#make sure to read them carefully | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostly-imagines · 4 months

Text

The Alchemy vol. I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

vol II

warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence

Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.

You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.

Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all.

Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.

You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative.

You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”

He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.

Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”

His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.

He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”

“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water.

When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.

“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury.

He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.

You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.

You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.

He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.

You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”

He grunts.

You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.

You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.

And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.

You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.

You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.

You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There’s a short beat.

“Do I seem like someone that worries often?”

You peek your head out of the bathroom door.

You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”

He snorts. “You’re not far off.”

You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”

“I do.”

“I can go in the other room if you—”

He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay then.

You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.

You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.

This guy kills people, right?

You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.

“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes.

The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”

He gives a short hum, thoughtful.

“What?”

“You’re good.” Hardly.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.

He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.

He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.

“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.

You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.

That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.

Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.

You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.

Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.

You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand.

“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his.

You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”

“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.

He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.

You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.

He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on.

“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”

“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”

“Right.”

“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”

You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.”

He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not.

“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”

He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.”

“Rest from what?”

A series of gunshots echo from down the street.

“Next question.”

Concise.

You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.

“Does it matter how I answer?”

“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”

He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”

You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”

You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”

You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”

“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.

You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.”

You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”

He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”

You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”

He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”

“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”

“No.”

You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”

“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”

You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”

“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”

You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”

He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.

Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

“You could lock your window.”

“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”

“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.

“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.

You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”

You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.

Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse.

The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.

But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.

You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.

He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”

“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.

“No, I—why are you on the floor?”

You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”

“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot.

You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”

He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”

You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?”

“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.

You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over.

It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.

You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.

It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.

He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”

You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”

“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.

“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”

His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”

You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.

You wave him off, “It’s fine.”

He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”

You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”

About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.

You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly.

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.

His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles.

You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”

He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.

“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”

Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.

He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”

You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”

He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.

When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.

So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no.

Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.

Hard yes.

You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.

Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.

“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”

He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”

He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”

“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch.

You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”

“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated.

You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”

He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.

You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.

You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.

And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar.

You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.

He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.

You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.

“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”

“I am.” He says shortly.

You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.”

He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”

“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.

“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”

You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.

You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”

He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second.

You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.

It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.

You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over.

You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”

He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”

“Wrong line of work.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”

You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?”

He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.”

“Someone does.”

He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.”

Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.

“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing.

Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”

“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”

“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.

“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”

You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”

His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”

You grin back, pleased with yourself.

There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces.

You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.

You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.

“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”

You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”

“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.

He nods.

“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.”

You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.

“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”

You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”

It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.

You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.

“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.

You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.”

He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”

You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it.

Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.

“Come on, put your weight behind it.”

You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”

He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.

You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”

You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”

“Well, we’ll work on that too.”

You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.

“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”

You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”

“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.

“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.

He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.

You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”

He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at.

You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.

You perk up, “We’re done?”

“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”

Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”

You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”

He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”

You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.

You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down.

“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut.

In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.

He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”

You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”

He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”

You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?”

You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.

He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position.

Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.

You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.

Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.

He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.

He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly.

You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.

“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”

You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.

Alright, one step at a time.

vol II

5K notes · View notes

areislol · 3 months

Text

being transported into their world

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, not proof read 🙅🏻‍♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! girls in the astral express are mentioned for a bit, i mentioned both dan heng and imbibitor lunae so don't mind that! mentions of self attempt/bodily harm for blade, boothill is ooc probably, spoilers of penacony quest, skipping herta space station (will be mentioned in other chapters though!), sahau (self aware honkai au)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. i've been thinking about a self-aware au but a honkai star rail version for a couple of weeks now after my reverse isekai'd genshin sagau series. also this may be a bit biased towards dang feng (imbibitor lunae) because uh i like him, maybe you can tell?

►— wordcount. 4.5k

part 2

for days they've felt uncomfortable, well, slightly. it only began to happen a couple of months ago when they felt as if something, no... someone was controlling their every movement and choice.

during their adventures, they felt an unsettling sensation creep upon them like a shadow in the night—a feeling of being watched, of a presence looming over their every move.

the presence was overwhelming, their body would stiffen, and they felt as if something like a heavy, invisible blanket was casted upon them.

at first, the passengers in the astral express dismissed it as mere paranoia, attributing it to the heightened tension of their journey or maybe the warping effects in the train. but as days passed and the sensation persisted, they couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that they were not alone, that someone or something was observing their every action.

at times, they would catch fleeting whispers carried by the wind, faint voices that echoed in the corners of their minds. yet, despite their efforts, they could never make out the words, the words slipping through their grasp like elusive dreams.

as the feeling grew more pronounced, thoughts began to gnaw at their consciousness. who or what could possibly be speaking to them? why is it that every now and then they would feel a sudden boost and surge of power?

they knew deep down that the only being in the universe could make them feel that was,it could be no other than their creator.

the mere thought that their creator was dropping hints of their arrival was exciting. and only when the astral express crew noticed how each and every one of them felt the same exact things—looking around the moment they heard a voice, their body in sync as they tensed up... it was all too coincidental not to notice.

as they talked with one another and pieced the puzzle pieces together, using the information they found along the way travelling to each region, it all became clear.

it was a pivotal moment in their journey, the truth was revealed. in a flash of realization, they discovered that the presence they felt, the elusive voice they heard, was none other than their creator—the architect of their existence, the mastermind behind their trials and tribulations.

dan heng, himeko, welt, march and caelus had a hunch that it was their beloved creator, it couldn't be anyone else. everything added up, everything made sense. they acted like mad scientists, scurrying to their rooms and digging around every nook and cranny of their room, finding any evidence and papers that mentioned you, the creator.

as they all met up back on the train they carefully placed each and every newspaper and article about you. they had to make sure that it was really you. some of the articles that dan heng bought were from way back, thousands of years ago, he refused to tell anyone where he had gotten them from.

"in the vast expanse of the universe, where time flowed like a meandering river and galaxies danced in an eternal cosmic ballet, there existed a being unlike any other—a being known simply as a creator. born out of the primordial chaos, the creator was a solitary entity who traversed the endless void, seeking purpose in a universe devoid of meaning.

for millennia, the creator roamed the expanse, witnessing the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, and the ebb and flow of cosmic energies. yet, amidst the vastness of space and time, the creator found itself consumed by an overwhelming sense of ennui, a profound boredom that gnawed at their very essence.

then, the creator embarked on a journey of creation—a quest to fill the void with worlds of its own design, to sculpt realities from the raw clay of the cosmos. with a mere thought, the creator breathed life into barren planets, adorned them with oceans and mountains, and populated them with a myriad of creatures both strange and wondrous.

as creator delved deeper into their newfound passion, they discovered a love for the act of creation—a love that transcended time and space, a passion that ignited a fire within its soul. with each world it fashioned, each story it crafted, the creator found solace in the act of shaping reality, in the sheer joy of bringing something new into existence.

for six thousand years, the creator laboured tirelessly, weaving tapestries of worlds and galaxies, each one a testament to its boundless imagination and creative prowess. from the smallest blade of grass to the mightiest empires, the creator poured their heart and soul into every facet of creation, infusing each world with a unique charm and character all its own.

yet, amidst the infinite expanse of its creations, the creator remained a solitary figure—a godlike being adrift in a sea of its own making, forever yearning for companionship in a universe devoid of peers. and so, the creator continued their eternal quest, weaving worlds out of boredom and growing a love and passion for creation that would endure for eternity. and we, this universe, was crafted by none other than the creator, the place we call home. it is said that only after six thousand will the creator return to us, to watch over us once more."

the article itself looked worn, it wasn't signed by anyone, and no one knew who wrote it, or how they got the information. but it seemed plausible. millenniums... it has been well over six thousand years, it was about time the creator descended.

they had to be prepared, they had to tell the rest of their friends and families, the world. as much as they would like to keep the information to themselves they knew that you deserved a much better, bigger and more beautiful welcome.

sampo, gepard and luka were more than stunned and nervous, to say the least. their creator... was finally returning back? upon hearing the news from caelus they were sceptical at first, deep down they really wanted to see you in your glory, to finally meet the creator, but at the same time, it was nerve-wracking.

what should they say? what should they do in preparation and celebration? what gifts and offers should they give to you? nothing would do. they were positive that anything they bought, even if it got them in debt, would suffice. you deserved more than a measly couple of dishes and the most delicate and fitting garnets.

it was embarrassing really, their hearts racing as they tried their best to think of what to bring to your feet. but one thing they all had in common was their loyalty to you. if it was their life you wanted then so be it.

sampo is sampo, he was sure that his creator's glory and attractiveness were over the top, he would be sure to compliment you as many times as his mouth could allow, but he was sure that your beauty would be intimidating. no matter your looks your presence was more than enough.

gepard is nervous. his mind is full of "what ifs" and "what should i.." not even his sister can calm him down. every morning and night when he closes his eyes he's anticipating the day his sister barges into his room, yelling that the creator had finally descended. although he isn't quite sure of what to offer you he knows that whenever you need him, whatever you call him for he will be there in less than a minute, by your side or feet if you prefer.

whatever you ask of him, whatever favour you need from, he will never say no.

luka on the other hand is absolutely pumped to meet you! he had heard stories of you when he was a child, and from the stories told by the adults they described you as a kind being, who soon fell in love with the art, beauty and joy of creating. well, their most favourite was creating worlds.

he was absolutely sure that you would be the most kindest, heavenly person he had ever met, what was there to worry about now? luka knew that if he ever laid eyes on you he would fall in love no doubt, he would do anything for you. maybe you would agree to watch his wrestling matches?

jing yuan, blade, imbibitor lunae, and luocha are the most excited of all, sure, everyone is elated to finally meet you with their very own eyes. but them? oh lord... they all believe to be your worshipper, having heard tales of you from their parents, this alone caused them to be awe and love-struck with you.

they were a firm believer in you, you did no wrong in their eyes. all your actions and words were justified. they followed your principles, they made sure to announce their presence every time they came to your altar and placed down the most expensive jewels, dishes and gifts. (they had a shrine of you at home don't worry)

jing yuan was the one of the firsts to get hints that you were finally returning, the divine foresight fu xuan always looked so weary and cautious, but as time grew she began to be more... happy and elated, yet everytime he questioned her she was tense up and smile like it was nothing. and only when he pried did she say that she saw things, saw a blurred face, and heard a voice. "don't be alarmed... i'm here to tell you that.."

he made sure that everyone who worked under him and every prominent person knew of this, he began to make preparations of your arrival, he cancelled all meetings and plans, only focusing on you and your arrival. everything had to be perfect. he had even forgotten about the wanted criminal blade. jing yuan booked the most fanciest restaurant for a month max, he wasn't sure when you were coming, of course, so a month it was.

jing yuan prepared every entertainment and paid the orchestra, he wanted everything to be perfect, even the most minuscule details.

blade's loyalty was and is only for you and only you. he may be cold and stone-hearted (we all know it's false) but if it's you... whatever you ask for he will do it no doubt. he refuses to take orders from a stranger even if it is his friend, but if it's you? say no more. blade knew you were a kind soul, you needed protection from the other so-called "enemies" (he proclaimed it!).

he swore that you saved his life, years ago when everything was tumbling down, when his feelings got the better of him, he tried doing the unthinkable, as he blacked out he suddenly "saw" something.. a beacon of light, it was magical and airy, he tried his best to grasp onto the light but obviously could not.

it floated further and further away, and he followed it, his eyes glued only on the beacon of light. as it stopped moving, so did he, he continued staring at the light as it shrank into a ball, it didn't speak, it didn't look anywhere, it stayed there. suddenly he woke up, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. what was that?

sweat clung to his forehead when jingliu found him, concerned she rushed over to him, he refused to say a single word. he was left perplexed. what was the ball of light? why did he feel so at ease? why did it only appear after he...

he would make it his mission to meet you before the rest do other than the astral express crew and become your bodyguard, even if you deny his offer he will stick with you no matter what. of course, he would respect your boundaries but he knew that you didn't have the heart to deny anyone, especially your creation.

imbibitor lunae absolutely adores you, even if he was reincarnated the memories still pass on. and the tales being told by the grown-ups were famous around his area and still is. from the earliest days of his existence, tales of the creator had woven themselves into the fabric of his consciousness, painting a portrait of a being of boundless kindness and infinite compassion.

