushes you. Cradling your face in both his hands, he leans down until your foreheads touch in what you can sense is an attempt to comfort.

"Oh baby, no," he breathes out, voice a low timber, warm and soothing and you feel yourself automatically relax in his hold. "I need you to listen to me, because I couldn't have fucked this up more even if I tried."

He ignores the confused noise you make in response, simply pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you flush against his chest, arms coming around you to keep you close.

"It's not that I don't want you. Fuck, trust me, I want to make you mine so bad it hurts. I don't care if you're a beta or an omega, because you're fucking perfect for me."

That's all it takes for your eyes to well up with unshed tears and you press your face into his chest to muffle a garbled cry, your hands holding onto the material of his shirt for dear life. With everything that's happened before, you're not sure if you believe him. It just doesn't make sense. If he wants you, why would he-

"I thought you didn't want me."

What?

"What?"

Body tensing in shock, you put your hands against his firm chest and push back until you can look at him. You search his face for any sign of dishonesty, afraid that maybe he's just trying to placate you out of feeling guilty, but his eyes don't waver when they meet your own. With a humorless chuckle, Jimin shrugs his shoulders in reaction to your quizzical expression.

"There's rarely any changes in your scent when I'm around, no matter how hard I try to get a reaction out of you. After a while I assumed you simply don't see me as a potential mate. That maybe you're more interested in omegas."

Dumbfounded upon hearing him say that, you can only stare at him in response, face blank and head slightly shaking from side to side in disbelief. There's no fucking way.

Not sure how to take your impassive reaction to his confession, Jimin decides to continue to explain, one hand all the while gently stroking up and down your back.

"You never really give any sign of approval to my courtship and I was afraid if I outright told you how I feel, you would either reject me or accept out of obligation to your pack alpha, not because you feel the same. I wanted you to know that the final decision will always fall to you."

Now that gets your attention.

Blinking up at him with wide, incredulous eyes, you lick your dry lips before you finally bring yourself to answer, voice suddenly turning meek and almost bashful.

"You were courting me?"

In any other situation, the look Jimin gives you in return to your question would make you laugh out loud. However, right now you feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment at the mixture of bewilderment and disapproval adorning his usually soft features.

"Don't tell me you didn't realize," the alpha rasps, sounding just the tiniest bit exasperated and you instantly want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

"Your favorite food I make for you every week even though I hate cooking? The amount of time I spend solely around you every time I get the chance? The way I touch you..."

His voice suddenly drops and you watch in awe as he softly cradles your face with one hand, the other reaching for your own to carefully guide it towards his chest, holding it there. "...and the way I allow you to touch me."

You only become aware that you were subconsciously holding your breath when you feel yourself exhale shakily, gaze focused on where your palm is splayed across Jimin's familiar chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that his heart is pounding at least as fast as your own, the fact strangely soothing to you.

"I was scared I was reading more into it than it actually was. I thought maybe you were just being nice because we've been friends for so long," you admit quietly, causing Jimin to make a sound between a huff and a chuckle.

"Nice?" he asks, clicking his tongue.

"Nice is me holding the door for a pack member who walks behind me. Nice is me leaving the best parts of a kill to everyone else after a long hunt, because I want them to know I'm proud of their hard work."

He suddenly grips your jaw just the slightest bit tighter and props your head back up to fix you with a hard stare, causing your own eyes to widen, pupils dilating in surprise and something akin to excitement.

"Nice is me holding back from ripping another alpha's head off when I see one of them making a move on you."

Leaning forward, Jimin nudges your cheek with his nose before replacing it with his lips, carefully trailing them over your soft skin. When your breath hitches in response, he lets out a content sigh against your ear.

"I don't touch anyone else like I touch you," the alpha whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip while his other hand possessively squeezes your naked thigh as if to get his point across. You jump a bit in surprise at the unexpected action, your gasp cut short by his fingers gently wrapping around your throat.

"I don't look at anyone else like I look at you," he practically growls, voice so gravelly it almost doesn't sound like him anymore. Swallowing harshly against his grip, you can't stop a pleasant shiver from running down your spine when you sense his scent spiking, subtly enticing you to give into him.

"I don't imagine anyone else with me when I lie awake at night, trying to find relief I know only you can bring me."

The whine that leaves your lips at his words sounds needy and weak and just the tiniest bit pathetic. Jimin doesn't seem to mind though, as he starts to teasingly nip at the column of your neck, hands now grabbing your waist to pull you flush against him, making sure you won't slip away.

You bare your throat in submission without hesitation, body arching into his in a silent plea and the primal snarl he lets out against your skin in response has your knees threatening to give out with how light-headed it makes you feel.

Instinctively, your hands roam his stomach up towards his firm chest in your need to feel more of him, while he takes his time alternating between small kisses and loving bites along your jaw and collarbone. You feel his muscles flex where you trail your fingertips across the thin material of his shirt, followed by a pleased hum from the alpha when you finally wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring him even closer.

His familiar scent is almost overwhelming as you press your nose against the warm skin under his jaw, flooding all your senses until the only thing you're aware of is him.

It's calming and exciting at the same time, putting you at ease while riling you up to the point where you can't decide if you want to curl into him for cuddles or beg him to wreck you completely. He feels safe. He feels like home. And suddenly you can't remember why you were ever worried about admitting your feelings to him.

You almost keen in delight when you feel Jimin's cheek rub against yours affectionately before he moves further down to your neck to scent you properly, your stomach doing somersaults at the thought of him marking you as his own for everyone to notice.

Body thrumming in exhilaration, you have to remind yourself to breathe because of your heart beating so fast you can feel it in your throat. Scenting between the members of a pack isn't anything special. It's instinctual, part of survival and as your leader, Jimin has obviously scented you many times before.

But never like this. Never with the intent of having his scent cling to you for days and weeks and years to come.

Eventually, the alpha lets up from his task to look at you with a content smile. His soft hair tickles your skin as he slowly leans towards you, his hands gently cupping your face to hold you in place and you eagerly push against him in silent confirmation but he only hovers, plush lips brushing yours almost teasingly in a feather-light touch.

You make an impatient sound in the back of your throat, causing him to chuckle fondly and when you move away to give him a small pout, he nuzzles his nose against yours in an attempt to appease you. Though there's a certain glint in his darkening gaze, that tells you he isn't nearly as much in control of himself as he tries to make you believe.

The realization has you subconsciously rubbing your thighs together in anticipation and Jimin's eyes flash blood red for the briefest of moments when the smell of your arousal hits his senses. With his thumbs absentmindedly tracing your jawline, he mumbles against your parted lips.

"Tell me you want me. I need to know you accept me as your mate before I do something you might regret later."

Sighing happily, you run your fingers through his silky locks and gently tug as if to make sure you have his full attention despite his wide, vulnerable eyes never leaving yours for even a moment.

The storm of emotions in his curious gaze has your breath caught in your throat and it's only now that you realize Jimin is just as terrified of being rejected as you were before his confession. You give him a bright smile and softly scrape your nails against the back of his neck as a silent way to comfort him, wanting to soothe every last one of his insecurities like he did for you.

"I've been in love with you for so long I can't even remember when I stopped hoping for you to want me back. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me. Yours to love, yours to protect, yours to claim as your own. Please don't make me wait any longer, alpha."

And just like that, he's all over you.

Lifting you up by your thighs like you weigh nothing, he pins you against the wall behind you, his lips immediately chasing yours in a desperate kiss that has you gasping into his mouth. In turn, you wrap yourself around him like he's your lifeline, your hands tightly gripping his hair.

He lets out a guttural growl somewhere deep in his chest in response to your touch, the sound causing your whole body to flush with need. Pulse quickening to an unhealthy pace, you reflexively squeeze your legs around his hips, feeling his hardening length press right against your throbbing core.

You break away from his lips to throw your head back in pleasure and keen at the sensation, prompting Jimin to sink his teeth into the juncture of your exposed neck with a shuddering groan.

Instinctively arching into the pain, your mind goes blank and you start begging, soft pleas and wanton moans tumbling from your lips along with cries of his name. Blood running hot under his attention, you gasp and you whimper and you beg him for more until the alpha hushes you with a loving kiss, carrying you in his arms while whispering sweet nothings against your heated skin.

And when he finally presses you down into the mattress of your bed, crimson eyes flashing with both desire and the same unconditional love you feel deep inside your chest, there's no doubt in your mind that you are right where you are supposed to be.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Alpha!Jimin x F!Beta!Reader |💕|✖|🍑|

Author's note:

Hey guys! Surprisingly, I'm still alive. Sorry if some of you are waiting for me to upload requests or update some of my other works, I promise I haven't forgotten any of them!

Anyway, inspiration hit me for a second, so here's a lil something to make up for my inconsistency in the meantime.

Hope you enjoy!💜

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[dre6ming]

My kind of perfection

“I stayed there” series- part IX

Masterlist

𓆩Part VIII𓆪

𓆩 Part X 𓆪

To be added to the tag list click here

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warnings: smut 18+ <minors dni> , oral <m receiving>, dry humping, strong language, BODY DISMORFIA (if this is a big trigger for you just scroll until you see the warning sign row, ~⚠︎~ ,from then on I don’t bring this up so I’d say it’s safe) , anxiety attack, fluff, angst…hope this is all

Plot: you never really felt comfortable in your body and how someone like Austin like you is beyond you. When you voice your concerns, Austin is quick to try and remedy the situation. Also who knew a date a the zoo, could be this fun.

Word count: ~6200

Also this is not proof read to just ignore the mistakes- thank you.

The sun coming in through the window makes me squeeze my eyes harder. Waking up is the last thing I want to do now. The bed is so warm and so comfortable, I don't think I ever want to wake up. I turn on my side, a little too hard might I add, cause the second I turn, there's a skin slapping on skin noise and grunt, that didn't come from me. Feeling around with my eyes closed, I pinch the skin under my fingers. "Aw, what did you do that for?" Austin's voice wakes me up completely. Opening my eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light, I see him smiling at me. "I'm sorry!" I say blushing and hiding my face in the sheets, embarrassed by the fact that I had in fact forgotten we were together last night. And then it hits me. Oh my god, last night we had sex, I did it, I mean we did it. Wow, did it really happen? No way it did, it must of been just a dream. A very hot, explicit and steamy dream. Feeling around my body, I discover that I'm naked, like fully. No shirt, no pants......no panties. Fuck so it did happen. Trying to calm my breathing, I think of anything, anything but his naked body on mine, anything but his hot lips on my cold skin, but nothing else comes to mind. It's like he's the only thing I know.

