#me spending a solid three minutes staring at him inches away from him

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Finn can say he's on vacation all he wants. I see ur idle animation. Looking around suspiciously and borderline scowling.

[satorusugurugurl]

LATE-NIGHT FOOD WITH GOJO PLEASE ML🥺🥺

2AM Snacks:

Summary: When neither you or Gojo can sleep, you head to the kitchen for some late night fun.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Sweet sugary fluff, suggestiveness, language

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Jndndndndn I love this is was so fun to write Nonnie thanks for the request!

Gojo sighed as he stared at the ceiling, slowly turning his gaze before turning towards the clock. It was one-forty in the morning, and he was wide awake. He wanted to blame it on his missions. Being away from you and in different time zones affected him. But it could just be because he was so used to his regular sleep schedule. Usually, he would get a solid three hours of sleep between lessons for the kids and meetings with the higher-ups. Sleep wasn’t something that came naturally to the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

That was his life. He was constantly on the move, practically sleep-deprived most of the time, and just trying to make the most out of his life. But then there was you. God, you were perfect. Ever since you found out, he only got three to four hours of sleep. You did your damn best to try to make things easier for him. Whether it be making sure he had food waiting for him at home, helping him with his reports, or just listening to him when he needed to vent.

Every little thing you did helped him in the long run. Some of his stress was eased, and occasionally, he had more than a small amount of sleep. He was so accustomed, too. Being able to hold you to feel some additional ease meant the world to him! You meant the world to him.

While he loved having the chance to sleep in a little longer and spend more time with you, there were still times when he was incapable of relaxing. Gojo‘s mind was often wired. He would toss and turn, flipping his pillow, and do every little trick he knew of to try to sleep. Tonight had been bad, though. Gojo tried kicking the sheets off, turning on his sides, and even counting sheep, but nothing, absolutely nothing, helped with his insomnia.

This is how he found himself staring at the ceiling fan above, which turned at an almost tortured, slow speed. Nights like this were the same nights he would get up and wander to the living room to mindlessly scroll through his phone or watch television, hoping he did not wake you up. Seeing that none of his usual tactics were helping ease him to sleep. Gojo rolled onto his side to slowly crawl out of bed when a hand shot out from underneath the blanket, halting his attempt to leave. The sudden contact made him jump, but when he came to the logical conclusion that it was to glance down at you, he half expected you to be still asleep, only to find you staring at him with those pretty eyes he loved.

“Hey,” he whispered, turning onto his side to face you. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” you pressed your lips together, obviously fighting back grin. “But the parasites did.”

Satoru scoffed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “The parasites?” You nodded enthusiastically, biting down on your bottom lip. “Okay, why did the parasites wake you up?” Gojo felt the bed shift as you inched closer to him with a mischievous giggle. You are so freaking cute.

“They’re saying they’re hungry.”

“Oh? They’re hungry?” he brought your face closer to his, allowing his nose to brush against yours. “And what are the parasites hungry for?”

Another giggle sounded from the back of your throat, and Gojo resisted the urge to kiss you as hard as he could for being so damn cute. “Cookies.” it was official. You were his dream girl, everything he wanted, and if he could marry you right this minute, he would.

“Alright, let’s go make some cookies.”

“You’re going to help me make cookies?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I can cook, sweetheart.”

Sheets were thrown off, and you both hurried towards the kitchen. You set the oven to three seventy-five while Gojo pulled his phone out, searching for a recipe. The results page barely loaded when you snatched the phone from him and placed it on the counter.

“Hey! I was looking for a delicious recipe for us to make.” He pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

“We don’t need a recipe online. Not when I have my family's secret recipe memorized.”

Satoru followed you around the kitchen, grabbing sugar, flour, chocolate chips, a chocolate bar, and butter. Watching you intently grab the bowls, spatula, and whisk, Gojo realized how normal this was. It wasn’t often you both could be normal and bake like this without a care in the world. Watching you move around the kitchen with such fluidity at two thirty in the morning had him longing for more normal nights like this.

He was so lovestruck that he almost missed you placing the butter into a saucepan. That was strange; he'd never seen anyone soften butter on the stove. Didn’t people typically soften it in the microwave? All thoughts that you were softening the butter went down the kitchen sink when Gojo witnessed you mixing the butter in the side pan, melting it further.

“Whoa, I may not be a chef, but I think you’re doing that wrong, baby.”

You grin as you feel his arms snake around your waist. “I’m not doing it wrong.” The fresh smell of clean linen and musk melted in with the scent of melting butter. Gojo dropped his chin to rest on your shoulder.

“Uhm, aren’t you supposed to cream it with the sugar?” he paused, turning to press a kiss against your neck. “Oh, and just so you know, I was talking about the cookies, not us. We creamed together earlier.”

Grimacing with a laugh, continuing to stir the melted butter to prevent it from burning. “Eww, please don’t refer to us having sex as creaming ever again.” another kiss was pressed against your neck, and you felt your boyfriend’s chest vibrate with laughter.

“What about creampies? You love those!”

“Toru—!”

“You were begging for one earlier!”

“Oh my god, I’m going to beg you—”

“You begged me so prettily earlier.”

You sighed loudly in defeat, focusing your attention back on the saucepan. “To answer your question before you somehow managed to turn it into some sexual innuendo, I’m not some basic bitch.” laughed out loud, pulling back far enough to admire the egotistical smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I’m making brown butter cookies.”

“Oh~ brown butter cookies, those some tasty! Is there a reason why you’re browning the butter?”

“When you brown butter, it makes it taste delicious. It gives the cookies a nutty taste that is absolutely delicious.”

You weren’t kidding. Gojo held you tight. Watching in, the brother went from yellow to a beautiful golden brown. The sweet, almost nutty smell flooded the kitchen, making his mouth water. You hadn’t even finished putting the cookies together yet. He shuffled around the kitchen with you, making sure to keep a hold on you in some way, shape, or form, whether it be his arms around your waist or his hand and yours. Every step you took was close behind.

He watched you with curious eyes As you put a cup of brown and white sugar into a bowl before adding the deliciously cooked brown butter. Watching you cook was like watching someone do alchemy. He helped you crack a couple of eggs that he put in the bowl, and you threw in salt and vanilla and mixed the wet ingredients. Gojo's mouth was watering when you finally added the dry ingredients, including flour, baking soda, and baking powder.

The cookies looked so good!

“Fuuuck~” he moaned, reaching into the bowl and grabbing a blob of the dough. “They smell so good!” He popped the dough into his mouth before pouring the chocolate chips and chunks into the bowl and mixing it.

“You shouldn’t be eating raw cookie dough like that; that’s how you get salmonella.”

Your boyfriend snatched the ball out of your arms, taking over and stirring it as you grabbed the cookie sheet and lined it with parchment paper. “I’ll have you know I’ve been eating raw you don’t my entire life, and I have never once gotten salmonella.” You shook your head with a soft laugh, making Satoru feel he was there with his limbs turned into melted butter.

“All it takes is one time.”

“Don't you dare put that bad juju on me!”

More laughter flooded the kitchen as you reached into the bowl with your finger, pulling out a scoop of the delicious dough yourself before popping it in your mouth, sucking it off. “There, now we both have salmonella together if it happens.” There was something almost strangely romantic about your declaration. But he hoped you both didn’t get sick of that because how could he hold your pretty hair back if you were hug. It's probably best to hope you both didn’t get sick. But then again, in his twenty-eight years of life, he never got salmonella. So he wasn’t worried.

Besides, the cookies were bound to taste a million times better after they were baked, which took ten minutes. By the time the timer rang from his phone, Gojo was excitedly bouncing. The apartment smelled like his favorite bakery, but this time, you didn’t have to share the cookies with anyone (anyone but you). You both stood over the counter, each holding a cookie that had been cooled off for about two or three minutes.

“Cheers!” you announced, gently tapping your cookie against his own before pulling it apart. “Too late night, munchies!”

Satoru smirked, nodding in agreement as he followed your lead, ripping his cookie in half. “To the parasites that contributed to the delicious pastries in front of us.” You hummed in agreement as you both took big bites of the brown butter cookies.

The second the nutty, sugary taste hit his tongue, Satoru threw his head back with a moan. “Fuuuck!” He stomped his bare foot against the floor, chewing the generous amount he shoved into his mouth. “These are so good!” He shut his eyes, imagining different colors and shapes, and let the cookie flavors linger in his mouth. “I feel like Remy from Ratatouille. I can see the symphony of colors that this cookie embodies.”

“See, I told you.” You laughed out loud, and it was as rich and smooth as the melted chocolate inside of the dozen cookies you made. “Browning the butter works!”

“You were right; I will never doubt you again.”

“Good!”

Gojo leaned against the kitchen island, watching you as you ate more of the cookie still in your hand. Aside from the overhead light over the stove, the lights were out, which just happened to illuminate your pretty features. He stared at you for a long moment, swallowing the last bit of cookie in his mouth. You were everything to him. You took such good care of him, the apartment, and the food you made. But you were also his best friend. Someone who would get up with him at two in the morning to bake cookies when neither of you could sleep.

“And I hope you never doubt that I love you.”

The words were sudden, but they were also heartfelt. “I know, baby; I love you too.” Standing on your tiptoes, you leaned over the counter, pressing a sweet, sugary kiss against his lips.

That night, neither of you got the rest of the sleep that you needed. Instead, you snuggled on the couch, laid your head in his lap, and talked about everything and anything until dawn. The cookies were gone, and there may have been a crumb or two that lingered at the corners of your mouth, but the love that was shared between you both was still visible no matter the time of day it was.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[svkahug]

— first kisses —

featuring: jinx + ekko + grayson + sevika & gn!reader content: fluff, arguments, kissing/making out ?? obvi, mentions of alcohol & injuries

sevika got into another fight and as usual, you were patching her up, had her sat on a stool as you worked, brushing away her hair, brows slightly furrowed in concentration (and frustration). she cracks a joke about how you were almost the same height like this. you don't even smile. you were giving her the silent treatment.

eventually, you start scolding her and had it been anyone else, she'd have told them to shut up about it. but it wasn't like that between you two. not anymore. even she could tell something had shifted.

sevika literally has never seen you so worked up and for the first time in a while, she actually cared about what someone had to say. at some point, you just turn away from her, angrily fixing your shit and muttering curses under your breath.

sevika apologizes, a hand on the back of her neck sheepishly. you stop and turn to her, gaze smoldering. "fuck you."

"i know." sevika sighed. "come here." she said, voice unreasonably alluring.

before you could figure out what was happening, there's a gentle, caressing hand on the back of your neck and she was kissing you and you were kissing her back before you could remind yourself that she wasn't gonna get away with it this time. (she definitely got away with it lol).

you were visiting jinx in her 'evil lair' (her words). just to see how she was doing, holed up in there making prototypes... also to spend time with her butwe'renotgonnatalkaboutyourdevelopingfeelings, ok?

you watch her do her thing and she happily gives you a tour of the process. you get too close, looking at her papers, definitely not looking at her no no no.

suddenly she's staring at you, and you're staring at her. and you're standing up, stumbling over your words and lamely excusing yourself.

"not gonna give me a kiss before you go, toots?" she called out.

you are red as fuck at this point.

jinx walked over and gave you a lil peck on the cheek like she always does.

"oops sorry wrong one." she said almost jokingly and before you could even get your shit together, she was kissing you, slender hands cupping either sides of your face. you were in shock for about a solid minute before you actually reciprocated, relishing at how perfectly you just fit against her.

eventually, you part, breathless. jinx giggled. "twelve out of ten, toots."

ekko isn't back yet. it's late, crickets are chirping and firelights lighting the place up.

when he does show up, it's sunrise and he's bruised and battered and hoooly shit you were about to bawl your eyes out like a big baby.

you practically sprinted at him, stopping just an inch away, taking in his injuries. he actually grins at you, arms outstretched in a beckoning hug. "what? didn't miss me?"

"you're... injured." you say lividly, so exhausted and out of it that you thought you might be seeing a ghost.

he lets out a small laugh. "i won't break."

and you practically latch onto him, biting down a sob. "fuckin' hell, man."

"yeah," ekko said. "they got us pretty bad."

"pretty bad? you look like shit." your grip tightens, before pulling back, laughing, his calmness managing to rub off on you. "come on, i'll patch you up."

you watch the sun rise with him and over two steaming cups of cocoa, you kiss.

grayson had just been appointed to sheriff. the kiramman's had thrown an event in her stead, full of popping champagne and people laden in jewelry that probably cost a limb each.

you're surprised grayson actually followed the attire this time, probably out of thanks to the kirammans. she was clad in a jet black tuxedo, the bow dangling around her neck. you watch as she took a seat by the bar, a knuckle bringing three rapt knocks on the marble.

wow.

the sheriff blanked when she saw you, and you watch as her eyes trail lower. you had dressed up according to the proper attire and grayson had just never seen you like that. like this.

you laugh and her eyes snap back up to yours. "my eyes are up here, sheriff."

"i apologize. i didn't mean to–" she manages to ease out a laugh.

"oh, it's alright," you brush it off, as if her gaze running over you like that hadn't sent shivers down your spine. "better you than all those self-centered barons."

"ahh." the bartender comes with her drink. "i hope you haven't been having such a horrible time."

"no, no, don't worry about me." you said. "what about you? it's your party. congratulations, by the way."

she laughs, rough and alluring, swirling her drink on the the bar's counter. "thank you, deary." oh god the pet-name. grayson leaned forward, voice down to a whisper. "i was just about to sneak out, actually."

"oh, you misfit." you smothered your laugh with the back of your hand. "lucky for you, i'm a misfit too." you jumped off the bar stool, a soft, concerned oh falling from grayson's lips as you wobbled, steadying you with a hand on your hip.

"come." you took her hand and led her through the crowd.

and that's the story of how you end up making out with the newly-appointed sheriff in some mansion's greenhouse.

i SPEEDRAN THIS I NEED TO SLEEP AAA I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO MORE !! BUT I GTG. PT 2 MAYBE ?? IDK sEND AN ASK MAYHAPS

i might actually make a multichaptered fic for grayson becs of this hc HAHA talk about being gay

[uwuwriting]

Aizawa, Todoroki and Shinsou bringing their kids to work

Request: I just binged your whole blog and let me tell you Hawks bringing his kid to school was fhrqhelfifreh so could I request todoroki shinsou and aizawa bringing their kids to work - anonymous

Okay till the end of this week I’ll be giving you fluffy stuff because starting next week we are entering angst territory . I hope I finish the fic with Shirakumo’s daughter and then I have some angst requests to get to. So this is like a parting gift to happiness. Love ya. 💖💖💖

rules

masterlist

warnings: fluff

Aizawa Shouta 

-He loves being a dad. 

-Unlike his students his son, Kaito, is a very very calm two year old. 

-They take naps together in their matching sleeping bags, Shouta is the only one who can feed him his vegetables and they usually grade papers together. 

-You are the one who looks after Kaito while Shouta is at work and once he gets home you go off to your agency. 

-So basically Kaito spends half of his day with you and half with Aizawa. 

-When you were called in that morning because of a villain attack, you had to leave Kaito with Aizawa. 

- “I’m so sorry Shouta, Midnight was assigned on this mission with me and I don’t really trust Hizashi with a two year old.”

-He chuckled, taking a sleeping Kaito from your arms and giving you a kiss on each cheek and then on your forehead. 

- “Don’t worry kitten, I’m sure he will be an angel.”

-In the teachers lounge, before class starts for the day, nearly half of the staff is cooing over the still sleeping toddler. 

-They keep complimenting Shouta about how much they look alike and how cute he is. 

-He just grumbles about how he wants them away from his son.

-He was saved from the bell, dashing to his class surprising all of his students with his sudden appearance. 

-They hadn’t yet seen the baby in his arms until he stirred in his sleep, a few baby words tumbling from his mouth. 

-Mina was ready to let out a really really high pitched squeal when Sero slapped her mouth shut. 

- “Its sleeping!”

-Aizawa just let out a sigh and set his stuff on his desk. 

-He went to start his lesson like usual but that apparently wasn’t an option. 

-Sir you have a baby in your arms don’t expect us to stay silent and learn something useful. 

-Kaito woke up a few minutes into the whisper shouting argument Shouta was having with 18 teenagers. 

-He slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes, letting out a small yawn before looking around, his e/c eyes landing on all the new faces. 

-Everyone was silent, expecting the toddler to start crying at the change of scenery and at the absence of his mother but surprisingly no. 

-He rested his head on Shouta’s shoulder and shyly waved at the class. 

-Since he was awake Mina could be a little more vocal. 

-All the girls wanted to hold him, their main mission being to make him laugh. 

-Some of the boys were asking Aizawa some questions  while others were entertaining the toddler. 

-Kaito was really amazed by Shouto’s flames and he let out a heart warming laugh. 

-Uraraka made things float around the baby while Kaminari made small sparks. 

-Aizawa has never heard his baby boy laughing that much before.

 -At home he’s quiet, laughing only when you tickle him or when Shouta’s stumble scratches his plush cheeks. 

-Maybe taking him out more and letting the class hang out with him a little wouldn’t be so bad. 

-The last person who approached the kid was Bakugou, who crouched down to his eye level and they just stared at each for a solid minute. 

-Then Bakugou activated his quirk and the mini explosions made Kaito giggle and reach out to Katsuki. 

-The rest of the day was spent fawning over Kaito, nothing changed even after three hours of toddler entertainment. 

-When it was time to leave, the kids begged Aizawa to bring him again. 

- “Maybe I’ll bring him to the dorms at some point. But don’t irritate me you brats because otherwise he’s staying home.”

Bonus:

“I heard that you, little man, were a heartthrob today!”

*baby babbling*

“Yeah he didn’t let me teach.”

“Like it bothered you.”

“I never said that” 

Todoroki Shouto

-You had to go on a mission abroad for a week and today the twins’ preschool had informed you that they wouldn’t open today. 

-Frantically you called Shouto, proposing some solutions to your problem. 

- “I’ll take them with me.”

-He wants to spend more time with his girls anyway. 

-Both of them are very curious about their parents’ job and they have asked both of you to take them to work. 

-This was their chance. 

-You went to protest, knowing how stressing hero work could be and not wanting to stress your husband out more.

- “Love, I want them with me. I want to spend time with my snowflakes.”

-You couldn’t argue with that.

-He woke them up and helped them get dressed, leading them to the kitchen for breakfast while he simultaneously did their hair. 

-The twins aren’t really morning types so they tend to be really quiet until noon. 

-Telling them what they would be doing today, Shouto grabbed his things and stretched out both of his arms. 

-When people at the agency saw the youngest Todoroki with two little girls clinging to his hands they were confused. 

-They knew that he had a family, you two worked at the same agency after all, but they had never seen your kids. 

-And let me tell you that 90% of your coworkers are now cooing at the three year olds. 

-Shouto knew that his daughters didn’t really like crowds, even Rei who was the talkative one of the two would get shy and hide behind him when new people approached. 

-Because of that he scooped both girls up and quickly made his way to his office. 

-A few staff members greeting him and the girls but not many stopped him. 

-Once inside he set them down and went straight to work. 

-The girls are really quiet in general. 

-They pulled two chairs on either side of their father and sat there, coloring and doodling or just staring at his reports. 

-Surprisingly, Ren asked some questions while Rei stayed quiet.

-The crowd at the entrance must have exhausted her social battery. 

-Pushing his chair back, he pulled both of them on his lap kissing their foreheads before going back to his reports making small comments here and there to keep them updated. 

-Rei fell asleep after half an hour and it was the cutest sight. 

-Ren followed soon after, the little white and red haired humans clinging to his shirt like a life line as they snoozed off. 

-He took a picture and send it to you making you jealous beyond belief. 

 I want cuddles too!!!  😣😣😣  Someone’s jealous.🥰🥰

-He leaned his head on one of them at some point and he too fell asleep. 

-His secretary walked in to inform him of his father’s arrival and had heart eyes for the rest of the day. 

-She took a picture and sent it to you, informing you that your husband was sleeping on the job. 

-They were too cute though so she couldn’t bring herself to wake them up. 

-But alas there’s no rest for the wicked so he woke up at some point. 

-The rest of the day was spent with the three of them going to meetings, filing reports and training at the agency’s gym. 

-Watching two mini Shoutos running around the gym pretending to train is top tier stuff. 

Bonus

“Rei sweetheart don’t freeze your sister.”

“But she’s the bad guy!”

“Am not!” *flames flying*

“Ren don’t burn the place down.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Kei is actually the one who wanted to go to the agency. 

-She had asked both you and Shinsou to take her with you one day. 

-She may be using it as an excuse to skip day care but you do you hun. 

-It was her birthday and the little shit used that to her advantage.

- “Can I come with you to work? Pretty please?”

- “Kei...”

- “And it’s my birthday today.”

-You just level Shinsou with a glare.

- This is all you 

-Shrugs. 

-Now you have no choice but to take her with you and hope that everything goes smoothly. 

-The main reason why you didn’t want to bring her with you was the looming possibility that someone could attack and your little girl would be in extra danger. 

-Hitoshi reassured you that everything would be fine. 

- “Her parents are two of the best heroes in the industry, she’ll be completely fine. I promise.” 