as a child, imbibitor lunae had listened with rapt attention to stories passed down through generations, tales of the creator's benevolence and the miracles they wrought upon the world. and in the quiet moments of the night, he would gaze up at the starry expanse above, whispering prayers to the creator, his heart overflowing with admiration and reverence.

when news of the creator's imminent return after six thousand years reached his ears, his heart soared with unbridled joy. in no time he set about preparing for your arrival, pouring his heart and soul into crafting the perfect gifts to present to his divine benefactor.

drawing inspiration from the tales of old, he fashioned intricate trinkets and tokens of his affection, each one imbued with his unwavering devotion and love. amidst the swirling maelstrom of feelings, one thing remained constant: his unwavering love for the creator.

imbibitor swore that once he felt or sensed a sign that would be arriving he would immediately act, he would be the first to meet and lay his eyes on your divine figure. slap him as many times as you want if you found it rude, he would only thank you.

luocha, despite remaining calm and composed on the outside, internally, he was freaking OUT. luocha found himself grappling with a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions. on one hand, he felt a profound sense of excitement at the prospect of meeting the creator, the architect of his existence and the source of all that he held dear.

yet, on the other hand, he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of inadequacy, the fear of not being able to live up to your expectations.

his mind raced with a flurry of possibilities. what gifts would you appreciate? what could he offer to express his gratitude and reverence for the being who had breathed life into his world? with each passing moment, the weight of the impending meeting pressed down upon him like a heavy burden, filling him with a sense of anxiety.

despite his inner turmoil, luocha maintained a facade of calm and composure, determined not to let his anxieties show. with a steely resolve, he set about meticulously planning and preparing for your arrival, carefully considering every detail in his quest to find the perfect gift.

he even resorted to asking the children about what gifts he should bring, and yes, they did laugh at him but helped him nonetheless.

from ornate trinkets to rare treasures, luocha spared no effort in his search for the ideal offering, pouring his heart and soul into each carefully chosen item. yet, even as he laboured tirelessly to ensure that everything was perfect, doubts continued to gnaw at the edges of his mind, although one thing was for sure, if you didn't like any of his gifts he wouldn't be upset rather, maybe all you wanted was his whole body and life, and he would not hesitant once to give it up for you.

they all couldn't wait to meet you.

aventurine, sunday, gallagher and boothill are freaking out. horribly. mainly aventurine.. once the news had reached them from the astral express that it was possible (about 98%) that you were the comet arriving in a week... oh boy were they NERVOUS. everything HAD to be perfect. they had everything to thank you for, during their life and death situation they were lucky enough to survive—thanks to you.

it was only natural to return the favour, you created them, their personality, their arms, legs, their body, you sculpted their face, you made them. you made the very world they live in right now, the world they call home... they were sure you were by their side, making them make the right decisions and the right thing. aventurine? oh, the amount of MONEY he will spend buying everything he thinks you'd like, the fanciest, most elegant and most expensive shoes, clothing and accessories. he would rent out an entire week or months of work at a restaurant if you'd like to dine alone or with a couple of people. he knows his luck is a part of him, he can only pray that he'll meet you first with his luck.

sunday... just the sound of your name makes him tear up. he could've sworn that one time you spoke to him, your other-worldly echoing voice speaking to him directly about the loss of his dear sister. and here he stood in his room, looking out the window, and in the far distant a light shimmering as it swiftly dived down. a shooting star. he knows that with everyone getting the news they're all aiming to be the first to meet you, and trust me, he does want to meet you FIRST. the second you land he'll be there right with you and guiding you to safety—penacony.

but first, he must pinpoint where exactly you'll land. and with his power and influence he will most definitely try his best to find you and be sure to hide you from everyone else... he needs you, desperately.

gallagher and boothill have exactly the same thoughts. to present themselves good to you and spend every minute and second with you. but with everyone gossiping and spreading rumours about your arrival it's hard to be unique. everyone wants to be with you, everyone wants your favour. but they could never worship you as much as them. they had dreamed of this moment, it seemed unreal to meet their own creator but nonetheless, they clung to their hope and boy did it not go to waste.

boothill basically pauses any mission he needs to complete, that can wait. you are eternal. he's practically on edge with the fact that at any moment the comet would crash through and there you'd be, dozing peacefully.. like an angel. he won't hesitate to cause some trouble or initiate some violence if it means that they don't get to see you first.

gallagher on the other hand tries to stay hidden and in the shadows. of course, he'd like to meet you face to face but with the feeling of an overwhelming and looming divine presence, it's all too much. and if that's too much then what would he feel when you stand right before him? he's like an overprotective dog, fiercely loyal and clingy. even if you can't spot him he'll be right there, lurking and watching.

dr. ratio and argenti are absolutely and 100% loyal and would do EVERYTHING in their power to meet you, even a glance would do, anything to feed their curiosity and desperate need to know the creator. so when they get wind that you were supposedly descending down... they freeze on the spot, their breath hitches as their eyes widen. could it really be?

dr. ratio was always a curious boy, and he has you to thank for giving him consciousness and the opportunities to venture out and earn knowledge and eventually spreading his knowledge to his students (preaching i guess you can say). he's a bit biased when it comes to talking about you to his friends or students, and speaking your name in a more positive light, not that anyone minds, if anything they agree!

although he isn't much of a gifter or "i'll spend my money on you" he's more of a "anything you want just tell me". if you told him to drop his precious books to come and tend to your needs he would do it in a heartbeat.

to argenti you are the standard and epitome of "beauty". the beauty he has been searching for his entire life. he intends to shower you with compliments and roses freshly picked by hand unless you're allergic or not a fan of flowers, fear not! compliments should do! be ready to be bombarded with such positivity, compliments and gifts from the knight of beauty.

anything you wish for he will try his utmost best to get it done perfectly and quickly. "your hair looks so pretty like this..." say no more, he will always style it and keep it exactly like that! "my feet feel so sore from all the walking" ?!!? why is his dear walking anyway!?!? don't worry, he'll massage it for you! "ugh all this work is making me tired" move aside, let him do the honours!!

It was a long ride home from work, you were currently in an almost empty bus, glancing over the top of your phone you read the time. 11 P.M.

Was it that late already? You knew this office job would be the death of you. You never wanted to work at a place like this, the cubicle life bored you and it was just so... depressing. That was the only way to describe it.

You decide to pass the time by playing your all-time favourite game: Honkai: Star Rail. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your face as you began to grind relics and exp for an upcoming character. It definitely worked in keeping you busy and awake as time passed by slowly.

All was well, everything was fine. You had everything planned in your head. Get home as soon as possible, take a nice warm and rejuvenating shower, get five hours of sleep, go back to work and repeat.

The more you thought about your daily routine the more you realised how depressing it was, but what could you do? That job was the only one that was hiring and had average pay and things like that are rare, especially when you decided to live in the city which was your first mistake.

You were barely getting by in the city, the crime rate increased, there were more breaks in, pickpocketing and murder. But despite all of that you decided to rent an apartment where it was less populated, the rent in the heart of the city was way too high.

Pushing all those thoughts and information aside you let out a defeated sigh, leaning your head on the window as you continued to tap away on your phone.

If only life went just a little bit easier on you.

Everything was fine. The silence was comfortable and the low, soft rumble of the engine kept you awake, until a loud deafening crash jolted the bus, sending people flying and falling onto the ground.

Letting out a scream you grabbed onto whatever you could to keep you steady—the head of the chair in front of you. Although it didn't do a good job of keeping you still you couldn't care less, because as you lifted your head, your eyes caught something massive charging straight at you, and before you could react, a blinding light engulfed you, followed by an eerie silence.

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself tightly packed against something dark and rocky. Just great! Something had happened to the bus and knocked you out.

You looked around, it was pure blackness, like a void. Maybe this was what happened after death... Out of all things and especially the time too!

Feeling confused and scared you try to move your body to shift into a more comfortable position but due to the lack of space, you could barely even move an inch.

Suddenly, a crack was heard. And you froze.

Then another crack, and another, the darkness began to crack and splinter and not long after half of the egg-shaped looking ball broke in half as it fell to the side.

Shards of obsidian-like material fractured and scattered around. A large amount of dust, and shiny glitter-like specs flew everywhere, it was extremely dusty.

Unfortunately, you inhaled the smoke, coughing and sputtering, you waved their hand in front of your face, trying to dispel the particles as you squinted against the harsh light that slipped through the smoke.

As the dust settled and the steam dissipated, your surroundings gradually came into focus. You found yourself in front of... one, two, three, four, and... five.... wait.. what?

Right before you stood four male figures (with the other seemed to have a more feminine build), male figures that looked awfully familiar to you for some odd reason, just why was that?

You were confused and curious as you surveyed your surroundings, realizing that maybe this was death? You would've never guessed that "life" after death would look like this. It was very.... interesting.

The buildings that surrounded you were intricate and otherworldly. Dazzling celestial landscapes and luminescent structures piqued your interest as you slowly and carefully stepped out of what you assumed was a shell.

Its' architect and infrastructure reminded you of something, it seemed nostalgic—as if you've seen this exact building before. The more you observed and watched, your eyes tracing every precise curve and detail of the buildings your heart began to pick up its pace.

Your eyes searched every corner and inch, and finally, it landed back on the five figures you had spotted before and it wasn't until you caught sight of familiar faces that you were certain that you had to be hallucinating somehow after death.

There, standing in a circle, were figures that you could hardly believe were real: Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya. It was unmistakably them.

Their presence, their unmistakable aura of reverence, left you no doubt.

They watched you, their gazes filled with awe and admiration as if you were the embodiment of some long-awaited prophecy (and in this case, it was).

You were in disbelief. Disbelief that you had somehow been transported into the very game they were playing moments ago, but now they were tangible, real.

It was a long silence, it was both comfortable and uncomfortable with their longing gaze. You remained still as you checked around your surroundings once again before settling your eyes back on the group of people.

At your gaze they felt a shiver down their spine, and the hair on their skin stood up.

"W—Who are you guys?!" You yelled, narrowing your eyes to see if it was truly the characters from the game you adored.

Dan Heng's breath hitched at the sound of your booming voice, your voice... it was just like how they described what you would sound like in the carved stones and ancient scrolls.

The more he stared at you the more he wanted to come to you, to kneel down at your feet and profess how long he has been waiting for this moment.

With his eyes trained on your figure, he steps closer, Gepard notices and swiftly stops him from moving any further with his arm. Dan Heng looks to his side, confusion strewn on his face.

Not a single word was spoken yet with a stern gaze and the shake of a head, Dan Heng understood. Now was not the right time.

Minutes passed by in complete and utter silence, it unnerved you. Why were they so quiet? So watchful?

Finally, after what felt like hours, the silence was broken just with a couple words.

"We have been awaiting your arrival, Your Gracefulness."

note: after 5 months WOW. i've been so busy with things i haven't had the time to really sit down and work. I'm so sorry everyone!

tags 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @saltylovetale-blog @toramune @oreo-ren @backintomykpopphaseagain @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealmap @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanist @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcrow @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqq @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhhiwassup @youdontneedyoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @issacdarknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @obliviousariies2007 @coffee-seed

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

for those i've taged: if you do not want to tagged for hsr drop a comment or message me.

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

4K notes · View notes

yuujispinkhair · 4 months

Text

Sukuna showing you his love and appreciation on Mother's Day

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). fluff + smut. wc 2k

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (female receiving), creampie, praise, pregnancy. Reader and Sukuna already have a daughter together, and reader is pregnant with Sukuna's second baby. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear + @/qqmaiztwsse. This story can be read as part 2 of this baby daddy Sukuna story, but you don't have to read the first part.

You wake up to the mattress shifting under Sukuna's weight, as he is carefully untangling himself from you, trying not to wake you up. You blink sleepily and watch your husband get up, unable to tear your gaze away from Sukuna's broad, tattooed back and the way his buff muscles move when he stretches.

Of course, he catches you checking him out and smirks that typical charming smirk at you as you are about to sit up. But Sukuna is quicker. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek and pushes you gently back down on the pillow,

"Uh uh, no getting up yet. I still need time to prepare some things. Go back to sleep, darling. Happy Mother's Day."

You smile and snuggle back into your blanket, watching Sukuna getting dressed before he leaves the bedroom with one last look over his broad shoulder and an amused wink.