"Hey there, you ok?" He peaks his head under the covers, smiling at me, but I can see he must of caught if the fact that I'm internally freaking out, because he's brows are pulled together, forming that small v right in between them and the smile doesn't really reach his eyes, that carry concern. As he roams around my form, I suddenly feel very aware of the fact that I'm naked and he's watching me, he can see all of me. Ripping the covers from him, I twist myself in them and run to the bathroom closing the door behind me. "Baby?!" He tries to open the door, but I plant myself on the ground in front of it. Still I hear his voice calling me and his knocks, but they are all overpowered by the sound of my breathing. Fuck, fuck, get a grip, for god's sake you're 26 in three days, pace yourself, it's just sex, with a boy you love. It had to happen at some point anyway, right? "Baby, (y/n), please just tell me you're ok, I need to know you're ok, otherwise as respectfully as I can, I'll take this door down" I hear the pain in Austin's voice, but I can't say anything, I physically can't, with the lump in my throat and the weight on my chest. I'm having a full on panic attack. "Baby, I'm dying here, at least let me know, you're alive." He chuckles a bit, though I know it's probably to hide a sob and not because he finds any of this amusing.

"I-" the squeak that leaves my lips barely sounds human. Standing up with the help on the counter, I clutch the sheets to my body and wipe my sweaty hand on them, before twisting the door knob. When I open the door, the image before me, makes me want to fall to my knees. "Baby...(y/n)" one of his hands reaches out to me and I take it. The warmth of him grounds me enough to be able to take the steps up to him and hug his shirtless body. In between the chaos that I caused he put on his sweatpants, but left his torso uncovered, something for which I'm thankful. My cheek resting on his velvet skin, right above his heart. I count the beats, adjusting my breathing. Austin's heart is beating fast, very fast and yet he looks so composed. Or that's what I think until I lift my head to look at him and see his bloodshot eyes. "Do you regret it?" He asks and my heart breaks thinking that I gave him this impression. Taking his face in my hands, I shake my head, but what I didn't think was that without my hands holding the sheets, they would fall. But he doesn't even seem to notice, I tremble with the chill air in the room and push my body an inch away so our bare chests don't touch. In situations like this, you'd expect the guy, to be looking at the girls body, checking her out, but he doesn't. His eyes stay on mine and his hands hold my shoulders. "Then what is it? If I did anything..."

"No, you didn't, I-" Austin waits for me to go on, but saying the words out loud feels like I'm about to be branded with hot iron. "I-" I look away, but that only makes things worse as my eyes fall on the mirror in the corner of the room. I can see his toned back and in front of him, half covered by him, is my body. My body that never felt attractive, or love worthy to me. My boobs are uneven, with my right one hanging lower than the left. My stomach isn't flat, but rather a small pouch of baby fat, that I was never able to get rid of. Stretch marks are everywhere, on my boobs, from when I went up two cup sizes way faster than other girls, on my upper arm, on my stomach, on my thighs.

I can't stand to look at myself anymore, in my head I look disgusting and the only reason I can imagine him, finding me attractive is because the room was dark last night. "I'm just, no one's ever..." I take a deep breather. "I've never been naked in front of anyone, ever" the corners of his lips twitch, almost like he wants to smile and the stops himself. His hands travel down my back. "This ok?" Austin ask and I want to tell him no, because how can you want to touch me in broad daylight? But his eyes hypnotize me and I nod. Pulling me close to him, my chest collides with his. He pushes some hair behind my ear, as one hand rests at the small of my back, rubbing circles with his thumb. "Tell me, why you ran from me? Please, I need to know I didn't hurt you." The laugh that escapes me sounds mocking. "Hurt me? How could you have hurt me?" My question could be stupid, but I don't see him ever doing anything to hurt me, at least not ever again. "Maybe I went too fast? I should've waited, maybe I-" I silence his babbling with my lips, still holding his face in my small hands. I pull away slightly, so that our foreheads sit against each other and our breaths blend. "Last night, was amazing!" I say and he laughs, coming in for another kiss. His velvet lips dance over mine, causing my heart rate to pick up and my knees to buckle, weak from the intense feeling. The kiss is so intoxicating it almost makes me forget the last five minutes and my breakdown. "Then why did you panic?"

Austin's eyes search my face for anything that could indicate his worries were true, but he doesn't seem to be able to actually read my expression. "Because it doesn't make sense.." I whisper looking down. Using a finger he lifts my head up, by my chin, waiting for me to go on. "I just, I can't, fathom how, how you can be attacked to me." He opens his mouth shocked, but before he can say anything, I interrupt him. "And I don't mean, my personality or any of that. I mean physically, I just don't get it. I mean look at you, you are.....well you and I'm just, chubby, unfit me." Now reality hits me and I’m able to take in our closeness, so I pick the sheets from the floor and wrapping myself in them I sit down on the bed with my knees to my chest. Austin comes to sit next to me. One of his hands runs up and down my back, but right now I feel so bad about myself, that I almost flinch away from the touch. "Baby, I really don't understand what you mean? To me you are the sexiest thing I've seen. I love all of you. Even physically." I shake my head, no way he's telling the truth. "I love the way my fingers dip a bit into the flesh in your hips, I love how great your breasts fit into my hands, like they were made to be touched be me. I love your warm, soft skin and the way it feels when I run my hands over it. And last night, with your thighs around my head, I don't think I've ever been more in love with a feeling before." I want to believe, I do, because his voice sounds like warm honey and it has no ounce of dishonesty in it, but it's hard, it's hard to accept that all those flaws that I see are things he likes. "I'm not pretty, my boobs are uneven, I have stretch marks everywhere and belly sticks out too much."

Austin kisses my temple, then he kisses the corner of my eye, moving down to my lips. "Let me show you how wrong you are, please." I squeeze my hands into little fists and try to keep calm. I slowly nod my head. "Trust me?" He ask as one hand goes up to the sheet covering me. My body goes stiff and I remember myself over and over again that it's just Austin. "Yes" I say and close my eyes when he slips the material off of me. Moving up on the bed to sit resting against the headboard, Austin brings me with him, placing me in his lap, my legs on either side of his hips. I keep my eyes closed as his fingers graze the skin of my arms. "Open your eyes, (y/n)!" He's demanding, yet I know that if I want I can just say 'stop' and it's over. It's the trust I have for him respecting my boundaries, that makes me flutter my eyes open.

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"I love your pink lips, I don't think there's a shade of lipstick that looks sexier then your bare lips." The pads of his thumbs circle around my lips and he brings me down for a kiss. A kiss that goes through me like lightning and ends in between my legs, where the desire I've only felt with him, grows. The kiss is brief as his hands travel down to my neck. I'm by no means a small girl, compared to other, but somehow in his hands, I feel like a miniature doll. His long fingers squeeze around my neck, making my lids almost close as a whimper leaves my lips. Austin seems pleased with this reaction, biting his lip, trying to hide the smile. "I love your neck and the way you flex your muscles when you're nervous, I don't think you even know you do that." He kisses my neck, soft, wet kisses running down my pulse. "And god if I knew that you wouldn't be mad at me, I'd paint your neck and shoulders in purple hickies, that way everyone would know how much I truly adore you." He suck the skin at the base in my neck, running his tongue over the reddening flesh, giving me a hickie anyway. "And these" he takes my breasts in his hands, feeling the weight of them against his palms, squeezing them and rubbing my nipples. I'm high on how good his touch feels and I grind me hips against his. My bare pussy making contact with the rough fabric of his sweatpants.

When I realize what I've done, I freeze. Austin squeezes my boobs again and I can't help the moan I let out. "You drive me absolutely crazy, (y/n). I love your boobs so much, I used to dream about what they would feel like, bare in my hands, with no stupid bra to take away from the beauty of them." He lowers his mouth to one of my nipples, taking it in between his warm lips, running his hot tongue over it. "Austin..." my hands fly up to his hair and buckling my hips against his, I can feel the bulge in his pants. "Feel that baby? That's all you, only you can make me this hard- fuck!" He tries to push his hips up against mine, but I'm too ashamed by my own reaction to move over him anymore. So I keep my core above his evident erection, barely touching it, through his pants, but still not applying the pressure he needs, the pressure we both need. As his mouth moves to my other breast, Austin kisses the skin between my boobs, speaking with his lips glued to me. "Don't stop baby, please, move against me, fuck, make yourself feel good. I'm all yours, always have, always will be"

His reassuring words give me that ounce of courage that I needed, as I put my whole weight on him. The bulge of his hard dick, hits perfectly my clit and when I drag my hips over his, the warmth of pleasure floats through my body. Whimpers escape me as I can feel the pleasure building up inside me. Austin moves his hands down to my hips, still playing with one of my nipples in his mouth. I brace myself onto his shoulders and look at him with heavy eyes. The ocean blue in his orbs, has become a thin ring around his blown pupils. "I love you!" I say and with a 'pop' his mouth lets go of my nipple, attacking my lips. The kiss is so hungry and heated, that our teeth cling together. I bite his bottom lip with my teeth, causing him to grunt in my mouth and his hands guiding my hips over his pick up the pace. Our bodies melted together and we are just a mess of skin slapping skin. I moan as I feel the knot forming in my belly. "Austin, I love you."

"I love you too, baby, my (y/n)" as his hands move up to hold my breasts again, my body shivers with pleasure and I can feel myself close to exploding. The way the rough skin of his hands massages the flesh on my boobs, his fingers pinching the sensitive nipples, makes chill run down my spine. "(Y/n).." Austin moans my name like it's a prayer. I can't even remember why I felt so horrible a minute ago, all I feel is him, him all around me. Him showing me how easy I am to love. The way my name rolls on his tongue, has my heart running out of my chest and my hips move faster as he tries to meet my moves. The sweet friction, mixed with the feeling of him, kissing every stretch mark, till I change my mind about them being ugly and the whimpers and moans that vibrate through his chest, bring me so much closer. "Austin...I- I think I'm-" I can't speak I'm to drunk on the pleasure and too caught up into reaching my orgasm. "Cum for me, (y/n)" Austin says as his mouth covers mine swallowing my cries.

My body shivers and my pleasure takes over me, clouding my thoughts and making me feel like I'm as light as a feather in the wind. Austin keeps moving my hips over his and I moan, the stimulation being too much. Then with a moan, louder then any of his previous ones, he stills me over him, his fingers digging into the flesh over my hips. Austin kisses my lips, soft, open mouthed and warm. This time the kiss is so full of love and it speaks volumes about the feelings we share for each other. Tucking my hair between my ears, going to pepper kisses all over my shoulder, Austin holds me like that, on his lap, enjoying the weight of me on top of him. "I love you so much, it's impossible to imagine a day that I couldn't hold you like this." He speaks so softly. "Look at how much you excite me baby." Grabbing the side of my face he forces my eyes to his lap, to see the mess we made. My juices a soaked through his grey sweats and his cum is coming out a bit at the waistline. My thighs squeeze his sides and he chuckles lightly. "I love you Austin." I say and hug him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His hands run over my back, comforting. "I love you too (y/n) and I want you to always tell me when you feel like that, so I can make sure to remind you how wrong you are." I giggle into his skin and hug him tighter.