-He woke her up the next morning, scooping her up and bringing her to the kitchen for breakfast. 

-She was really clingy in the mornings and wouldn’t function correctly if one of you didn’t hug her until she fully woke up. 

-Hitoshi is really soft for her during her birthday. 

-He’s soft for her everyday but today he’s ten times softer. 

-Gets her dressed and ready for the agency and is out the door in no time. 

-Shinsou talks about his family a lot.

-He has like fifteen photos of you and Kei in his office and a bunch of her drawings tapped to the wall. 

-He adores his family okay?

-So your coworkers aren’t so surprised when they see the small mess of violet hair resting in his arms. 

-She too doesn’t like crowds but won’t cower away. 

-She’ll put on a brave face and greet the strangers with acute politeness. 

-As long as one of you is in a ten inch radius she’ll be fine. 

-She answers all the questions that are being thrown her way. 

-She even sat there and suffered through a handful of cheek pinching. 

-Shinsou sees her suffering and scoops her up, excusing them and taking her to his office.

-You kissed her forehead and headed out to your own office, making her promise to visit you at some point because you too need some cuddles during work. 

- “We’ll catch bad guys momma!!”

-She is a curious little girl, so for the next two hours or so she’ll be exploring every nook and cranny of Hitoshi’s office, opening drawers and cabinets, digging through case files and boxes. 

-Then she might play with Hitoshi’s capture tool before visiting you for an hour or two. 

-You love having her attention but you know she’s simply taking a break from her dad’s office. 

-She’ll be back to Shinsou in no time. 

-Daddy’s girl.....it iz what it iz. 

-Around noon she starts to get tired. 

-If she was in day care she would be taking her daily nap.

-Her exploring tired her way too much and that’s why she’s now snoozing off in one of the armchairs in Hitoshi’s office. 

-He draped his jacket over her and let her sleep. 

-Later on you two took her to a meeting, allowing her some insight in the hero industry. 

-Plus she gets to hear the tea. 

-For training she tags along with you, doing some laps and trying -and failing- to do some push ups. 

-At the end of the day she was exhausted, sleeping soundly on Hitoshi’s shoulder as you made your way home.  

Bonus

“I don’t want her to grow up.”

“Well we could always make another one.”

“Way to be subtle mister....”

“Let me smash...”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[ginwalt]

Never Quite Free (Natasha x Reader)

Summary: Natasha grows concerned after you start ignoring her and decides to check on you.

!TW WARNINGS: Implied sexual assault, PTSD, and panic attacks! (lots of fluff near the end to make up for it i promise)

A/N: just a vent fic,,, as a treat. The song referenced in the fic is Never Quite Free by The Mountain Goats, in case you want to listen to it for context though you don't have to.

--

It's all good to learn that right outside your window There's only friendly fields and open roads And you'll sleep better when you think You've stepped back from the brink And found some peace inside yourself Laid down your heavy load It gets all right to dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him you'll know

For the longest time, going out into the world was like maneuvering across a field of landmines. The bombs could be set off by nearly anything, from minute details that had latched themselves to the back of your mind to glaring reminders that were almost impossible to ignore. Anything and everything that reminded you of him had seeped its way into the cracks in your brain, leaving irreparable stains and water damage in its wake. From the smell of cedar and pine aftershave to the brassy sound of a jazz trumpet on a passing radio, these reminders were minuscule as thumbtacks, and yet they felt like railroad spikes being hammered into your chest and skull.

In the past, you would bury yourself in work or drink yourself nearly to death to escape his ever-present grasp on your mind. Your life had been filled with you shoveling meaningless noise into your routine in attempts to block out the alarm that always seemed a pin trigger away from sounding in your head. Then, you met Natasha. You learned that she knew over seven languages and almost exclusively cussed in Russian when she was pissed enough. You memorized her favorite shows and books and how she snored like a lawnmower when she laid on her left side- a fact she vehemently denied. Natasha Romanov was caring, smart, strong, and oh so protective.

It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land It gets okay to praise the day Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath

These little bits of information filled your mind and heart with endearment and love, thoroughly pushing the smell of cedar aftershave and rot to the far back of your mind. And that was where he stayed for the longest time. For a whole two years, you filled your days with movie dates, forehead kisses, and late-night cuddles. She introduced you to her friends, Steve Rogers, Carol Danvers, Wanda Maximoff; you even befriended Tony Stark- though Natasha never explicitly refers to him as a friend. Everything was going so well for the first time since before you met him. But, like a cockroach, your past is not so easily killed.

But hear his breath come through his teeth,

Walk by faith Tell no one what you've seen

You were at a local coffee shop when you noticed him. He was sitting at the table adjacent to yours, scrolling through his laptop, briefcase at his side. When you beheld him, it was as if your muscles were turning to concrete slabs. They were dragging you down, below the faded wooden floorboards, below the concrete foundation, until you were choking on dirt and rocks. It took you nearly five minutes to realize it was not him. However, him or not, the damage was done. Because you had seen his well-kempt mustache and graying sideburns, had seen his eyes the color of a lethal tundra. You could have sworn you felt those eyes watch you as you rushed out of the café and into the crowded streets.

From that day on, he was back. He visited you in sleep and trailed you all throughout work—a hefty shadow. However, it was not until you were in bed with Natasha that it came to its tipping point.

Your fiancée, having noticed your peculiar attitude, had decided to surprise you with a night of candles and wine. Not wanting her to be more concerned than she already was, you played along. You forced yourself to reciprocate every kiss and caress despite the acid in your throat and the timpani in your chest. Eventually, Natasha swept you off your feet into a bridal style carry and led you into her bedroom. Gently setting you on the bed, she quickly straddled your hips. Leaning down, she cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a heated kiss. You swallowed down bile and half-heartedly opened your mouth to allow her tongue space to explore. She groaned and tore off her shirt as she pulled away from you.

"God, you're so sexy," she murmured, grinding her hips further against your abdomen. Natasha grabbed at your shirt, pulling it off your torso before chucking it across the room. You felt your throat tighten as your upper body was exposed to the elements. Your fiancée set about yanking off your sweatpants, murmuring bits of praise under her breath as she did so. Her gentle lithe hands seemed to grown more masculine and rough the longer they touched your bare skin. Her body morphed into the familiar form of a naked man. His sickeningly familiar graying mustache and coarse chest hair set flares of frigid panic through your body. He was here, he was here, hewasherehewashere.

Your body convulsed and kicked out at your assailant; flashes of his rough hands forcing your legs apart fueled the strength behind your attacks as you lunged to your feet. You shoved him off of you with a borderline unhinged snarl.

"Get the fuck away from me, Castor!" You screamed before hurriedly shoving on your clothes and sprinting out the door of the apartment. He was following you. You could hear his heavy footsteps thudding behind you. Your thighs burned from the sudden exercise, and the roaring in your ears drowned out your surroundings. You shoved your way into the elevator, nearly punching the first-floor button with your fist. Sweat dripped down the nape of your neck as you struggled to suck in breaths of air. Clutching your chest, you allowed your knees to collapse.

When the elevator slid open, you shot to your feet and ran through the lobby, out into the cool night. You clumsily pushed people aside, his voice clawing through your ear canal. You wildly waved down a taxi and slid into the back. Your voice was as flimsy as tissue paper as you gave the driver your address.

When you got home, you slid all three locks into place and snapped your curtains shut. You huddled under your blanket and slowly succumbed to a sleepless night.

--

Natasha was many things, but a worrier was not one of them. Why should she spend all her time fretting when she could just get up and solve the damn problem herself? However, after three days of complete radio silence on your end, she was sorely tempted to break into your apartment. That night, you had rushed out of her apartment as if the Devil himself had been at your heels. The look in your eyes had been that of a wounded animal. Natasha felt her stomach clench with anxiety as she stared down at her phone. 37 texts, 10 calls, 10 voicemails, and not a single message answered. You were always a punctual texter, which only made her worry worsen.

Natasha shoved her phone back in her back pocket and took a long sip of her coffee. What the hell could have caused you to run out of her apartment mid-sex? Not to mention, who the hell was Castor? Natasha finished off her coffee and set her red and black spider mug in the sink. The cup had been a 6-month anniversary gift, and she made sure to drink out of it every chance she got. After cleaning up the last of her breakfast, Natasha pulled out her phone once more and typed out another message.

Nat: darling I've tried giving you space but its been 3 days and I'm worried. I'm coming over.

Natasha moved to put the device away; however, after a second, she reconsidered it and unlocked it once more.

Nat: I love you <3

Pushing the phone into her pocket, she rushed out the door. When Natasha arrived at your apartment door, she immediately pulled out her phone once more. Nothing. She huffed a shaky breath and pulled out her copy of the apartment key. You had given it to her after you almost burnt down your apartment trying to cook for their date that night. She had to rush over to your apartment to clean up the damage done by the small grease fire and cook you both last-minute spaghetti.

She twisted the key in the lock and quietly pushed the door open. The apartment felt akin to a tomb. The curtains were drawn, and all the lights were off. Dirty dishes were piled up Tetris style in and around the sink, not to mention the empty takeout containers strewn throughout the living room and dining table. The TV was quietly playing It Chapter 2, yet you were nowhere in sight.

Worry continued to grip the assassin's chest as she called out, "Y/n, kotyonok are you here?" Being cautious of the numerous fast-food containers and clothing items thrown about, Natasha made her way towards your bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment before steeling her nerves and carefully knocking on your door. For a moment, she heard nothing, only the faint sound of Pennywise's voice coming from the living room. Then, just as she turned the knob to open the door, she heard whimpering. Her heart ramped up to a gallop as she quickly opened the door to your bedroom.

Natasha was certain she had seen war zone's tidier than this. Clothes covered nearly every inch of the bedroom, mattress, and wardrobe. Not to mention the numerous crumpled tissues and fallen picture frames. However, the state of your room was hardly her first concern because in the center of it all, huddled in shaking ball, was you. Painful sobs were rasping from your lips as you burrowed your face further into your knees. Your hair was tangled and greasy, and you were wearing one of Natasha's sweaters with a food-stained pair of boxer shorts.

The assassin felt sorely tempted to sprint across the rooms and scoop you into her arms. Instead, she went for the safer route, which was carefully wading through the mess over to your side of the bed. Tutting quietly, Natasha swallowed the urge to cry alongside you as she quietly cleared her throat. "Mon trésor, can you hear me?" she whispered, setting a hand next to your own, cautious not to make contact.

Instead of a relieved smile or a tired 'yes' like Natasha had expected, your entire body flinched away as if you had been punched. Your eyes snapped open as you scrambled across the bed, looking around hysterically. "Castor?" you called out, eyes wild with panic.

Natasha furrowed her brows and backed away from you. "Y/n it's me, Nat. I'm not here to hurt you; I just needed to see if you were okay."

Slowly, your eyes shone with recognition. Your body, however, remained as taught as before as you studied your fiancée carefully as if she was a trick or a mirage. Natasha felt her heart fracture slightly at the display of fear. "Nat?" Your voice was quiet and raspy; if she had not seen your mouth move, she would not have registered that you were speaking.

"Yes, kotyonok, it's me."

You furrowed your brows and brought your knees back up to your chest. "Wha-what're you doing here?" You asked, your voice slurred and shaky from the sobs racking your body.

Natasha carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, "I have been so worried about you. After you ran out on me a few days ago, I have been trying to check to see if you are okay."

Your face crumbled once more as you buried your face in your knees, "I-I'm," you hiccup, "Sorry, Nat."

Natasha tutted dotingly and slid back so that she sat beside you, still cautious not to touch. "Hey, hey, it's okay, darling. You're okay; just breathe for me. Can you do that, sweetie?"

You inhaled quick stuttering breathe, which quickly dissolved into hyperventilating. You clutched at your hair and squeezed your eyes shut.

Your fiancée watched with a heartbroken expression, "You're okay, you're okay, just keep trying. Can I touch you?" You nodded shakily as she pulled you onto her lap. Gently, she pulled your fists from your hair and replaced them with her own. She stroked your knotted locks and quietly cooed sweet nothings into your ear. She guided your fist to rest atop her chest as she whispered, "Copy my breathing okay, mon trésor?" Sucking in exaggerated breaths, she held her hand atop your own to keep it in place. After a few tries, your breathing eventually settled, and you let out a long whimpery sigh.

It's all good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone See the sunset turning red let all be quiet in your head And look about, all the stars are coming out They shine like steel swords Wish me well where I go But when you see me you'll know

Natasha smiled and kissed the top of your head, "You're doing so well, my love. Nothings going to get you while I'm here, I promise."

You burrowed further into her lap and placed your head atop her chest, letting the sound of her steady heartbeat soothe you into a lull. The two of you sat there for what seemed like eons as you soaked in the feeling of safety and warmth. Natasha hummed quietly, placing chaste kisses on the crown of your head every once in a while.

Sucking in a breath, you spoke, "He was a family friend." Natasha's humming stopped as she looked down at you. "His name was Castor Davids, and my dad met him at work. He was nice at first, sort of like a goofy rich uncle. He would always buy me new toys and books. He would even take me out for ice cream. Even when I got into fights with my parents, I knew I could always talk to him when I was upset. But then..." you gulped, your voice breaking. Natasha continued stroking your hair. "But then one day, he was babysitting me while my parents were out at a baby shower. H-he..." Your words broke off into a sob, and your fiancée quickly shushed you.

"You're safe; you're here with me. No one can hurt you, I promise. Just relax, darling. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that you're safe now." Eventually, after a few more minutes of comforting words and protective hugs, the phantom hands that had been grasping at you for days disappeared.

You burrowed your head further into her chest and huffed, " 'm sorry I ran out on you the other night. I shoulda texted."

Natasha chuckled humorlessly, "Darling, that is the least of my worries. What I am worried about, however, is the last time you had an actual healthy dinner." You looked down at your lap sheepishly and shrugged. Natasha playfully pinched your side and untangled herself from your hold. You whined at the loss of contact and looked up at her accusingly. "I am going to make you a proper dinner, and we are going to sit down and watch stupid TV shows."

You huffed, "Can we watch House Hunters?"

Natasha sighed and nodded, "Fine, only because I love you, though." You grinned and slid out of bed. Your fiancée inspected you with a grimace, "First, we're going to take a shower."

--

TAG LIST:

@midnight-lestrange

[thedeathdeelers]

my definitely not late addition to @jukebox-week’s Legends day

please enjoy

——

look ‘ma, we made it (read here on AO3)

“Julie and the Phantoms!”

Cheers erupt around them as Julie stares dumbstruck at Luke, his eyes trained on hers.

She could feel her dad’s hands descending onto her shoulders, feel Carlos hollering to her left, and still she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

It was only when Luke’s frozen features start to melt into a grin did she feel her own face twitching back to life.

A scuffle next to them diverts her attention for a few minutes, shifting her gaze to watch the two other members of their band get swept up by the realisation of what just happened.

“WE DID IT!!”

Reggie was jumping up and down behind their table, reaching forward to pull and drag their semi-stunned blond bandmate out of his chair.

“We- we- we,” were the only words stuttering out of Alex as he let a bouncing Reggie tackle him in a bear hug.

Two soft hands cradling her neck bring her focus back to Luke, his grin engulfing the bottom half of his face.

“We really did it,” he says, his words barely audible over the raucous cheering around the venue.

Julie shakes her head, half in wonder half in disbelief.

“Should probably head up there before they change their minds, ya?”

She laughs at his words before she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling herself tight against him, her face burrowing in his neck.

Not a moment later does Reggie take advantage of their hug, jumping on top of them, while simultaneously dragging Alex along, successfully creating a mini-Julie and the Phantoms dog pile right in the middle of the Awards show. Amongst the groans and giggles, Julie manages to catch Luke’s eye one more time before their families break up the moment, urging them to get a move on and head towards the stage.

Her hand clasped in Luke’s calloused one, they make their way towards the stage, only stopping at the bottom of the stairs so Julie can lift her dress up over her high heels. But before she can even lift her foot onto the first step, Luke slips his hand out of hers, scooping her up into his arms a second later to carry her up the stairs, bridal style.

She yelps at the sudden movement, disoriented by the lack of solid ground beneath her feet. She hastily throws her arms around Luke’s neck, firmly locking them into place. The sound of laughter and cheering from the crowd echoes behind them and Julie can’t help but laugh at the sheer insanity of the moment she’s experiencing. Choosing to focus on Luke’s face to ground herself, she sees his eyes flick to her face and away.

“Show off,” she mutters at his smug expression.

While his eyes are trained on the steps ahead of them, Julie pulls herself closer to his cheek and presses a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. She can feel the sly smile taking over her features when his steps falter for a millisecond, his arms pulling her just a little tighter against him.

Once they reach the top of the stairs, Luke eases her back into a standing position, helping her fluff her dress back into a state resembling its original shape. Flynn was going to kill them.

Slipping her hand back into his, Julie gently pulls Luke along as they stumble a little to catch up to Reggie and Alex who were already walking towards the hosts waiting for them by the podium.

Reggie is the first one to reach centre stage, graciously accepting the much coveted Album of the Year award and hoisting it into the air to the sounds of wild cheering from all sides of the concert hall. Sneaking up behind their bassist, Alex surges forward and easily snatches the Grammy from Reggie’s hands, earning him a laugh from the audience (and a disgruntled whine from his bandmate) before he hands it over to Luke.

She watches as he stares at it dumbfounded, holding it close to his face to read the inscription on its plaque. He spends all of five seconds before Alex nudges him back into motion. He turns to Julie with a sheepish smile, finally handing it over to her. Julie knows she doesn’t have time to appreciate the heavy weight in her hand, so she grabs it and turns to the microphone jutting out of the podium.

The next few minutes are a whirlwind. The band had agreed beforehand that they would let Julie do most of the talking, making sure to thank everyone from family to friends to Andi and the label and their touring crew. The boys chimed in with extra names left and right, which only got the crowd laughing along at the chaos.

“I’d like to personally thank Principal Lessa, who without her, I’m not entirely sure I would’ve ever made it to this stage of my career. Our career. She believed in me and gave me a chance when it looked like I had wasted every single one, pushing me to work harder than I ever had before.” Julie takes a deep breath, knowing the next and final person she was about to thank would be the hardest.

“And last, but definitely not least, I’d like to thank my mom.” She feels a hand press up against her lower back, and she feels a little of the tension that had built up ease a little at the familiar touch. “She is the soul in everything I do, whether it’s being kind to strangers even when they prove to be difficult, to the very lyrics and melodies that we put into our songs for everyone to experience along with us. She is the reason I am here today, surrounded by my family,” she gestures to her boys as Alex and Reggie reach over to hold onto her shoulders with a light squeeze. “She is the reason music is a part of me and I will forever be grateful for everything she has given me, everything she ever taught me.” A soft watery giggle escapes her. “Miracles really do happen,” she shrugs at the audience.

Julie hears Luke chuckle at her words to her left along with everyone else. She takes in a deep shuddering breath before letting a small laugh makes its way out of her to ease her into the moment. “Te quiero mucho, mami. This is for you.”

The telltale sound signalling the end of their slot blares through the speakers as applause from their live audience roars into life once more. Julie steps back from the podium as she holds onto their Grammy, lifting it up for the crowd to see before she turns around to head off-stage.

What she sees behind her stops her dead in her tracks.

Because there, right in the centre of the stage for everyone to see, Luke, Alex and Reggie were getting into position to do a move she hadn’t seen them do since they had gotten their first Orpheum gig all those years ago.

This time though it was Luke running towards a kneeling Reggie, while Alex stood behind him arms outstretched as they got ready to hoist him up into the air, his arms spread wide.

Julie had to admit, It was surreal seeing them do this in their tailored suits.

The laugh bursts out of her at the thought, her hand automatically coming up to cover her mouth. She can see the hosts to their right getting worried, the technicians behind the curtains frantically speaking into their headsets.

But all Julie can do, all she wants to do, is divert her attention back to her band mates and fondly watch them as they celebrate this triumphant moment in a way that is authentically theirs.

She stares as Luke starts waving his arms around, pushing forward as if he was swimming the breaststroke midair, with Alex and Reggie slowly carrying him forward in her direction. Julie stays where she is as she watches them approaching, tilting her head to the side and waiting to see what they had in store - this was a new, never before seen part of their strange choreography - she wasn’t sure what to expect. She doesn’t have to wait too long to find out.

Within a few seconds they were standing in front of her, Luke‘s face only a few inches away as he reaches forward, cradling her face in his hands. She looks at him questioningly before he answers her unspoken question in the form of a soft kiss, pressing his lips against hers right there on stage under the blaring lights for the world to see.

She can’t help but momentarily forget about the world while his lips are on hers.

The kiss only lasts a second - she feels Luke shake a little; opening her eyes to find him staring at her as the boys holding him up start to lose their hold on him, his weight pressing down on them. He pecks her on the mouth one more time before the boys are pulling him away, moving backwards so as to drop their lead guitarist back onto the ground.

With their Grammy in one hand, Julie throws a quick wave and a bashful smile at the audience behind her, grabbing hold of a now upright Luke’s hand and pulling him along with her off stage, closely followed by Alex and Reggie.