When you wake up the second time that morning, the lovely scent of coffee and freshly baked muffins drifts to your nose. And the loud chatter of your little daughter and Sukuna. You grin to yourself as you hear them in front of the bedroom door, arguing over who gets to wake you up.

"She is my mommy and not yours!"

"But she is my wife!"

"Oh, Daddy, don't be stupid! It's called Mother's Day, not Wife's Day!"

You hear Sukuna sigh dramatically, and you can practically see his amused grin and the way he rolls his beautiful maroon eyes in mock exasperation.

"Ok, ok, I will let you wake her up, princess. Do you have your present?"

The answer seems to be yes because a second later, the door gets pushed open, and your daughter runs over to the bed and jumps onto it, pushing the gift she made for you in kindergarten in your face: A painting with a heart and flowers and four figures, you, her, and Sukuna, and in your tummy little baby number two.

You thank her profusely, hugging her and letting her explain the painting to you when Sukuna joins you on the bed with a beautiful rose bouquet in his arms and a little gift bag from your favorite skincare brand.

You smile at your little princess and your husband, thanking them for the gifts and marveling at how similar they look. She has your eyes, but you can see her father's features in her pretty face, and when her lips lift in a grin, it is a 100% match to the grin that you love so much on Sukuna's face.

You lift your head to look at Sukuna, realizing that he is watching you and your daughter too. There is an unguarded, soft expression on his beautiful, tattooed face. An expression that makes your heart fill with tenderness for this tough man who is so good to you and your daughter.

A strong arm wraps around your waist at that moment, and Sukuna pulls you closer to him. And you cup his cheek and smile at him as he closes the small distance between you to kiss you, but not before he whispers, "Thank you."

The breakfast table is overflowing with things. The coffee and homemade muffins you already smelled, but also various sweet and savory treats from the bakery down the street. And flowers that your daughter picked this morning with her daddy in the park.

You smile as you imagine big, tall Sukuna with his intimidating tattoos and arrogant smirk, picking pretty flowers with his little daughter and the looks the two of them must have received from the grandmas taking their morning walk in the park.

You get up to help with the dishes after you're finished eating, but Sukuna sends a stern look your way, shaking his head,

"What do you think you are doing? Sit back down."

He points at his daughter,

"You stay here and make sure your mommy doesn't lift a single finger."

You laugh and lean back in your chair, taking another sip from the orange juice as you watch Sukuna do the dishes and clean the kitchen.

The three of you spend the rest of the day together, going on a long walk in the park. Your little one is running ahead while you and Sukuna stroll leisurely side by side, with his arm around your waist or you leaning against his side and holding onto his biceps.

You make a stop at an ice cream parlor, eat ice cream, and drink coffee afterward while your daughter plays on the playground in front of the little shop.

Before you know it, Sukuna has pulled you onto his lap. He holds you with one arm while he sips his coffee with the other and grins that boyish grin at you that always makes your pulse flutter, no matter how often you see it.

Sukuna's large hand is sprawled over your belly, where the swell of your baby bump is already visible. He caresses it absentmindedly, making you smile because you know how proud he is that you are pregnant with his second baby.

And right at that moment, a soft kiss lands on your shoulder, and Sukuna murmurs in a sexy low voice, only for you to hear,

"You are so beautiful, mommy."

When it's time to go home, your daughter, of course, complains loudly that she doesn't want to leave yet, but Sukuna just jogs over to her with a smirk, plucks her off the jungle gym with ease, and casually throws her over one shoulder.

You laugh when you see her kick her little legs and scream, only to realize a minute later that it's very comfortable to get carried by her daddy, and she stops struggling and instead slumps lazily onto her father's broad shoulder.

Sukuna's low laugh joins yours,

"You are acting like a sack of rice. Be careful I don't mix things up and accidentally make dinner out of you."

"Oh yeah? And you look like a strawberry with your pink hair. Be careful I don't make dessert out of you, Daddy!"

"Well, I would definitely make a great dessert! But I have to inform you that I am actually a full-course meal, young lady."

You burst out laughing again, affectionately ruffling your daughters and Sukuna's hair, thinking how similar they are not just in looks but also in their personalities.

Your daughter still refuses to walk on her own, but luckily, Sukuna is strong and doesn't even break a sweat while carrying her all the way home to your apartment. And you grin to yourself, knowing how loving Sukuna is when it comes to his little family. A strong and protective man who would do anything for you and your babies. Your little daughter has calmed down again, too, and snuggles against Sukuna, hugging his neck and almost falling asleep right there on her father's shoulder.

A few hours later, your apartment is quiet, with your daughter fast asleep in her room, and the lights dimmed.

And Sukuna and you have some time only for each other.

He pulls you into his strong arms, pressing his tall, firm body against yours, and kisses you thoroughly. Tender and deep kisses that make your knees weak.

And when your lips part, there is this tender expression on Sukuna's face that is only reserved for you.

"Thank you for all the love you give our little brat. And all the love you give me. Thank you for making this apartment a home. I never thought I would have a real home or a real family. But you gave me all that and I am so grateful for you. I love you, darling."

Sukuna swoops you up in his strong arms and carries you to your bedroom while you smile at him with tears in your eyes, telling him that you love him too, while you caress the short hair of his undercut, your heart feeling so full.

You lock the bedroom door and immediately begin to undress each other on your way over to the large bed. You moan at the feel of Sukuna's buff muscles under your hands, and he groans when he places you on the bed and lets his hungry gaze travel slowly over your naked body.

There were times when you felt insecure and ashamed at the thought of being so exposed to someone's gaze. But not anymore. With Sukuna, you feel desired, loved, and your body reacts to his loving gaze, your nipples hardening and your pussy wet and yearning for Sukuna's cock.

He leans over you, so tall and big but so loving. Sukuna always spoils you in bed, but especially tonight, on Mother's Day, the day that exists to show you his appreciation.

You are drowning in bliss as Sukuna's lips and tongue wander down your body slowly, loving you, worshipping the body of the woman he loves, the body of the mother of his children. He makes you feel sexy like no other man before him did, even with the changes your body went through after the first pregnancy and your current pregnancy.

You mewl softly when Sukuna plays with your sensitive breasts, which are already filling out more again due to the pregnancy hormones, cupping them with his large hands and sucking gently on your stiff nipples. His mouth wanders to your swollen belly, trailing kisses over the bump where his baby number two is growing.

Your hips buck needily when Sukuna pushes your legs apart and trails tender kisses over your inner thighs before he reaches his goal and slowly makes out with your swollen clit. Your heart is racing, your mind hazy as you give yourself to your husband completely, letting him pamper you and show you how grateful he is for you.

Your first orgasm that night is on Sukuna's tongue. Hot pleasure explodes inside you while your fingers twist in his pink hair and tug on it as you throw your head back and moan his name softly, shuddering on his velvety mouth as he licks and kisses you through your high.

The second one is on Sukuna's cock when he takes you with slow but deep thrusts while you lie on your side so it's comfortable for you with your baby bump. And Sukuna is behind you, his strong muscular arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you while he rolls his hips against you, fucking his long and thick cock deep into you.

Sukuna's face is buried in your neck, and you get blessed with hearing his sexy, low moans. One of his large hands is on your pregnant belly, while the other is between your legs, caressing tender circles around your clit. His lips brush over your neck, kissing you, moaning softly in utter bliss and devotion, and whispering to you how beautiful you are, how sexy, murmuring his praise and love to you in that sexy, hoarse voice that drives you crazy.

Sukuna's hand clamps over your mouth just in time for your orgasm, and you squeal into his large hand as you cum on his cock, twitching and clenching on him, milking his hot, sticky seed out of him, that he spills into you with a low, guttural moan.

You stay in that position afterward, cuddling while lying on your side, Sukuna hugging you tightly from behind, his thick cock still deep inside you.

You lazily trace the tattoos on Sukuna's wrists with one hand while your other hand reaches behind to tangle in Sukuna's soft pink hair as you turn your head to let him kiss you tenderly.

"You are so fucking beautiful. I might just make you a mommy again."

"I imagine that to be a bit hard when I am already very pregnant with your baby, Kuna."

And he laughs and kisses your shoulder, his smile evident in his voice,

"Doesn't mean I can't try."

HE IS SO 💗💗 Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed your time with Daddy Sukuna ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #tw pregnancy

5K notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year

Text

ADULT STORE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."

1.5k words

Pt. 2

Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)

Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈

Playme : wanna know what it's like?

The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.

The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.

"Yo."

Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.

He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.

"Ah, h-hello..."

He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.

"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.

"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."

Yeah, that's what I thought.

He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.

"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"

His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."

Aw, of course.

"M'kay... then let me assist you."

He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.

"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"

"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.

I know exactly what she needs...

"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."

His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.

Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.

"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"

Aw, she's flustered.

"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."

Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.

"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."

There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.

He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.

"This one's got ten functions—"

"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."

"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."

The two of you share a long look, then laugh.

"But it really is an excellent product."

"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.

"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."

I could make her squirt.

He's running his eyes up and down your body.

"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.

"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."

He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.

"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.

A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.

Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...

He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.

"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.

You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.

He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.

"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.

"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.

He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.

"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."

"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."

Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.

His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."

After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.

He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.

He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.

"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."

He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.

"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?

"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"

"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"

He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.

Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.

He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.

She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.

You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.

"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.

You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.

"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."

"Fuck, okay."

And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.

"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.

Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.

His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.

This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.

"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.

Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.

"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."

And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.

Please cum on my face. Please please please.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"

You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.

He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.

"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"

Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

17K notes · View notes

yanwonnies · 1 month

Text

ꜜ : 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ﹙ 엔하이픈 ! ﹚

↝ How ENHYPEN reacts when his cute member refuses/avoids their kisses?

⠇↴ Pairings: poly!ot7 x added member!reader ⠇↴ Words: 12.0K

Warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ suggestive (except for the ni-ki part), lots of kisses (again…),neck kisses, desperate!Heeseung, domestic!jay as well as possessive!jay, throat grabbing (p.js part), Special guest!Layla (s.jy part), Jealous!Jake, a little bit mean!sunghoon, allusion to shower sex (p.sh part), a little angst (k.sw part), soft comfort (k.sw part), changing in front of each other (k.sw part), a little insecure! Jungwon

Wonnie’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ Okay, honestly, after writing this, I can't stop thinking about Sunghoon's and sunoo's, they got me like 🫠🫠. ni-ki's one has me kicking my feet 🤭, I found it more cute than i imagined. Again, English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are misprints or if lose the sense in some parts. thank you very much for taking the time to read my work. ᵔᴗᵔ

𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘴 2024 © 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥.

˖ ࣪ › Lee Heeseung ー 이희승

In the studio's bustling dressing room, the members of ENHYPEN were preparing for their upcoming performance. The space, filled with bright lights and reflections, was permeated with an organized frenzy. Makeup artists and hair stylists, moved with precision, making sure every detail was perfect for the show.

Heeseung, sitting in a high chair in front of a mirror that reflected the buzz around him, watched everything with apparent calm. His face, transformed by flawless makeup, looked even more beautiful under the dressing room lights. A light touch of gloss on his lips made them stand out subtly but effectively, adding a touch of magic to his already captivating appearance.

As the team worked around him, Heeseung tried to keep his concentration on his own preparations, but his thoughts were constantly diverted by a presence he couldn't ignore. Out of all the movements and conversations, your lips, glistening with lip gloss, captured his full attention. It was a fleeting flash at first, but quickly became a fixation.

Your lips glistened under the dressing room lights, reflecting each beam with a tantalizing sparkle. It was as if every particle of glitter was designed to catch Heeseung's gaze. The colors seemed to change with every little movement you made, from a subtle pink to an almost silvery sparkle, creating mesmerizing highlights and shadows.

Heeseung felt time slow down as his eyes followed every movement of your lips. His focus was narrowed solely on that small but fascinating part of you. Every time you moved your mouth slightly, Heeseung felt an almost magnetic attraction. It was as if those lips were a magnet, and he couldn't help but be drawn to them.

Then, when the team of stylists and makeup artists were distracted for a moment, Heeseung saw his chance. With deliberately leisurely movements, he rose from his chair. He approached you with calculated slowness, avoiding making as little noise as possible, as if every step had to be measured and perfect. When he reached your side, he carefully positioned himself behind you.