"Now, how about we shower and then I make you that breakfast I promised?" His fingers tickle my bare back and I laugh, kissing up his neck, all the way to his plush lips. "Ok" I say and he gets up from the bed, with me wrapped around him and before I can protest I'm too heavy, my feet touch the shower floor. The warm water soaks over us and we take turns on washing each other. Giggles can be heard as his hands tickle my sides. Austin insists on letting him wash my hair and I don't have the heart to fight him. He's very gentle as his fingers scratch my scalp, foaming his shampoo in my hair. He's lucky I love him so much, because if there's one pet peeve I have, that is using someone else's shampoo. Lost in my head, thinking about how I'm going to have to wash my hair again when I get home, I suddenly recognize the smell. I look over on the small shelf in the shower and lo and behold, the same exact shampoo that I've been using for years.

"Austin?" I ask as he runs the shower over my head to rinse the shampoo. "Yes, love?" He asks, putting the shower back up, to grab another bottle. After he squeezes some product in his hands, he sets the bottle down and I recognize it as my conditioner. "Is that my shampoo and conditioner?" He runs his fingers through my hair applying the conditioner only on the ends of my hair. "Yes, you left a bottle of each here a few years ago and one time I ran out of my stuff and thought 'why not'. I liked how my hair felt so I kept on buying them." He lathers some shampoo in his hair as he speaks. How have I not noticed the distinct smell of propolis and burnt pear, guess I was to busy sniffing his cologne. "And the perfume?" He smirks as he rinses his hair, applying conditioner and starting on rinsing it from my hair, since the product sat in my hair long enough. "When the first bottle was done I just ordered another and I kept on doing that, it just felt like my signature smell." My heart flutters in my chest and my stomach fills with butterflies. "You really love me, don't you?" I ask.

He turns the water off and hugs me tight to him, keeping me flush to his chest. I can feel the vibration of his heart against my chest and I bet he can feel mine as well. "I can see how I made you doubt that in the past, but I promise you, from now on I'll make it impossible for you to question my love for you." Austin always had a way with words, it might be the actor in him or the bookworm in him, but it doesn't matter it's still Austin. "My Austin" I say touching his face, memorizing every crease and freckle all over again. "My (y/n)" he says as he seems to do the same with me, just looking at me with such love and affection.

Wrapping us in warm, fuzzy towels he takes me back to the bedroom. Dressing himself in a pair of black shorts and a while long sleeve shirt, he hands me some sweats and a shirt. Going to the kitchen he sits me down on the counter, lifting me up by my hips. "Stay here, while I cook!" He kisses the top of my nose and I giggle, rubbing with my palm where he kissed, to ease the ticklish feeling. "Ok chef." I say and watch him mesmerized by his craft. Sure I can make a mean bowl of cereal and some of the boxed food, but I'm still one step away from chopping my whole arm every single time. Austin, on the other hand, moves as if he's been born cooking, cutting the vegetables  meticulously. "I don't get it, how is it that I'm able to cut people open and sew them back up, but the last time I tried to make an omelette I had to throw away the pan?" He laughs throwing his head back. I love the way his blonde curls bounce every time his head moves. "Maybe don't tell your patients that." Austin looks at me, giving me his best side smile. It still amazes me how much has changed in 3 years, yet it's almost like we needed to grow up independently so we can meet again.

"Yeah I guess, surgeon who can't cut veggies without chopping an arm off, isn't great marketing." I joke as I jump form the counter, going to the fridge to get some water. "So won't your parents be worried you never got home last night?" He asks, even though my mom never like Austin, he always held my parents in high regard. "Eh I doubt my dad will remember I was supposed to come and the same goes for mom, since she wasn't in the living room waiting for me, to scold me for getting in at such a late hour." He simply nods his head, knowing the subject of my parents isn't one of my favorites. I love them, but god sometimes I feel like a burden to them and every time I forget that, my mom is quick to remind me, I owe them everything.

"So did Betty's girlfriend say yes?" He flips the omelette over in the pan, adding the cheese and veggies. "Yes, but she knew it was coming, Betty had accidentally texted her a pic of the ring." He giggles, dropping the omelette on the plate and starting the second one. "Anyway I don't see how you could say 'no' to Betty, she's amazing." Austin watches me closely, the muscles in his jaw tensing. "Why did you two break up? You don't have to tell me, I'm just- curious." I fidgeted with the glass in my hand. "Well many things, first the relationship came too soon after you and second my mom would disown me if she found out I liked girls." I try to hide my anger with a laugh. "She would probably, ship me away to live at a convent" I hat to see the pity in his eyes, but I know it's well intended.

"I'm sorry." He says genuinely. I walk my finger on the rim of the glass and sigh. "Yeah me too, you know my first crush was a girl in my geometry class when I was 14. I gaslighted myself into thinking that it wasn't really a crush, but I realized it when talking to Betty about it a while ago." Austin sits down at the table with the plates. He grabs my hand and rubs my wrist, managing to calm me instantly. "You are the only other person I've ever told that to. I know I shouldn't let what my homofobic parents think dictate my life, but I just, I don't know" licking his lips, he comes close to me, kissing my cheek. "I love you." He says, making me blush. " me too!" I say, cutting up some of the food and putting it into my mouth. "Perfect as always."

Austin smiles like a little kid and starts to eat. We enjoy our breakfast together with no interruptions. Cracking jokes and laughing like two lovesick teenagers.

"So what do you want to do today?" I ask as I help him load the dishwasher. He shrugs his shoulders. "How about we go to the zoo?" I can't stop the smile that spreads on my face. "The zoo, really?" He nods, wiping his hands dry and closing the dishwasher. "I'd like that yes." We finish putting some more things in place and then we're out on the door. I stayed in his clothes, folding the bottom of the sweatpants so I wouldn't have to worry about stepping on them, since they are too long on me. He also opts to stay in his lounge clothes, but adds a cap and a pair of sunglasses, he says that hopefully this way, one will recognize him and we can enjoy the zoo in peace.

"Let's take my car, you can drive, if you want to." I say and hand him the keys. It's a good idea not only because, my car was parked after his in the driveway, but also because it's not a flashy black Audi, bust a small white ford, bought second hand, a lot more private. As we get in the car, he adjusts the seat to his size, since I usually have it pulled all the way to the front to be able to reach the pedals. Before we drive away he turns to look at me. "(Y/n) I want you to know that I'm not doing all this, because I don't want to be seen with you. I love you and I'd scream from the top of my lungs how much I love you in a sea of people, without a second thought, but I want to protect you from the media, my fans. I don't want you to have to deal with them." Even with the sunglasses on I can imagine his eyes moving around nervously. I put my hand on his cheek and he sighs into my touch, like it's something he wishes to have in his skin forever. "I know baby, I know, I love you so much for that. I don't need the world to see us to know how much you mean every single word you say." He kisses the inside of my hand and turns the car on.

On the drive to the zoo we sing along to whatever song comes on the radio. He tries to keep his hand on my thigh, but he constantly has to remove it, to shift gears. Austin grunts in frustration and I laugh at him. "I don't get why you insist on driving a manual, like why go through all this bother?" I shake my head at him. "I can't drive an automatic, I don't know what to do with my left leg." He grins at me and huffs in disbelief.

We get to the zoo and walk around laughing at all the cute animals. He insists on taking pictures of me with his camera, that he brought along. Austin even has a few strangers take photos of us, one of us kissing in front of the center fountain at the zoo. Another with our heads poking through one of those cardboard cutouts of an explorer couple. A photo of us stuffing our faces with cotton candy. Then a couple more photos of just me laughing and pointing at the different animals. When it's my turn to have the camera I make sure to get the best shots. A picture of him having a staring contest with an iguana. Spoiler the iguana won. A photo of him, trying to feed a pony and the pony deciding the lace on his shorts looked way more appetizing than the carrot. It's safe to say the pony won that contest as well, pulling the lace all the way out of the waistband of his pants, leaving Austin no option than to buy a new pair from the souvenir shop, since the once he was wearing no longer stayed on his hips. I can't stop laughing as he constantly pulls at his new shorts that were too small for him, too short and too tight. "It's not funny." He mumbles adjusting his crotch for the hundredth time.

"Ooh but it is!" I say between laughter, wiping tears from my eyes, he kisses the top of my head and steals the camera from me to take some more photos of me. We eat lunch at the small restaurant on the zoo grounds and we are left surprised by the good food. On our way back to the car a girl recognizes him and politely asks for a picture. He sings her shirt and takes a picture with her, thanking her for being respectful. "Well that wasn't too bad" he says, taking my hand. "Yeah she was polite."

"Not all of them are though, but most of them usually are." I nod, I believe him, but still we both know we won't always only meet the nice ones. When we sit down in the car, he wiggles uncomfortably in the seat. "You know, you can just take them off, I don't mind." He grimaces at my words. "Um yeah, but you know, they have been kinda, uh " I try to stifle my laughter. "Austin Robert Butler are you ashamed because the pants gave you a boner?" I ask and break down giggling, unable to control myself. He goes red and I'm happy to see him blush for a change. "Maybe" he mumbles under his breath.

"Well I don't mind. I'll help you with it when we get home." He coughs a little, like he just choked on air. "He-help me with it?" Austin asks. I nod eagerly. "I was a virgin just a few hours ago, but I'm not clueless Austin. I'm sure you've been given enough blow jobs in your life, to teach me how to give you a mind blowing one." He takes off the sunglasses and rubs his eyes, like he's trying to wake up. "Baby, these pants were tight as the were, now I feel like I can't breathe. You expect me to drive like this?" I open my mouth to speak, but he pushes a finger against my lips to stop me. "Huh no, no more from you, I need to drive us back alive." I just laugh and get comfortable in my seat, trying to hide my excitement.

The drive back to his place, feels somewhat longer and the air in the car is filled with tension. He doesn't speak the whole ride back, but I can see it's because he's making an effort to stay composed. When the car comes to a stop in his driveway, he turns around and looks me dead in the eyes. "I need you to know, you don't have to do anything, ok, I can just take a cold shower." I shake my head and lean to kiss him. "I love you and I want to make you feel good Aus." I say batting my lashes at him. He swallows hard and then nods getting out of the car in a hurry.

We move so fast, opening the door and discarding whatever things we were carrying. We stumble kissing all the way to his bedroom. Austin sits down on the edge of the bed and I can feel worry bubble inside of me. "It's easy, there's not much, that doesn't feel good." He says trying to calm me. Austin helps me take his tight shorts off and he lets out a breath of relief, as he's now free from them. I sit in my knees, rubbing my hands over my thighs, looking up at him. "God, you're so pretty like this." One of his hands caresses me cheek. "Just do what feel natural, kiss, lick, suck, I'll let you know if I don't like something." I nod.