They stumble backstage, barely enough time to catch their breaths before getting swarmed by people in headsets ushering them towards their next media stop.

But right as they’re about to cross the threshold separating them from a roomful of flashing lights and shouted questions, Luke pulls at Julie’s hand. She stops, looking back to find all three of her boys staring at each other as they take a second to take in...well, everything.

“We- that just happened right? I’m not dreaming?” Alex is quick to turn towards their bassist and pinch his arm, watching him yelp out loud, jumping out of his reach as he rubbed his arm.

“What was that for?!”

“No, we’re definitely not dreaming.” Alex shakes his head, still in a daze as Luke laughs at his best friends’ antics. He momentarily lets go of Julie’s hand, moving to stand in between his two best friends, draping his arms over their shoulders, pulling them in.

“We’re Grammy Award winners boys. We made it.”He squeezes his arms, pulling both boys closer to him to the sounds of whines before letting go. He then turns his head over to Julie, his gaze on her as his grin widens, lighting up the room.

A noise down the hall interrupts their little moment, with all four of them swivelling their heads in its direction.

“Julie And the Phantoms, the press is waiting for you. If you could please head in, we have five minutes of question time and then it’s back to your seats for the next award category. Thank you.”

The staff member doesn’t even give them a chance to reply as they turn right back around, talking a mile a minute into their headset.

The boys all turn to look at Julie as she stares back at them in wonder.

“This is really it huh?”

All three nod their heads back at her.

“Yup.” Reggie states, emphasising his answer by popping the p while he absentmindedly rubbed at his arm again.

“Well then - let’s not keeping them waiting, shall we?”

Julie rolls her eyes at a smirking Luke before placing her hand in the space between them.

“Legends on three. One, two, LEGENDS!”

FIN

[tataswish]

❝   at the rooftop  /  myg.

━   ・  paring:  aspiring rapper!min yoongi x reader. ━   ・ genre:  neighbors au, smut, fluff, with a pinch of angst. ━   ・ word count:  5.0k.   ━   ・  contains:  mutual pining, dirty talk, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rooftop sex, and a little bit of sadness at the end. ━   ・  summary:  in which you look back at the memories you’ve made with yoongi, the neighbor who you once fell in love with. heavily inspired by the song ‘the one that got away.’

author’s note:  i had a dream about this so... here it is. LMAO. it’s been i while since i last wrote so excuse my rambling but happy reading! i thought about making a mini series out of this but... we’ll see. <3

The day you first met Min Yoongi was a memory you always looked fondly back at.

It happened one gloomy afternoon. After another tiresome day at work, you decided to find solace on your apartment building’s rooftop—a place that easily became your go-to whenever you wanted to spend time in solitude. No one ever really was up there (with the exception of the parties thrown by residents from time to time), so it was always strange seeing someone else who wasn’t you up there.

There was something about that place that brings you so much comfort. Maybe it was the string lights that hang perfectly across the ledges, the mixture of house plants displayed around the area, or the inviting smell of vanilla greeting your nose from the candles on almost every surface—it was nice. If the chance presented itself, you would be there for hours on end doing nothing and be content with it.

Making your way towards the rattan sofa that sat right beside the ledge, your tracks were suddenly put to a stop upon seeing an unfamiliar face sitting at that very same spot. He was leaning back on one side of  the off-white cushion, legs slightly spread apart, chilled bottle of beer in hand as his eyes gaze absentmindedly at the view of the city skyline beside him. He must’ve been so lost in thought, because even with you standing in front of him, he didn’t move.

“Is that seat taken?” you asked amidst the silence while feigning a warm smile.

That was enough for him to finally snap out of his trance, because you could see him jump from his spot and immediately straighten his posture. You couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh. “No—no, yeah, no. It’s not. I was getting ready to leave anyway, so—” he was already beginning to stand from where he was sitting, obviously flustered at the situation he’s been put in.

“I don’t mind sharing!” you interjected before impulsively placing a hand on the stranger’s arm as some sort of reassurance. At the realization, your eyes began to grow two times its size, and you retracted it at an instant with your cheeks flushed.

It was silent for a moment. Between you trying to gage how he felt about the sudden contact and him wondering what the fuck just happened, it clearly triggered some sort of fight of flight response. Your mind was scrambling, trying to find the right thing to say, but before you could even open your mouth—

He laughed. It was a low, yet bubbly laugh—one that you never thought would eventually fall in love with. As the lights above perfectly illuminated his features, that moment was also the first time you saw him smile. There was something stirring up within you, a feeling that gave you so much warmth from merely watching this stranger express happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.

In fact, it was so contagious that you began to laugh too.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy being comfortable with silence until you met Yoongi. Despite the fact that you spent a majority of that evening sitting in silence, it didn’t bother you at all. In most instances with others, you almost always felt obligated to say something, anything after a while but you didn’t feel that pressure with him—this stranger that you’ve only met three hours ago.

Still, you basked in the moment. The two of you sat together on that large couch, sharing the view. You were sitting with your legs criss-crossed, both arms resting over them, while Yoongi relaxed by sinking deeper into the cushion, one arm resting on the couch’s back—which was also right behind yours. You immediately learned that he, unlike yourself, wasn’t much of a talker. In the few hours you’ve spent with him on the rooftop, you’ve only learned: his name, age, and the fact that he moved into this building just today. Why? That was a mystery you’ve yet to discover. You also didn’t want to be that person who practically interrogates the new guy, trying to discover his whole life story in the span of one night. If he was living in the same building, you were confident you’d see him around from time to time anyway. Besides, it was evident that the two of you were already comfortable with each other’s presence.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” The question took you by surprise. From staring at the skyline, he then glanced back at you, eyebrow slightly cocked.

It took you a minute to think of something. If Yoongi was the type of person who took people’s music tastes seriously, you wanted to make sure you’d give a solid response—but then again, you wanted to avoid an obvious copout answer either. Truth be told, your music taste was all over the place. Shuffling any of your Spotify playlists was a dangerous game, because it could jump from contrasting genres that wouldn’t make any sense.

So you kind of… panicked.

“I like anything,” you blurted out, already regretting your choice of words. Deep inside, you were cringing, because it left a bad taste in your mouth.

You knew he was going to be disapproving of that answer, but he surprised you with a different reaction instead. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “Anything, huh? What about rap? I have something I want you to listen to.”

Intrigued, you adjusted your position on the couch, eyes watching him as he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket. The black, chunky headphones that hugged his neck were then offered to you, and you flashed a small grin upon taking it before putting it on yourself. At this point you were curious. So, your prying set of eyes continued to watch his phone’s screen as he scrolled through a list of what seemed to be recordings until selecting a file that was named Trivia 轉: Seesaw.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Initially, you thought this was some random song recommendation that he wanted to share with you, but it was much more than that. The moment you heard the artist of this track begin to sing the first verse, you were left in shock. “Is this you?” you mouthed quietly over to him, who to your surprise, was now sitting incredibly close to you. It took you a minute to notice the way that your knees were pressed against one another, faces inches apart.

He smiled bashfully with a nod. Truth be told, you didn’t expect it. Yet, you were sitting there, head nodding to the beat as the melody graced your ears. Despite only knowing him for only three hours, you knew that there was something about this song that… suited him so well. You weren’t sure if it was the eloquent rapping or the deep lyrics behind it, it all screamed Yoongi.

And you were in love with it. It became one of your favorite things to listen to.

“I can’t believe…” you trailed off once the song finished, gently lifting the headphones off of you to give them back. “I went on with my life without being blessed by this song until now. Yoongi, that was fucking amazing. If I knew you longer, I would’ve started crying but… I spared you the misery tonight.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, flattered—but feeling shy at the same time. “Relax, ____, you don’t have to kiss my ass. I can take criticism. It hasn’t even been released yet; I just wanted to get your opinion on it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked at you expectantly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I swear on my life,” you assured softly, a smile growing across your lips as your hand raises to swear by it. “It’s definitely one of those songs that people are going to play on repeat. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, attempting to hide his widening grin.

At this point your gazes were locked with one another, and you could’ve sworn he could hear the rampant beating of your heart. “Yeah,” you confidently answered back.

Later that night was the time you discovered that Min Yoongi was actually your newfound neighbor. It all happened by accident—the two of you meant to part ways after leaving the rooftop, but ended up taking the same flight of stairs down, walking through the same hallway, and stopping right next to each other after saying “bye” at the same time upon reaching both of your doors.

“Stalking me already? Really?” you quipped playfully, looking back after opening your door.

“How do I know you’re not stalking me first?” he joked in return, suggestively raising an eyebrow. He finished unlocking his own door too.

“I mean, I lived here first, so… pack it up Joe from You.” And your answer was enough for the two of you to fall into a giggling fit after.

Yoongi was the first to say goodbye. He continued to stand before his door, hand on the knob despite not wanting to step inside any time soon. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time today... and for listening to my shitty music. It was nice.”

“Of course,” you replied warmly. “I won’t argue with you, but know that as of today, I’ve become Suga’s #1 fan. Expect me to be in the front row of your shows from now on.”

Even with the roll of his eyes, you could clearly tell that he was amused. “Night, _____. Just don’t fall in love with me, alright? I don’t date fans.”

“Sweet dreams, neighbor. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on falling in love with you any time soon.”

Yet somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love.

He’d been your neighbor for a few months now, and the two of you practically became attached to the hip. You later learned that when he first moved into the city, he didn’t expect to make any sort of friends. Yoongi only planned on making music 24/7—hoping to kickstart his music career after some time. Apparently, before he moved into your building, he was working in some financial firm crunching numbers for eight hours straight. He was engaged too. But, when he revealed to his fiancée (now ex fiancée) that he wanted to quit his job and pursue music… she didn’t take it very well. So, they later separated and Yoongi searched for a new beginning in a city miles away from everything he once knew.

Unlike his ex, you strove to become extremely supportive of his music career. In fact, he was supportive of your teaching career too. On Wednesday mornings, he would always volunteer to come into your classroom and sing a few songs in front of your kindergarten students during circle time. He’d also stay to read a book or two before heading out to get lunch—only to wait for your break so that the two of you could eat together. Then on Friday nights, you would be standing front row in his shows. While his venues were mostly at nightclubs and the city nightlife wasn’t your thing, you were still there—singing along to his music and at times making the best attempt to rap as fast as he could. You’d wait for him by the back after his set, and it became a tradition to head to the nearest convenience store to fill up on ramen, alcohol, and shrimp chips (a staple for every night in).

It was hard not to fall for someone like Yoongi. There was just something about him that you absolutely adored, and even though you were sure he didn’t reciprocate those feelings in that way, you were okay with that. Having him be a part of your life was enough.

The two of you always joked about it though, how you were each other’s soulmates. How one would always complete the other; plus, sharing this sort of mutual understanding that doesn’t need to be talked about. You’ve never felt this strong pull with anyone else, and he’s admitted it too.

“There she is,” you heard the familiar voice coo from afar. Looking up from your phone, you spotted Yoongi leaving through the back door of the nightclub, approaching as if you were the one who just finished performing a show. Still, the grin on your lips couldn’t stop spreading at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, Suga! I’m like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?!” you shrieked, attempting to put on your best impression of the teenage girls who’ve been approaching him often lately. Even with all of his shows taking place in venues that only allowed people over the age of twenty, he still harbored a lot of young fans. While they weren’t allowed to watch his shows, they showed their support in other ways.

He rolled his eyes but attained the beaming smile swept across his lips. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Yoongi was never really one to crack a smile with others. But with you? You were the only exception to that.

His skin was glistening from the beads of sweat that trickled down after performing, and you took it upon yourself to gingerly sweep his coffee-colored bangs off of his face with your fingers. He was staring at you at this point, and you were desperately trying to keep it together without melting into putty in his hands. Because one thing’s for sure—the way he looks at you will always be your weakness. “What?” you challenged, now using a tissue you pulled from your bag to lightly dab his facial features. Your voice was faint, quiet enough to still be heard with your faces only inches apart.

“Nothing,” he replied lowly, stifling a small laugh. “I like looking at you.”

After another successful trip to the convenience store, you and Yoongi went back home to change into more comfortable clothes before meeting back up at the rooftop. It was nearing midnight, so the city was getting ready to turn in. The buildings gradually began to turn their lights off, which only made the stars littered across the night sky shine brighter than before. The rooftop was well-lit thanks to the string lights and candles around you, and even with the cool December breeze sweeping through, you were comfy underneath the plush blanket that wrapped around both of your bodies.

It was nights like this that you held special to your heart.

“Be honest with me,” Yoongi brought up amidst the comfortable silence. He placed the plastic bowl that held his ramen onto the coffee table in front of him before looking back at you. “Do you think I made a mistake? You know… leaving everything in my old life behind to do this? I mean—don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just… feel guilty. There’s always this voice in the back of my head that’s yelling at me for being selfish. My life was fine before, you know? I screwed it all up.”

You blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time he’d shared his doubts with you, but it was always concerning how much it lingered in his head. At the end of the day, what’s done is done. No matter how many times he feels guilty, he shouldn’t look back anymore. This was his life now.

But how could you put it into words that’ll make him understand?

Finishing your food after setting your own bowl down, you took a moment to process everything and think of an answer. You knew very well that you weren’t some licensed therapist capable of giving credited advice, but you were fairly decent at providing comfort to others. “I don’t think so,” you finally replied, keeping your gaze on him steady. “You have to think about it this way, Yoongi. Yeah you were fine before, but… were you happy? Like, actually happy? And are you happy now?”

Those questions left Yoongi speechless. He really took the time to ponder on it, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. You tried to read his expressions, though, it wasn’t any help. It was quiet. Aside from the soft music playing in the background from the small bluetooth speaker that sat on the ledge, the silence that simmered between you two was piercing.

“I guess I wasn’t,” he breathed after a short sigh. “I was miserable.”

You felt his pain at that moment. There was something about the way he said it—how it made your heart wrench and your stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he waved it off, and you could sense the slight frustration in his tone. “If anything, meeting you made everything better.”

Biting back a smile, you instantly began to feel the heat rush through your cheeks. Your chest was pounding and your head was dizzy—shocked at how those little words could make your head go haywire. Still, you did your very best in keeping it collected. “Yeah?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Your glistening eyes met his, shifting your body a bit to fully face his.

“Yeah,” he reassured, unable to keep his smile any longer.

That very night was the night Yoongi decided to be bold. He brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear, only to lessen the distance between both of your faces. Even with your head spinning, you were still able to admire his soft features—the way his eyes literally sparkled when they looked at you, the way his rosy cheeks from the alcohol became more prominent. “You make me so fucking happy, ____. I thought you were just going to be another face I’d see from time to time when we met that night, but… you became more than that. I think I’m in love with you.”

And at that moment, it felt like time had stopped between you two. That nothing else mattered in the world aside from the fact that Min Yoongi—the neighbor you fell in love with—felt the same way.

“Be honest with me,” you decided to match his boldness by using a free hand to gently sweep his bangs off of his face. They were trembling a little, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes kept its focus on you and you only, feigning that same look that always makes you crumble.

He nodded, egging you to continue.

“Would you kiss me right now if I asked?”

Your lips were immediately met by his. It was sweet, and you could taste the hint of ramen broth and beer that lingered. The way his lips felt matched the way that he kissed you—soft, and tender. His hands found their way on your hips beneath the blanket your bodies shared, while yours rested perfectly on both sides of his jaw. With chests pressed against one another, you noticed that his heart was pounding too. And that only made you smile in between kisses.

At this point, neither one of you wanted to pull apart. Instead, your lips were roughly colliding in full-force, the intensity of the kiss amplifying. Yoongi’s hand began to trail down further until his fingers reached the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitched at his touch, desperately wanting him to explore further. But he chose to stop. “Yoongi,” you said his name in an unintentional soft whine after pulling away, practically begging for more friction.

Rational thinking was thrown out of the window tonight. You were riding from the high of Yoongi practically confessing his love for you, and all you wanted to do was have him. All of him.

“Hm?” he let out a quiet hum, fingers dancing closer and closer. His lips continued to wander across your skin, peppering kisses all over your neck and down to your exposed collar bones.

“Touch me,” you whispered into his ear. “Please.”

He didn’t waste another moment. He reached over to slide your pajama pants down in one quick pull and you assisted in kicking them out of the way. It gave him leeway to use the pads of his fingers to gently massage your clothed core, pressing just enough to provide pressure that had your lips leaving quiet moans that were thankfully, still masked by the music in the background. “Take this off and spread your legs for me,” he demanded lowly.

You’ve never seen this side of him before—but god he knew how to turn you on. If the blanket wasn’t over you right now, you would’ve felt exposed from the wetness pooling in between your thighs. But you did as you were told without any hesitation, sliding your panties down until they hugged your ankles, kicking them off entirely, leaving your bottom half bare beneath the warm fabric.

Yoongi took it as a cue to slide his fingers between your legs and prying them apart. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. Even with the blanket hovered securely over your body, the way his gaze was on you was more than enough to make you feel like he owned you tonight. And you were okay with that. Slender fingers dipping into your dripping core, he used it as a way to collect the overflown juices before using it as a lubricant to massage your throbbing clit. His pace was agonizingly slow, but it still made your back arch off of the couch in pleasure.

The sight only made him mumble profanities under his breath.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, ____?” he asked, dark eyes still locked on yours. He was still close, and you could feel his hot breath tickle your skin at each word. Slowly inserting two fingers on the get-go, your eyes impulsively roll back at the way they stretched your walls in the best possible way. His pace soon began to quicken without a fair warning, and you couldn’t help but whimper each time they pump into your g-spot. “Do you think about me fucking you like this?”

Your headspace was such a euphoric state that you couldn’t even find the right words for an answer. Rather than saying anything, you only nodded feverishly to let him know that he was doing everything right. The thought of having Yoongi’s fingers fucking tirelessly inside you was more than enough to rile you up and near your orgasm.

You’ve thought about it multiple times before. Every time you see him on that stage, swiping the sweat off of the back of his neck that left his fingers glistening, your mind begins to wander into dangerous places. It was hot—there’s no denying it.

You were close. But as soon as you were about to finish, the momentum was put to a stop, because you took it upon yourself to remove his fingers out of you on your own. Confused, Yoongi began to look at you as if he’s done something wrong, though, you hoped he’d get the hint the minute your hand found its way to palm his hardening erection through his sweatpants. “I wanna finish inside you,” you breathed, planting kisses that began from his neck and worked its way up to his lips.

“Then do it.”

Using both of your hands to pull both his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, allowing for his length to spring free. After he successfully kicked them both off of him, you stood from your previous position to straddle him, putting both hands on his shoulders to support yourself. His eyes carefully watched you as you slowly unzipped your hoodie, revealing that you wore nothing underneath.

He was mesmerized. And it was all for him—with the blanket still covering both of your bare bodies, he was the only one who could see you like this. No one else.

A devilish grin laced your lips at the sight of him speechless as you helped remove his sweatshirt. Slowly but surely, you lifted yourself up slightly to line Yoongi’s erection up before sinking in.

The two of you both let out a satisfied moan in unison, and Yoongi’s hands began to wander around your warm body—hands stopping at your ass to dig his fingers into your flesh as you rocked your hips at a steady pace. His mouth on the other hand was busy with your breasts, tongue flicking against each hardened nipple even as they bounced.

“Do you think about me fucking you like this?” you mimicked him in a playful yet sultry tone, using both of your hands to lift his face up in order to make full-on eye contact with you while you continued to ride him. He threw his head back in response, all while still keeping his gaze on yours. From his expression alone, you could tell that he was wrapped around your fingers.

But instead of giving you any sort of real answer, he rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss, satisfying his craving for your lips once more. Before you knew it, your positions had switched, and you were fully lying down on the couch with Yoongi on top of you. The blanket had been partially discarded since Yoongi couldn’t care less about it, only draping over the bottom half of your bodies. You let out a small shiver as you felt the cold air, but it all seemed to disappear the minute you felt his length fill you up once more.

“You’re my weakness, _____,” you heard him say softly once your foreheads touch, his lips brushing against yours. His thrusts were at a slow pace, but it was still enough to hit your g-spot each time. “After meeting you that night, I knew I was fucked.”

It was unfair—how Min Yoongi knew how to tug your heartstrings in any situation (literally). There was nothing more intimate than this, though. The two of you were left vulnerable, and he found the perfect moment to say it. “I feel the same way,” you whispered, hands lifted up to cup his flushed cheeks. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Yoongi began to pick up the pace upon hearing you confess. With one hand gripping tightly on the couch’s arm rest until his knuckles turn white, another snuck in between your bodies to have his thumb rub your clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts.

“Yoongi, I’m so close—” you whined quietly into his ear while he continued to fuck you senselessly, walls fluttering and tightening around him. There was that familiar feeling building up inside you, and you were so close to coming undone. Yoongi continued to snap his hips into yours while tracing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you felt yourself let go. Your body jolted as you cried in please, and even then, he didn’t stop. He milked every last drop of the wave of pleasure he’d given you that left you out of breath. There was this buzzing that refused to leave your ears, and your eyes were watery from the overwhelming feeling.