His presence was unmistakably warm and comforting. The proximity of his body, the warmth emanating from him, was a refuge amidst the chaos of the dressing room. With an almost reverent gentleness, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you from behind. The embrace, though unexpected, was a mixture of tenderness and protection that seemed to offer a brief respite in the maelstrom that surrounded you.

Feeling him close, you raised a hand and gently caressed his head. Your fingernails gently brushed his hair. Slowly moving your head, you turned to look at him. His eyes, which were normally serene, were now filled with hunger. Looking at you with intensity, he tried to move even closer, his lips just inches from yours. The tension in the air was almost palpable, charged with the promise of forbidden contact.

But before his lips could touch yours, you gently pulled away, a smile full of tenderness and concern on your face. -We can't -you whispered, your words a soft murmur that only he could hear -You're going to ruin the makeup, and stylist-unnie is going to be mad

Heeseung pouted, his expression changing to one of obvious disappointment and moodiness. With a resigned sigh, he turned away from you, crossing his arms and shooting you furtive glances as he plopped down in a nearby chair. At that moment, Ni-ki, came over to you and settled into your lap. Ni-ki's body, much bigger than yours, was surprisingly warm and comforting, especially when he felt half asleep. You smiled at the scene and began to stroke his hair tenderly. As your fingers moved gently through his hair, he seemed to relax even more, enjoying this small indulgence.

In the midst of this peaceful scene, Heeseung, who had been at a distance, shared a glance with you. However, his attention again was not on your face, but on your lips.

You smiled softly, a gesture that conveyed a mixture of complicity and affection. Without looking away, you sent a small flying kiss across the room. The gesture, though simple, was charged with a cuteness that seemed to cross the distance between you with delightful efficiency.

Heeseung, picking up on the subtlety of the gesture, experienced a visible reaction. His face became tinged with a subtle blush, a change that contrasted sharply with his usual confidence. His skin, normally so controlled, now showed a slight redness extending from his cheeks to the base of his ears. He looked away with an almost imperceptible movement, his eyes trying to escape eye contact, seeking refuge on the dressing room floor.

Later, after a successful performance, Heeseung didn't waste a second. Taking you by the hand with palpable determination, he dragged you into a small cleaning room nearby. He closed the door behind you with a dry click, isolating you in the gloom of the room.

Without a word, he moved in quickly and pushed you gently against the wall. The contact was immediate and enveloping; the coldness of the wall against your back contrasted with the warmth of his body. The proximity was so intense that the air between you seemed charged with electricity.

His lips met yours in a desperate kiss. The pressure of his grip was firm, almost as if he was trying to melt into you. You felt the warmth of his body through the fabric of your clothes, a sensation that enveloped you completely.

Your hand instinctively slid to his neck and jaw. You sought support in the solidity of her figure, your fingers finding an anchor in a warm, firm skin. As you clung to him, you felt the racing rhythm of his heart. Heeseung's tongue joined the contact, exploring with an urgency that spoke of pent-up desires built up all day.

The warmth of his breath, the wetness of his lips, and the pressure of his hands on your body created a heady combination that left you breathless.

Finally, when the two separated, the air in the room felt lighter, though charged with a residual energy. As they returned to the dressing room, the contrast between the intimacy of the small room and the noise of the dressing room was palpable. The gazes of the other ENHYPEN members rested on you with a mixture of curiosity and complicity. Heeseung, now beaming, wore a satisfied smile that lit up his face. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and triumph, a reflection of the intensity of the moment he had just shared.

You, on the other hand, the blush on your cheeks still lingered, and your lips, slightly swollen from the fiery encounter, gave you an air of vulnerability that you couldn't hide. The other members of the group exchanged complicit glances, knowing without words what had happened in that small cleaning room.

˖ ࣪ › Park Jongseong ー 박종성

Jay woke up slowly, slipping into a pleasant sluggishness after a long tour. The feeling of rest spread through every corner of his body, like a warm embrace that refused to let go. His eyelids slowly lifted, allowing the first glimmers of morning light to filter through the curtains, bathing the room in a faint golden luminosity.

With a lazy movement, his hand sought the familiar warmth beside him, but touched only the cold loneliness of the empty sheets. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips, a low sound that was lost in the morning silence. Jay slowly sat up, stretching his aching body and calmly waking up before pulling on a crumpled shirt he had left on the floor.

The first impulse was to find you, the need to see your face and feel your closeness.

As he left his room, his steps were soft and cautious. The kitchen, normally a place of morning calm, was filled with soft murmurs and unusual warmth. Jay approached with stealth, his steps light and his movements measured. As he peeked through the doorway, the outside world seemed to fade away, and all that remained was the scene unfolding in front of him.

There you were, in the center of the kitchen, wrapped in Jay's huge shirt that fit you like an overflowing dress. The fabric moved gracefully around your figure, accentuating your presence in a lovely way. Your hair fell freely over your shoulders, a few strands framing your face with a natural softness.

Jungwon was hugging you from behind, his arms wrapping around you with palpable softness. He was so close to you that he seemed to melt into your body. His movements were slow and synchronized, as if he was adjusting to your every move. Your back was pressed against his chest, and you moved with him like a koala clinging to a tree.

Your every little movement was accompanied by Jungwon's slight adjustment, his arms wrapped lovingly around you. His face, partially hidden in the hollow of your neck, showed an expression of serenity and contentment. Jungwon's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be immersed in a kind of deep calm, enjoying the intimate moment.

As you moved about, concentrating on preparing something in the kitchen, the sensation of his body so close to you was a constant reminder of his presence.

The image of you, wrapped in his shirt and embraced so affectionately by Jungwon, filled his heart with a mixture of emotions, he stood there, at the threshold of the kitchen, allowing the moment to be etched in his memory.

Suddenly, Jungwon, noticing Jay's presence, raised his head and slowly turned around -Hyung -he said in a soft, friendly voice. His eyes sparkled with a spark of joy.

Your attention was redirected to Jay as you heard the greeting, and as you turned, your warm, genuine smile made Jay feel even more caught up in the moment. That smile, so pure and sincere, lighting up your face in a way that made Jay's heart beat faster.

Jay watched you closely, appreciating every detail with almost reverent attention.

-Would you like some toast? -you asked, interrupting Jay's moment of admiration with a simple, everyday offer. Jay nodded, his gaze still fixed on you as he watched you fondly.

Jungwon, with a playful smile and a glint of mischief in his eyes, leaned toward you and gave you a kiss on the cheek before rising to find the others.

Seizing the opportunity, Jay rose from the table, his movements deliberate and laden with intent. Every step he took towards you was filled with desire and a certain need to be close, to wrap you in his own hug. He walked slowly, almost as if every second stretched, building anticipation in his chest.

When he reached your side, he wrapped his arms around you. His hands, firm but gentle, were placed on your waist, feeling the warmth of your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. His touch was a constant reminder of his presence, of his desire to be near you.

The rhythm of your breathing synchronized with his, creating a bubble of calm and affection between you. Jay's proximity made you feel more aware of every little detail: the soft breath on your neck, the steady beat of his heart against your back, the way his fingers traced slow circles on your skin.

You looked at him for a few seconds, your eyes searching his, finding in them a mixture of desire and affection that made you feel even closer to him. Jay fixed his gaze on your lips, his deep dark eyes reflecting an intensity that seemed almost palpable. A mischievous smile looming on your face, playing with the anticipation of the moment.

Suddenly, when Jay leaned in to kiss you, you pulled away just in time, causing him to only press a kiss to your cheek. The fleeting contact of his lips on your skin left a warm, slightly tingling sensation spreading across your face. The surprise in his eyes quickly turned into a warning look.

-T/N -he said, his voice low and gravelly, each syllable delivered with an intensity that made you shiver. The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes never left yours, his expression filled with a mixture of lust and playful warning.

You watched his expression with feigned innocence, your lips curving into a slight smile as you cocked your head to one side, as if you didn't really understand what was going on. -What…? -You asked, your voice soft and curious, though your eyes sparkled with mischief.

With a quick, decisive movement, his hand moved to your neck, wrapping around it firmly, but without becoming rough. The touch of his hand was a combination of softness and authority, a clear message of his desire to control the moment. You felt the pressure of his fingers on your skin, sending a current of excitement through your body.

With a gentle but firm tug, Jay pulled you to him, eliminating any space between your bodies. The force of his action left you breathless for a moment, your heart beating frantically in your chest. Jay tilted his head and captured your lips in a fierce kiss. His lips moved with an urgency that spoke of a repressed urge, a need to reclaim what he considered his own. The kiss was deep, your mouth demanding an immediate response. You felt the force of his passion in every movement, his tongue invading your mouth with a possessive familiarity.

Jay's hand on your neck kept his pressure on, controlling your movements and making sure you couldn't escape. The intensity of his kiss left you dizzy, your hands instinctively clinging to his shirt, searching for some sort of stability.

Finally, when the air became necessary, Jay pulled away slightly, his eyes still full of desire and a satisfied smile curving his lips. He looked down at you, enjoying the reaction he had provoked in you. His fingers were still gently brushing your neck, maintaining that intimate, electrifying contact. The skin on your neck burned under his touch, and you could feel the racing beat of your own heart echoing in your ears.

His warm breath caressed your skin as he murmured defiantly -Don't play with me, T/N.

Jay released his grip gently, allowing your neck to regain its freedom. Then, he calmly pulled away and sat back down at the table, his expression affirming that he had won a small victory at your own game.

˖ ࣪ › Sim Jaeyun ー 심재윤

The band members were immersed in their rehearsal, the sound of their footsteps and the synchronization of their movements creating an energetic and almost hypnotic choreography. The lights cast reflections on their concentrated faces, and sweat glistened on their foreheads as they worked their hardest.

At that moment, the door to the hall opened with an unusual creak, breaking the frantic pace of the rehearsal. The band members, used to the routine, looked up distractedly, but the real impact of the interruption came in the form of a small golden whirlwind. Layla, Jake's beloved Golden Retriever, made her triumphant entrance, her paws wagging with playful grace and her tail waving like a banner of overflowing happiness.

Time seemed to slow down for Jake as soon as he saw Layla. The impact of the sight of his loyal pet, her eyes shining and her body shaking with excitement, was so powerful that Jake froze for a brief second. On his face was a look of astonishment that soon turned into a smile of pure happiness.

Layla, detecting Jake's gaze, let out a joyful bark and her paws rushed in his direction, moving with a speed that only dogs can achieve in a state of euphoria. Jake knelt on the ground, opening his arms to receive his furry friend's affection, and Layla leapt toward him with infectious enthusiasm. The love in his eyes was evident, and he whispered loving words as he scratched behind her ears, causing Layla to wag her tail even faster.

In a corner of the room, you were resting next to Sunoo, who had found a corner on the floor to relax after an intense session. You had made yourself comfortable on the floor with Sunoo's head resting on your stomach, the warmth and quiet of the moment providing a needed respite. Sunoo had closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the calm, while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the contrast between the softness of his hair and the firmness of his body.

The cameraman, stationed in a nearby corner, was capturing the authentic essence of the band's rehearsals and daily life. However, upon seeing Layla appear, he couldn't help but capture the scene with an intrigued look. Both you and Sunoo noticed the change in the atmosphere. The sound of Layla's barking filled the room, and you both stood up at the same time, drawn by the pet's vibrant presence.

Layla ran toward you, her paws pounding the floor with a frantic rhythm. When she reached your side, she pounced on you with uncontrollable exuberance, her eyes shining with happiness.

Her licks were so fast and abundant that your face was soon covered with her wet affection. His paws stretched across your chest made you feel his light but joyful weight, and you couldn't help but laugh with that infectious laughter that seems to come from deep within the heart when one is surrounded by unconditional love. The sound of your laughter mingled with the laughter and shouts of the other band members, who, seeing the scene, joined in the chorus of joy.

Jake, who watched the scene with a mixture of fondness and concern, quickly approached you. With an affectionate but determined gesture, he tried to pull Layla away from you, concerned about the dog's overflowing enthusiasm. His hands moved carefully, seeking to balance Layla's affectionate invasion with the need to allow you to breathe and recover from the barrage of licking.

As Layla continued to insist on her display of affection, Sunghoon came over and, with an amusement-filled smile, helped you up from the floor. The scene was charged with a joyful energy, and Sunghoon's face reflected genuine amusement as he extended a hand to help you to your feet. The atmosphere in the room had transformed into a spontaneous party, with Layla performing her new role as your personal bodyguard with a dedication that bordered on the comical.