Ok come on now, it can't be that hard, I know enough anatomy and I've read my share of smut, plus I might of opened one or two porn movies a while ago. I take his dick in hand and bring my hand up to the tip, gathering some of the precum to make my hand glide smoother. His abdominal muscles contract with my moves and strangled breaths go past his lips. I lean forward and lick, with the flat of my tongue, from the base all the way to the top. Taking his swollen tip in my mouth, I swirl my tongue around it. "Fuck, that feels really good baby, keep going" his hands fist the sheets as I slide down his length. "Jesus baby!" His head falls back as I bop my head up and down. Moans and whimpers come out of his mouth. I never really understood why people liked to do this for others, but fuck it's so hot to see him in such a haze, pleasure coming out of every pore. I bring my other hand, that was resting on my lap, up to his balls. Keeping up the same rhythm of bopping my head up and down, accompanied by one of my hands stroking the base, I give his balls a little squeeze. "Fuuuuck, keep doing that baby, my god, (y/n)!" Happy with his response I keep going at the same pace, until his breath becomes more ragged and I feel him twitch in my mouth.

"Baby." He taps my cheek gently and I take my mouth off of him, still moving my hand and squeezing his balls. "I'm very close baby, I don't want you to get surprised by it, come here." He motions for me to come sit next to him, but I'm not sure if I should move. "Am I not supposed to make you cum?" I confused, he just said he was close. Austin let's more cures past his lips, brushing a hand through his hair. "You are baby, but you don't have to swallow, come sit next to me." I get up, not giving up on my moves. I sit next to him. "Just like that, baby, keep going." He takes my face in his hands and brings me in for a kiss. I move the hand that was massaging his balls up to his hair and grab a handful of it, pulling. Austin groans into the kiss, as his hips start to move off the bed to meet my hand.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead on my shoulder as I continue to stroke him, swirling my hand over the tip. "Shit, I love you so much!" Putting my lips on the shell of his ear, I graze my teeth over his ear lobe and he shivers. "Cum for me, Austin!" I say and with a chain of curses, his hands tighten around my waist as bites down on my shoulder. His hips still and I feel his dick twitch as his warm cum spills over my hand. When I feel him getting soft, I let him go. Austin lifts his head up from my shoulder and the fucked out look on his face makes me want to get back down on my knees. "Baby I don't think I've ever cum this good. (Y/n) you did amazing." He kisses my cheek and then bends down to grab the shorts from the zoo, using them to clean my hand. He pulls his boxers back and moves me up the bed to lay with him. "You liked it?" I ask shyly, though a part of me knows I'm just being cocky. "I fucking loved it" he says lifting my chin up to kiss me. "What about you?" He asks and I shoot him a confused look. "Yeah I liked it." I try to seem coy, but I fucking loved seeing him so vulnerable for me. He chuckles shaking his head. "I'm glad, baby, but I was asking if you want me to make you cum?" I tremble in his arms and I think about it a minute, but right now I think I just want to sleep. "Maybe later, I'm kinda tired." He kisses my head, dragging one of my legs over his waist, so that I'm now completely laying on his side. "Ok, do you want to watch some tv?" I nod my head while yawning.

Austin gets the remote from the nightstand on his side of the bed and turns the tv on, but my eyes are heavy with sleep and I find myself slipping into a sweet trance. I think Austin might of said something else m, but I couldn't bring myself to concentrate, it was a long day, but it was one of the best days I've had in a while. "Thank you!" I mumble, before falling asleep and I feel his soft lips touch my forehead.

Tags: @kittenlittle24 @amorx @cryingabtab @lexicox044 @lrissa @feral4austinbutler @sageskywalker @jesssssicaa @rainydayz101 @flwersgarden @bobthefishiesworld @captured-memory @homebodybirkin2003 @galaxygirl453 @butlerslut @chrisevansgirl34 @myradiaz @pennyroyalcreep @macey234 @im-lame-irl @lordandmistress @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @poppet05 @gabbywontlose @4shbug @0-thegoodwitch-0 @hauntedarchivesx @chewiethecatus @sunnyx07 @francesbloomer@jessaroni19 @finelineskies @stargirlbytheweekend @cerenaydins-blog

[mxillusion]

All your fault.

➝ pairing: kim yugyeom x reader  (ft. jackson wang)

➝ words count: 2.8k +

➝ genre/warnings: bestfriend!AU; angsty fluff; cursing, insult names

➝ summary: You just agreed to go on a date with the baddest of bad boys in town, only to find out how unpleased your best friend would be about it. Yet you end up going anyway, not knowing that this decision would turn your life upside down.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Y/N."

Eyeing your reflection in the mirror, you spun around a few times, fastidiously checking yourself from every possible angle. Blissfully ignoring your best friend's scepsis simply because you didn't want to hear about it.

"Why not? He actually likes me. And I -- somewhat like him." Surprising yourself, you sounded way more convincing than you thought you would. However, you badly wanted this to work out, so you had no choice but to be optimistic about it. It just had to add up somehow.

"He doesn't like you, Y/N. He wants to hook the fuck up with you." He plopped onto his bed, an inaudible sigh escaping his lips. Yugyeom was still hoping for you to change your mind, even though he knew you well enough to know better. Once you set your mind on something, it is nearly impossible for anyone to persuade you otherwise. "Don't you think you can find someone better?"

Yugyeom never made any secret about the fact of disliking the other guy. In fact, he hated him more than words could tell. Within the shortest time, he realized Jackson had a thing for you since he became aware of how the other looked at you every goddamn time. It was infuriating.

"Someone better than Jackson fricking Wang? You have to be kidding," you giggled. He was simply star-prize, considering the fact that every girl in this forsaken town had a crush on him. Being the handsome guy he was, Jackson also had the exemplary bad-boy image. He was absolutely aware of all his fangirls, infallibly knowing he simply had to flick his fingers to get what he wanted from them. Other guys either hated or worshipped him. There was no in-between.

Yugyeom clearly was part of the first branch. Why did this jack-ass have to cast an eye on you, of all people? His very best friend, the girl who belonged to him already? Okay, if he was being honest with himself, you weren't precisely his girl, but still. He had to protect you from getting your heart broken by such a pea brain.

"You could do so much better," he muttered, more to himself than you, but you sensate it anyway. Trying to act like you haven't heard him, you checked your mirror image one last time.

Satisfied with what you took in, you whirl around to face your best friend. "Okay, I'm ready. Wish me luck?" Glaring at Yugyeom, you just hoped he would end up accepting your decision to go on a date with Jackson.

Yugyeom got up on his feet again, steadily approaching you, to come to a still right in front of you. "I can't make you change your mind, right?"

You slightly smiled at him, shaking your head in silence.

"Good luck then," he mumbled, trying his best to return that smile of yours. His giant frame almost entirely wrapped around yours once he pulled you into a hug. Arms twisted around your waist, Yugyeom was holding you close, almost as if he didn't want to let you go. The tip of his nose hiding in your cherry fragrantly hair, he closed his eyes, trying to calm the fuck down again.

"Just don’t -- I mean, be careful, will ya? Don't rush anything just because you think you have to," he added in all seriousness, making you giggle in amusement.

"It's not my first date, Yug. I know what I'm doing," you assured, trying to let go of him while he still held you close. For a split second, it felt weird being this near to him. Were you imagining things, or was he acting whimsically?

"O-kay... but call me if you need to, okay? I'll be there in no time, beating his ass up if I need to."

You chuckled, freeing yourself from him to pinch his cheek. "You're too cute. Thanks for worrying about me, but you really need to chill out."

The constrained smile on his face washed away at your words. Cute? He was fucking worried about you and simply couldn't handle the thought of you being touched by Jackson. Or any other guy. In fact, he felt sick thinking about it, unable to take his mind off of this picture in his head.

Later that night, you being gone for hours at this point, he was going crazy about you. Yugyeom couldn't think straight anymore, rambling around in his room. He couldn't help but think of you two, hiding in a dark alley, making out with each other, hips grinding against one another, Jackson‘s toxic lips all over your neck. Every attempt to distract himself ran dry, only making him lose his mind even more.

He realized he should've never let you go in the first place. But how the hell could he have done that without blurting out how he actually felt for you at this point? Did he have a choice? The thought of you being with someone else was killing him. Said someone being Jackson only made it unbearable.

His thorax was on fire, a dreadful pain spreading all over his body, almost making him throw up. There was no way he would sit this out. He had to do something. Anything.

The next second, Yugyeom was rushing out of his apartment, jumping into his car to kick off the engine. Tires screeching, he pulled out of the driveway to zoom away, exactly knowing where he would find you.

Reaching his destination fifteen minutes later, he almost fell out of his car, his long legs striding along to enter the location hurriedly. Yugyeom's eyes darted around, only to spot you sitting in a booth at the corner of this location. Jackson's arm wrapped around your shoulders to hold you close to him, his lips brushing your ear while he purred something into your ear, making you giggle.

Yugyeom felt sick again. This time he actually had to choke unintentionally. How could he have let you go? You just belonged to him!

Making a bee-line for you, he was standing right at your booth within no time, catching your attention immediately. Your heart dropped into your guts as you glanced at him, perceiving the worried expression on his face.

"Yug?" you voiced, making the other look up to him as well. "What are you doing here?"

Trying to catch his breath, he was eyeing both of you for a moment. Apparently, he was interrupting something, yet he only felt relieved for not walking in on you actually making out. Otherwise, his heart would have been shattered into tiny little pieces.

"Can I -- talk to you for a second?" Without awaiting an answer, he reached for your palm, making you raise up in one swift movement. You tripped over his shoes, almost stumbling into Yugyeom's arms unwittingly.

Jackson jumped up from his seat, trying to stare the other down. "Get lost," he hissed between clenched teeth, his jawline twitching aggressively.

"It's okay. I'll be right back, okay?" You placed your hand on his chest, trying to calm him down. "Why don't you get another round for us while I sort this out?"

Jackson blinked at you, apparently calming down a little. "Sure thing, babe. Don't make me wait for too long, tho!"

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at the other, pulling you in his direction on your wrist. "Yeah, just rot here while waiting for her. Babe!" he grumbled at Jackson, giving him no time to reply anything. Soon after, he left the location with you tripping right behind him.

"What the hell?" you beefed, breaking away from Yugyeom's tight grip. "Did you lose your goddamn mind?"

He gave off an audible sigh, turning around to face you with a self-mocking smirk on his lips. "Probably," he shortly replied before he spun around again.

You blinked in confusion, unsure of what was happening here. Yugyeom seemed different tonight; something was definitely off.

His tall silhouette wandered around on a small spot, seemingly arguing with himself in silence. Slender fingers ran through his onyx-black hair, messing it up. His owner most likely couldn't care less since he was busy with whatever chaos was going on in his head right now.

"Yugyeom-ah!" you whined, taking a step towards him. "Tell me what the fuck you're doing here. Now!"

He lowered his head, black hair strains falling into his face while he closed his eyes, smirking to himself anew in order to bite his lower lip. The bright moonlight turned this simple act into an extraordinarily lewd scene, causing your mind to spin for a second. No doubt, Yugyeom was a magnificent human being, but he was your best friend after all. You plainly shouldn't find him... sexy. However, your knees got a little weak while glancing at him at this very moment.

"Just come home with me," he finally spoke. His lowered gaze, brows furrowed, causing the heart inside your ribcage to flutter. "Let's get outta here, Y/N."