Smirking in satisfaction, each thrust became more sloppy and erratic. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, pulling out to finish on you. He groaned as you felt his warmth spill across your frame, panting from the intense session the two of you just shared.

“Damn, I made a mess,” he said playfully after reaching out for a napkin on the table to wipe your body clean, which earned a soft slap on his end. He only laughed once you were able to sit back up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on the lips.

Once the two of you were finished getting dressed and cleaning the area, you both decided to stay on the rooftop for a few more minutes. Both of you were nuzzled against one another for warmth, your back pressed against Yoongi while he had an arm wrapped around you. SUGAR by BROCKHAMPTON was playing in the background, and Yoongi was singing softly to the chorus while you quietly admired his small performance.  

“Remember when you said you wouldn’t fall in love with a fan?” the words left your lips with a smile, recalling the memory like it was only yesterday. At this point, you were just there to tease him. “Tsk. Can’t believe I’m into a hypocrite.”

He laughed, nose digging into your hair. “You’re different. I’d do anything for you.”

↳   PRESENT DAY.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You’ve spent the past hour sitting on the rooftop’s sofa in solitude, admiring the blue sky in front of you. You were quietly humming to Suga’s Trivia 轉: Seesaw to yourself as you watched the view, until you were interrupted by the familiar voice entering your ears. The smile on your face widened as he approached you, offering a hand to help you up.

It’d been months since you’ve last heard from Yoongi. He was off doing bigger, better things—and you were proud of him for that. After spending hours and hours of going back and forth with one another one night, the two of you had the realization that the long-term goals you both had didn’t align. He was asked to commit to a world tour for the next year and a half, and you wanted to stay where your life was. Here.

Yoongi was more than willing to drop his entire career to be with you, but you knew it wasn’t right. So, no matter how painful it felt, you had to let go. He’s made so many sacrifices to get to where he was, and you refused to be the reason why he couldn’t live his dreams. No matter how much you both loved each other.

Deep inside, you’ve always hoped that he’d come home. That one night you’d find him sitting in that very same spot on the rooftop, legs sprawled apart, absentmindedly staring at the night sky. But it’s been months. No calls, no texts—only a meek dial tone at the end of the line.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Min Yoongi was simply the right person you’ve met at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” you answered Jungkook softly before taking his hand to lift yourself from the seat. A quiet giggle left your lips once your boyfriend pulled you closer to pepper kisses on your cheek, and the two of you began your walk out of the building. “Let’s get out of here.”

[nekowriteshaikyuu]

 - mistletoe with middle blockers -

 𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒 , 𝕜𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕠 , 𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕦 ,

 — slight nsfw, fluff, not proofread

 word count : i’m so lazy to copy and paste so uh..alot u^u

 a/n : it was so difficult having little to no connection at home, but all’s good now ! anyways this was pretty last minute but nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy this !! decided to create this after impulsively buying the christmas dlc for mystic messenger aksksk. also i tried to write for more than one person so yeah, do give me any feedback so i could improve:) ngl writing kuroos’ is so heartwarming, his one is the best out all three uwu (that’s why is a little longer lolol)  anyways enjoy and merry christmas !! 

—

𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝕜𝕖𝕚

he’s not really into christmas because of the blinding lights that littered everywhere, so he often stays home

his house is no where near festive so you’d hang some decorations every single day you come over.

on christmas itself, you saved the mistletoe last to kind of give off a finishing touch

tsukki would just mock you when you constantly jump to hang the mistletoe by the door, in the end he helped you and sighed because he know what’s coming.

“yaay !!” you threw your hands up in the air, eyeing on the last deco that was put up. tsukki leaned by the door, hands crossed over as he stared blankly on the floor. inching a little closer, you looked at him with your gleaming eyes, hinting him.

“i’m not kissing you.” he said coldly, walking away from the door to the kitchen. you pout as you trail along behind him, begging for even just a peck on the cheek.

“tsukki please ~ it’s christmas !!” your arms cling onto his as you rubbed your head onto it. tsukki wasn’t reacting much but inside, he’s dying by how adorable you were to desperately beg for a kiss. he wouldn’t mind kissing you, but he know very well that the minute his lips touch yours, there’s no way it will end then and there. he sighed as he took a sip of water, slowly getting annoyed by your constant whine and you pulling his sweater.

“stop pulling my shirt.” you eventually let loose before stomping into the room and closing the door shut, the mistletoe dropping to the ground. tsukki slowly made his way back and noticed the fallen mistletoe. picking it up, he opened the door slowly before hanging it back. you sat on the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as you laid completely still. he sighed, before walking up to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out.

you groaned, trying to pry from his grip but only for him to tightened it. he stopped by the door, having a moment of thoughts

“you don’t have to do it, i’m not asking anymo-” you couldn’t finish your sentence before tsukki turns to face you, cupping your cheeks and pecking your lips. you stood there, your face burning up and turning red. tsukki pushed his hair backwards before picking you up and throwing you to the bed.

“i knew this was gonna happen, you’re gonna accept it no matter what.” taking his glasses off, he glared down at you, his brows furrowing. 

what a night you could say ~

—

𝕜𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕠 𝕥𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕦

this guy- istg. 

any mistletoe, like any, EVEN THE ONES PLACED INFRONT OF A BUSY MALL, he’d sneakily give you a kiss.

your face will burn like hell but aint gonna lie though you liked it alot

he’ll go out to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close to him, giving you a very long and passionate kiss

so long sometimes people just awes the both of you and wish you both the best of luck (you’re face will be as red as a tomato by now)

every year, he’d always hand you a gift after kissing below a mistletoe, just to spice things up (what a gentleman uwu)

maybe this year...i guess you could say you’ll never forget this year’s christmas. ever.

walking around the mall with your hand intertwined with your boyfriend’s, it was the most romantic date out of all the dates you’ve went with him. you could have spent your day at his place, binge watching every christmas movie he downloaded online. but he felt a little special and decided to bring you out to see the lights and do some shopping here and there.

you stopped after eyeing on the huge christmas tree deco that was centered at the mall. you pulled out your phone, dragging kuroo in as you snapped pictures of the both of you with the beautifully lit tree as your background. you heart melt as you take short glances to your boyfriend who was smiling as you snapped the pictures. after a few takes, you switched the camera around to take pictures of the lights and your surrounding. you were so engrossed with the atmosphere you weren’t aware of what’s was anticipating upon you.

you felt a hand gripping onto your arm and pulling you back. turning, kuroo only smiled before his eyes looked up. you followed his eyes to see the little plant hanging above the both of you. your cheeks grew red, knowing very well that he’d devour your lips even if you both are in public. kuroo took your phone from your hands, pocketing it into his coat. his hand snaked around your waist, while the other cupped the side of your cheek. his face slowly inched closer to yours, feeling the tip of your noses touching each other. your eyes were shut close as you felt his soft lips colliding with yours. as per usual, the kiss was slow, passionate, filled with love. you could hear couples behind aweing the both of you. a rush of embarrassment started to creep upon you, making you try to pull away from the kiss. it only made kuroo deepened the kiss, his grip around your waist tightening. after a solid seven minutes of endless love, he broke it off, his eyes looking straight into yours. you gave him a weak smile, still slightly embarrassed that this all occurred in public. he tucked your hair that was covering your face, lifting your chin up slightly higher to see your every feature.

“i love, y/n.” he said cheekily. you only lightly punched his chest, before saying it back. he took a step back away from you, pulling a small black box from the inside of his coat. oh my god. is this really happening? is it what you think it is? you watched every move he did, where he got down on one of his knee, slowly opening the box revealing a diamond ring nicely tucked in the sponge placed inside. a swam of people soon crowd around, some with their phones out recording.

“my dearest y/n, spending my high school years with you till this very day has never once been a bore to me. every moment, i cherish it. every memory, i kept it secure within my heart. you are my everything, and for that, i want to create more memories with you, each better than the one before. “ he took the ring out the box, reaching out for your hand.

“y/n, will you marry me ?” you could the lights reflecting from his eyes, his smile never leaving his face. everyone crowding around slowly waited for your respond, some clenching their hands into each other in hopes of this public engagement to be successful. you giggled, a tear shedding from your eyes. you looked at kuroo, stepping a little closer to him, before nodding with a smile pasted on your face.

“i would love to.” the crowd was cheering, applauding as kuroo slipped the ring onto your finger. he got up from his kneel, pulling you in for a hug. you sighed in relief as you bury your face onto his chest.

“god, this is embarrassing !!” you screamed into his chest, bringing him to laugh while caressing your hair. 

hands down, this was the best christmas day ever.

—

𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚

honestly, he has never once walk by a mistletoe.

n e v e r

either he avoids it or just pays no attention to it

with that, he doesn’t get why couples kiss in certain locations that has a small plant hanging above them.

you thought you could use this as an advantage to get him to give you a little kiss.

you went to the deco shop and bought a mistletoe, hiding it in your bag as you went back into the dorm he was living in.

you waited for a perfect time before you could pull  it out and kiss him

but i guess not all plans work out, huh ?

“satori !!” you cheered as he opened the front door, his smile growing just as you arrived. he let you in, closing the door behind him before plopping back in bed, reading his weekly shounen jump magazine. now is the perfect time. you quietly took the mistletoe out of your back, tiptoeing you way behind tendou who was busy reading. you held the mistletoe above in between both of you, preparing youself. you cleared your throat loud and clear for tendou to hear, which worked and he turned around.

you inched closer, eyes close as you slowly move closer to tendou to kiss him.

“wakatoshi ?” he said before moving out of your way, making you fall face flat onto his pillow. you groaned, turning to realise wakatoshi was standing at the door. tendou walked up to him, conversing away as you lay on the bed, upset that your plan did not work. you toyed with the mistletoe on your hand, tempting to throw it away. you were downplayed the idea of kissing him. despite dating him for over 5 months now, he never really showed much affection aside from hugs or just head pats.

after a while, ushijima left the dorm after handing tendou a gift. tendou turned to see you in the midst of chucking the mistletoe in the bin, which caught his attention.

“oh ? isn’t that the plant thingy that couples kiss under ?” you were surprised he knew despite not seeing one is real life. he walked over to you, taking it from your hands and observing it. he was mesmerised, fondling with it for a while. he placed ushijima’s gift on the table before resuming to inspect the little ornament.

you started to grow a little annoyed that we was taking too long playing with it. your hands were crossed and one of your knee popped out as you spoke in a very cold manner.

“look, it’s trash, just throw it out.” to your surprised, tendou stretches his arm that was holding the mistletoe up high above, before his lips pecking yours. his sudden action kind of caught you off guard. you could not react fast before he smashed his lips back to yours, a hand snaked around your waste to pull you closer. your hands cupped his cheeks as you slowly melt from the kiss. you’ve anticipated this long enough and now you got it.

tendou broke the kiss, chucking the mistletoe straight into the bin before pushing you down to the bed. he hovered above you, his hands caging you. he lowered his body closer to yours. you shiver slightly which made him grin from your reaction.

“you were hoping for this weren’t you, hmph?” he whispered to your ear. this was a whole new side of tendou you’re experiencing. however, you were rather fond of his more dominant side, instead of his cheerful loud side he portrayed since the beginning of your relationship. 

your noses touch, his lips slightly brushing over yours. he got back up, removing his shirt before tossing it to the ground and caging you back with his hands.

“i guess our christmas is gonna be a wild one, huh?” he giggled before nibbling on your earlobe. 

i’ll let your imagination roam further~

but let’s just say, you were satisfied at the end despite your plan backfiring<3

[doctors-star]

hi its me im back again #43 for lister/rimmer? (a non-cowboy alternative)

“I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life.” “You like it.” “Do I?”

-

Lister taps his fingers against the iron girder. It’s painted the same red as the Dwarf, but chipping and loose - probably also like the Dwarf, only he’s not been out to have a gander in a while. Always seems to be something else to do these days.

He sighs heavily. Picks a flake of paint loose. Resists the urge to fidget.

“I spy-”

“Oh, Christ, we’re not that bored already are we?” Rimmer whines, and Lister allows his head to loll to his right. It puts his face within inches of Rimmer’s cheek, and though it makes him go a little cross-eyed to do so he can clearly see that yes, Rimmer is that bored.

“Well, we’re trapped for the foreseeable future in a pile of rubble and girders in an abandoned derelict, with no comms and no hope of rescue until Krytes and Cat can be bothered to come lookin’,” Lister points out calmly. “We can play fortunately-unfortunately instead if you want, but I don’t think this is going to get less boring quickly.”

Rimmer sniffs and glowers at the ceiling of their weird rubble igloo. It had, of course, been heart-stoppingly terrifying for a while; Lister had smacked the door release idly with the side of his fist, the doors had opened, and he and Rimmer had entered, bickering all the while so enthusiastically that what had happened after that was still a mystery to Lister. The upshot, crucially, had been that the ceiling had fallen in in a shower of sparks and trailing wires and laid them both out flat under slabs of metal panelling, chunks of what looked like concrete, and a few girders for colour. One is neatly pinning Lister’s hips to the floor, there’s a large amount of concrete on his ankles, and Rimmer is buried in metal sheeting up to his sternum, but on the bright side they can both breathe and nothing seems to be broken. Not that Rimmer could break, anyway, being as he is entirely made of solid light.

This had not stopped Lister from being apocalyptically terrified for a good thirty seconds after impact.

“Is it rubble?” Rimmer asks at last, with a tone of deep dissatisfaction.

“I didn’t even tell you the first letter,” Lister says, trying not to grin at Rimmer.

Rimmer shifts his head to gaze, unimpressed, at Lister.

“It was, though, yeah.”

Rimmer looks as though he wants to laugh, and also to despair of him; it makes his face twitch like a ferret in a sack. Lister presses forward an inch to drop a kiss on the end of his nose, because that usually makes the twitching worse. “Menace,” Rimmer says, flinching back to glare, cross-eyed, down his nose at Lister. But, you know, affectionately. Lister beams. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here waiting for two mentally-incompetents to rescue us,” Rimmer sighs. He fidgets his shoulders, shifting the panelling, and winces.

“Stop moving, man,” Lister says in a voice which he hopes is calming.

It isn’t; Rimmer thrashes about a bit like he’s being electrocuted, which makes the whole rubble pile shake in a deeply worrying fashion. He does, however, manage to work his left arm free and shake it triumphantly in the air. “Dead arm,” he says in explanation - and then, very casually, so subtly that the motion occurs in neon with bells on, he rests the hand on top of Lister’s girder. Next to Lister’s fingers. And then Rimmer doesn’t look at his hand, the girder, or in Lister’s direction at all, so Lister takes the hint.

“Dead everything, mate,” he says helpfully, sliding his fingers under Rimmer’s palm and giving his hand a squeeze. Rimmer’s frame relaxes ever so slightly, as though that threatened slight rejection had worried him more than the whole mild peril of their situation. Neurotic bastard. “Speaking of,” Lister adds, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rimmer’s hand, “you don’t have to wait for Kryten and Cat. You could go softlight, wriggle on out, and go get ‘em.”

Rimmer’s hand tightens briefly on his before carefully relaxing. “No-o,” he says with forced casualness, “I’ll wait.”

Lister nods. “Very helpful. You just wait here to avoid the walk. Can’t have you tirin’ yourself out. If I starve to death, I want the lightbee every two weeks, alright?”

“I am not arranging a timeshare with our afterlife!” Rimmer objects sharply.

“You smegging well are,” Lister corrects cheerfully. “If you kill me through inaction, you owe me at least some of your time. You promised, remember-” he says smugly, pressing as close as he can until his nose is pressed into Rimmer’s cheekbone. “Spend the rest of our time together, forever-”

“Exactly,” Rimmer sputters, face turning a very impressive red at the reference to their little...agreement. “Together - which we won’t be, if only one of us exists at a time.”

“You’d better go an’ fetch us some rescue then, eh?” Lister says, smiling into Rimmer’s jaw to make him squirm. “Or else.”

He can feel the muscles in Rimmer’s face twitch slightly with the effort not to turn into Lister’s ministrations and give up on the argument - only that would mean losing said argument, and that usually requires more attention than Lister can give with his body pinned to the floor. By something that isn’t Rimmer, that is. “Ah, but you said we’d stay together,” Rimmer points out firmly, voice only ticking up half an octave when Lister starts kissing at the hinge of his jaw. “Death do us part, you said.”

Lister grins and picks up their joined hands, nudging them towards the small gap in the ceiling that a lightbee, and corresponding intangible human shape, could easily fit through. “An’ you’ve already kicked it, so off you pop,” he says brightly.

Rimmer sputters indignantly for a bit, but makes no move. After a moment, the grumbling resumes, and Lister can’t help a sigh. “Where are those two, anyway? Even they ought to have noticed by now-”

“Rimmer, mate you literally don’t need to be here,” Lister says, impatience bleeding into his tone as he pulls back slightly. He doesn’t miss how Rimmer shifts minutely into his space before reversing quickly.

“Well, I’m not going,” Rimmer says, fingers tightening around Lister’s.

He shakes his head and lies back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life,” he says.

“You like it,” Rimmer retorts immediately.

“Do I?” he replies, voice tired and dry. But he rolls his head back to face Rimmer. He knows Rimmer better than anyone in the entire universe; of course he had caught the wheedling note in Rimmer’s voice, the flash of insecurity, the minute increase in the grip on his hand. And sure enough, Rimmer’s eyes are wide and slightly worried, and then his face turns quickly away, schooled into something snide. He wishes Rimmer wouldn’t do that; has no hope that he’ll ever stop. Lister picks up their joined hands and gently knocks their knuckles against the girder three times. “Well, it’s still annoying,” he says eventually. “But as long as I don’t starve here, I’d still rather have you with me than not. So.”

Rimmer waves a hand idly. “Eat your own leg, or something.”

Lister gives him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”

They lie quietly for a while, listening to the rubble creak and groan, and to a mysterious dripping sound which, every third drop, fizzes with a decidedly electrical sound. There’s a lump of something digging into his spine, and his foot is rapidly going numb, but Rimmer’s hand is pleasantly warm and solid in his own, his breathing regular and steady in the half-light, and it is - god help his standards for living - not half bad. Lister is, despite himself, quite glad that Rimmer is more stubborn than a bull-headed pig when he wants to be.

He’s glad, too, to be something Rimmer gets so stubborn over.

He is quite bored, though.

“I spy-” he begins again.

“It’s girder this time, I know it,” Rimmer says quickly. “I am not playing this with you.” Lister closes his mouth. “It was panel, actually - and look, what do you want to do? Arguing didn’t take up as much time as I had hoped-”

“You picked a fight to pass the time?!”

“Yeah, only, it was a really rubbish argument. Unfortunately.”

“Well,” Rimmer says, sounding as self-important as a man can when being crushed by sheets of metal, “fortunately, we love each other far too well to ever argue.”

“Unfortunately,” Lister says, grinning at the barefaced lie, “no-one with an IQ over seven would believe that.”

“Fortunately, I know my audience,” Rimmer says smugly, eyes dancing and smile so cheerfully obnoxious that Lister has to laugh, he just has to, not least for the way it makes Rimmer’s whole face soften into something gentler, and more fond.

He squeezes Rimmer’s hand and feels it squeeze back. “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with him,” he murmurs, eyes dropping helplessly to Rimmer’s lips.

Rimmer smiles, small and genuine. “I’ll survive,” he says.

[bastillia]

First Lesson (NSFW)

Read on Ao3

Summary: Commander Kylo Ren needs a competent officer to accompany him on an important mission, and he has requested you specifically. When he discovers that you don't know how to pilot a TIE fighter, he takes it upon himself to fix that. Turns out cockpits are good for other things, too. 

Rating: Explicit

Words: 7.4k

Content Warnings: possible dubcon, choking, spanking, inappropriate use of the Force, rough sex, minimal aftercare, cockwarming… yeah. 

A/N: Wow so this is officially my first published work after lurking in the fandom for a good 4 years??? Holy shit. I'm super nervous, but hey, I've got to start somewhere! I've had this silly idea gnawing around in my little rat brain for fucking ever, so it feels good to finally pound it out (heh). I have... literally never written smut before, sooo I welcome any feedback. Thank you for reading this!

"Take a fighter. Follow me to the surface."

The commander strode powerfully over the gangway, dismissing you with a flick of his gloved hand as he approached the yawning cockpit of his TIE silencer. Engineers scrambled aside like rats to sunlight as he moved, conveniently parting a clear path for you to follow the rippling tower of black robes across the platform. You stumbled and jogged slightly to keep up, your gaze shifting nervously along the sinister row of TIE fighters. They sat anchored to the dock, still as a cavalry line at dawn, each black durasteel destrier awaiting its chance to charge into battle. But there was no impending fight here. Why weren't you taking the command ship?

"Commander. Sir, w-wai-" You collided with an unyielding wall of black, having not been looking where you were going. Ren had stopped and was now turned to look at you, posture stiff, eyes burning with impatience. You straightened sharply and jumped back, shying away from your next words as your cheeks burned under the dark beam of his stare.