Jake, with a sigh of relief and a hint of resignation, watched Layla as she settled in next to you during breaks. He watched as Layla moved next to you with such intense fidelity that, at times, it seemed almost comical. Every time you got up or moved, Layla would get up too, wagging her tail with a mixture of enthusiasm and vigilance, as if she were your personal guardian of your every move.

From the first meeting between you and Layla, the dog had demonstrated a surprising level of protectiveness and territoriality. Whenever Jake approached for a kiss, Layla seemed to detect the intent immediately. The dog would rise with a quickness that surprised, moving between Jake and you with a playful but determined energy. Before Jake could touch your lips, Layla would intervene with an enthusiastic leap, placing her muzzle between you.

The scene repeated itself with increasing frequency, and each attempt by Jake became a kind of game between him and Layla. Jake's patience was wearing thin with each new canine kiss, and his face wore an expression that combined amusement with mild exasperation.

Finally, after two days of this unusual and comical dynamic, it was time to say goodbye. Layla had to return to Australia, and the atmosphere in the room was permeated with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. The ENHYPEN members approached the dog, petting her and bidding her a fond farewell. Jake, with a fond expression and a hint of sadness in his eyes, watched as Layla slowly walked away. The dog looked back one more time before leaving, her eyes reflecting a gleam that seemed to understand the importance of the moment.

As soon as Layla walked through the door, Jake turned to you with determination. The expression on his face was a mixture of relief and lust. Without wasting any time, he took your hand with a firmness that conveyed urgency. He guided you through the hallway with quick steps, his grip on your hand revealing a mixture of anxiousness and a need to be alone with you.

When you reached your room, the door closed with a click that echoed in the air, creating an intimate and private atmosphere. His hands, firm but loving, rested on your waist, wrapping around it with a strength that made you feel his wish to hold you close. His fingers sank into the softness of your skin, pressing you against him with a passion that made you feel his warmth and his need.

He kissed you with a desperation that seemed to release all the emotion built up over the previous days. His lips found yours with an intensity that spoke of a need to connect deeply with you. Each kiss was an expression of the need to rediscover each other without interruption.

He laid you down on the bed with a mixture of intensity and care, each movement charged with pent-up emotion. His legs tangled with yours as he leaned over you, his hands still firmly gripping your waist, as if he feared you might vanish if he moved an inch away. The sensation of being gently imprisoned against him, his chest against yours, his hands on your waist, enveloped you in a wave of warmth.

When he finally broke away, the difference between the fiery passion of his kiss and the frustration that still showed on his face made you laugh. The sound of your laughter was a mixture of relief and amusement, and the contrast between the fervor of his kiss and the blush on his cheeks was comical to you. Jake, flushed and with an expression of curiosity and mild annoyance, looked at you and asked with a touch of disbelief -Why are you laughing?

You, with a playful smile on your lips, answered him with a mischievous twinkle in your eye

-I can't believe you're jealous of your own pet.

Jake's face reddened even more, a mixture of embarrassment and affection in his eyes. With a sigh of surrender and a smile, he buried his face in your neck, leaving a trail of wet, smoldering kisses. His lips moved slowly and deliberately, each kiss on your skin was like a fiery caress that ignited a wave of pleasure. His lips explored every nook and cranny of your neck, from the base to behind your ear.

-My pet tried to steal my girlfriend.

As Jake continued to fill your neck with soft kisses, you fiddled with his hair, feeling the silky texture of his locks between your fingers. His warm breath and gentle nibbles on your skin created an electrifying sensation that spread throughout your body. The small moans of pleasure that escaped your lips were absorbed by Jake's lips, their close, burning contact stoking the desire that had been building for days.

˖ ࣪ › Park Sunghoon ー 박성훈

The living room was immersed in a deep silence, a haven of calm in the daily routine. The wall clock, with its constant ticking, marked the hour when the house was usually in its most serene state. The atmosphere was peaceful, barely disturbed by the soft murmur of the television, which cast a warm light over the space, accentuating the tranquility of the evening. At that moment, the only inhabitant in the apartment was you, enjoying the solitude and quiet while the others were busy fulfilling their commitments.

You were on the sofa, sinking into its soft cushions, immersed in your thoughts. Each time the clock ticked another minute, it seemed that the silence deepened, enveloping the room in an almost palpable sense of peace. The corner you had settled into felt like a little haven where you could disconnect from the constant activity that normally surrounded your life.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence of the room. The entrance made its presence known with a slight creak, and the echo of the door closing quickly faded into the air. You curiously sat up from your position on the couch, your mind anticipating the arrival of Heeseung, who should be returning from one of our long recording sessions.

Instead of him, it was Sunghoon who stood there, an unexpected change to the usual picture. Sunghoon appeared with a remarkable presence; his defined muscles were taut and glistening in the soft light of the foyer, giving him an almost heroic air in his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants that clung to his athletic figure, accentuating the firmness of his posture. The fabric of the absorbent material was slightly clinging to his skin, revealing the traces of his recent workout.

The intensity of his training was reflected in the slight panting he still dragged with him, and his breathing, though regular, seemed to carry an intensity you had learned to recognize.

Sunghoon, noticing your gaze, could not help but smile with a mixture of satisfaction and mischief. His smile, which started at the corners of his lips and spread to light up his eyes, was a reflection of the amusement he felt at seeing your reaction.

He advanced towards you with firm, determined steps. You knew exactly what he was going to do, and the familiarity of his actions only heightened the anticipation you felt.

You tried to deflect the situation with a warning tone that, despite its serious intent, was far from convincing. -Don't do it -you told him. The warning tone was almost a game in itself.

Sunghoon, with his expression of feigned innocence, arched an eyebrow in a gesture that only accentuated his mischievous smile. -What shouldn't I do? -he asked, his voice soft and teasing. The question was clearly meant to prolong the game, and his naughty smirk was a clear indication that he already knew the answer to his own question. His gaze did not leave yours, and you could see in his eyes the spark of amusement that lit up his face.

Sunghoon moved with a speed that surprised you, and in an instant, you found yourself caught in his arms. The force with which he enveloped you was firm and sure, preventing any possibility of escape. The contact of his hardened abdomen against you was unavoidable, and every tense muscle was felt through the fabric of his sport shirt. The intensity of the workout was reflected in the feel of his skin, which, though still warm from exertion, was moist and slippery.

You tried to move, twisting and writhing, trying to free yourself from his tight embrace. The texture of his sweaty skin under your hands and the firmness of his grip made your movements limited. Each attempt at release only seemed to tighten the embrace, and the heat built up between you became increasingly noticeable. Despite your efforts, you couldn't help but feel the security and comfort that came with close contact.

Finally, you surrendered to the inevitable reality of the moment. The struggle to free yourself faded into an acceptance of his embrace, and you allowed him to settle against you. Sunghoon, aware of your surrender, adjusted his position with a mixture of softness and satisfaction. His movements were smooth and meticulous, as if each adjustment was designed to maximize your comfort, despite the lingering wetness of his skin.

As he settled in, Sunghoon leaned toward you. The sound of his breath on your neck, combined with the warmth of his skin, created a sense of intimacy that was hard to ignore. His face, buried in the hollow of your neck, seemed to seek refuge in you, and the sweat on his skin mingled with the warmth of your own body.

Despite your discomfort, there was something undeniably tender in Sunghoon's gesture. The closeness and the way he clung to you, the warmth of his body and the faint scent of sweat he left in the air.

The contrast between the sweat and the warmth of his skin, along with the softness of his hug, created an enveloping atmosphere.

Sunghoon, feeling the need to assess the situation, stepped back slightly. His eyes softened, and a tender smile appeared on his lips as he saw how adorable you looked at that moment. The look on his face reflected a mixture of affection and amusement, and he leaned toward you, bringing his lips close to yours with the intention of kissing you. However, you dodged the contact, turning your head slightly away.

-You don't deserve it -you said, trying to maintain a tone of indignation.

Sunghoon, with a derisive chuckle escaping his lips, was not deterred by your evasion. Without warning, he pressed you against the wall of his room with a nimble and decisive movement. The action was swift, and before you could react, his legs were placed between yours, pulling you even closer to him. The brush of his body against yours, combined with the firmness of his grip, created a sense of closeness that was hard to ignore.

He leaned into you, and the brush of his lips against your neck was delicate, but loaded with intentionality. His breathing, deep and rhythmic, became more noticeable as he drew closer. The soft kiss on your neck was a light caress, his mouth moving deftly along your skin, exploring every sensitive nook and cranny with a precision that made you shiver.

The brush of his lips, though gentle, was effective in provoking a response in your body, causing an involuntary tremor to spread from the point of contact to the rest of your skin. The combination of the warmth of his body and the moist touch of his breath created a sensory experience that was hard to ignore.

-Sunghoon… don't mark-s -you said in a shaky whisper, trying to maintain a semblance of seriousness as you felt the effect of his caresses. The tone in your voice, though laden with warning, failed to hide the pleasure you were experiencing.

Sunghoon, with a playful expression on his face, decided to intensify the game. He gently pinched your waist, a movement that, though slight, caused a gasp to escape your lips. The pinch, unexpected and sudden, was enough to make you shiver, and your body reacted instantly to the surprise. The mixture of pain and pleasure set off a series of chain reactions, increasing the closeness between the two of you.

Taking advantage of the moment when your body tensed and you gave in to gasping, Sunghoon leaned even closer to you. His lips found yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly became more intense. The intensity of his kisses was palpable; his lips moved with an urgency and hunger that left no doubt about the desire he felt, a combination that was impossible to ignore.

Every movement of his tongue against yours seemed to be a declaration of his desires, and you, between whispers and moans, surrendered to the experience with submission. His hands, still firmly positioned on your waist, guided you toward the bathroom.

Sunghoon moved with smooth determination, never stopping kissing you for an instant. The bathroom door closed with a soft click behind you, plunging you into an even more intimate space. The room was illuminated by a soft light, creating a cozy and private atmosphere.

With a fluid gesture, Sunghoon turned on the shower faucet, and the hot water began to fill the space with an enveloping steam. The temperature of the water, combined with the gathering steam, created a warm, moist atmosphere that enveloped their bodies. Sunghoon, without taking his eyes off you, began to strip off your clothes, his movements slow and careful while his lips still sought yours in a lingering kiss.

˖ ࣪ › Kim Seonwoo ー 김선우

The drive back to the dormitories was quiet, with the sound of the car's engine being the only background noise. The night sky was clear, revealing a blanket of stars twinkling softly above the moving vehicle. Street lamps dimly illuminated the deserted streets, casting long, eerie shadows that danced to the rhythm of the car's lights. The interior of the vehicle was warm and comfortable, providing a cozy shelter from the cold breeze of the night outside.

Ni-ki, his young energy already spent, rested with his face buried in your neck. You felt his soft, rhythmic breathing, a warm whisper against your skin. His soft hair tickled your neck with every little movement. Ni-ki's arms, despite his drowsiness, clung lightly to you. With every little bump in the road, his body would instinctively adjust, snuggling closer and seeking an even more comfortable position.

Sunoo, on the other hand, snuggled into your lap, his light weight and slender body fitting snugly against yours. Her hair, silky and fine, slipped through your fingers as you played with it. You felt the softness of his hair, creating a soothing sensation that helped you calm your own restless thoughts.

Concern for Sunoo kept nagging at the back of your mind. All day long you had noticed his tiredness and distraction. You watched every little gesture, every slow blink and every sigh, trying to decipher what could be going through his mind. You saw the tension in his shoulders and the slight dullness in his eyes that indicated his exhaustion.

The dim light from inside the car illuminated his face, revealing his delicate features and the tranquility that could only be experienced in sleep. You decided not to move until the cart finally stopped at the apartment complex, wanting to prolong that moment of peace and connection with the two maknaes.

Finally, the car arrived at its destination. The engine was turned off and the silence grew even deeper. You woke the two maknaes gently, whispering their names and stroking their cheeks so they would slowly wake up. Ni-ki woke slowly, his eyes still half closed, blinking heavily against the soft light inside the carriage. Sunoo moved lazily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stretching like a small cat, letting out a tired sigh.

Everyone got out of the vehicle and you felt Heeseung put his arm around you, providing support and a touch of warmth in the cold night. The cool night air snuck in through the open spaces, making you snuggle a little more into his embrace. The managers waved goodbye to you with a smile and a nod of approval, as you headed inside the building. As you went upstairs, the silence remained, only interrupted by the soft hum of the elevator slowly ascending.