"Home? Now?" Searching for the right words inside your head, you opened your mouth again to close it a few seconds after. "But -"

"I really don't care about that ass-head," he grumbled, his palm pointing in Jackson's direction. "Let's just -- leave."

"Well, I care about him tho!"

Yugyeom chuckled while shaking his head. "No, you don't."

Baffled by his words, you blinked uncontrollably. "What?"

"To be honest, I really thought you liked him. I had no idea what you saw in him, like, literally, no clue. But I just don't believe you actually care about him. I just can't." Taking yet another step towards you, he was gaining some confidence again. "And if you're being honest with yourself, you know I'm right."

Unable to reply in any way, you just glanced at him. You blushed under his intense gaze in order to look away at some point.

"We both know you deserve better."

Suddenly your heart was beating a lot faster, even though you tried to deny it was caused by your best friend, who was incidentally messing with your head at this point.

"I'll be fine, Yug." Your shaky voice revealed how flustered you were. "Stop worrying so much. I can take care of myself."

He let out a deep sigh, throwing his head back in frustration. "You really don't get it? I don't want you to be alone with him! Please, Y/N, I'm begging you. Let's go!"

"No, Yugyeom-ah, you don't get it! I figured I needed this. So, please, just let me go back inside. Please."

"Bullshit!" he hissed between gritted teeth. "Fuck, he doesn't deserve being around you. You're too good for him. You have to be aware of that. Right?"

Feeling a big knot in your throat, you tried your best to stand your point. You needed Jackson - that wasn't even a lie. You were simply in need of him differently than Yugyeom might have thought. Too bad you couldn't explain yourself, so you had to stay vague.

"What's behind all this? Since when are you falling for fake guys like Jackson?"

"Yug, please. I can't. Just -- let me go back inside."

"The hell am I doing that!" He bit his lower lip again, clearly having too much fun to challenge you. Again you didn't know how to respond, being too overwhelmed by everything right now. "I'm not driving home without you."

"Well, then you'll better get in your fucking car while you wait for me, 'cause I'm going back inside now, and it's gonna get freezing cold out here."

Spinning on your heel, you mistakenly thought you ended this conversation now, just to be pulled back by your wrist once more. Full of verve, you crashed into Yugyeom's arms, your face hitting his collarbone while he was gripping you by your waist.

Your eyes were squeezed shut the moment he had taken you by surprise. Dumbfound by what just happened and absolutely overwhelmed by the sudden closeness to him, your body was trembling.

Why hadn't he let you go? Everything could've been so easy if he’d just let you go back inside.

Gently placing his fingers underneath your chin, Yugyeom made you raise your head to look at him. His palm was moving to your cheek, fingertips dancing over your heated, crimson skin.

Every so slowly, you glanced at him. His caramel-brown eyes hypnotized you, his stare making it impossible for you to move a muscle. You held your breath, unable to say or do anything.

"You belong to me, Y/N." His voice was low and intense, giving you goosebumps. For a moment, you just stood there, trying to comprehend what he just said and what this actually meant.

"I tried to be happy for you. I tried to convince myself it's gonna be okay and that it was best if you would go on a date with another guy. I really did."

At this point, your traitor-heart was beating so god damn fast that it almost jumped out of your chest. Your body was still shaking. All of the sensations had been too much to handle a long time ago.

You knew Yugyeom for your whole life now, spending almost all of your time with him, no matter what. Of course, you had been close to him countless times already, but this simply was a whole new concept. Everything felt so different now.

"Yugyeom-ah –"

"It's okay," he mumbled, trying his best to smile at you. His lips unintentionally brushed yours, giving off sparks. "You don't have to say anything. I just hope you'll come with me, now that you know. Please, don't make me suffer even more."

Still staring at him, you haven't even blinked once. You felt petrified, unable to function propperly. There was so much you wanted to say, but not a single syllable crossed your lips.

Yugyeom's grip loosened a little as he tried to let go of you. You, however, followed your instincts by pressing yourself against him and clinging to his collar.

"Don't let go of me," you breathed, barely audible to him.

"What are you doing?" Now he was the one being confused and highly overwhelmed. He was so sure you would turn him down after confessing to you, yet you seemed to do the exact opposite.

Tippytoeing, your face was approaching his, lips brushing against one another once more. Your eyes closed already, thoroughly anticipating what was about to happen now.

"Kiss me."

And, not missing a beat, he did.

One hand traveled to your neck shortly before his soft, plush lips finally locked with yours. Yugyeom was kissing you ever so tenderly, making your stomach tingle most beautifully. Butterflies did somersaults in your belly, the tingling sensation spreading all over your body. You felt a pleasant warmth inside your chest while you felt him smiling into the kiss. His free arm curled around your waist while you clung to the collar of his shirt even more.

Your blood rushed through your veins once he deepened the kiss, causing your knees to turn into jelly. Trying to stay on your tiptoes, you pulled his shirt down to you, exposing his collarbones to the cold midnight air, causing him goosebumps.

Although you both never wanted this kiss to end, you needed to catch your breath at one point. Yugyeom was slightly pulling away from you, still holding you close. His forehead rested on yours while he was drowning in your sparkling eyes.

"You still wanna go back to that jerk?"

Chuckling at his words, you slightly shook your head. "He's probably in good company by now. I'd rather leave with you now."

Grinning from one ear to the other, Yugyeom was pecking your lips again. "So... you don't actually want to be with him?"

"No, doofus. I never wanted to be with him, to begin with."

He gave you a questioning eye, trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. Yet he still couldn't figure out what all of this was about.

"I only went on this stupid date to distract myself from what I really wanted." You lowered your head, but he made you look up instantly. "I felt so stupid for falling in love with my best friend. I was in denial. Obviously."

Now it was him, chuckling at your words. "If you'd just said something. Anything. I was freaking out the second you left my room. It was pure torture."

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, pulling his face close again. "I had no idea."

"It's okay. It was all worth it. You are worth it." You felt soft kisses all over your face, making the butterflies rise again. "You are my everything. Always have been."

His words made you grin happily. "So -- how about leaving now? Take me home."

"That's been the plan all along."

[umblackness]

needy

pairing – harry styles x reader

warning – humiliation. exhibitionism. daddy kink. cockwarming. degradation. dumbification. hella lot cringe. crawling? 18 +

summary – you aren't needy, no. but that doesn't mean you will let go the opportunity of harry fucking you.

request – And one where Harry takes you to Italy to a Beautiful villa with an infinity Pool and get cought by paparazzi having sex there haha !

author's note – this is shitty and not proofread so I am so sorry !! also, sorry for the wait too . . .

neediness.

it was the only thing that you were completely and utterly foreign. being a middle child, your needs weren't never really taken as needs. you didn't know what it felt to need something.

the first time when you needed something, was when you were a teenager and hadn't studied for your exam. you had fucking squealed when the results had come out and you had passed.

the second time was when you were going to confess your feelings for harry ; you just needed him to like you back. which, for the record, he did.

the third time was your art competition in school. the fourth was when you had revealed your kinks to harry. the fifth was when you got into a fight with your best friend. the sixth was when your favorite sneakers were on sale. the sixth was your fight with your mom. the seventh was when your boyfriend asked a homeless you to move in with him.

quite frankly, after that, you lost the count because after that, you needed him with you. on every day, every minute, every second, you just needed him with you.

You walked towards the changing room, a towel in hand because 'baby, the towels are all dirty!' or so he had claimed.

He had taken you to a heavenly villa in Italy, for your second anniversary. and apart from the pizza store down the street, that sold cauliflowers in pizza, the whole vacation had been brilliant. till now.

you had been sitting in the living room, sipping your coffee in peace, while he was swimming in the backyard. suddenly and completely out of the blue, he had called for you to bring a clean towel.

so, being the good girl you were, you had abandoned your coffee and now here you were. you were snapped out of your thoughts, when you felt someone push you into the water.

and since you and harry were the only one in the mansion, you had take a wild guess.

you emerged from underwater, letting out a shriek dramatically. however, your not-so-intense-glaring session came to an end as he jumped into the water too, before swimming closer to you.

"I don't want the towel, baby, you know what I want?"

He wrapped his arms around you, making you drop the things in your hand.

kissing your lips softly and passionately, he let his tongue dominate your mouth. he moved a bit so one of his hands moved to caress your cheek as the other one slipped lower, until it was gripping your ass.

quite frankly, you did know what he wanted. it was hard to forget when he talked about it throughout the flight. however, you couldn't help but tease him so the next words that came out of your mouth were filled of playfullness.

"What, daddy?" A growl that could make everyone and anyone drip with arousal vibrated through his chest. He quickly walked you backwards to the edge, flipping you so that your back met his chest, once you guys were there.

"I wanna rearrange your guts and turn you into a stupid mess." He paused, the hand that was on your cheek, was now fisting your his shirt. "I wanna fuck you, make you cum again and again, until you are blabbering for me to stop. "

"You want that, don't you?"

You managed to nod shakily, feeling your heat become wet and this time, it wasn't because of the water . His finger ran up and down your pussy, finding it vulnerable and bare, just like he expected.

one of his stupid rules said that you weren't allowed to wear any panties when you two were alone and of course, as much as you acted like you hated it, the truth was that you loved it ; you loved allowing him to have easy access to your body.

"Fuck, kitten. been such a good girl, deserve a reward, don't you?"

your eyes met his darkened ones and almost as if on queue, a moan left your mouth, followed by another choked moan, as two of his fingers slid in your pussy, not giving you any time to adjust.

Harry leaned down, his hand leaving your ass to open your mouth for him. He collected his saliva, holding eye contact as he spat in your warm mouth.

the groan he had let out as some of it fell on your jaw, was intoxicated and you craved more.

The sight was addicting to him as much as it was to you. he couldn't help but add two more fingers, wanting you to really fall apart underneath him.

"Daddy!" You screamed, the pain from the stretch already fading to a barley there sting.

"Aw, I know, whore. It feels good, doesn't it?"

Your ears burned from his mocking tone, you could feel the blissful feeling, your pussy felt so good that it hurt and yet, you couldn't help but nod pathetically.

Harry sighed, mocking disappointment. "Use. Your. Words. Slut."

"Y-yes, d-daddy! feels so good, can I cum please?" you whined.

As if to punish you for breaking his rule, he begun rubbing your clit, knowing how much that drives you crazy. You moaned, your own hands moving to your hair. You felt your eyes close, only for them to snap back open a second later.

"Look at me when I am" Harry sped up his moments, collecting his spit again but this time he spat right on your face. "destroying your tiny fucking pussy, you cum rag. fucking cum now."

reaching your high quickly, you let out the loudest moan of his name. he slapped your pussy, making you realise your mistake. panting, you were still in your post orgasm phase when

your gaze moved to his cock, his boxers felt like they couldn't burst anytime and you felt proud. your smugness was short lived though because he quickly took his fingers out of you.

He gave you a quick wink before slipping the soaked fingers in his mouth back and forth, he groaned, making you suddenly aware of the wetness between thighs.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, cockslut?" Fucking shit, your pussy throbbed at that.