"I... I don't know how to fly one. S-sir." You managed to say, and your heart plummeted into your stomach with the admission. It seemed childish. Silly. But-- what would he think of you now? You had always admired the commander more than you'd ever admit to your peers, and if you were honest, you found him wildly, dangerously attractive. There was something about the way he barely held back. The fire that shone behind his dark eyes like they were the only living part of a face cast in carbonite, that made you dare to wonder what he would look like if he let go. The power that radiated from him was always so visceral, yet restrained. Except, of course, when he had his outbursts. You only ever saw the aftermath: a shredded, glowing control panel, a dazed and heaving officer slumped against the floor after being Force-choked within an inch of death over a particularly inconvenient mistake. You'd be lying if you said such unbridled evidence of his power didn't stoke a flame of intrigue. And perhaps something else.

You had only recently been promoted to lieutenant general, but you had a feeling Kylo Ren had watched you closely for some time. You saw it in the shift of his eyes whenever you passed him by, the particular burn of his stare when you delivered reports on behalf of your superior general. You'd never known a commander to hold such a piqued interest in the drabble of stormtrooper reconditioning scores. Or why he had to fix his gaze so intently on you that you could swear he was trying to turn your blood molten. 

You knew that you were more than competent in your position, yet you couldn't quell a desire to impress the commander. Whether it was with your sharp aptitude for command, tactical maneuvers, or securing risky strategic alliances, you always tried to establish presence. To command the room, intimidate both your peers and subordinates with your sharp wits, and earn those rare, blood-branding stares of approval from Kylo Ren when your steel confidence washed a hush over the room. What you'd never admit was how that steel later melted down into gushing whimpers under the forge of your sheets, imagining the kinds of things that your commander might do to you. 

You'd had to forcibly smother your elation when you received the order for your aid specifically on this mission, not even knowing until a few minutes ago that it was you, and only you, that Kylo Ren had requested to come along. It sank like a cold blade into your gut now to know that your ineptitude would make him think less of you. The knife twisted with the realization that you would be left behind on the only opportunity you might ever get to spend some time alone with the commander.

He looked at you for a moment, expression unreadable. How had your command training not included basic piloting by default? A brief flash of anger lit his eyes and set his jaw tight as he thought about whoever's incompetence he would have to deal with later when he reviewed the training program. But for now, there was no time. 

Your eyes were fixed to the metal grate of the floor, stomach knotting, as you steeled a calm mask over the disappointment that tightened your throat. You began to speak, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I’m sorry, Commander. I will inform mission control that you are in need of--" Before you could finish, Kylo Ren clamped his arm around your waist, pulling you firmly to his body as he leveraged his hips in one fluid motion to drag you with him into the small cockpit of the TIE silencer.

Your brain reeled, a small yelp escaping your lips as your ass landed firmly into his lap, one of his arms anchoring you there while his other hand reached to flick a control above him. Before you could stammer out the question of what the fuck he was doing, the cockpit was already hissing closed around you both. 

"First lesson." 

Your pulse was a flurry. He began to flip the controls absently, looking easily over your head as you awkwardly adjusted yourself on his thighs. The space was so small, there was absolutely no position you could assume that didn't involve your ass planted into his hips, your back against his broad torso, and your calves draped around either side of his ridiculously long legs. Your head spun. The thrusters hummed to life. Fuck. Everything was moving too fast. His gloved hand began to point individually at each control he had just engaged.

"Auxiliary." 

His voice was dead even as he pointed to the first switch on your left, the movement of his arm making his chest ripple under your shoulder blade. Your brain was a mess of thrill and panic. Was this really happening right now? Heat flowed in a river down your spine and pooled in the roiling cauldron of your belly. Whether it wanted to wash you away, or pull you in like a rip current to his body, you couldn’t decide. His hand moved to a lower control panel where the second switch sat, affording you little time to take in what he was saying. 

"Compressor." 

You tried hard to focus on his words, blinking the spinning confusion out of your eyes as you dumbly studied the path his hand had just taken. You blinked again, hard. Auxiliary. Compressor. Okay. You forced yourself to bid the controls to memory, trying to catch up as he moved along. Four adjacent switches to your right had been next. 

"Ignition," 

His gloved finger drew languidly against the curved switch in a way that suddenly made your skin light up against every solid line of his body pressed flush to yours. Your thighs tensed. Heat climbed your neck as you struggled to hold onto a fragile thread of focus. 

"Thrusters." 

He gestured to the final three buttons. Fucking breathe. Ignition, thrusters. Okay. Simple enough. You sobered yourself sternly and nodded your understanding as you flicked your gaze along the control path that started the engines, internally repeating it several times as your heartbeats became distinguishable again. It was quick. Concise. Fitting, you thought, for a state-of-the-art starfighter prototype that might need to get airborne in a hurry. It was certainly far less brain-scrambling than the orchestrations you'd seen performed upon the control panels of freighters to wrangle them towards liftoff. Why don't they label anything in those damn ships anyways?

"Now," Ren’s hands gripped your hips, instantly shattering your moment of composure. Stars, why did he have this effect on you? And why did a part of you never want it to end? He adjusted your seat, pressing you slightly straighter against him, and you could feel the warm, solid contour of his abdomen flex under your spine. You swallowed hard.

"Steering is intuitive." His palms smothered the backs of your hands as he picked them up, guiding them to grasp the vertical steering grips. Your blood felt uncomfortably hot in your veins. He kept his hands wrapped firmly over top of yours, arms encircling you like a gigantic fucking scaffold, coaxing you to lift the handles very slightly upwards. The craft lurched to life in response, and you were suddenly thankful for his hands holding yours steady as your heart threatened to explode from your ribs. 

It was intuitive, you'd give him that, even if your intuition felt starkly absent from your brain at the moment. The body of the craft lifted smoothly, almost sentiently, with the subtle upward press of the handles. Still, the sudden g-force of liftoff sank you firmly into the commander's lap, amplifying an alarming and far too pleasant stir that agitated the pit of your belly. 

You breathed slowly, trying to stay as still as possible on top of him, your brain still coming to grips with what the fuck was occurring right now. You thought maybe you'd had a dream like this once. Come to think of it, the enigmatic commander had starred in many of your most pleasant dreams -- with or without the mask. Oh, stars. You screwed your eyes tight, inwardly cursing your useless fucking brain. Did you really have to think about that right now? You were definitely blushing. A puff of breath hit the back of your neck. Wait- Did he just chuckle? 

You didn't have time to figure out the answer as his gloved hands flexed over the top of yours and your eyes flew open, finding that the fighter was now hovering a comfortable distance from the hangar floor. He pressed your joined hands forward, and the ship responded gorgeously, accelerating towards the mouth of the docking bay in a smooth departure that made your veins flutter with a thrill of adrenaline. Vacuous darkness swallowed the viewport as the Supremacy was left swiftly in your wake, and you released a lungful of air you didn't know you had been holding. An unexpected calmness suddenly blanketed you as everything fell to the periphery. As your wide eyes adjusted to the void, a spattering of stars slowly blinked into view, decorating the expanse. It was... silent. Still. Breathtaking. 

Ren pulled the grips under your hands back like the reins of an obedient steed, and the craft responded as such. The only indication that the fighter had stilled was the slightly quieter hum of the idling ion thrusters vibrating softly through the air of the cockpit. Your respite was brief. The tranquility of space was magnifying your far-from-tranquil realization that you were now decidedly, irreversibly alone with the commander, and your insides folded in half. 

You hardly dared to breathe, let alone move, your senses suddenly augmented and trained sharply onto Kylo Ren as you sat pressed into his lap. His lap. Maker, have mercy. Your clean-pressed uniform suddenly felt tight and stifling around your neck, and you swallowed thickly. 

"Take over." 

He spoke curtly into the silence, almost making you jump as the baritone rumbled close to your ear. Stars, everything he said was a fucking command. You couldn’t deny how much you’d always enjoyed the rich color of his natural, unmodulated voice, taking secret reverence in the way he could paralyze a room with it. Nor could you ignore the way that every word he spoke was now having the opposite effect, riling up that dismayingly persistent heat between your legs. 

He slid his hands off of yours, leaving you in full command of the sleek starfighter. Nerves needled a patchwork in your gut as you stared disconnectedly at your own bare hands gripping the controls. They might as well have been someone else's entirely. Two palms settled over the tops of your thighs, and the gesture pierced all the way to your brain.

By the void, calm the fuck down. You grounded yourself sternly, tightening your grip around the contoured handles and forcing yourself to feel their texture, the ridges that dug into your skin, the tension that rippled up your arms and into your shoulders as you squeezed them. Breathe. There was a reason you'd been promoted so fast: it was your aptitude toward levelness and situational control under pressure. You could do this. Just... treat it like another test. Taking a steadying breath and fixing your brow in determination, you pressed the grips forward. 

If you thought takeoff was intuitive, now that you somewhat had your frayed wits about you, this was like an extension of your own consciousness. The silencer handled like a dream, and you quickly got the hang of its basic movements, almost forgetting your strange predicament as you took surprising delight in steering the agile craft through the vacuum of space. Kylo Ren hardly moved beneath you. He seemed to be letting you feel the ship out on your own, but his hands occasionally flexed over the curve of your thighs, his fingers splaying into a wide grip that pressed heat into your veins. An alarming reminder, each time, that he was paying attention. Always paying attention.

You cut the silencer back towards the Supremacy after a short while, and were surprised to note that the stifling mega class dreadnought seemed much… smaller, from out here. It felt strange, looking upon the massive vessel that encompassed your entire life, whose halls and chambers you had meticulously memorized, as if it were no more than a distant memory. The perspective settled a quiet feeling inside you that you couldn’t quite formulate.

Also in view, and framing the silhouette of the star destroyer impressively, was your ultimate destination. A large planet, twinkling with tiny rivers of light between clouds, and crowned in a halo of white flame from this system's central star. The planet would be the site of your mission, which, you noted -- the commander still hadn't even briefed you on. You funneled the nervous pang at the thought into determination as you caressed the controls again, considerably braver now about handling the craft.

In a moment of spontaneity, you locked the arches of your feet under Ren's calves and accelerated sharply, whipping the silencer into a tight barrel roll. A breathy, delighted laugh swelled in your chest before you could catch it as you righted the ship to its initial orientation again.

"Good," Ren murmured into your hair, a large hand sliding up to your belly as you reined the ship smoothly to a halt. He pressed you slightly tighter to him with a splayed palm, his strong nose grazing your ear, and the responding thrill between your thighs set your brain back to spinning. You suddenly became aware of a firm knot under your seat that you hadn't noticed before, and your breath stopped. You'd been so distracted maneuvering the ship, you couldn't be sure. You cocked your hips slightly, daring to shift against him, and with the movement it was undeniable: Kylo Ren was hard as a rock. 

You gasped, and the moment you tensed, a gloved hand snaked up to slam into your throat and pull you roughly back against a solid chest, breath hot and immediate in your ear. 

"Don't think I haven't noticed..." His voice was dark and dangerous as his free hand slid to your inner thigh, gripping the sensitive flesh there, your airway closed tight. You trembled, pulse galloping, as a spear of adrenaline ignited each of your most primal instincts at once. 

"...How you can hardly keep those eyes to yourself around me." His lips were warm against the shell of your ear as his nose grazed the baby hairs at your temple, the feeling adding a confusing tingle to the sharp claws of terror that gripped you. Your pulse was deafening, and you struggled to find either breath or coherence under his iron grip. His hand on your throat loosened slightly with a creak of leather, and the sweetness of air crashed into your lungs.

"I could say the same," you breathed without thinking, suddenly wondering if you actually had a deathwish. His hand flexed threateningly on your throat and you flinched, but he simply breathed a dark chuckle into the hollow of your ear. Oh. That made you fucking shiver. 

"Observant." He slowly ground his hips up into you, more or less fucking his prominent erection against your ass. Needles of fear laced confusingly into a wash of desire as a soft noise escaped you, and you bit your lip to catch it in its tracks as he continued. "But I know every thought you've ever had about me, lieutenant." Oh, stars. Fuck. You knew he’d paid attention to you, but not that closely.

"It's pathetic, really… " He continued to grind torturously against you, his broad hand pinning your thigh the same way a predator might hold down a piece of live prey that it wants to toy with for a while before killing. "...The way you try so hard to impress me." His growl bottomed out on the emphasis with a decisive roll of his hips that sent an electric shock careening to your core. You squirmed against him, but his grip on your neck and leg had you on an axis that allowed precious little freedom. His hips continued their disciplined pace as he spread his knees slightly, forcing your own to follow, and his thumb traced electricity into the tender patch of thigh just below your most intimate parts. You clenched at the closeness of it.

"But…” he purred, tone shifting slightly.

“The things that cross your mind at night?" You froze with dread, wishing the ice in your spine would somehow percolate into the space around you, freeze it into stasis so that he wouldn't continue with his next words. But Kylo Ren was a furnace, burning the unlimited fuel of your fear, and he rumbled on. 

"When you touch that wet little cunt, and think about me?" He lifted his palm away briefly - the predator's illusion of mercy - before delivering a hard, stinging smack straight to your inner thigh. Your cunt convulsed. 

"Filthy."

A silent pause filled the cockpit, allowing both the word and the impact to sink into your nerves before he slowly circled his glove across the tingling flesh under his hand. Your bones went gelatinous, and, stars, you whimpered. It was a sound so foreign to even your own ears, that you startled yourself. 

His straining cock pulsed against the curve of your ass, and he swore darkly, sliding his hand on your thigh up to cup your sex through the fabric of your pants. You were already wet and aching, you could feel it, but the slight pressure of his hand over your sensitive heat drove your need to a frenzy. Another whine leaked unbidden from your lips. 

“Tell me, lieutenant, how do you prefer me?” His voice was cruel and dark, drawing out your torment as he began to tease your slit with a pressure so light you thought you might die on the spot. 

“With, or without the mask?” He pressed down, rolling his forefinger over your clit in a firm motion that sent sparks into your brain. Your mouth fell open in an obscene moan that echoed around the cockpit. Kylo Ren stiffened, tightening his grip on your throat and stilling the pressure on your aching bud.

He didn't have to say anything for you to know in your gut that an answer was required. Your stomach quivered. This was his game, and you were going to have to play at it if you wanted any of your deepest, most secret desires to come to fruition now. And stars, you wanted it bad. You found a few breaths, collecting fragments of your voice. 

"Any w-way you'd have me, C-commander." Your voice was hardly intact, but you managed to breathe the words out through your daze of terror and need, finally pushing your own ass back into the motion of his hips. He released a warm huff of breath into your ear, seemingly pleased. Thank the Maker. 

"That's right."

His soft hair dusted your ear as he dipped to latch a hot kiss into your neck, pulling your head slightly aside for better access. His tongue was molten and wet against your skin, and the feeling sank straight to your core. You reeled and whined as he sucked a bruise into your throat, taking his time tasting you, his hand over your pants drawing an embarrassing volume of wetness from your aching cunt already. You dropped your hands beside you and sunk your nails into the fabric over his thighs, need overflowing from your skin and into his body. 

Kylo Ren sucked a breath through his teeth and slipped the hand on your throat upwards, gripping your jaw instead and pushing the leather pad of his forefinger through your lips. You accepted it a little too eagerly, sucking it in delicately and running your tongue across the ridges in the supple material as you relished the expensive taste. He hummed and slid a second thick digit into your mouth as his lips and teeth continued to worry the tender skin of your neck, and you were sure you would bear the dark purple evidence of his possession for at least a week. You didn't care. 

His ministrations had your body pliant and wanting in no time, and your thighs had involuntarily begun to relax, falling wider around each side of his lap even as the sharp edge of a control panel dug into your leg. You felt the rigid hilt of the saber on his hip as well, a sensation that paralyzed you for a moment with a new spike of fear and thrilling desire. He ascended from your neck with a sharp nip. 

"So eager, lieutenant." He clicked his tongue once and landed a sharp spank straight to the mound of your pussy. It made you jump, and clench hard with a small, leather-muffled yelp. He deftly switched hands, removing his fingers from your mouth as his other hand closed around your neck. His moistened digits dipped below the waistband of your pants, and you felt his own breaths quicken underneath your shoulders, exciting you. The smooth, warm leather slid easily down your folds, drawing a gasp from you as he collected and spread your arousal. Now, this, you had definitely dreamed about before. He circled slowly across your clit, slicking it over in a motion that sparked white ecstasy through your nerve endings, and you whined pathetically. 

"What would your superiors think," Kylo Ren's deep, mocking voice dripped through you as he slid one finger down to tease your entrance. Your hips bucked, trying in vain to draw him in. "If they knew what a desperate little whore you are for your commander?" 

Your brain stuttered then. An involuntary smirk pulled at your lips as you conjured the image of your superior general, and how his eyes always seemed to darken when they wandered a little too far down your uniform. You didn't consider the fact that your mind was on full display to Ren before the brat center of your brain produced one clear thought. 

They'd envy my commander.

You bit your tongue hard the second the thought formed, as if you could banish it with the flash of pain, hoping desperately that he hadn't read your mind. But the way that Ren’s whole body went rigid suggested otherwise. Maker damn your smart ass. 

His hand fisted into your hair, wrecking your neat bun, and he wrenched your head to the side, forcing you to look up at him. Your brows knitted together in pain, but you dared not whine about it as you met his stare. His eyes were black saucers, clouded with such a tenebrous fury and lust that it made your walls flutter in time with your stomach.  

"Is that so?" The ice in his voice squeezed your veins. 

Gone was all that confidence that you prided yourself on in your profession, all the poise and tact and sharpness of wit. It slipped as easily as water through your fingers now as you drowned in the inky depths of his stare, fear anchoring your words to your diaphragm with no means of escape. 

Ren studied you, embers flaring in the pits of those live irises, framed by the beautiful stone hearth of his face. He moved your head back and forth a bit by his grip in your hair. You winced, but your muscles might as well have been liquid, unable to resist him in the slightest. He was testing your pliancy, considering. 

"Open your mouth." 

There was no warmth, no tease behind the words, and as if they flowed straight into your neurons directly, you obeyed. Your jaw fell open, your pink tongue pushing slightly against the pillow of your lower lip as it rested over your bottom teeth. He spat into your mouth, holding your stare in the tight space as… Oh. He sank two thick fingers straight into your soaking core, stretching you full, holding them rooted inside you. You might as well have been vibrating. 

"Swallow." 

The command was deadly. You snapped your jaw shut and complied, heart thrumming with fear and a hot, blooming need originating from the delicious ache that now filled your walls but refused to move. You whined, trying weakly to shift your hips for any amount of friction on his hand, but his hold on you tightened, immobilizing you. 

"Impudence will get you nothing." He uttered warningly, never breaking your stare as his fingers began to pump slowly, agonizingly inside of you. You could feel yourself dripping around him now as the ridged leather of his gloves did something delicious to your walls. "Don't you want to come, little whore?" 

You were putty in his lap. "Yes, Commander, sir." You managed to groan out quietly, embracing the pain that screamed through your scalp. His plump, gorgeous lips were parted slightly, a signal of desire to underlie the tempest of his stare. You relaxed more into his grip, hoping your show of submission would drive him just a little more wild, just a little closer to... Yes.

He yanked you closer and stroked his hot tongue into your mouth in a fucking vulgar kiss that spun your brain like a top. You suppressed a sigh as the taste of him filled you, his plush lips divine and remarkably soft against your mouth as you melted into the heat of his possessive kiss. He jerked you away by your hair long before you'd had your fill of his taste, a thin string of spit connecting you as you squeaked a pathetic sound. Your disappointment was fleeting, though, because his fingers were now curling faster against a heavenly spot inside of you that was beginning to coil you tight. 

"Then be good." 

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, bit down, and nodded as well as you could with his fingers rooted into your follicles. He watched the ecstasy blossom across your face as his thumb began to pass in quick circles over your sensitive clit. A cry fell from your lips as your pleasure began to overtake you, his fingers building you towards a crescendo that threatened to split you clear in half with a galaxy between. You didn't even have to try to keep your mind blank now as he consumed your every nerve ending in rippling pleasure, and soon you were barreling towards the event horizon of climax with every stroke of his digits and every slick pass of leather over your delicate pearl of nerves. Sparks flowed like hot plasma to your extremities as your walls began to flutter tight. You whined the warning of it as your brows drew together in restraint, pleading silently for the commander to send you halfway to hyperspace with the orgasm that teetered in your core. 

"That's right, cum for me, little whore." His voice was harsh and cruel and delicious and everything your reeling brain needed to send you barreling over the precipice. Your orgasm split you, blanching your vision as your walls slammed down around his fingers and you sobbed out the waves of your release. He didn't slow, drawing out your climax to an impossible length as each clench sent you spinning and wailing again. Ren groaned and cursed under his breath as he watched you come apart, leaning on the familiar edge of desperate self control as his stiff cock twitched violently under the confines of his trousers.

He slowed and withdrew his hand from your pants, allowing you to come down with shallow breaths. He brought the hand up to taste you slowly from the glistening leather of his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, and the sight made your insides combust. He hummed a low, appreciative sound before shoving the cum-slicked digits roughly into your mouth. The sweet tang of your juices flooded your senses as he sat you back up against him, such that you faced the viewport again. Impossible as it realistically was, it suddenly felt as if the entire Supremacy may as well have just watched you cum like a trained whore around Kylo Ren's fingers. The thought tickled your belly as you laved your tongue over his glove, still warm from your cunt, your body thrumming with the high of post-orgasmic ecstasy as you diligently cleaned the ridges. Your insatiable pussy clenched hard when you felt his length grind against your ass, reminding you of its presence, and you suddenly ached to be filled again. You whimpered into his hand as you rolled your hips.