Each floor you passed increased the sense of calm and the accumulated exhaustion of the day seemed to settle even more on your shoulders.

The elevator stopped with a slight clink and the doors slowly opened. Arriving at Jake, Sunoo and Jungwon's floor, you turned to Sunghoon, who was watching the maknaes with concern.

-Sunghoon, can I stay with the maknaes tonight? -Your voice was a whisper that barely broke the silence of the hallway.

Sunghoon looked at you with surprise at first, then his expression softened in understanding. His eyes reflected slight curiosity and concern as he replied.

-Sure, but may I know why, are you okay? -He asked, his tone showing a mixture of genuine concern and a need to understand.

You turned to Sunoo, who looked just as tired, if not worse, than he did at the end of the recordings that afternoon. His eyes were dull, and his posture betrayed a deep exhaustion that seemed to sink his shoulders downward. His movements were slow and heavy, as if each step cost him monumental effort.

-I'm worried about Sunoo, and I want to take care of him tonight -you replied.

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his gaze shifting from you to Sunoo and then back to you. His lips formed a small sympathetic smile as he looked at the young man intently, recognizing the need for your request.

The soft glow of the lights illuminated everyone's tired faces. You said goodbye to Heeseung with a soft kiss on the mouth, feeling the warmth in his gesture, a silent promise to be there for you.

You did the same with Sunghoon, who kissed you back with a quiet smile. His lips were warm and soft, and the kiss was a mutual comfort. Jay also received a kiss on the lips, his hand clasped briefly around yours in a gesture of silent support.

When you reached Ni-ki, who could barely keep his eyes open, you kissed him on the cheek and caressed him tenderly. His skin was warm under your lips and his breathing was slow and heavy with exhaustion. The brush of your fingers on his cheek brought a slight smile to his face before his eyes closed again.

Jake was waiting for you outside the elevator, his tall, comforting figure standing out in the dimly lit hallway. He took your hand with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual strength. His hand was firm but gentle, conveying a sense of security.

As you entered the apartment, the atmosphere was calm and orderly. Jungwon, who had been conversing quietly with Jake in the hallway, approached you with a genuine smile and gave you a kiss on the lips. It was a brief gesture but full of affection, his lips were soft and warm.

Jake wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. His arms were strong and protective, the embrace was brief but intensely warm, his lips touching yours in a soft kiss that left a trace of warmth on your skin.

You approached Sunoo, who was in the kitchen, leaning on the table with a glass of water in his hand. His posture looked tired, and his skin paled slightly under the kitchen light. Touching his face with a gentle hand, you felt the warmth of his skin, and he slowly opened his eyes. Fatigue was clearly visible in his expression, but at the sight of you, a faint smile appeared on his lips. That smile, though faint, gave you a breath of relief; at least he didn't seem to have a fever, and that reassured you.

-Should we go to bed? -you asked softly, the concern in your eyes evident, but your tone was calm and comforting.

Sunoo nodded slightly, his hand taking yours with a delicacy that reflected his exhaustion. Together, you walked towards your room, the floor of the apartment creaking softly under your footsteps, echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

They entered his room, a space decorated in a simple but cozy style.

You told Sunoo that he needed to change to sleep. Though he groaned with a slight sigh, he walked to his drawer. The movement of his legs was leisurely and fatigued, and his posture clearly reflected the accumulated fatigue. He opened the drawer with a trembling hand and began to search through his collection of comfortable clothes.

Meanwhile, you stood near the bed, watching Sunoo rummage through her clothes. The room was shrouded in dim light, which came from a table lamp in the corner, creating a warm, soft glow that accentuated the quiet atmosphere. The soft hum of the heater in the background added an additional layer of comfort to the space.

Sunoo stopped and asked you in a faint voice -Why don't you change?

-I wasn't really planning to stay with you, so I don't have pajamas -you admitted, a little flushed by the confession.

He returned to his drawer and, with a deliberate movement, offered you one of his shirts. The garment was obviously large for you, its long sleeves and loose-fitting fabric contrasting with your figure. The shirt was made of a soft, comfortable material, and had a familiar scent that made you feel even closer to him.

-You can wear this -Sunoo said, his voice had a soft tone, full of care and a hint of concern for your well-being.

Sunoo's scent intensified as you wrapped yourself in the garment, filling you with a sense of comfort and closeness.

Sunoo, watched you with a gaze that combined admiration and affection. His eyes followed your every move, and he couldn't help but break the silence with a voice full of sincerity.

-You're beautiful -Sunoo said, his words floating in the air with a soft tone full of affection.

You blushed at the compliment, warmth spreading across your cheeks as you turned to him.

-Thank you -you said, your voice a whisper full of gratitude.

You approached him with a gentle, attentive manner, your movements careful and deliberate, as if you wanted to make sure you didn't invade his personal space.

-Do you want me to wash your face? -you asked in a soft tone of voice, almost like a whisper, your eyes fixed on his with an expression of sincere care.

Sunoo nodded slowly, his eyes already heavy with fatigue. He settled himself near the sink, allowing you to approach with all the attention you offered him. The mood in the bathroom was serene, with the warm light creating a play of soft shadows on her fatigued features. You immediately sprang into action.

You began to wet a small towel with warm water, the sound of dripping water the only noise that broke the still silence. With delicate movements, you began to clean Sunoo's face, who, half asleep, was enjoying your gentle massage on his skin.

His arms were wrapped around you with a strength that, although relaxed, conveyed a sense of security.

Your fingers moved in small, meticulous circles, gently massaging his cheeks and forehead. Sunoo relaxed under your touch, his eyelids slowly closing and his lips curving into a contented expression. He opened his eyes from time to time to look at your face, completely focused on the care you were giving him.

When your eyes finally met his, Sunoo raised a hand slowly, touching your cheek tenderly. His touch was subtle, but it was full of affection. His hand was warm and his touch, though light, was firm in its gratitude. He drew you to him gently, as if he wanted to make sure you were as close as possible. The pressure of his arms around your waist did not slacken, keeping you immobilized.

Carefully, you finished wiping the soap residue from his face. The soft towel moved easily over his skin, encircled by his firmly secured arms. Finally, after completely drying his face, Sunoo looked up at you with an expression of sincere thanks. His voice, laden with a sleepy, loving tone, broke the silence.

-Give me a kiss -Sunoo asked in a low, melodic voice, a request that combined tenderness and a touch of neediness.

You approached him with a warm smile and kissed his forehead gently.

-Not there, noona… -he complained with a slight pout on his lips.

You smiled at his complaint, the play on words and the childish gesture gave him an adorable air. You slowly moved down to kiss both of his cheeks, the contact was soft and affectionate. Each kiss was a light caress on his tired skin, and you felt the tension in his face begin to relax under your touch.

However, Sunoo seemed to lose patience.

In a decisive, passionate move, he lifted you up and placed you on the countertop of the bathroom sink. The cool surface of the sink contrasted with the warmth of your body, creating an intriguing and electrifying sensation.

Once you were seated on the countertop, Sunoo positioned himself between your legs. He kissed you with an intensity that took you by surprise. The kiss was urgent, his lips pressed against yours with a palpable need. His hands moved firmly around your waist, pressing you even more against him and creating a physical connection that seemed unbreakable.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, feeling the muscle tense under the fabric of his shirt. The strength of his grip enveloped you in a sense of security, and the closeness between you was almost overwhelming.

Sunoo, with a purposeful movement, guided your legs around his tiny waist, making sure you were completely connected to him. The way his hands moved across your body was firm but full of care, each gesture conveying a mixture of desire and protectiveness. His hands were positioned just below where your ass began, offering solid support as he carried you in his arms towards the bed.

The sensation of being carried by him was both comforting and exciting. His steps were sure as he made his way to the bed, and the contact of his body with yours was a constant source of warmth and closeness. He gently settled you on the bed, lowering you gently onto the mattress with reverent care.

Sunoo broke the kiss and looked at you with an expression of deep affection. his eyes, searching yours, and the silence between you was filled with a quiet but powerful connection. The light in the room went out, plunging the room into a warm, cozy gloom.

He got into bed next to you, his movements gentle but sure, as if he wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable and tucked in. His arm went around you, and he placed his face in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin was comforting.

As you settled into the bed, your hands began to gently play with his hair. Each caress was a delicate and loving gesture, moving your fingers slowly through her silky locks. The touch of your hands in his hair was comforting to both you and him, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and closeness.

Sunoo snuggled closer, his breaths becoming deeper and more regular as he settled into the bed. His body was completely relaxed against yours, and the warmth of his embrace enveloped you in a sense of security and peace. The gentle rhythm of his breaths on your neck helped you relax, and the closeness between you created a perfect space to rest.

˖ ࣪ › Yang Jungwon ー 양정원

The studio was meticulously prepared for the occasion, lit with bright lights that reflected a vibrant and welcoming atmosphere. The décor was reminiscent of a traditional classroom, with desks, chairs and various school supplies arranged in an orderly fashion. The atmosphere was designed to make conversation flow naturally, as if it were a casual conversation between classmates.

You and Jungwon were seated at a table in the center of the set. You were both wearing student uniforms, the attire evoking a youthful and fresh image. When you sat down at the desk, Jungwon noticed that there was nothing to cover your legs. With a thoughtful gesture, he asked for a blanket to be brought to you, wanting to make sure you would be comfortable during the recording.

The MC, a friendly young man about the same age as you, led the conversation with enthusiasm and curiosity. His questions focused on both of your school experiences, exploring topics such as favorite subjects and funniest anecdotes from your time at school.

Whenever the MC spoke to you, his eyes sparkled with a mixture of interest and admiration. It was evident that he found you a source of fascination, and this behavior did not go unnoticed by Jungwon. His jaw visibly tensed, and a shadow of concern darkened his gaze. The situation was becoming increasingly palpable to him, as he watched the MC become more and more attentive and dedicated in his conversation with you.

The MC, seeking to add a touch of familiarity to the conversation, proposed an idea. With a friendly smile and a casual tone, he said - Should we ever go out for a meal and a drink together? That would be fun, don't you think?"

Your reaction was immediate. You laughed sheepishly, feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. You looked at the MC with a soft smile and replied -Sure, that would be fun someday -Although your response was kind and open, you did so with a modesty that reflected your shyness.

The MC, with an expression of curiosity and amusement on his face, decided to change the subject to keep the mood light and entertaining. He looked at Jungwon with a playful smile and, in a tone that invited an interesting anecdote.

-Hey, Jungwon, what was T/N like in school? Was she popular or something?

Jungwon, adjusted his posture, seeking to appear relaxed.

-Well… T/N noona was pretty famous. I'm not kidding, Heeseung Hyung used to go to look for her at her salon because she was always surrounded by people. She was like a star, everyone wanted to spend time with her….

While Jungwon was telling the story, his hand, unbeknownst to you, started to move gently under the blanket covering you. The sensation of his hand slowly sliding up your thigh was unexpected, and a slight shiver ran across your skin. The softness of the touch surprised you, and your mind struggled to stay focused on the conversation.

The MC, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had settled under the blanket, turned his attention back to Jungwon with a knowing smile. He scratched his chin, as if pondering an interesting question.

-So, Jungwon, what do you think about me dating T/N, would you give me your approval? -he asked.

As he asked the question, the MC pointed to the screen behind him, which showed clips of Jungwon acting very protective of you at various events. In the videos, he could be seen keeping a close eye on your interactions with others, and on one occasion, even playfully interrupting a conversation between you and another idol friend.

Jungwon, with an expression of seriousness that contrasted with the light tone of the conversation, pressed his hand on your thigh more firmly. He slowly ran his hand up your thigh and with a serious tone, he replied -No, I definitely wouldn't give you my approval.

The comment caused an awkward silence in the studio. The laughter died down and the atmosphere became tense, with those present clearly surprised by Jungwon's seriousness. The light atmosphere had quickly evaporated.

Jungwon, noticing the change in the atmosphere and intending to soften the situation, tried to correct the tone with a forced smile and an attempt at humor -It's just that, honestly, you'd break the fans' hearts! I can't allow that.