"C-can I ride you please?"

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, hoping to appear innocent—it was all for nothing though, when he just landed another slap on your pussy.

still not saying anything, harry let go of you and walked out of the pool. your green eyed lover looked at you once again before slipping in the sun lounger by the pool.

Harry relaxed back in the chair before beckoning you forward with a finger and you, ever the good girl, go with it. you ignored the confusion and frustration in your mind as you climbed out of the pool.

As soon as you took a step forward, a tsk came from harry. "crawl for me like the good little slut, you are and can be."

you stared at him—it wasn't like you weren't comfortable, you and harry had discussed the limits months ago but what surprised you, was how much you wanted it.

you were broken out of your thoughts when he sighed mockingly. "I said crawl for me or is that too much to understand for your stupid little baby mind?"

you whimpered, dropping to your hands and knees. keeping your head up to maintain eye contact with harry, you crawled over.

once you were there, he was quick to manhandle you on his lap. his hands moved to your neck, where they caressed your collarbones. Harry's mouth replaced his hands soon, sucking hickies in your neck.

"good girl, maybe your not just a set of holes for me to use, after all." he spoke against your skin, making you shiver at his words.

"d-daddy, wanna make you feel good." you moaned, just wanting to please him like he pleased you.

"oh yeah?" he spoke and you could feel him smirk in your neck. "there's my good little cockslut, always so fucking eager to please her daddy. go on, baby, use your hand, since there's no way in hell I am going to grace that little throat with my cock."

nodding pathetically, you quickly lifted yourself up and lowered his boxers, just enough to take out his cock. one of your hands grabbed his cock, while the other swiped over the angry red tip.

your eyes moved to find his, only now taking in the fact that he had lifted his head from your neck. he hissed quietly, making you smile proudly.

your hand that was around his cock, fastened his pace and so did the one that was playing with his cock head. "I am your good girl, your good slut, right, daddy?"

"my best slut, so good to me." he regretted his words when he saw your proud smile change into a cocky one. "but that doesn't change the fact you are a slut, yeah?"

you nodded, letting out another whimper. wanting to make him feel good, you gave attention to his balls and his cock head more. he twitched, indicating that he was close.

and then, suddenly, he took your hand away.

"Gotta save daddy's precious cum for your little tummy, hm baby?" Harry whispered, squeezing your hand before his demeanor changed back to dominance.

"y'wanna have Daddys cum in your tummy?" he began, noting the eager glint in your eyes as you nodded way too fast. "Then earn for it. use your dumb little baby mind to make me cum and I would consider letting you cum again. Ride me."

a broken moan vibrated from your chest, only making him more amused. your lifted yourself before lowering down on his cock slowly.

you placed your hands on his shoulders for support, once you had taken half of him. you begun bouncing on his cock, trying to create a rhythm.

a scream of his name left your mouth, your body finally getting what it wanted. you looked up at him, only to whine at the sight— harry was relaxed back, his hands beside his head and he looked completely disinterested.

"does that feel good, daddy?" you asked, knowing that he had make fun of you—after all, that was what you needed.

"does that feel good, daddy?" he mocked, his lips set into a subtle smirk, even though you knew he was going soft inside. "look at my good cumdump, so eager for her daddy's pleasure."

you whined, bouncing harder on him, going completely in the rhythm you had set. you leaned to kiss him, sighing. after not even two seconds in the kiss, he bit your lip roughly, demanding entrance.

your passionate kiss went on for ten more seconds—seconds that consisted his tongue dominating your mouth and playing with yours—before he pulled away, with your bottom lip in his mouth.

harry leaned back a bit before letting go of it and watching it snap back into your place.

you smirked at the action, fastening your pace. however, it wasn't fast enough for your lover because the next thing you knew, he had thursted up into you, breaking youd rhythm and smirking harder at the broken moan you let out.

he went still again, making you do all the work. sighing lazily, harry moved to rub your clit, making your release come faster and so you bounced harder on him, tightening your pussy every once in a while.

he groaned, making a proud smile appear on your lips.

"d-daddy, can I cum?"

"hold it, yeah?"

before you could reply, he smashed his lips against yours. he rubbed faster at your clit, making you let out a small gasp. he took the opportunity as his tongue entered your mouth.

his tongue played with yours instantly, making you moan against his mouth. his tongue pushed yours back down before exploring your mouth.

harry pulled back, uttering a single growl of "my good girl" before diving in for another long passionate kiss.

feeling his dick hit your g-spot, you moaned loudly. he pulled back again, this time to breathe. he watched with darkened eyes as you threw your head back and screamed his name.

"cum with daddy, baby. let go, yeah? wanna soak daddy with your juices?"

as soon as his permission reached your ears, the coil in your stomach tightened before breaking completely. you screamed his name again, letting out a few curses.

he followed soon after, filling your pussy fully with groans and growls of your name.

you relaxed against his chest, both of you relaxing for ten or so minutes before he carried you back inside, his now softening cock still buried in you.

he laid the both of you on the bed, smiling when you started playing with his hair. Harry nuzzled your neck, laying soft kisses on your neck, smirking whenever he came across an hickey.

the sheets around you were soft and like dreams. however, the man that was covering you with his arms now, was softer.

you stared at him, admiring his beauty and even though it sounded a little creepy, you didn't care. who wouldn't admire this God of a man.

you cuddled against his bare chest even more. you guys had slept while you were cockwarming him—actually, he had carried you around yesterday, since your legs had felt like jelly. you wouldn't have it any other way though.

you closed your eyes, almost falling back asleep when the sound of your phone buzzing snapped your eyes spoken. Harry groaned, tightening his arms around you.

you patted his hair softly, watching as the tension left his body and his eyes softly opened. you gave him your signature smirk, he shook his head, burrying it in your hair afterwards.

his hand gave a small squeeze to your ass, though his hand moved back to your waist, when you shot him a glare.

the cute moment was interrupted by your fucking phone buzzing. he groaned again, nuzzling his head in your hair even more.

you pulled back to blindly grab your phone from the bedside table, smiling at the one direction lockscreen before quickly typing in his name for password.

you looked over your notifications, your disinterest quickly changing into dread as you came across one particular twitter notification.

"no, nope, this can't be happening." you muttered, clicking onto the notification.

Harry furrowed his brows at that, sitting up with you in his arms quickly and accidentally thrusting up in you. "Is it a other hate comment, angel? I told those assholes to not bother my baby but no-"

"shut up, h." you smacked his chest as he raised one eyebrow. "Sarah just messaged me and our photos got leaked. it's breaking the internet."

"what?" he took your phone and sure enough, there were four blurred paparazzi photos of you two from yesterday.

the first one was of him kissing you in the water, the second was of him spitting in your mouth, the next was of him sucking his fingers and winking at you, the fourth was of you crawling for him.

"baby, these are all blurred. the ones with me spitting and you crawling for daddy are even more blurred. management is probably going to do something so don't worry, yeah?"

he wasn't wrong though — you thought, nodding at him. now that you were reassured, maybe you didn't need the earth to swallow you now.

you smiled a little before he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"besides, the world and your little friends now know about how you are a filthy slut for daddy, yea– OW, I AM SORRY!"

[maystea]

Made by: ? , with love.

The Devil Judge has a lot of hidden small details which are actually pretty important for the plot. Sometimes they can be in facial expressions, sometimes it’s actions that show what is going on, and sometimes it’s words or simple mismatches.

While rewatching The Devil Judge one more time, I got a question about what Ga-On was eating in Kang’s mansion before he started to cook for Yo-Han, Elijah, and himself. So now, I want to speculate on all the variations that are shown or hinted at in the show.

— Option one: Instant food.

The most obvious one, and maybe the easiest to think since we have seen that Elijah eats instant food, Yo-Han eats instant food. Ga-On ate ramyeon when the Professor came in in episode eight.

But it’s not the thing because of two reasons. The first one, Ga-On doesn't approve of eating such food as complex meals, even though he doesn't mind having it with Soo-Hyun in episode two.

When Elijah asks him to make her ramyeon and to bring it to her, Ga-On looks at it with bewilderment and thought that can be heard even from here: “That won't do.” His next decision? To make a “simple” breakfast that looks more like a royal banquet.

The second reason is just a simple mismatch in time. He couldn't cook for himself the first meal while sleeping and being affected after the explosion. Yet, from the tray that Ms. Ji successfully broke, we see an easy-to-cook but still a plate or two of homemade food.

— Option two: Ms. Ji.

This one would explain the tray, and what Ga-On ate that small amount of days. Also, it’s logical for her to cook for a guest in the house where she works.

Ga-On's glad when Ms. Ji is preparing to start to cook for him. He even invites Elijah to eat with him, even though she resists, saying “she (Ms. Ji) put in the effort to...” and stops only when Elijah raises her voice at him.

Ga-On wanted to try Ms. Ji’s food but it turned out she was banned from cooking and after ignoring the rule of not being in the mansion after the sun has set down, was reminded of its existence (someone was just trying to save his husband’s receptors, but about it a little bit later).

...but well, he will eat more then. And when the lunch is ready, Ga-On’s excited when he sees all the main and side dishes on the table. “You're a great cook,” says Ga-On trying the soup... and understands that there was a reason why she was prohibited from cooking.

An important note is that Ga-On doesn't say “so I've been eating your food all this time,” or something similar to it. He just asks since when Yo-Han banned her from making dishes (with a readable attempt on his face to save his poor tongue from everything he tried a second ago).

And the last thing that proves this theory’s non-existence is the conversation in Elijah’s room. Even though Ga-On laughs, he asks with the betrayal on his face: “why didn't you warn me?”. He never ate Ms. Ji’s food and has never thought that someone would add truffle oil to kimchi.

— Option three: Yo-Han.

Let me explain this one. Yo-Han does cook. Maybe not that often, not for everyone but the fact remains: he cooks.

We see a hint to it in episode five when he comes home and asks if there’s something to eat, and Butler already wants to count on the ingredients when Yo-Han stops him, asking if there’s something to heat up and eat.

Another hint is the bottle with pasta in the kitchen. It got almost empty with the difference in just two episodes (from episode four to the beginning of episode six). Ga-On didn't cook anything with pasta for Elijah as an apology, nor did he cook something with pasta for Yo-Han.

And the way how Ga-On sighs and says “let’s eat like normal people,” when he made that breakfast makes sense since Yo-Han thinks he doesn't know the taste of food, so Ga-On’s meals probably weren't that delicious... but they still were made with love.

Bonus: ...are we really talking about kimchi here?