"You want my cock?" His voice was ragged in your ear, hardly restrained as he fucked his bulge against you. You nodded with an obscene whine, clutching the sides of his thighs and using them as leverage to grind yourself into his throbbing length. He cursed. 

"Filthy girl."

Ren released you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and hair, and you collapsed back against his chest, panting. He shoved at the waistband of your pants, and with a thrill, you lifted your hips as far as you could to allow him to yank them down around your thighs, panties and all. 

He propped you forward slightly, bringing a hand behind you to wrestle with the clasp of his own trousers. He unleashed his cock and sat you back over it, so that it rested thickly between the flesh of your thighs, flush with the swollen line of your wet slit. You looked down and gulped. Stars, he was big. Not that you expected any different -- you'd be the first to admit that this man carried himself like he was packing. Still, you couldn't suppress a twinge of nerves as you looked down at the fat head of him, swollen beautifully at the end of a thick shaft and leaking a bead of pre cum between your thighs. He rocked his hips up, and the thick, velvety length of his cock parted your lips, coating the top of his shaft in your wetness as it slid against your tender folds.

You whined, your walls screaming to be filled, to be stretched, and you strained your pelvis down towards his dick, but the angle was all wrong for you to have any control. His glove snaked into your hair and fisted it roughly, yanking you immobile again as you gasped. 

"Beg." 

Your pussy throbbed, dignity a distant echo in your brain as you keened and clenched around nothing. You'd never been known to beg for anything in your life, but with the way that every nerve ending in your body felt like it was curling towards him, trying to take root, to feel him in every way possible, you were sure you'd do anything to earn his cock now.

"P-please-" it came out in a whisper, your voice absent from your chest, and he jostled you by your scalp sharply. Pain shot through your nerves, somehow only kindling the flames of need that were licking up your spine and you yelped, the roughness punching your voice back into you.

"I can't fucking hear you." He growled through his teeth, breath crackling in his throat as he fought his own restraint. The sound shot a thrill through you. Oh, you were gone. 

"Ple-ase, s-sir, please f-fuck me," you moaned louder, and your voice sounded foreign through the ring in your ears. Your thighs strained against the hobble of your waistband as your body tried to spread and arch back for him like a bitch in heat. Thoroughly carried away, heady pleas continued to pour from your mouth. "I n-eed your cock in me, Com-commander, please." He huffed a pleased sound, pulling you back until his lips grazed your ear. 

"Good girl."

He released your hair and gripped your hips hard, lifting you up just enough for the head of his cock to slide down towards your entrance. You found yourself pressing your palms eagerly into the seat, pushing yourself up to give your commander better access. You tipped your hips until you felt the swollen head of him perfectly align with your soaked entrance, and-- Oh, fuck.

Even thoroughly lubricated with your own cum, it was a tight fit as he began to sink you down. You whimpered as the angle forced you to take the entirety of him, struggling to relax your tight walls through your descent. You were sure you'd never taken a man nearly this big, sure that your body might break open around him, and yet you were determined to withstand his challenge. He hissed slowly through his teeth as he buried into you inch by steady inch, until you finally sat flush with his lap again, keening from the pleasant sting of complete fullness. 

Ren choked on a stifled groan as you reached the hilt of him, his grip bruising your waist as he held you there for a moment. He shifted you both forward, allowing him to brace you up with his arms, and pumped his hips once slowly to test the position. The feeling of his thick cock sliding tight against your walls until it pressed your cervix was as obscene as it was delicious, and as he buried himself again, you couldn't hold back the wanton moan that tore itself from your diaphragm. 

"Fuck," You heard Ren mutter raggedly behind you as he adjusted his grip. He began to rut his hips up into you at a punishing tempo, and your thoughts evaporated as his cock slammed over and over into the epicenter of your core. You cried out, voice hitching from his pace and ferocity, as you wildly clutched at the side of a control panel for stability. Somehow the pain of taking him over and over began to morph into blinding oblivion, and the viewport swam before your eyes as you lost yourself in the furious rhythm of his cock. 

Ren grabbed your neck and arched you back against his chest, slowing his pace enough to allow shards of air to fight back into your starved lungs. The slower thrusts, the slick feeling of every ridge and vein of him, sent a spike of voltage through your limbs that jump started your senses again. 

"Was I wrong to assume you could handle me, lieutenant?" He purred breathily as he slowed to nearly a stop, though clearly not intending to cease his torment altogether. You whined your dissent and tried to roll your hips down into him, hoping to fuck yourself on his cock, to feebly prove that you could take him. "No?" His voice dripped warm with mockery. "We'll see." 

His grip anchored you fast. You gasped, almost panicking for a moment as a foreign pressure began to flit and squeeze around your clit. It wasn't his hand. One was controlling your neck, the other a vice on your hip. You didn't have much time to register the fact that he was using the Force until his hips were moving again, his cock filling you whole at a steady pace as that strange and wonderful pressure swirled faster at your bud. 

Then suddenly his hand was closing like a leather serpent around your neck, slowly, expertly constricting your pulse. A primal burst of adrenaline blinded you for a moment. He could kill you. It rang between your ears, imploring you to resist, but your body was so pliant, so wholly under the spell of submission, that the thrill melted into something warmer. Something perhaps like trust, but with a much sharper edge as it cut a path through your veins. He squeezed your arteries steadily until your hearing began to fog and inky motes crossed your vision. Pressure swelled in your head, the cockpit beginning to drift away around you until all that grounded you to reality was the steady pumping of the cock inside your cunt and the Force at your clit shooting effervescent waves of pleasure into your darkening brain. 

Just as the cusp of total unconsciousness began to seduce you, the pressure vanished. Ren slammed his length into you, and you gulped a massive breath of air as the Force jetted against your clit. Your orgasm crested hard, and shot you over the edge faster than you'd have ever thought possible as he held you steady and pounded into your core. You screamed as your release tore through your body in a perfect harmonic overtone to the oxygen flooding back into your brain, and the combined relief washed such a powerful bliss through your nerves that in that moment, you felt as if the very fabric of space could part for you.

"That's it, fuck, good fucking girl." Ren’s snarls were filthy and delicious in your ear as he continued to fuck you hard, the pace of his cock refusing to let your body come down from the orgasm. You keened and moaned in an incoherent stupor as he slammed up against a spot inside you that was somehow, impossibly, pushing you towards the edge again already. Another orgasm ripped through you, this one singeing your nerve endings as you felt his thrusts become unsteady. Ren bellowed through gritted teeth as he came, cock pulsing inside you while your quaking walls milked him through his release. He pumped you slowly through your aftershocks, tensing with each clench of your cunt around his oversensitive dick, until your bodies stilled in a tranquil beat of silence and shared breathing.

You didn't know at what point he had wrapped both of his arms around you, but you snapped to the realization that Kylo Ren was now holding you tight, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he came down through shuddering breaths. You blinked, slowly bringing the geometric planes of the viewport back into blurred focus, and then beyond it, the distant Supremacy. 

It hung suspended like a leviathan in the void, a staunch and silent voyeur to the star-shattering sequence of undoing and accretion that you had just experienced here at the hands and cock of your inscrutable commander. You couldn't be totally sure this hadn't all been another dream, but the feeling of him now was so real, so warm, so human in the depth of his breathing and the slight dampness of his skin against yours, that you were sure no version of Kylo Ren you'd ever conjured in your dreams could feel like this. 

You didn't move, didn't dare, but simply felt him encase you, afraid to break whatever spell was holding you in this moment. In a place where maybe, maybe, you could pretend that you weren't just a rank. Or a strategist, or a minuscule pawn in the grander scheme of First Order rule. Here you were a body, yes, but a body that intertwined with something beyond material. Something that laced gently with the threads of humanity behind the frozen carbonite mask of Kylo Ren, which now seemed to thaw for the smallest moment as he held you wrapped in an embrace that could almost be mistaken for tenderness. 

Almost. 

Your high descended on clipped wings as he finally stirred, settling colder in your stomach as he loosened his arms and you waited for whatever would happen now. He was still inside of you, and half-hard at that, but even so, you felt filled to the brim with his cum and stretched tight around him. Your body bemoaned the idea of vacancy, but if time was up, then it was up. You weren't about to push it. You started to move, shifting to lift off of him.

"No. Stay." He murmured against your neck, and you almost questioned whether your brain had shorted out and you'd misheard him. He coaxed you back against his chest with a press of his palm, and you hesitantly allowed the gentleness of it to malleate your rigid spine. Your brain misfired again as you felt the soft brush of his thumb running slowly up and down the contour of your ribs. Your pulse skipped into your throat. You didn't dare allow your body to think that this was anything akin to intimacy. You had been starved of it for so long that if you let it believe so, you might fully lose sight of the fine line you were now walking. And if you fell, it would be straight onto a saber's edge. The vibration of your body fighting against its own tension ricocheted to the walls of your pussy, and as you squeezed him slightly, you felt his cock already beginning to harden again inside you. Your breath hitched. 

Kylo Ren made no acknowledgment of the exchange as he peeled his face from your neck, straightening slightly. He reached his long arms around you to grip the controls of the silencer, but didn't move the craft. He sat still. Contemplative, perhaps. 

You were leaned back against his shoulder, forehead resting just by his jaw, and you dared to let your face tuck gently towards him. You waited for a reaction -- to be pushed away, for some signal that you'd overstepped. But he was still. You cautiously nestled the bridge of your nose against his neck, feeling the steady thrum of pulse there, the soft currents of breath that drifted from his nose down to trickle across your skin. You tried to memorize the warm, masculine scent of him that drifted up from his collar, magnified by body heat, stirred by the gentle tide of his breathing. Oh, how long it had been since you'd had this… 

The oxytocin-riddled valleys of your mind echoed with a sudden and deadly urge to tilt up and press a soft kiss under his jaw, but a harness of fear held you still as you remembered your place, and the fragility of whatever this was. Instead, you squeezed his cock with your warmth again, a flame of lust already flickering against your belly and providing a welcome distraction from the confusion that was drawing and quartering your brain. 

Ren's chest swelled with a soft "mmph" as he seemed to come out of his own trance of thought. You wondered if he'd even been listening to yours at all. He rocked his hips once, the slide of his stiffening cock making your walls leak, and you sighed. Yes. This was fine. This was simple. He pressed his hands forward, beginning to guide the craft towards the twinkling planet in no particular hurry. You gripped his thighs and rolled your hips, squeezing and riding him slowly so as not to break his concentration as he guided you both through the silent expanse of space. 

Yes, it was best just to enjoy the simplicity of this. Of two bodies exorcising your respective tensions through the physical release you could pull from one another. And soon it would be over, and the chaos would resume around you, and you'd carry on like your spirits hadn't just fused like two atoms -- for a microsecond -- within a supernova of passion in the middle of space. And that was fine. That was for the best. 

So you fixed yourself on that tangible goal of physical pleasure, on the rhythm of your hips, on keeping your commander nice and hard and ready for whatever he decided was next. 

Because if you were good enough, then maybe. 

Just maybe. 

You'd earn yourself a second lesson. 

***

Update: Part 2 here.

[mmvalentine]

Lockdown Lovers, pt 2 | Feysand

Modern pandemic AU. Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Feyre's smile dropped as soon as the bathroom door banged closed. She cursed herself mentally. Her crush on her best friend's cousin was getting wildly out of hand, she was pretty sure Rhys knew it.

Octopuses are so weird?! That was how she was trying to get him to spend time with her? Feyre slumped back in the couch, her legs sliding out in front of her. Octopuses? Octopi? Octopodes? She didn't know, but she was fairly certain it wasn't her grammatical clumsiness that made Rhys bolt for the bathroom and away from her. The poor thing had been stuck in an apartment with her for a month now, and clearly did not reciprocate her feelings. As the weeks went by, he had been avoiding her more and more. Feyre tried to stay out of his way, but in a tiny apartment where you weren't supposed to leave the house, it was very difficult.

Lost in the cringe, Feyre hadn't noticed the shower shut off, or the bathroom door open. She did, however, feel the kick against her ankle and the surprised yelp that came from Rhys as he tripped over her outstretched legs. Her eyes flew open.

"Rhys! I'm so sorry!" She scrabbled to pull her legs back and reached out to help him up. It was then she noticed he was naked in a towel, hair still wet, and she was touching his bare shoulder. His skin was soft and hot from the shower. She swallowed.

"Sorry," she mumbled again. Rhys just smirked. "Well, that's certainly one way to get me awake in the morning," he said. He ran a hand through his damp hair, and his bicep flexed with the movement. Feyre's eyes were dragged to the planes of his chest, and the harsh black lines of his tattoos.

"To be fair, I suppose this is my fault for having such a tiny apartment." "Yes, I mean no," Feyre replied quickly. "You know how grateful I am for you letting me stay. As soon as the lockdown lifts I'll be out of your hair."

Hair. His dark, thick crop looked so good slicked back like this. Feyre pushed her fingers though it in her mind, and had to will her focus back to the present. A funny look had come over Rhys' face, and she blushed, wondering if he had caught her fantasising.

"You can stay as long as you like," Rhys said. "Mor always says I get sullen when I spend too long away from other humans. Whatever that means."

Feyre smiled her thanks, and Rhys padded back to his bedroom.

For the rest of the day, Feyre bummed around the house. She watched netflix, and baked cookies, and cleaned the kitchen within an inch of its life. Like every other fucking day for the past month. Unlike Rhys, she was struggling to keep up motivation to work. Being cooped up like this made her feel both restless and sluggish at the same time. She did spend some time each day at her laptop, doing uni classes online, but it was difficult to get inspired to write when the environment was the same every damn day. She tried not to bother Rhys too much- as an extrovert, Feyre seemed to be struggling more with the lockdown than he did. By the time the sun was setting, she broke.

Outside Rhys' bedroom door, Feyre raised a hand to knock, then let it fall, then raised it again. Three times. After a month of living at close quarters, she wasn't sure why this was still so hard for her. Finally, she forced her knuckles to the wood, then waited. There was just the muffled music for a moment, then Rhys appeared.

"What's up?" he asked. His room smelled like him, and she got the sudden urge to go inside and curl up in his sheets.

"I, ah, was wondering if you'd like to come watch a movie with me. I ordered pizza." Rhys quirked an eyebrow. "Don't we have like a whole leftover lasagne that you made?" "Well, yes, but I felt like pizza." Rhys rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sure. I'm just finishing up but give me a yell when the pizza gets here." Feyre nodded and headed back to the lounge. "And no more of those serial-killer docos we've been watching!" Rhys called after her.

Twenty minutes later, Feyre shut the front door and called out to her housemate. "Rhys, pizza's here," she hollered. She headed back to the lounge, flicking the lights off on her way through, and sat with her legs crossed under her. She balanced the flat boxes on one knee and pulled her laptop toward her on the other. A minute later, Rhys appeared next to her and sat down heavily on the couch. He pulled the pizzas from her, and opened the top box.

"Hey, you remembered my order," he said. Feyre snorted. "We live together, Rhys, I think I can remember one pizza order."

He picked up a slice and bit off half of it in one mouthful, then slung an arm round the back of the couch behind her while he chewed.

"So what are we watching?" he asked. "Not serial killers, right?" Feyre said. "Right," Rhys confirmed. She hit the link to stream to the TV, and Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge! came up on the screen. She expected Rhys to complain, but his eyes lit up and he leaned forward.

"Oh this is a great movie," he said. "Yeah?" "It's a classic, great choice."

Feyre smiled, surprised, and set the laptop to the side. She settled back against the couch and started on her own pizza. Rhys' arm went back behind her, and where his wrist hung off the couch, his fingers grazed her arm.

Feyre's skin warmed at even this slightest touch. It had been weeks since she'd had any real physical contact with anyone, and she sorely missed it. Mor was always so physically affectionate, she would kill for one of her signature hugs right now.

But alas, this was all she had. Feyre pushed the longing down deep and tried to concentrate on the movie.

Then, Rhys' arm moved from the couch, to actually resting across her shoulders. Feyre leaned back into him automatically, then tensed up as she realised what she had done. Before she could feel embarrassed, Rhys gave her arm a squeeze, and she relaxed into him. The warmth coming from under his soft hoodie felt amazing, and she almost groaned in relief.

Feyre stared ahead at the TV for a minute, the peeked up at Rhys. To her surprise, he was looking down at her, light from the screen flickering off his violet eyes. A slight grin tugged at his lips.

"Comfy?" he said. "Mmhmm," she murmured. He was so close she could have reached out and touched his lips.

Rhys turned his eyes back to the movie, and Feyre followed suit.

A few minutes later, he turned his body and lay back into the couch, pulling Feyre with him so she was between his legs with her head on his shoulder. She thrilled at the thought of being horizontal with him.

"Is this okay?" Rhys asked, just above her ear. "Yeah," Feyre replied, aiming for nonchalance. He chuckled beneath her, and she wasn't sure she achieved it. She felt the rumble through his chest, and loved it.

The movie played on, but Feyre lost track of it. She was busy secretly exploring this comfortable position with Rhys- the way his hoodie smelled like him, the solidity of his body beneath her, and the enthralling amount of contact their bodies now had. Sure, Rhys flirted, but she knew he wasn't genuinely into her. Still, she couldn't help moving her hand slowly across his chest, flexing as she felt the planes of his muscles even through the thick fabric. She breathed him in, and her head was dizzy with the scent.

Suddenly, Feyre went still, realising what she was doing. Her face burned in the dark room, and she hoped he was distracted enough by the movie that he hadn't noticed her smelling him. Feyre shifted her weight around, trying to find a position that felt less like she had pathetically draped herself all over him.

And then she felt something hard poking into her lower back, and stopped moving.

****

Keep it cute or go full smutty? These are the questions I have for you.

Also tags seem to not be working heaps well, so I don't know if pt 1 is more visible or if people just like it better. Any advice?

[redhoodedwolf]

Happy Halloween!

AU - College/University | Sterek | 2.2K | AO3

“Dude,” Stiles exhaled heavily, hands reaching up to cup Derek’s furred cheeks. His breath smelled of cheep beer, but his eyes were mostly clear, so Derek knew he wasn’t completely inebriated. “This is new.”

Derek snorted and hoped the low lights of the house party hid his blush because Stiles was only further trailing his fingers up and down Derek’s face, tracing the ridges over his nose, fingertips brushing his lips where his fangs pushed them out. “It’s a special occasion,” Derek joked. “Low budget costume.”

Stiles stared at him with wide eyes. “Really? Wow, okay.” Stiles’ fingers found his ears and traced the pointed tips, and Derek felt his eyes flash icy blue and a growl build up in his chest. It was more of a purr, but Derek would never admit that.

“You constantly amaze me,” Stiles sighed again, pressing his body closer to Derek’s as a group of three inebriated people with overfull solo cups wedged their way by them. Derek instinctively (carefully) brought a clawed hand up to rest on Stiles’ back and keep him out of the splash zone. 

Derek dropped his gaze away from the passing crowd, back to Stiles, and found the younger man’s gaze was trained on his lips.

“Are they sharp?” Stiles asked.

Derek bared his teeth. “I could rip your throat out with them,” he responded with a light snarl which choked off in his throat when Stiles moved his wandering hands towards said fangs, pressing pointer fingers against them. 

He hummed. “Very solid,” Stiles added, after a beat, thumb brushing Derek’s lower lip. 

This... this was flirting, right? Stiles was flirting with him. Right?

Because Derek had been pretty obvious (he felt) about his feelings towards Stiles for the past few months, since Stiles declared himself “recovered” from his last disastrous breakup. And Stiles had seemed receptive, teasing Derek back, ogling him during pick-up basketball games, and inviting him over to his dorm despite the fact they they literally shared a suite. 

But he’d never made any kind of definite move. This felt pretty definite. And he was feeling more of Stiles than he ever had, except for that one fainting spell incident that Stiles refused to let Derek ever bring up to anyone. 

Stiles was pressed against his front now, and Derek hovered his hand still at his back. Even when Stiles was given the space, he stayed put. Stiles met his eyes, and Derek swallowed thickly, visibly, and the younger man’s gaze wavered to watch the motion.

“Tell me, Wolfman--”

“Stiles.”

Stiles chuckled. “Sourwolf, then. How, uh. How interested are you in staying at this costume party?”

Stiles had mostly divested of his costume within the first forty-five minutes of the party. He went with a last-minute sheet ghost with an old painting drop cloth Derek had shoved in the back of his closet from the beginning for the semester. Now, it was tied around his waist like a really weird looking skirt, his white tank top plastered to his skin with sweat. 

“Not much left of your costume anyway,” Derek chose to say, allowing his sweeping gaze to linger on Stiles’ exposed neck before meeting his eyes once more.

Stiles licked his lips. “I think I’d rather just chill tonight. Got the free booze. Would rather pop on Hocus Pocus and...” his words trailed off as Derek found the courage to reach for Stiles’ hand, still on his face, and intertwine their fingers. 