Jungwon's joke managed to partially relieve the tension, and the atmosphere on the recording set began to return to its original tone. The laughter timidly resumed and the MC followed up with a couple more questions. Although the atmosphere had relaxed, Jungwon kept his hand firmly on your thigh, squeezing from time to time with an intensity that made it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.

Finally, the MC applauded to close the interview and expressed his thanks to all the participants. The set was filled with a hubbub of goodbyes and greetings. Politely, you said goodbye to the production team, trying to maintain a professional attitude. You felt the pressure of Jungwon's gaze on your back, but made a conscious effort not to look back at him. The intensity of his gaze was palpable, almost as if he could burn you from a distance. Without pausing, you quickly made your way to the dressing room, seeking a refuge where you could clear your mind and take a breather.

Arriving at the dressing room, you plopped down in a chair located in a secluded corner. You pulled out your phone, hoping to immerse yourself in some distraction that would help you unwind. You checked messages and notifications, though in reality your mind was focused on the recent incident. You weren't completely annoyed, but it was clear that Jungwon's behavior couldn't become a norm every time he felt threatened.

Suddenly, you felt Jungwon approaching, his presence unmistakable and powerful. You tried to get up and fetch a bottle of water to avoid confrontation, but Jungwon wouldn't let you move. With a swift movement, he grabbed your hand with a strength that surprised you, and pulled you to him with an intensity that made you bump against his firm chest.

The unexpected contact made your heart race. You felt the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart against yours. Jungwon lowered his head, his face close to yours, and his voice sounded husky.

-I'm sorry... -he said, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that showed his sincerity, though his behavior did not warrant it.

You did not respond immediately. The physical closeness and the intensity of his gaze made you feel nervous. Your heart was pounding, the effect his close presence had on you.

Jungwon, noticing your silence, leaned closer to you, his lips urgently approaching yours. He tried to kiss you, his lips were warm and his breath brushed your skin. Despite your effort to avoid the kiss, his hand on your waist was firm, almost relentless, holding you close to him. His embrace was not a cage, but a barrier that made it difficult to move freely.

-Jungwon, this is not the way to handle things -you said, trying to remain calm despite the trembling in your voice. -You're supposed to trust me….

Jungwon, with an expression of frustration and despair on his face, sank his face into your neck. The heat of his skin against yours was almost scorching, and the wet contact of his kisses on your skin made you shiver. His kisses and warm breath created a charged atmosphere that made it difficult to hold in the anger you felt.

-I trust you, but not what the others might do -Jungwon murmured, his voice low and laden with a mixture of anguish and desire. His lips continued to leave wet kisses on your neck.

With considerable effort, you pulled his face away from your neck and held him gently by the sides of his face. His eyes met yours, dark with burning desire.

-I belong to you -you whispered, almost as if sharing an intimate secret.

Jungwon did not respond with words. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips crashing against yours in an urgent, burning kiss. The initial contact was like a spark igniting a flame; the softness of your lips mingled with desperate intensity. His hands, still firmly clinging to your waist, pressed you against him with a palpable need, as if he feared the moment would fade.

His tongue, warm and soft, slid in with an expert touch, playing and teasing with enveloping movements that made you sigh.

Your hands slid into his hair, tangling in the nape of his neck with a fervor that responded to the fervent kiss. You felt the texture of his locks under your fingers, each tug and caress entangling your deepest emotions in the act of kissing. His hands descended to your hips, exerting a firm but passionate pressure that made you feel even closer to him.

Jungwon, with a mixture of determination and passion, began to lean back. Without breaking the kiss, he sat down on the couch. He made you settle astride him, the pressure of his body against yours amplifying the shared pleasure.

In the middle of the kiss, Jungwon bit your lower lip urgently. The bite was a gesture charged with intensity; his teeth sank gently into the flesh of your lip, creating a sensation of pressure that combined the tender and the passionate. The sensation of his hot breath, combined with the bite, made every second of the kiss feel like an eternity of shared enjoyment.

Then, he parted slightly, bringing their foreheads together in a gesture of complicity. The warmth of their bodies melted into a comforting calm. The tensions of the moment seemed to dissipate in the intimacy of their embrace. The outside world seemed to fade away, leaving them in a bubble of tranquility.

˖ ࣪ › Nishimura Riki ー西村力

After one of the tour's concerts, the atmosphere was permeated with the residual energy of the performance. The excitement of the audience was still vibrating in the air, mingling with the smell of sweat and lotion from the band members left in the dressing room. Upon returning to the hotel, an atmosphere of relaxation and camaraderie settled in your room, where you, Sunoo and Ni-ki were looking to decompress the tension of the day.

We had decided to play Super Smash Bros after the group dinner, a lively gathering that included the rest of the staff and the other members of the group. The dinner had been a mix of laughter, lively conversation and inside jokes that only those who lived through the experience together could fully understand. The restaurant had been full of life, the tables overflowing with exquisite dishes that contrasted with the fast food they often resorted to on tour. Stomachs full and spirits high, the decision to follow the evening with a game seemed perfect.

In your hotel room, the soft light from the table lamps created a warm and cozy atmosphere. Thick curtains blocked the view of the city, isolating the space from the hustle and bustle outside. The three of you were at ease on the bed, a vast expanse of white sheets that rustled with every movement. Ni-ki lay between your legs, his body relaxed against yours, his head resting on your stomach. You could feel his rhythmic breathing, the slight rise and fall of his chest. Every now and then, his soft hair brushed against your skin, causing a pleasant tingling sensation.

Sunoo, with his inexhaustible energy, was facing the TV, lying on his stomach. His legs swayed in the air, feet moving to the rhythm of an imaginary melody. His eyes sparkled in the light of the screen, a reflection of changing colors that illuminated his face with an almost childlike enthusiasm. The television screen, excessively large for the room, projected a bluish light that bathed the space in an atmosphere of playfulness.

The three of them stared at the screen, controls in their hands, each absorbed in their own strategy and concentration. Friendly competitiveness hung in the air, a subtle current that maintained the tension of the game, but without breaking the atmosphere of complicity. Every time Sunoo won, his little shouts of excitement could be heard. His high-pitched, clear voice echoed in the room, and his leaps on the bed made the sheets crumple under his weight. His movements were quick and effusive, as if each victory injected him with an extra dose of energy. His eyes would close for a second, his hands raised in triumph, and his laughter would fill the space, a melody of pure happiness.

When you won, the feeling was different. You let out an elongated "yessssss", an exclamation held back by Ni-ki's weight on you. It was a sound of deep satisfaction, but tempered by the presence of your boyfriend on top of you. You could feel his head move slightly with your exclamation, but he remained in place, seeking comfort in your closeness.

That night was definitely not Ni-ki's night. He barely won once, which had him grumpy. His face showed a mixture of intense concentration and mounting frustration. Each defeat was reflected in his eyes, a spark of irritation that quickly faded into resignation. His lips formed a thin line, and his sighs were deeper, almost as if with each exhale he was trying to release pent-up frustration.

Time passed almost unnoticed, and soon the clock struck one in the morning. The room was still illuminated by the dim light of the television and the soft glow of the table lamps, which cast elongated shadows on the walls. Suddenly, the sound of the telephone broke the atmosphere of concentration and playfulness. Sunghoon was calling to say that Sunoo had to return to the room they shared.

The vibrant energy of the game and Sunoo's company had faded away, leaving a quiet calm in its place. You shared a room with Ni-ki, while Sunghoon was with Sunoo, Jay with Jungwon and Heeseung with Jake. This room sharing was familiar, a routine part of life on tour, each finding comfort in the company of their designated roommate.

While you were in the bathroom doing your skin care routine, you listened to the soft murmur of the room and the low hum of the air conditioner. The bathroom was illuminated by warm, soft light, reflecting off the mirrors and creating a soothing ambiance.

As you carefully applied moisturizer to your face, you felt arms wrap around you from behind. At first, it was a light pressure, as if Ni-ki was testing whether his affection would be welcome. Then, the arms squeezed tighter, enveloping you in a warm, firm embrace. You continued with your routine, moving with the familiarity of rehearsed movements, as Ni-ki, koala-like, hugged you from behind. His face was buried in your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin. The faint whisper of his breath, along with the weight of his head on your shoulder, created a sense of protection.

His arms were firmly entwined around your waist, his body glued to yours insistently. Despite his usual dislike of physical affection, he would occasionally get like this, clingy to the point where he wouldn't let go. Over time, you had learned to accept and, in fact, expect these moments. Physical closeness was a form of silent communication, a way for Ni-ki to express her feelings without the need for words.

As you applied the cream to your face, your movements became slower and more careful, taking the time to savor the moment. You could feel Ni-ki slowly relax, his breathing becoming deeper and more regular.

Looking through the mirror, you noticed the pout on Ni-ki's face with a clarity that stood out against the brightness of the sink. -Why are you pouting? -you asked, your voice soft and curious, trying to soften the moment with a touch of humor.

Ni-ki lifted his head slightly from your neck, his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. -I'm not pouting -he replied in a defensive tone. The response, far from discouraging you, only added to the tenderness of the situation. Laughter escaped your lips, a soft but joyful sound that mingled with the echo of the bathroom.

As the laughter faded, you carefully arranged your skin care products on the shelf. Then, you leaned against the sink, your eyes reflecting Ni-ki's image as he raised his head to look at you.

The light from the bath, soft and warm, brought out the details of Ni-ki's face. His eyes, a little hesitantly, sought yours in the mirror, but were soon diverted as the color in his cheeks intensified. He turned red, the blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his cheeks, a clear sign of his embarrassment. Then he buried his face in your neck again, seeking refuge in the warmth and comforting embrace.

The sight of Ni-ki hiding in your neck elicited another wave of laughter from you, this time more joyful and deeper. -Don't laugh, noona -he said in a plaintive voice, the tone slightly distorted by the proximity of your skin. The way the words were muffled by your position made the sound feel even closer and more tender.

As Ni-ki continued with his face buried in your neck, he whispered softly, the words almost inaudible, -I lost because I was tired. Otherwise, I would have beaten Sunoo hyung and you -His words were a whisper full of sincerity and self-righteousness. The way his breath caressed your neck added an extra layer of cuteness to the moment.

You turned slowly, moving carefully so as not to disrupt the embrace and the sense of closeness they had created. Your every movement was deliberate, trying to maintain the softness of the moment as you positioned yourself so that you were facing Ni-ki. The light from the bath fell softly on both of you, creating a warm glow that accentuated the intimacy of the environment.

With a gentleness that reflected the affection you felt, you lifted a hand and placed it gently on her cheek. The touch of your fingers on his skin was light, but filled with a tenderness that could be felt in every caress. The warmth of your hand seemed to absorb the tension in his face, providing a small breath of comfort. Then, you slowly leaned toward him, making sure not to rush, to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Ni-ki's reaction was immediate. His cheeks grew even redder, a color that seemed to intensify with each passing second. The skin on his face took on a warm, glowing hue that contrasted with the soft light of the bath. His eyes averted from yours, unable to hold your gaze, and his body tensed slightly in an attempt to control his embarrassment. The shy smile that appeared on her lips was small but significant.

Without warning, Ni-ki hid his face in your neck again. The blush on his cheeks seemed to radiate warmth, and the slight tremor in his breathing revealed the intensity of his emotion.

-You're so cute -you told him with a soft voice and a mixture of amusement in your words.

-I'm not cute! I'm already a man! -he protested with a mixture of indignation and disdain, his voice slightly drowned out by the contact with your neck. The need to assert his maturity only underscored the cuteness you felt.

-Yes, of course -you replied with a hint of sarcasm in your voice, the smile tugging at your lips revealing the amused disagreement with her self-assessment. The response was laden with a playful warmth, a way to continue the game you had started.

-Give me a real kiss -he requested, his voice sounding almost pleading and full of longing. A way of asking for a gesture of affection that, was clearly charged with affection. His face, still hidden in your neck, moved slightly in an attempt to look you in the eye, though his gaze remained partially hidden.

-I already gave you a real one. It's the kiss you deserve for placing third in Smash -you told him, sticking your tongue out playfully.

Ni-ki reacted with a series of dramatic complaints. -That's unfair! -his tone was filled with a mixture of frustration and amusement, as if he was angry, but he couldn't help but smile.

You laughed, a clear and joyful sound that echoed in the bathroom, creating a warm and light atmosphere. The laughter drifted softly, full of affection and amusement, and mingled with the echo of the walls. After the laughter, you walked away to the small table where you were charging your cell phone. Ni-ki followed you, moving with light, purposeful steps, his presence a constant at your side, like a shadow that didn't want to miss a second of your attention.