[chiwhorei]

team spirit

pairing: k. sakusa x fem!reader x a. miya

genre: college!au, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.6k

warnings: threesome, semi-public sex, daddy kink, spitting, a spank, a tiny bit of choking, tit-fucking, degradation, a little coercion, curruption, gaslighting, voyeurism, a subtle age gap (freshman vs. senior in college), cum play, cum eating. nothing too crazy and everything is consensual- it’s just pretty dirty lmao

a/n: in a radical act of self care i have given up on kinktober as it was killing all love that i had for writing. i present to you a piece written solely because it made me h-word. thank you to the love of my life @hqbbg for beta reading, you have my soul and share my desire to be mask-man’s little bitch.

hymn: smells like teen spirit by: nirvana

“Didn’t I tell ya’, princess?” Atsumu’s voice is low and sharp against the shell of your ear as he brushes away a rogue strand of hair from where it fell from your high-pony. The action gentle, the tone unmistakingly galled. “I told ya to behave, but ya’ never want to listen to me.”

The grip he has on you is bruising, fingers nestled on your hips, large hands scrunching your pleated cheer skirt and exposing you to the almost empty locker room. Your boyfriend’s hard-on is distinct against his shorts, pressing against your bare cunt. Your hips buck desperately in his hold, but any fight is useless. There’s no way Atsumu will give you more than just minimal friction; only enough to make you dizzy and malleable in his capture.

Atsumu isn’t oblivious. He’s fully aware of how sweet you look every week, cheering on the sidelines of his games, donning his jersey number in a heart on the apple of your cheek. Having the prettiest little member of your college’s cheer squad in his bed every night never fails to fill him with an almost evil pride. Ever since the beginning of the season, your first year in college, Atsumu has been on you. The moment he first saw you, skin sheened with a layer of sweat and workout shorts riding up high enough to see the angelic curve of your ass cheeks, you were his. He totes a fine line, dancing between cockiness at his prize girlfriend when you’re hit on or ogled, and egregious rage.

Game-night started the same as any other: Astumu sneaking away before warm-ups to kabedon you against the wall when you walked out of the girls locker room. You always flush red-hot, no matter how many times he traps you, fiddling with the pom-poms in your hold. He grabs them from you, tossing them without care onto the ground to pull you tightly against his hard chest, your wrist pinned against the front of your uniform top in one of his hands. The rest of your squad walks by the two of you without much thought; the scene unfolding is rehearsed at this point. It seems like the whole student-body ignores the two of you.

“You act more like a horny teenager than a senior in college, Atsumu.” You puff your cheeks out and glare at him from the fringe of your perfectly curled eyelashes. The fake-blond towering above you snorts at your defiance.

“Well, you act more like an old prude than a freshman in college, princess.” His lips dip lower to fan over yours, “And my name ain’t Atsumu.”

Your knees feel weak trapped in his grip, his presence a strange mix of comfort and distress. You’re welcomed home into the den of a lion. You gulp down a painful air bubble trapped in your throat and mumble an apology.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

It seems to please the arrogant setter, earning you a chirpy laugh as he twirls a piece of your hair in his finger. You hate when Atsumu seems upset with you, so relief washes over you at the light gesture. He releases his hold on your wrists and pulls you into a sloppy kiss. You melt into the feeling of his lips, his hands rubbing up and down your arms lazily, causing your body to slack against him. Atsumu’s attention always renders you compliant (often against better judgement).

“I’ve gotta go, but make sure I hear ya’ cheering out there for me, sweetheart,” he says after letting go of your lips with one last nip. So begins the quick restoration of your uniform from where it was misplaced by setter fingers. After you’ve collected yourself under the watchful eye of your senior, you bend at the waist to pick up the stray poms and feel the swift union of Atsumu’s hand against your ass. You scoff at his childishness, even though you had expected it. Game nights are always the same.

The same round of cat and mouse, the same suffocating sexual tension and embarrassing public display.

The only anomaly tonight is the lecherous stare of your boyfriend's teammate on your folded body. A stare that shouldn’t belong to the curly haired man fixes onto you and the view of your tight pair of spandex has turned him into stone.

Pride is a cardinal sin, and so is lust.

“Do ya’ like what ya’ see, Omi? She’s a pretty little thing ain’t she?” Your eyes snap up to meet the gaze of the man in front of your disheveled form. Sakusa’s eyes are dark and cold; his expression reads indifference, but the hard cock in his shorts is clearly seen. He’s frozen in place a few feet in front of the bench you’re displayed on. Your crisp white sneakers are on either side of Atsumu’s built thighs, knees bent and held in place by the man under you. Your uniform top and bra have been pushed up unceremoniously, freeing your tits to bounce slightly with every squirm. Sakusa watches every jiggle of soft, supple skin in front of him. The tent in his boxers is becoming painful with every heave. Both hands are pressed stiffly to his sides, left hand clutching your white, cotton panties. The fabric is damp, sticking slightly against his fingers and making him cringe. Disgusting.

Atsumu’s hand wanders down to spread the puffy lips of your pussy, long middle finger proading against your tight hole. Atsumu growls at the feeling of your arousal, not wasting any time sticking a digit into you with practiced movements. You whimper at the intrusion, legs feeling weak and shaky from their strained position as Atsumu adds a second finger with ease. He always knows exactly how to work you over, rendering you at a loss for words with his prodding against the spongy anterior of your pussy.

“Y/n is always such a little mess on her daddy’s fingers.” His middle and pointer finger are pulled out with a resounding pop and his palm lands a harsh pat against your clit. “Do you like putting on a show for Sakusa-san? He seems to fancy ya’, doesn't he?” You’re asked a question but can only yelp in response as Atsumu’s fingers are shoved back into you, pumping with fervor.

The tall man in front of you is only partially familiar; aside from volleyball games and visiting your boyfriend at practice, you’ve only seen Sakusa at the occasional party or team dinner. He’s never seemed too keen on getting to know you before, but now he’s palming himself at the sight of your most intimate angles completely open for his viewing pleasure. Sakusa’s slightly flushed cheeks and boring stare causes your cunt to clench around Atsumu’s fingers. Ever the painfully observant man, neither the tightening muscles nor the reason behind it is lost on the blond.

“Ya’ like being watched, that’s why yer sloppy pussy’s extra wet tonight, huh?” You shake your head frantically, not wanting to admit that the heat rising in your stomach is due to your voyeur’s deep brown eyes. Atsumu is a prideful man, some would say too much so, a fact he’ll have to atone for later. One thing he isn’t? Greedy.

“Omi-omi~” The singing of the stupid nickname seems to snap Sakusa out of his stupor as he flicks his eyes to meet Atsumu’s. “Don’t be shy, c’mere.” Sakusa is still working long strokes over his confined cock, stepping forward to further invade your personal space. Atsumu’s chin rests against your shoulder, face amused and casual, disconnected from what his hands are holding.

All you can do is look up at the looming figure, black hair falling in front of his face and mouth set in a harsh line. You’re eye level with the bulge in his shorts now, so close you can almost feel the fabric against your lips. Every sense is overwhelmed, crowded in the abandoned locker room with your boyfriend working you open in front of his teammate. Sakusa reaches out and runs his finger over the uniform top that sits wrinkled up above your breasts. His calloused pad runs over the article in a moment of contemplation, before pinching your hardened nipple. A surprised yelp falls from your lips along with the already tumbling whines.

Distracted by your new company, Atsumu’s cock releasing from his shorts goes unnoticed. With the dark, inky stare keeping you hostage, you only realize his fingers are being replaced when the hardened tip is pressing into you. A pathetic squeal rips through your throat at the breach. No matter how many times Atsumu stretches you out on his fat cock, it burns every time.

“I think ya’ should help Sakusa-san out, princess.” Another few inches disappear, your shaky balance is corrected with one of Atsumu’s hands wrapping around your neck, “Since it’s yer dirty little body that’s got ‘em all hard.”

The intonation wracks you with guilt, looking up at Sakusa with bleary, begging eyes. You’re not sure what exactly you’re begging for.

There’s no restraint left in Sakusa, having used most of it up when your panties were ripped off and tossed to him with a cheeky wink from his setter. He shoves said garment into his pocket before pushing his shorts and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. Your eyes roll slightly at the sight in front of you, impressive in length and pleasantly veiny. Right under his head, you see two freckles, noting they almost mimic the ones right above his eyebrow.

Atsumu’s cock is snugly inside you, buried to the hilt, and you're pulled back into his broad chest by the grip on your throat. Sakusa holds himself at the base, stroking upwards and swirling his thumb against the precum collecting at his tip. He leans over you, slapping his head against your tits experimentally. The reaction Sakusa gets seems to be the one he was seeking, as your whispered cries thump to the same beat of his length against your skin.

“Such a nasty girl. You always look so sweet and innocent cheering for us. Does he fuck you like this after every game?” Sakusa has found his voice, regarding you coolly. Tears prick at your eyes, any retort caught behind your teeth as you stare back dumbly.

“Answer ‘em princess,” Atsumu lifts you up slightly to slam you back down onto his heavy cock; the sound is squelching in the stale air around you, “tell ‘em how you cream on Daddy’s cock after everyone leaves.”

“I- please, I-” You’re cut off by your own mewl when a string of saliva breaches Sakusa’s lips and falls towards your chest, watching as it ascends onto the valley between your tits. As it rolls down your sweat-sheened skin, the black-haired man rubs his weeping cock down the map his spit makes. Your brain is fuzzy at the attention of both men, warming your boyfriend's cock as his teammate grinds himself on your naked chest.

Sakusa grabs your wrists, causing your thighs to wobble weakly from their squatted position, and presses your palms to hold your breasts against his shaft. The pressure has Sakusa’s head falling back as soft, warm skin welcoming his shallow thrusts.

“Such a complaint little pet you have, Miya.” His hand brushes against your cheek and trails downwards to find purchase on your chin. “Dirty little girl,” his voice coos you, “Open wide.”

Your mouth falls at his order, fussing weakly at the nickname. Another sharp putt meets your ears and his warm spit hits the fattest plane of your tongue. Tears escape at the sides of your eyes with the overwhelming presence. Atsumu begins a slow assault on your aching pussy, removing the hand on your throat to pull your hips against his lap. The rhythm is a salacious duet with the cock nestled between your tits and has you clenching even tighter.

“Ya’ better not swallow Omi’s spit until I say so, princess. Keep that wicked tongue out for him to paint.” You do as you're told, as always, tongue lolled out with a pant. At your passivity, Atsumu rewards you with tight circles to your throbbing clit. His cheek presses against your own, peering over to watch his friend’s cock against your chest with wonder. Such a distinct beauty is found in the ruined body on top of him. As much as Atsumu appreciates the sweet, loving moments that he shares with you, the sight of your precious body bent to his will makes his dick twitch acutely. It’s sick how much he enjoys seeing how far he can push you-

“I’m going to cum on your girlfriend's sweet face, Miya. Christ, it’s disgusting how much she seems to want it.”

However, your enjoyment in your own depravity and humiliation is much more sickening.

Atsumu’s pace picks up, skin slapping against your sore pussy with new resolve. He wants to see you break into pieces right on the locker room bench. Your vision is spotting at the pressure on your clit, mixing with the dulled sting of being split open on the blond setter's thick cock. All you can do is produce a garbled squeal from around your dangling tongue. Sakusa pulls his cock from your chest, pumping his hand feverishly against the soft skin. The sight is almost unbelievable: a man who barely allows his teammates a high-five has your hair wrapped around his other fist. Your head is yanked back, eyes entrapped by Sakusa’s. Atsumu’s fingers are unrelenting against the bundle of nerves that now feels more like a ticking time-bomb.