“Movie night sounds good to me,” Derek followed up with in the ensuing silence between them.

“C-cool, cool, um. I’m just gonna--” Stiles cut himself off, squeezing Derek’s hand with his while the other cupped the back of Derek’s neck. Derek’s breath hitched, and he felt his eyes flash again. “Before I lose the nerve.”

And then Stiles’ lips were on his, and Derek exhaled a groan, finally allowing that hovering hand to wind around Stiles’ waist and pull him close. Stiles made a surprised noise that turned dark and husky as he pulled back from the kiss, meeting Derek’s eyes. 

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, and Derek chuckled softly. 

“I wasn’t sure if--”

“Me neither,” Stiles interjected, his face flushing a delicious red. 

“Shall we?” Derek indicated to the door, and Stiles pushed himself off of Derek’s chest slowly as he nodded. 

They held hands as they walked from the off-campus house back to their dorm, the full moon lighting their way, and Derek retracted his claws, so that he could properly squeeze back, and Stiles responded by brushing his thumb over Derek’s knuckles.

Stiles fished out his keys when they arrived, ushered Derek into the building and then raced ahead so that he could open the door for Derek to his room.

“Ever the gentleman,” Derek commented with a smirk.

“But of course, only the best for my sourwolf.” Derek snorted. “Speaking of which,” Stiles started wiggling out of the drop cloth sheet around his waist and Derek resisted the initial urge to help, “we should probably de cos--...tume.” Stiles stared up at him with wide eyes and let the sheet pool to the floor. “When did you...?” Stiles wiggled his hand around in Derek’s face.

Derek narrowed his eyes in confusion before he realized what Stiles was asking. “Oh, after we left the house I shifted back. In a house of intoxicated people I can get away with it, but even on Halloween a werewolf has to be careful.”

“Right, yeah, uh-huh.” Stiles was nodding his head like he understood, but his jaw was still dropped, and his heartbeat had suddenly sped up. “Of course. Wouldn’t want people to think it’s real. Or anything.”

Derek shuddered. He recalled childhood threats of hunters in their territory, tense weeks when he was forced to stay home for everything except school, always on guard. “Yeah. There’s not any hunters around here that we’re aware of, but they can hide even easier than we do.” 

Derek shook his head. He didn’t want to get into that kind of talk right now. He’d finally kissed Stiles, and he was planning on turning this evening into a date, if he could manage it. 

“Anyway,” Derek said, and Stiles’ jaw snapped shut. “I do want to change into something more comfortable. Want to set up the movie while I do?” Derek jerked his thumb towards the bathroom that connected their rooms. 

“Sure!” Stiles squeaked. His heartbeat was still fast, but Derek hoped it had to do with them growing closer, not something like... like Stiles regretting his choice.

Derek closed himself into his room and shook away the thought. This was Stiles, he reminded himself as he shucked off his jeans and looked for his comfortable sweatpants. He knew Stiles, trusted Stiles, in a way that he had rarely been able to with other humans. 

After changing, Derek rapped his knuckles on Stiles’ bathroom door to announce his entrance. Stiles’ heartbeat spiked, but leveled once Derek slipped back in to the room. Stiles had changed into sweats as well, keeping the tank top on. The sheet was on the floor next to his laundry bin. He was settled in bed, facing the TV atop his dresser, the Disney+ app loading on the screen.

“Still feeling Hocus Pocus?” Stiles asked as Derek took a seat next to him on the bed, a hand’s width apart.

“Sounds great,” Derek agreed, and watched Stiles scroll down to the Halloween section.

He highlighted the movie, but Derek saw Stiles hesitate to press the play button. Derek tensed, a sense of dread running through him that Stiles was about to admit he’d made a mistake.

“So you’re a werewolf,” Stiles said instead.

Assuming Stiles was setting up for a question, Derek responded with a flash of his eyes, “Yes. And?”

For a man like Stiles, Derek had been surprised at the lack of questioning regarding his supernatural status, but had always expected it to come eventually. He settled in for an interrogation that was months in the making.

Instead, what he got was another slack-jawed Stiles with wide eyes. 

Derek felt the sudden drag of fear slip down his spine, like someone had shoved an ice cube down the back of his shirt. Derek scented the air, and Stiles smelt of fear.

Derek jumped off of the bed and crossed the room, getting as far form the human as possible, wishing he had never learned what Stiles scared (of him) smelled like. 

“Wait!” Stiles shouted as Derek hastened. “Don’t leave!”

“You want me to stay?” Derek shot back, hysteria filling his voice. “You’re scared of me!”

“Like a baby bit, but honestly I’m more amazed than anything. How did I not know this?!”

“I thought you did!” Derek shouted. “I never would have shifted in front of you if I had--” Derek cut himself off, shaking his head. He clenched his fists at his sides and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m not scared, Derek,” Stiles responded, voice closer, and Derek raised his gaze to see that Stile had stood from the bed and was inching towards him. “Surprised, totally. Flattered that you trusted me enough to tell me, even if, you know, you didn’t. Why did you think--?”

“It just seemed like you knew,” Derek stated. “You’re smart, almost too smart. I mean, I never stay in the dorms on full moons, and when we decided to share a suite this year you said--”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he seemingly recalled their conversation.

“Other than your full moon excursions,” Stiles had wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, the breath sizing in Derek’s chest at the sight, “I know everything else I need to know.

“A-and you’re okay with that?”

“Derek. I wouldn’t agree to this if I wasn’t, dude. You be you.”

Stiles flailed his arms and shouted, “I thought it was a booty call! Which made me extremely jealous of your moon-day lover, but I was willing to deal with it if, um...” Stiles scratched the back of his neck, gaze drifting, “... I could still be with you.”

“I go to the woods. Usually,” Derek blurted, and Stiles’ head snapped back up. “I wanted to spend Halloween with you, since we always do, even if it’s a full moon tonight because I can handle it, I don’t need to, ah, let loose. It just is nice to have that option. So other than things like this, with you, I just camp in the woods.”

Stiles’ lips quirked into a little smirk. “The woods? I feel like you’re a cliché, Derek.”

Derek ignored the blush he could feel on his face. “It’s perfectly usual. And I do it alone, by the way. Unless my family is visiting, or I’m home with them.”

“A lone wolf cliché, too,” Stiles teased, and Derek groaned. “I can work with that.”

Derek unclenched his fists. “You were jealous?” he asked, remembering that little bit of revelation. “But that was before the summer. You--”

Stiles rushed at him and slapped a hand over Derek’s mouth, hissing, “I know, okay, my crush on you has been long and pathetic.”

Derek pulled Stiles’ hand off of his face, stopping himself from licking his palm instead in revenge. “But your ex?”

“Got over him immediately. Well, after my week of mourning.” Stiles admitted. “I was enjoying having you dote on me, a little. You didn’t spend a ton of time with us before you were forcing me out of bed to rejoin the world. And then after that, you didn’t go easy on me.”

Derek licked his lips and inhaled, then stilled the words on his tongue. Stiles stared at him expectantly, gaze darting about the room every few seconds. Derek scented him, just a bit, and there was no fear left at all, just the usual scent of Stiles, a bit of embarrassment, and an undertone of arousal. 

Derek took another deep breath and then said, “Okay.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Derek dropped Stiles’ hand and put some space between them. “Stiles,” he declared. “I trust you, and I have for a while now, and you know that’s not easy for me to do. I also really like you, romantically, but that is not why I want to tell you this.”

“Derek--”

“I am a werewolf. My family are werewolves. I’m sure you have questions, and I will answer as many as I possibly can, but what I’d really like to do now is have a nice date night where we relax and watch some movies and maybe kiss for a while. And I promise to keep the fangs away.”

“You charmer,” Stiles cooed, reaching for Derek’s hands and pulling him back towards the bed and their previous spots, this time pressed against each other. Derek took hold of the abandoned remote and pressed play on the idle screen.

Derek was proud that Stiles lasted five minutes before opening his mouth. “So, you were smelling me earlier, right? You can smell emotions?”

Derek tipped his head back and groaned. “I regret it,” he declared.

Stiles pulled him into a kiss and forced him to take it back. He did. 

[thestraggletag]

Silver Tongue, a Rumbelle fic

Summary: Based on this prompt. Royce Gold is determined to confess his secret feelings towards the librarian. Unable to do it in person he sits down to write a letter but a combination of liquid courage and a determination to truly unburden himself made him perhaps a bit too ardently honest. And a bit careless.

This might have a sequel.

Rating: NC-17 

It had taken a long time to arrive at this point, but now that he’d made the decision Royce Gold was oddly calm, as if having made the decision had magically ended the slow-burning agony he’d been in since the library had opened three years ago. He hadn’t much thought he would be affected by the event, and had privately thought it wouldn’t last. He could not see there being any need for a library in Storybrooke, a town where most people had last held a book in high school, if even then. He had thought it would not last long, one of Regina’s many pet projects that was abandoned when it did not justify its constant spending of town funds.

He had been wrong, in the end, because he hadn’t factored in the librarian. Belle French swept into town with her high-end, short-skirted fashion and noticeable Australian accent and he thought the moment he saw her that she wouldn’t last. Too foreign for a small town like Storybrooke. He had been wrong, though. She had soon made friends with the miners, and Granny and Ruby, and even a few of the teachers from the local school. She also made sure to make the library indispensable, organising book clubs and other after-school activities for the children, offering computer literacy courses for adults and a place for the knitting club to meet, as well as regular table-game nights that surprisingly became wildly popular with certain crowds. And had made Granny an unbearably-cocky backgammon champion, two years running.

So she had stayed, and soon he had begun to notice the danger in it. The way he could not stop staring at her in the diner, or as she walked down the street. They way he got tongue-tied when in her presence, and turned softer, kinder. The way his smirks turned to smiles around her, and he laughed easier. She was smart, and learned, and had a delightful sense of humor. Dark, like his. And yet she was a being of light. Kind, always ready to help, and willing to see beyond the surface. Beyond the drunken escapades of Leroy, or the scandal surrounding Miss Blanchard and Mr Nolan, or his own sordid reputation. And it was that thing that made her so dangerous, how unafraid she was of him, and how determined she seemed to be in getting to know him.

He had been half in love with her before he realised it. The attraction he could deal with- after all, she was a gorgeous woman, and he a man with eyes- but the feelings scared the fuck out of him. It was too late to stop himself, however, so he resigned himself to being a besotted fool… from a safe distance. Only the more they interacted the less he seemed reconciled with the idea until it felt like he was choking on his unexpressed feelings. 

That’s why he had decided, in a fit of uncharacteristic emotional bravery, to unburden himself. Confess his feelings, likely be politely refused, and put an end to the madness. Or perhaps, if fate smiled upon him, be rewarded with a tentative acceptance to a dinner date, and perhaps more. It was always a possibility, albeit a small one, but enough to give him the push he needed.

He had decided it would be best to write her a letter. He got stupidly tongue-tied in her presence, after all, and there was something whimsically old-fashioned about a written letter, which he was sure she would appreciate. So on Friday night, after dinner, he locked himself in his study, fished out his Waldmann Tango and his best stationary, and…

Drew a resounding blank.

It was difficult to start writing with a blank page, he reasoned, so he tried at first simply to write the opening line, immediately falling into a ten-minute debate on whether to address the letter to “Miss French” or “Belle” and what to put in front of it “Dear Miss French”, on one end of the spectrum, seemed too dry and cold, and “Dearest Belle” on the other, too forward and presumptuous.

In the end he decided on “My dear Belle”. There was no point in writing a letter declaring his feelings if he could not even bring himself to call her by her given name and the slightly possessive edge to his greeting might come off as ardent rather than off-putting.

The opening paragraph seemed easy at first: “I am writing to you in order to express certain feelings I am sure have gone unnoticed so far, given the pains I’ve taken to ensure they remained hidden, in part due to our mutual circumstances and standing in town…” yet after a few times reading and re-reading it he had the odd, sinking feeling he might be writing the slightly-more-modern version of Mr Darcy’s ‘In vain I have struggled’ speech and that hadn’t gone over well the first time around. Luckily for him, at least, Belle had no sister he could insult while he was at it. So he scraped it and tried again, but soon felt everything he wrote sounded too formal, stilted and lacking in emotion. He was laying it all down like it was a contract to seal one of his deals, and it was hardly conducive to romance, or reflective of his true feelings.

He stood up, going for the wet bar he kept in the corner of the office. He selected a half-full bottle of Lagavulin and poured himself a generous three fingers into his favourite tumbler, deciding to forgo ice altogether. He needed to loosen up and good Scotch always helped in that. He sat down again, downed the drink in one go, and took another shot at it. He wanted to sound… Passionate, he supposed. It was the whole point of the letter, after all, to confess his true feelings. And his feelings were… ardent. Powerful. All-consuming, at times. Like a small, flickering flame that had slowly built into a veritable inferno. Though he did not wish to frighten her, he did wish to unburden himself and leave her with no doubt regarding his feelings.

“There hasn’t been a day since you arrived in Storybrooke that I haven’t felt your presence in some small way. You’ve taken a permanent residence in my mind and my heart, and there are days when I can scarcely think of anything else. All it takes is a small conversation or even a passing smile and I’m rendered useless.”

He fetched the Scotch from the bar and poured himself another drink, deciding it would be best to leave the bottle nearby. He felt he was finally getting into the groove of things, building up to something that sounded less like a legal clause. He downed his second Scotch, feeling the pleasant burn as it travelled down his throat, and took his pen again.

“You need not be concerned if you do not share my feelings. I will respect whatever decision you make. I simply wanted to tell you of the warmth you inspire in me, the way you’ve torn through all the walls I’ve built between myself and the rest of the world. And yet I know you to be, above all things, kind. More beautiful on the inside that you are on the outside, if that’s at all possible. I know that I am safe in your hands, whether you choose to give me a chance or not. Thank you for treating an old beast with kindness and humanity and know that, no matter what the outcome is, you have a friend and an ally across the street from the library, if there is ever anything you need.”

He signed it simply “Yours” because it felt apt. He certainly felt hers, in any case. Below he signed his name, trying to make his signature a bit more whimsical, give it a tad more flourish. Afterwards he stretched, poured himself another drink, and read it. It was… Good. Not too dry, not too passionate. Solid. Respectful but a good representation of his feelings at the same time.

Well… to an extent. He gulped down his third glass of Scotch and poured himself another, ruefully acknowledging that the letter was not quite honest. It was a bit restrained. Or a lot restrained. It felt like the gentlemanly thing to do, to tone down some of the more unbecoming feelings, keep those more intimate urges locked up for the time being. But perhaps, he mused, he could let loose a bit, to try and see if a more emotionally-honest letter would actually be preferable.

He could tell her, perhaps, a bit more about how it was hard for him to keep his eyes off her when they were in the same room. How utterly beautiful she was, small enough to make him wanna crowd her in, whisk her away somewhere and lean over her, feeling her breath on his neck. How he adored her high heels and flirty skirts and wished nothing more than to-

He removed his tie, and scratched out that last sentence, automatically fishing for his drink to try and cool himself down. He was beginning to get inappropriate and, anyway, he did not wish to come across as if he was solely enamoured with her physical appearance. Though he very much was enraptured by it, it was her personality that had made him fall for her. Things like her kindness, her understanding, her insatiable curiosity. He wished to share everything with her. Wanted to teach her all the secrets of his trade, have deep discussions on books they mutually liked, bare his soul to her inquisitive eyes.

“In my dreams, over and over, I am a willing slave to your curiosity, your insatiable need to explore and experience. When I close my eyes I see us in every way two people can be together, entwined till it’s impossible to decipher where I end and you begin. You let me press my mouth against every inch of you, drink from your cunt till I’m satiated, but it’s never enough. I wish to vainly attempt to quench your curiosity anywhere and everywhere you’ll let me, at any time of day. Over and over till neither of us can walk and I cannot remove your scent from my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

He stared at the paragraph, head tilted to the side. The paper looked a bit blurry, so he checked to make sure he was wearing his glasses. He was. Odd. He reached out for his glass of Scotch, surprised that it was empty. He refilled it, noticing the bottle felt surprisingly light. He re-read the paragraph, trying to figure out if it was a bit too risqué. But, he reasoned, Belle was risqué, in her attire, in her reading choices. Sure she would appreciate him being the same, going out of his comfort sort in order to convey the depth of his affection.

“I dream of fucking you for hours on end. Slowly, with the care and thoroughness you deserve, till we’re both numb and spent. I want to make you ache in places where the pain bleeds into pleasure, and convince you that only I am worthy of making you come. That none of the boys you might have had between your lovely legs were worth a second look. I want to become your favourite toy, there for whenever you might need me, eager to please, to make you sigh and moan and keen till you are hoarse.”

He was hard, he noticed, but it was hardly a surprise, though he thought he might have drunk a bit too much for his body to rise to the occasion. He thought about touching himself for the briefest second, but quickly dismissed the idea. He was on a writing roll, it wouldn’t do to jeopardise that. Instead he poured himself another glass of Scotch, surprised when he had to tip the bottle all the way. He didn’t remember drinking enough to empty it, but he must have. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the letter.

“I want to take you against the stacks of the library, amidst the books you love so much. I want to fuck you in the backroom of my shop so your smell lingers there. I want to go down on you in my bed for ours, till the silk sheets are ruined beyond repair. I want to consume you anywhere, everywhere, knowing that I will never be truly satiated, that it will never be enough. Have you splayed across my dining room table so I could eat you out as many times as I wanted, as much as you needed. I want to do everything to you, and have you do everything to me, till I can’t scrub you from my skin, the same way I cannot seem to be able to erase you from my heart and my mind.”

It was a bit of a sappy ending, but he supposed it balanced the more physical emotions out. He signed his name at the bottom with a flourish, smiled in satisfaction and staggered to his feet, determined to make it to his bedroom. He would get a good night’s sleep, wake up refreshed, and deliver the letter personally first thing in the morning.

In the morning, once he was done throwing up and had managed to shower, he shook his head at the idea he could’ve ever thought he would wake up anything other than terribly hungover. He popped a couple of aspirin, forced himself to swallow a few bites of dry toast, and dressed himself for the day. Before going out the door he remembered the letter, wincing when he recalled specifically the second draft he had made, clearly in a state of drunken foolishness. He picked up the sheets of paper, thinking for a second about ripping them up. He stopped himself at the last minute, though. The letter might not be fit to ever be seen by Belle, but he fancied the idea of rereading it later. He folded it neatly into an envelope and fetched a second one for the original, much more suitable letter. He would slip that one underneath the library’s door on his way to the shop. 

He was startled by his home phone ringing, picking up to see it was the tip on the estate sale he had been waiting for. He jotted down the necessary information, went back to his desk to retrieve the letter and was out the door a few seconds later. He hurried to the library and, before he could convince himself otherwise, slipped the envelope with the letter underneath the doors, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety afterwards. He had done it, and though he felt unbearably nervous about the whole thing, he was proud of himself for following through.

Or he was, until he opened what he thought was the unsuitable letter and realised it was the original first draft. He had switched them up by mistake. Ice flooded his veins, and he felt like someone had punched him in the gut, leaving him gasping for breath. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him, not with Belle. The more he thought about it the more his mind recalled fragments of the letter, lingering in its uncouth language and vivid imagery. He was fucked, totally and completely.

Unless…

Maybe she hadn’t opened the letter yet. Or she had, but hadn’t gotten around to read it all. The first page or so was quite reserved. Perhaps he could sneak into the library and retrieve the rest, or swap it for the correct letter. He had the keys to the library, as it was his property, rented by the town. It would feel and likely be a terrible violation of the librarian’s private space, even though he did not intend to go beyond the library, but it would be worse to allow her to be submitted to such basic thoughts as the ones he had written down the other night. 

With that in mind he took the library keys from his safe and went out into the night. Storybrooke, being a small town, was deserted at that time, which was a blessing. Less people to see him slip inside the library using the back door, or hear him as he rummaged around inside, trying to be quiet and not use his phone flashlight, lest that alert Belle upstairs in her apartment somehow. Tentatively he made his way to her office, sure she would have surely put the letter, hopefully unsealed. But when he got close he noticed light coming through the windows of the office, where the blinds were partially-lowered. It seemed that, given his fucking luck, Miss French was still diligently toiling away doing something or the other for the library. Nevermind. He would take a discrete peek, to see if he at least spotted his letter atop her desk, and if he did he would hide in some shadowy corner of the library and wait her out. If he didn’t he would cut his losses and go back home, to try and figure out how he was ever going to face Belle again. 

He approached silently, drawing one of the slats down to peer inside. He spotted Belle right away, leaning back on her office chair with an ottoman propping her feet up. She was reading something and for a moment he appreciated her face, eyes focused on the page, cheeks slightly flushed and lips parted. Then he registered the rest, the shirt tossed above the desk along with her bra, the black silk camisole making her hardened nipples visible and her left hand, which disappeared somewhere beneath her rucked-up skirt. She sighed, head rolling back as she whispered something.

He didn’t know what registered first, whether it was the fact that she was saying his name or that it was his letter she was reading, clutched tightly to her right hand. There was no doubt as to what she was doing, and yet he could hardly believe that Belle fucking French was bringing herself to orgasm in her office while reading his letter. He pinched himself, unwilling to believe he was seeing what he was seeing, but the sting felt all too real. It wasn’t a dream, it was, somehow, reality. Sweet, sweet reality.