When you turned to rearrange the bed, the sight of Ni-ki in the middle of the comforter was almost comical. He had thrown himself in the center, flattening the comforter with an air of triumph. The comforter crumpled and sagged under his weight, creating a mountain of soft, disheveled fabric piled around his figure. Ni-ki was stretched out in a carefree manner, arms outstretched at his sides and legs slightly spread, as if the comforter had been custom-made for his form. His attitude reflected a mixture of defiance and comfort, an image of total relaxation amidst the mess.

-Ni-ki, get up, please -you asked, with a hint of amusement in your tone.

He shook his head, a firm and determined movement that underlined his obstinacy. The refusal was clear and defiant, a gesture that made it clear he had no intention of moving. As you tried to pull the comforter from under his body, you were met with solid resistance. Ni-ki remained immobile, his weight creating an effective barrier that made it nearly impossible to move the quilt without moving him first. Every tug and adjustment of the comforter revealed the difficulty of moving it, and the way he resisted only accentuated his determination to remain in position.

You moved closer to where his face was, which was partially hidden between the wrinkles of the comforter. As you met his face, you saw an expression of mischief mixed with amusement. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous sparkle and his smile, slightly hidden, seemed wider as he tried to maintain his defiant attitude.

-Please get off -you repeated, your voice laden with a mixture of exasperation and laughter. The repetition of the request was not without endearment, and the tone in your voice was a combination of gentle pleading.

Ni-ki, however, simply shook his head again, his attitude stubborn and his body still squashed into the comforter. The slight curve of his lips, still visibly tilted in a mischievous smile, left no doubt that he was enjoying every moment of this little tug-of-war.

You were standing on the side of the bed, your hands resting on either side of his head, creating a natural frame around his face. The proximity between you was remarkable. The distance between your face and his was close enough for your breaths to mingle.

-What do I have to do to get you off? -your question was soft and playful, laden with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The tone of your voice, light and full of affection, was infused with a tinge of sweetness that reflected your willingness to continue this little game. Your body leaned forward slightly, drawing you even closer to him

-Give me a real kiss -he replied, his words coming out with a clarity that underscored his desire for a genuine gesture of affection. The way he phrased his request, with a slight elevation in the tone of his voice, revealed his expectation.

You laughed softly, a sound that filled the air with a light and cheerful melody. The laughter that escaped your lips had an infectious quality to it, adding a touch of amusement to the moment. With a smile on your lips and a gaze full of tenderness, you leaned into him.

The kiss was firm and determined, your lips acting with a pressure that, though intense, maintained a sweet quality. The feel of his lips against yours was warm and moist, a contact that conveyed an underlying urgency but also a deep affection.

As the kiss unfolded, you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Each exhalation from Ni-ki was a warm whisper that caressed your skin, the sensation of his breath creating an atmosphere of closeness that made the outside world seem to fade away.

You caressed his cheek with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss. Your fingertips traced soft paths over his skin, adding a sense of calm and softness to the frenzy of the moment. Ni-ki let out a sigh of contentment, the sound escaping his mouth with a mixture of relief and pleasure. The sigh was deep and drawn out, an echo of the joy and contentment he felt at that moment. The vibration of his breath against your lips and the way his body relaxed slightly revealed how deeply he appreciated the gesture.

When you finally broke away from him, the look on Ni-ki's face reflected a mixture of complete satisfaction and happiness -I won.

2K notes · View notes

luna-azzurra · 4 months

Text

Some tips on the do’s and don’ts of adding more description to your Writing

Do‘s:

Make your writing come alive by describing things that appeal to the senses. Instead of saying "It was a beautiful garden," you could say "The garden was filled with the scent of fresh roses, the sound of buzzing bees, and the vibrant colors of blooming flowers."

Instead of just saying what something is like, show it through your words. For instance, instead of saying "She was sad," you could describe her actions and surroundings to show her sadness: "Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared out the rain-streaked window, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand."

Instead of using general words, get specific. Instead of saying "He drove a car," you could say "He drove a sleek, black convertible, the wind tousling his hair as he sped down the open highway."

Keep your writing interesting by mixing up short and long sentences. Don't always write in the same way. For example, "The sky was dark. The trees swayed in the wind. It felt eerie," could be improved by adding variety: "Dark clouds gathered overhead, causing the trees to sway ominously in the gusting wind, casting an eerie feeling over the landscape."

Use your descriptions to set the mood of your story. Instead of just saying "It was a scary place," describe the setting to evoke fear in your readers: "The abandoned house loomed in the moonlight, its broken windows and creaking doors whispering of unseen terrors lurking within."

Don't just drop descriptions randomly into your writing. Make sure they fit naturally into the flow of your story. Instead of stopping the action to describe something, weave it into the narrative: "As she ran through the forest, the branches clawed at her skin, leaving scratches like whispers of the dangers lurking in the shadows."

While descriptions are important, don't forget to keep your story moving forward. Don't spend too much time describing things at the expense of the action. Find a balance between describing the scene and keeping the plot moving.

Don't:

Using too many adjectives can make your writing sound cluttered and overwhelming. Stick to the essentials and choose your words carefully.

Don't forget that dialogue and interactions between characters are key parts of your story. Use them to reveal personality and move the plot forward.

Don't repeat yourself. Once you've described something, trust your readers to remember it. Don't keep saying the same thing over and over again.

Sometimes, what you don't say can be just as important as what you do say. Let your readers read between the lines and draw their own conclusions.

Avoid using tired old phrases that everyone has heard before. Try to come up with fresh, original descriptions that will grab your readers' attention.

Be mindful of the pace of your story. Don't slow things down with long descriptions in the middle of an action scene. Save the detailed descriptions for quieter moments when the pace naturally slows down.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writing advice #oc character #writing help #creative writing #writing block #bad writing #writer stuff

3K notes · View notes

rowarn · 10 months

Text

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2

simon riley / reader

FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to <3

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k

Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you.

But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally.

You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was.

Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries.

“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”

“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.

“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly.

Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”

He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet.

Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen.

You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away.

You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify.

“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.

He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”

“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.

“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”

You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat.

But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing.

It almost felt like something a husband would do.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that

“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat.

Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you.

“Absolutely not,” he says.

Your jaw drops, “Why?!”

“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”

You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since.

You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.

You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.

True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.

Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.

That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry.

You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous.

Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work.

It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin.

You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip.

Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.

You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”

He grunts, letting out a soft sigh before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing.

You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.

Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy.

You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest.

You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit.

But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated.

Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.

As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought.

Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him.

No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again.

What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants.

Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum.

But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided.

With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night.

You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment.

The ring of his phone was the break.

“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner.

You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call.

“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.

There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”

“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”

“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon.

“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move.

“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”

“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt.

She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.

“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.

“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”

Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”

That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop.

Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay?

He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants.

But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you.

There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.

You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.

Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem.

You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long?

Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me.

Please, just love me back.

“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”

He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt.

He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”

He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes.

Suddenly, you stand.

“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway.

He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down.

He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge.

Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before.

He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer.

“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”

“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.

“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”

You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes.

Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.

“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”

You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.

You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.

“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.

He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.

“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can.

He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do.

“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”

“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.

“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice.

When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.

“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.

“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you.

“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs.

He fucking laughs.

It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down.

“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”

Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before.

You dash the spark of hope that it causes.

He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away.

Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours.

It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you.

Simon kissed you.

“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”

He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”

“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat.

He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”

“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”

He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”

“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”

“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice.

But he does, of course he does.

He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.

“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.

Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to.

“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”

“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”

“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”

“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.

“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.

“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm.

A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed.

You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants.

“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught.

He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.

“Si..?” you whisper.

“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”

You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.

“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you.

“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.

He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling.

You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements.

His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss.

After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair.

One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally.

All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.

Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”

Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.

“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back.

Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?

You can’t stop beating yourself up over it.

But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you.

You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts.

Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss.

“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”

That makes you sit up, “Leave?”

You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.

“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.

“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.

He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask.

“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.

It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay.

“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”

“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”

He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible.

“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”

“I will, Si,” you assure him.

“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”

You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”

Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.

“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”

He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world.

True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well.

You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it.

All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat.

You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing.

Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants.

There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can.

You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters.

This is going to be miserable, you think.

The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help.

It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best.

The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable.

The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him.

He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.

“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.

“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”

“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.

“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”

You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”

The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you.

You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.

Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.

It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact.

He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.

“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy.

Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.

You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”

“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”

“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.

“Huh?” you dumbly ask.

“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.

“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”

He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side.

“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again.

But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.

“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs.

You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”

“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”

“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”

He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”

“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel.

You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you.

You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything.

“What’re you huffin’ about in here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight.

“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.

“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”

“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.

You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited.

Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly.

“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.

He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back.

He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you.

You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.

“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.

He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.

Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling.

You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do.

“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”

The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras.

Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.

“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.

You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.

“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”

He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”

He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them.

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice.

You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.

“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.

You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back.

“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are.

Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people.

“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.

“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”

He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking.

“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.

“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.

Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue.

“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.

Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.

“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.

The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.

“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.

“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”

“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.

“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”

“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway.

When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.

“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.

“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.”

“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back.

He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.

“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”

“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.

You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”

Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”

You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.

“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.

“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”

“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.

You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”

Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.

“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.

“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.

“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.

“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink.

The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses.

The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person.

With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient.

But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.

“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance.

You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.

When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed.

“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”

You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body.

You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him.

That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him.

His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm.

“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.

He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties.

“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”

You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.

“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”

You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat.

You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve.

You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away.

A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes.

With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it.

“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body.

You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”

“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”

“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”

You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously.

“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”

It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself.

“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light.

You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night.

“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”

He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”

“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”

He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”

You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”

Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”

He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”

He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything.

“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.

“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”

Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about.

“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.

“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy.

He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone.

“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”

“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”

“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.

Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him.

He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.

“Why..?”

“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely.

“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying.

He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”

“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”

“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”

He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.”

You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was.

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”

“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”

He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”

You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”

You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”

“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”

“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”

“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.

“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…”

You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”

Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”

You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”

He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”

Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?

“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”

Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”

“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you.

He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”

You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away.

“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”

With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom.

You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”

You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”

“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head.

Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them.

You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material.

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”

“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious.

His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take.

Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him.

Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh.

“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”

“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”

His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand.

“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”

You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants.

It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced.

That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good.

“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal.

“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug.

You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.

“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp.

His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious.

He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap.

“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”

You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are.

Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze.

He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”

“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.

And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body.

He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him.

Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”

You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again.

“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”

His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”

You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows.

It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger.

You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention.

He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder.

“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”

“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”

“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.

You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end.

“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.

“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.

“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside.

After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.

“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”

“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”

Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.

It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.

That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.

And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange.

He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock.

If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him.

“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it.

You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself.

All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body.

You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him.

His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away.

He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good.

That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair.

“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard.

He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat.

You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud.

It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.

This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum.

Then everything stops.

His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.

“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake.

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”

That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes.

“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”

Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.

His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.

“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy.

But it’s you. You’re special.

He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different.

He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy.

He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit.

You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you.

“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation.

When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out.

He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”

“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”

“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.

He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it.

It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock.

So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you.

You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop.

But you don’t.

You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you.

Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.

You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”

“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail.

He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax.

“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix.

He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation.

It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper.

His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good.

Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure.

“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips.

You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there.

“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”

“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”

“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”

You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge.

It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts.

You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.

It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant.

You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy.

Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises.

“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”

You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life.

All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again.

Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him.

But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock.

He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot.

Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still.

Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.

“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours.

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”

“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”

You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you.

Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you.

He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute.

Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you.

“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”

“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further.

His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”

But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much.

Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it.

But instead, he does something else.

You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact.

So he does it again.

And again.

Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it.

He needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.

As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.

He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels.

Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock.

You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.

“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”

“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.

It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down.

But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.

His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk.

Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him.

“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”

And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent.

“Alright, love?” he asks.

“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”

He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.

“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”

You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.

It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together.

When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him.

“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.

You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”

“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”

Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”

You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again.

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it.

And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.

It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him.

Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him.

PART ONE.

do not modify, translate, or repost

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

6K notes · View notes