“C’mon princess, don’t hold back on us. I wanna see ya’ cum right in front of Omi. Show’em how much team spirit ya’ got.” Atsumu’s teeth bite down onto your neck, angling his tip to press against that deepest spot inside of you. The fraying cord in your stomach is pulled taught, snapping at the feeling of Sakusa’s hot cum against your face, thick spurts landing on your cheer uniform and splattering against your already marred tongue.

Your own orgasm tears through you, burning deeply through every vein in your body. It’s sinful how your body reacts to the messy splotching of a stranger's cum against you, thrown head-first into release at the ministrations of the men on either side of you. Your tight rings of muscles pulsate around Atsumu’s cock, coaxing his own orgasm out to meet your silky insides. There’s nothing better in the world, Atsumu thinks to himself, than fucking his hot cum into your sweet, submissive body.

As the pair of volleyball players steady their own breathing, another menacing laugh escapes your boyfriend’s mouth. He peers over the mess in front of him, strings of cum drawing random patterns against your chest and cheeks. He turns your face towards him and smiles, finding that you did exactly as he asked. Your mouth wide, tongue still stuck out and awaiting further instruction. Such a perfect girl you are, letting Atsumu’s most debased fantasies play out on your innocent little body. Your job is to motivate his team after all, and there’s no better way to boost comradery after a win than to celebrate the best way he knows how.

“Team spirit, huh?” Sakusa tucks himself back into his shorts, leaning in to swipe his cum against your lips as a parting gift. You watch him with glassy eyes and suck on the digit when pressed against your tongue.

“That’s for sure.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[xxsycamore]

- The kids are asleep - [SIRIUS/RAY SMUT]

Rating: E

Word count: 1,710

Relationship: M/M; Sirius/Ray 

Tags:Smut; Power Dynamics; Power Play; Making Out; Biting; Choking; Mutual Masturbation

Part of @voltage-vixen ​ ​‘s Summer of Smut Content Creation Challenge 2.0.

✦ Day 14 - Sexy Summer Fling ✦

[DAY 1] [DAY 2] [DAY 3] [DAY 4] [DAY 5] [DAY 6] [DAY 7] [DAY 8] [DAY 9] [DAY 10] [DAY 11] [DAY 12] [DAY 13] 

A/N: I refuse to let go of summer yet! Or at least until I’m done with this challenge. I just got the idea of these two together I had to write this. Have you seen the lines of their suited pair gatcha card? The one where they’re bathing together? Yeah. You can check out the lines here as provided by this lovely person @sortaotaku

Check my masterlist here! 

Ray looks up from the papers he's been arranging on his desk, as the sound of someone entering the office gets to his attention.

Sirius walks up to him, dropping his weight on the nearby couch as he would at the end of any exceptionally busy day. Which would fit for a description of today - first a big workload, then something came up on the black territory border which Ray wouldn't have the luck of missing to attend personally. His visit is planned for early on the next morning, much to his dismay. The monthly black army banquet just had to be on the night before it.  

"The kids are asleep."

Ray, being halfway back to business, stops on his tracks to look again at Sirius, and gives him a rich laugh. By "the kids" Sirius refers here not to some army recruits, but to Fenrir, Seth, and Luka, who were caught raising a ruckus at the banquet, likely under the influence of alcohol. Not that Ray would be too minding of it - given that he himself could be placed in the work hard play hard category just fine. It has more to do with the fact that he couldn’t get to join them in having more than one drink due to his planned engagements. Sirius is somewhat on the same page as him, aware of his own low alcohol tolerance, having spent the better of the night refusing people from pouring him a drink, mostly Fenrir. Long story short, Ray and Sirius ended up being what could safely be considered the only two remaining sober people in headquarters.

Ray's laugher quiets down with one last chuckle as he puts away the rest of his documentary.

"The kids, huh? When you say it like that, it reminds me of the rumor that we are the army's parents, me and you."

Sirius kicks off his shoes and puts his long legs on the table, something he would hate being caught doing in anyone else's presence. He hums lowly in answer, being painfully aware of that rumor- yet he can't help but crack a smile. He tries to push off the image of a drunk Seth clinging to his legs to prevent him from leaving early - because ignoring it, it almost sounds cute that he and Ray look after the bunch of them.

He lets his eyes rest for the time being, catching a glimpse of Ray shoving his prepared folder into a bag, most likely getting it ready for tomorrow morning. He then senses the place next to him dip slightly with Ray's weight, as the man takes a seat next to him, sighing under his breath.

Sirius lets out a sigh of his own, wanting to add something to their idle conversation. "Those brats, having fun without us."

"Yeah, I know. Hey Sirius?"

Ray helps himself to a half-full glass of water earlier left by him on the table, while he waits for Sirius to finish his yarn and pay him attention.

"Yes?"

Ray smirks, catching the taller man's gaze boldly. "I don’t think they should be the only ones having fun. It's not fair."

Sirius looks straight at him for a good few seconds, but doesn't even slightly falter from Ray's implication.

"It's not fair." he nods. In a matter of seconds, they are kissing.

Ray's hands ghost on Sirius's torso, untucking his already not-so-neatly tucked-in shirt, noticing Sirius shivering under the touch. Ray has discovered Sirius to be a good kisser, having had his mind blown away so fiercely and with such ease under his ministrations. It is honesty a shame that they'd never went further than making out.

The king of spades makes quick work of Sirius's shirt, leaving the tie hanging from his neck in a playful manner, wrapping it around his fist to tug closer as Sirius would withdraw for air. Soon his own coat and shirt join the pile of dark blue fabric on the floor, hinting at where things are going. Sirius lets himself be pushed down on the couch, his vision blocked by Ray's frame as the man attacks his neck with kisses and mostly bites. Sirius hisses, distantly hearing Ray unbuckle his belt and the noise of more clothes coming off. He curses himself for having such a sensitive nape, just as Ray's low voice takes his attention anew.

"Aww, seems like the team mom really needed to blow off some steam, eh?"

Where he expects a moan or at least a chuckle instead, Ray receives a push on the shoulder, forcing him to take off his mouth from Sirius's skin. He looks down at the man's expression for cues, wondering if he went too far with the teasing or maybe the reason rests elsewhere.

"I thought I was the dad?"

Ray looks so deeply at the serious gleam in Sirius's eyes as if he refuses to believe it's there altogether, along with the spoken words.

"You- What?"

"Aren't you the mom figure?"

"No? I'm the King, so I'm the-"

"But they call me Papa. Haven't you heard how annoying they are? Papa Sirius this,"

"No I-"

"Papa Sirius that,"

"Hey, hey. Listen." With a pinched expression, Ray shifts backwards to a sitting position, stealing a glance of Sirius's proudly standing cock that has no place in this silly conversation. Or, maybe this silly conversation has no place inbetween their hard cocks. Either way, he has to do something about resolving this.

"Let's forget about the brats and enjoy ourselves." He suggests lasciviously, dipping his head downwards again. His lips pucker for a brief moment, a small emission of blown air coming out in order to brush his pestering hairlocks off his sweaty forehead.

In their next portion of heated kisses, Sirius's hands get more and more confident in exploring the body of the man above him. At one point his firm grip on Ray's ass is enough to break the trance just as Sirius opens his mouth to speak his warning.

"Stay still, Ray."

Before Sirius can do anything that clearly wasn't in Ray's plans, the king grabs a fistful of Sirius's hair, tilting his head backwards and forcing eye contact on him.

"I don't think so. The team daddy should be the one to top."

Sirius grunts at the stimulation in his scalp and tilts his head while speaking, secretly enjoying the additional pull it gives. 

"Ray, you could just say if it's too big for you to take. I thought we were over with playing house?"

"And give myself over without a fight? I'd be putting my name to shame if I comply."

It's Sirius's turn to narrow his eyes in annoyance, wondering why the otherwise perfect air of understanding that lingers around the two of them couldn't stay for that much longer. The years of working together should aid in smoothing out their contrarieties.

"If you want a fight, I'll give you a fight. It's been some time since we last sparred anyway." Even with Ray's weight pinning him down, Sirius finds purchase into the soft cushions of the sofa on each side and pushes against Ray.

Not expecting him to get on with it so soon, Ray tries not to show how badly this excites him as his teeth scrape and bite into Sirius's shoulder while he finds his wrists in order to try and pin him down by them. He who has never put the reliable queen of spades' strength to doubt, allows himself this brief moment of indulgence to test his boundaries. It ends with him being practically in Sirius's lap, restlessly shifting around and one foot scraping against the flooring between the couch and the table in an attempt to gain the lavage to break away from the hold. The more he struggles, the harder Sirius's nails bite into the skin of his hips and waist, deep voice cursing in his ears to get him to listen.

Instead of trying to pry Sirius's hands off him, Ray changes his strategy, remembering where Sirius has shown weakness in the earlier stages of what they got romped into. One hand shoots between their bodies to find purchase into Sirius's neck, the other follows, lower, much lower until it wraps around his cock.

Sirius sucks on air like he expects it to be the last large portion of it that Ray would allow him. His hold is not too strong to actually get in the way of his breathing, yet it's firm enough to make him reconsider egging the man further, be it on the cost of victory or something else. In his current position, Ray's strokes are sparkling his lust to great lengths as a result of the long neglection.

The least he could do is remind Ray of the surely shared feeling. He gives up trying to manhandle Ray's muscular frame and instead puts his hands around Ray's cock, bringing the two of them together to grind along. From hereon, it gets easier, vengeance no longer on their minds as they start chasing each other's release.   

With a tirade of barely hidden grunts, both of them reach their peaks, none domineering over the other in the pure bliss that follows. Although Ray lets himself get a little too cocky soon after, playing with the piercings on Sirius's left ear, which earns him a jolt of overstimulation brought by Sirius's hands.

It's Ray's cue to finally get up from the couch. If anything, because of the strong desire to at last get to the window and open it. He could hope that the night's air would be so kind as to offer a cooling to the aftermath of their overly heated exercise.

Sirius gets to his initial position, sprawling his long form on the couch and the low table, seemingly satisfied so far with their activities.

"We should pose the question about our… parental roles, and next time resolve our conflict based on what reply we get."

Ray turns back towards the couch, muttering a little "Oh?", and crossing the room again to get to Sirius. He should immediately let him know his positive opinion about the idea, but before thinking of next time, he has to make the best of their shared tryst tonight.

aglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @leonardoism @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @thehappycat123 @pumpumnnnp  @thesirenwashere @theuwuisunreal @ravenarld @kyokirigiri-22 @kimmy-banana @btarinana @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @trishtori @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @judgemental-seal @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou​ @toxiicmoron ​ Please let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[alottanothing]

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.