He needed to get out. As much as he burned to just burst into the office and let his mouth do what Belle’s fingers were attempting, it wouldn’t do. By some miracle she was not offended or otherwise put off by his risqué letter, but she sure would be by him breaking into the library. Offended and perhaps scared, unsafe, which was the last thing he wanted her to feel, especially in his presence. He would sneak out, quietly, and swing by the library tomorrow afternoon, right after closing time. As much as it would embarrass him to bring up his letter he would know she reciprocated his feelings, or that at least she was open to them, and that would give him the courage needed to ask her out. 

It was a solid plan, a great plan. And it would’ve worked, he was sure, if he hadn’t knocked over a banker lamp as he backed away from her office. The  antique bronze made a horrible noise as it collided with the floor, and the green shade shattered upon impact, making a mess.

“Who’s there?”

Fuck.

[okay-klepto]

Daddy’s Girl

August Walker x Female Reader

Explicit

4600 words

Details: sexual content, m/f penetrative sex, oral sex - f receiving, creampies, fingering, Daddy kink, spanking, bratty reader, praise kink, teasing, Soft Dom August, cuddling

You say you just want to spend a little time with your daddy; August knows you have other motives.  Breaking his rules means you get punished, but the spanking isn’t what makes you cry.  August knows exactly how being too sweet can be more of a punishment for his baby than any means of force.

Did I proofread the whole thing?  No!  If you find a mistake, no you didn’t.

Enjoy.

    Despite the darkness that filled the hallway, you crept across the hardwood floors towards a faint light at the end of the hall.  You fuzzy socks allowed you to glide over the floors without a sound and move faster than just tiptoeing.  You eventually reached the closed door with light peeking out from the opening at the bottom.  The solid, wooden door seemed even bigger and more menacing than you remember it being, especially now in the black of night.  The only sound you could hear was the grandfather ticking from the other room.  You pressed your ear against the door in hopes of hearing any voices coming from inside.  You thought you heard someone speaking, but that could very well be your hopes fabricating his voice for you.  With one final breath of courage, you started to turn the handle as slowly as you could muster.  The bolts unlatched and you eased the door open just a few inches.  Light touched your face, and you dared to peer into the room.

    And there he was, sitting studiously at his solid walnut desk.  His phone was pressed to his ear and a pen was jotting notes as he nodded.

    “Yes, I was told…” His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together a little when you heard him speak.  He tapped his pen against his lips and nodded again.  You carefully spied on him through the crack in the door, your eyes focusing on the way his lips pursed as he listened, beard and mustache moving as he did.

    When he leaned back in his chair, you closed the door an inch to hide yourself.  Your heart thumped hard in your chest as he pivoted slightly in his large chair, propping his feet up on his desk.  A wonderfully warm smile graced his face and deep wrinkles creased his forehead as he chuckled into the phone.  You watched him in a trance, mouth watering and eyes going glassy.  Just as your mind began to wander, his icy eyes met yours through the opening in the door.  You gasped and closed the door as quietly as you could.  Heart racing, you started sneaking back down the dark hallway, though you moved faster than when you first arrived.  You had just barely started up the stairs when you heard the wooden door open and saw light fill the hallway.  You froze and looked at him standing in the light.  Your mouth went dry.

    “(Y/n).” His voice was firm.  He raised his hand, pointed one finger out and curled it, commanding you to approach.

    You only hesitated a moment before descending the few steps.  You drug your feet, but you did as he had ordered.  When you got close, he stepped aside and gestured for you to enter the study.  You did, fiddling with the fuzzy hem of your pink, babydoll nightgown.  You waited in the center of the study as he came in behind you.  You didn’t look at him as he walked around you and sat down at his desk.  He pushed his chair out and got comfy, giving you one good look over, focusing on your little nightgown that was barely long enough to cover you.

    “Well, come here.”  He patted his thigh.  “Sit.”

    You went over to him and found your place on his lap, draping your legs across his.  You put your hands over his shoulders and rested your head on his chest.  He put one hand on your waist and let the other creep up your thigh.  His fingers walked up to your hip, and he slipped them under the strap on your thong.

    “Tell August why you’re still awake,” he murmured.  “Tell Daddy.”

    “I couldn’t sleep,” you confessed in a whisper.

    “Hmm…” He nodded, hand rubbing your side.  “Why was that?”

    “I missed you…”

    “You know I would have been up eventually.  Sometimes I need to work late at night.”

    You chewed on your lip and nestled into August’s chest.  “I know.  It’s hard to sleep without you there, though.”

    “I know, baby.  I know.”  August put a kiss on the top of your head.  “However,” he continued, “you know what my rules are.”

    You fidgeted in his lap before reluctantly answering August.  “No going in Daddy’s study when the door is closed.”

    “Correct.  And why is that?”

    “Because Daddy’s work is private, and he needs to focus on it alone.”

    August nodded.  “And you broke my rule, so now what?”

    You bit your lip and tried to act ashamed, but the thought of your punishment did excite you just a touch.  “A spanking.”

    “A spanking…”  August let the strap on your underwear snap back against your skin.  “Now head upstairs and wait for me.  I need to finish up a few things.”

    “But Daddy,” you whined, shifting to look August in the eyes, “you’ve been down here for so long!  What else is there left to do?”

   “I just need to wrap a few things up.  I won’t be down here more than fifteen minutes.  I promise.”  August put his thumb on your chin to kiss you.  His mustache tickled your face, and you let yourself melt into his lips, your hand squeezing his shoulder.  When he broke your kiss, you let your eyes flutter open and stare into his dreamy, blue ones.  “Off you go, baby girl.”

    You stood and got one last peck on the lips before prancing across August’s office and slipping out the door.  August watched you go, mainly keeping his eyes on the hem of your nightgown as it swished with each of your bouncing steps, your bare bottom getting exposed as the thin fabric danced.  August shook his head and chuckled to himself before opening his laptop.

    Your fuzzy socks were tossed aside as you made your way to your vanity.  Another spritz of perfume was added to your hair, and you checked to make sure your bit of glittery lipgloss was still perfect on your lips.  You loosened the bows that made the straps of your nightgown and stood to admire in the mirror how clearly you could see your nipples through the material of your nightgown.  Just to be safe, you slipped your panties off to make sure no hairs had been missed from your waxing appointment.  Your cheeks got warm at the thought of August walking in on you doing your examination.  Like he would care what position you were in when you had your panties off.  You slipped them back on and headed over to the bed once you decided everything was to Daddy’s liking.  The dozens of pillows on the bed made a wonderful place to lay as you waited.  Should you lay on your back and hike your nightgown up just a little, or should you be on your stomach with your bottom ready and waiting?  Maybe Daddy would like a few little tears to know you really were sorry.  No, that didn’t work last time anyway.  Oh, wouldn’t he like it if you were already naked?  And playing with yourself?  Why not just cut right to the chase?  You were still thinking about it when August entered the bedroom.

    “Daddy!” You sat up on your knees when you saw him.

    August began to unbutton his dress shirt.  “I wouldn’t think you sound so excited for a punishment, baby girl?” August teased.

    “It’s just- I- I’m not!”  you huffed.  “I’m not excited!”

    August chuckled as he tossed his shirt into the hamper and pulled the paddle from off the wall where it hung.  He walked over and sat down on the bed.  Still on the mattress, you walked over to him on your knees and hugged August from behind.

    “Can’t we just cuddle?  You know I’m very sorry.”  You tried to do your most sorrowful baby girl voice.  You nuzzled into August's neck.  “I couldn’t help it, Daddy… I just missed you so much!”

    “I know, baby, I know.”  August reached up and rubbed the back of your head.  “But a rule is a rule.”

    “But Daddy!”  You shimmied around to kneel over August’s lap.  “I really am sorry!  I wasn’t listening to your conversation or anything!”  You played with August’s hair at the back of his head as you gave him your best puppy eyes.  “I won’t ever do it again, I promise.”

    “That’s what you said last time.”  To be completely honest, you hearing a minute of one side of his conversation wasn’t his biggest concern.  You weren’t that sneaky anyway.  Yes, he didn’t want you in there when the doors were closed and he was having secret meetings, but he could just lock the door if need be.  He knew the only reason you did sneak down was to get spanked, and August was more than happy to play along.

    “Now lie down, baby girl,” August said.  You pouted but did as you were told.  You laid across August’s lap so your bottom was over August’s thick thigh.  He pulled your nightgown up to expose your rear.

    “I really am sorry, Daddy,” you said in an effort to let August just bed you right away.  Instead, you got a firm spank.  You yelped.

    “How many did I give you last time?” August asked as he rubbed your behind.

    “Oh, only one or two,” you lied.

    “Really?”  Another spank and another yelp.  “I think it was at least three.”

    August came down with the paddle again, and you squeaked.  He rubbed your behind again, feeling the skin getting warm.  A smile spread across August’s face as he watched you fidget.

    “Well, there’s three!” you announced, beginning to make a move to get up.  However, August came down with the paddle once again.  “Hey!”

    “You’re a repeat offender, darling.”  Out of the corner of your eye, you caught August smirking.  “That calls for a harsher punishment.”

    August spanked you one more time.  That got you upset.

    “No!  No!  No!”  You scrambled off of August and stood in front of him.  “You can’t do it more than 3 times!”

    “Sweetheart…”  August set the paddle down on the bed.  “I thought that was what you wanted?  We agreed to spanking.”

    “Yeah, but you only did three before!” You crossed your arms and pouted.  “I don’t know where you got this ‘repeat offender’ thing from!  You’re supposed to do three and then we have sex!”

    August had to hold in a laugh.  “But, in the past, I’ve spanked you a dozen or more times?”

    “Well, that was when I was very bad, and I was not very bad today!”

    “Okay, okay…”  That little pout of yours made August go soft.  “Come here, baby.”

    You went over to August and sat down in his lap, your legs straddling his hips and your arms going over his shoulders.  However, you refused to look him in the eye.

    “I’m sorry I spanked you too many times.”  August ran his hands up your nightgown and over your sides.  “Next time I will specify how many spanks you’ll get.”

    “Fine,” you replied, your nose still turned away from August.

   “But sweetheart- look at me.”  August’s voice went tender but serious, and you looked at him with soft eyes.  “You really can’t be going in my study when the door’s shut.  That is a rule.”

    You diverted your gaze and slouched towards August.

    “I do important and sometimes classified work that you can’t be a part of.  You especially can’t be in there when people are over.”

    “I know…”  You wrapped your arms around August and leaned into his chest.  “I just wanted you up here with me.”

    “Yes, and you were in the mood to be naughty,” August added.  You were about to protest when you felt August push two of his fingers into your wet little pussy.

    “Daddy…” you moaned as August curled his fingers inside of you.

    “You wouldn’t be this wet if you had come down just to see me.”

    You whimpered into August’s shoulder as he thrusted his fingers in and out, giving you kisses on the side of your head.  Your hands clutched his skin, and he massaged your insides with more force, making his fingers dig in deeper.  Just as you started to tremble, August slid his fingers out.

    “Daddy!” you fussed, but August hushed you.

    “If you want me to fuck you properly, you need to go lay down on the bed and get comfy.”

    You smiled, crawled across the bed, and laid down on all your pillows.  August stood to take his pants and socks off.

    “C’mon now!  Panties off, young lady!”  Your panties were off and forgotten in a second.  August smiled as he watched you spread your legs wide.  “That’s what I like to see, baby girl.”

    August’s hardening cock hung low as he crawled on top of you.  He dropped to his elbows and captured you in a long kiss.  Your hands went over his shoulders, and he slid his tongue in your mouth.  Your tongue met his, and you moaned when August turned his head to kiss you deeper.  After a moment, August pulled his lips away and kissed down your jaw and latched on hard to your neck.

    “Oh, Daddy~” you sighed as August’s whiskers tickled your neck.  He stayed latched to the same spot, obviously working hard to leave a nice, dark spot.  One of his hands went to your breast and massaged your nipple through the thin fabric of your nightgown.  August’s lips continued to travel across your skin, leaving more red marks in their wake.  You whimpered as August rolled your nipple between his fingers.  You loved when he left marks on your neck and played with your nipples, but your pussy was crying to be stuffed full of cock.

    “Daddy…” you whined.  August released his lips from your skin and looked into your watery eyes.

    “What’s wrong, baby girl?” August tucked a lock of hair out of your face.

    “You said you were gonna fuck me properly, and you’ve done nothing even close to that.”

    “Have you forgotten that I like to tease, baby?”  August flicked one of your nipples with his short fingernail.  “I don’t think that spanking was punishment enough.”

    “Yes it was!” you whined.

    “Then why are you still being fussy?”

    The shaft of August’s cock slid between your folds with just enough pressure to make you whine again.

    “Come on!”  You tried to shimmy down to get more friction on August’s cock, but he stopped you with one of his big, strong hands.  “I’m behaving!”

    “No, you are not, missy.”  August sat upright on his knees, and you whined again.  “I knew five spanks wouldn’t be enough.”

    August stood up, cock sticking out at attention most deliciously, and walked across the bedroom.  You sat up and kicked your legs against the bed.

    “We agreed!  You spanked me and now you fuck me!”  You let out the most pained groan you could muster.  “This isn’t fair!  You’re not being fair!”

    August twirled the pink, leather handcuffs around in his hand.  “Only good girls get Daddy’s cock, and you know that.”

    “I am good!”

    “Right now you’re not.”  August got back onto the bed.  “Now lay down.”

    You did as you were told, and August grabbed both of your wrists with one of his hands.  You watched as he put the chain between the cuffs through a post in the bed frame.  One cuff was wrapped around your wrist.

    “No!  No!” you cried.  “I’ll be good, Daddy!  I promise!”

    “Too late, baby.”  Each cuff was secured around your wrists tight enough that you couldn’t slip out, but lose enough it didn’t hurt you.  You whined and squirmed as August sat back up his knees.  Upon seeing you in such a fussy state, August leaned down to be nose to nose with you.

    “No more whining,” he ordered.  You got your chance to play with me, coming down in your nightie just to be naughty.  Now is my chance to play with you.”

    That got you to purse your lips shut.  That demanding voice August used on rare occasions always did the trick, though it also got you wetter than ever.  Regardless, it put you in the mood to behave.

    As August started to kiss your neck again, you pulled on the cuffs.  So badly you wanted August to cut the fluff and get right to fucking your pussy.  But if you protested further, August would probably shove a vibrator inside and you and go take a shower.  That had happened more than once before… 

    “You are beautiful, baby,” August murmured as he left tickly kisses down your skin.  He didn’t leave the big, red marks like he had on your neck, but he did meticulously cover all the skin he could with kisses.  He traveled from your neck, down your collarbone, and to your chest.  August pulled your nightgown down so your chest was fully exposed.  He latched his lips onto one nipple and massaged the other with his hand.  You did your best not to whimper and whine, but even all your strength could keep all sounds inside.  A gush of pleasure made your pussy dampen even more when August used his canines to give your nipple a good pinch.

    “I love you, baby girl,” August whispered.  He kissed the fullest part of your breast, letting his lips linger for just a moment.  He kissed again and trailed his kisses down your torso, pushing the fabric of your nightgown out of the way.  He lingered on your hips, his kisses wet and hot.

    “Oh, Daddy~” you moaned as August slipped two of his fingers inside of you.

    “Be good for me, sweetheart.”  August kept kissing your skin and slowly working his fingers in and out.  You wanted to moan.  You wanted to cry.  You wanted to force your hips down and come all over those thick fingers, but you were too stretched out to move.  August’s loving attention went now to your thigh, specifically that fullest and softest part.  One hand worked your pussy and the other ran over your leg so sweetly.  August left kisses and mark on your stretch mark covered skin, breathing heavily and groaning against your flesh.  Despite your squirming, he kept a slow and steady rhythm.  You decided your best bet would be to just put your head back and let the pleasure take you.  Tears filled your eyes as you choked out a few whimpers.  The hard fucking your body was prepared for was nowhere in sight, and this slow, loving fingering was too much to handle.

    “No!  Daddy!  I can’t…” you sobbed when August’s mouth latched onto your clit, sending waves of heat throughout your body.  His beard tickling and scratching all of your sensitive skin didn’t help much either.  “I won’t last…”

    August looked up at you, his eyes soft but lust-filled.  “You can come on my fingers when you need to, baby girl,” August comforted.  “You don’t need to wait for my permission.”

    You put your head back again, and August went right back to doing what he did best.  His fingers curled and rubbed your insides.  His tongue licked up as much of your juices as it could while massaging your clit, his lips staying locked on all the while.  Your legs started to tremble.  August said you could come whenever you wanted, but you still left like you needed his permission.  You needed that soft voice he uses to push you over the edge.

    “Oh!  Oh, Daddy!”  Your thighs squeezed together as August sucked hard on your clit and forced a third finger inside.  His free hand dug into your thigh to prevent you from closing your legs together.  You sobbed at the sensation of fingers gripping your skin and beard tickling your skin.  At the sound of your distress, August released his lips and looked to you.

    “Baby girl…” August’s voice was so gentle and smooth.  “It’s alright.  You’re doing amazing.”

    You tried to look at August, but your head wouldn’t rise that high.  All you could do was sniffle away some tears.

    “Baby?”  August’s voice went deeper and softer.  “Come for me, Princess.  Come for Daddy.”

    August gave you one thrust with his fingers, and you spilled warm liquid onto his fingers.  August watched his fingers get wetter and liquid drip as he slowly out of you as he massaged you through your orgasm.  Tears trickled down your cheeks.  Why did this get you so worked up?

    August licked his fingers off and crawled back on top of you.  His eyes traveled over the wonderful curves of your body before reaching your sweet, little face.  He unlatched the cuffs from the bedframe, and your arms fell slack against the pillows.  You felt a finger wipe away a tear from the apple of your cheek.

    “Don’t cry, sweet thing,” August murmured.  “You are so perfect and wonderful and beautiful and amazing and soft and sweet.”

    You managed to put your arms around August as he gently pressed himself against you.  “Daddy…”

     “You are such a good girl.”  A bearded kiss was planted on your jaw.  “You are always so good for me.  What a good girl you are.  I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.”

    Finally, August’s lips met yours for a warm kiss.  It was such a relief to finally have him back in your arms.  August’s tongue slowly slid inside your mouth, and you welcomed it.  His hands held your sides tightly and you kissed.

    “Do you still want me to fuck you properly, sweetie?” August asked as he broke your kiss.

    You nodded.  “Yes, Daddy.”

    “I’ll be gentle.”

    August gave himself a few strokes before pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance.  He paused for a moment to play with how wet you were before slowly pushing his cock inside.  You moaned as he went in inch after inch, deeper and deeper.  August groaned when he finally bottomed out.  It always impressed him that your little pussy could manage to fit the entirety of his cock.

    “That’s good, baby girl.  You’re doing so well.”

    August started out with almost painfully slow thrusts that made you want to cry again.  He’d grunt every time he pressed into you again and again.  Your hands gripped his back so he never had the chance to get too far away.

    “You feel amazing, baby.  You’re so nice and wet.”

    You pulled August in closer and buried your face into his shoulder to whimper.  The little stretch his cock gave you pussy right as he went in the whole way made you melt inside.  Your head was clouded with thoughts of that cock filling you up with cum just to fuck more and more into you.

    When August gave a harder push, you yelped and squeezed around him.

    “Let me hear you.  I love it when you moan for me.”

    August shifted so he could keep giving you kisses on your neck.  His thrusts stayed firm but slow, so all you did was hold onto August and moan.  His pelvis rubbed against your clit, and each one of his grunts made you wetter and wetter.  Finally, his rhythm faltered and muscles tense.

    “Fuck,” he groaned, going right back into his rhythm.

     “Daddy…” you whined, knowing August was close to finishing.

     “I’m going to fill you with cum, baby girl,” August breathed as he rested up on his elbows to look at you.  “I’m gonna pump you full of cum and watch it drip out of your pussy.”

     August thrusted into your again and you yelped.  The hand that was holding your hip gripped it tighter, and Augusted pushed into you over and over.  Your whole body was shoved into the pillows with every thrust August gave you.  It wasn’t long before August decided to reach down and rub your clit in rough circles.  The shock of pleasure made you choke on your moans.

    “You are stunning, baby girl,” August breathed.  “You take my cock so well.  You feel so amazing when I fuck you.”

    You dug your fingers into August’s muscle as he picked up this thrusting pace.  Each one forced a whimper from your throat and August to grunt.

    “That’s right, sweetie, take it all - take all of me.”

    “Daddy!  Fill me up!”

    “Whatever you want, princess.”

    August captured your lips in a rough kiss as he slammed into you.  He pushed you clit harder and harder, and you wanted to cry louder than ever.  August let out a deep and rumbling groan before pushing fully in one last time and coming deep inside your pussy.  You squeezed around him to feel his cock throb with each rope of cum that was being forced inside.  August kept his attention on your clit as well, and after another moment your legs were shaking as another orgasm washed over your body.  August let himself go limp on top of you, his massive form acting as a lovely blanket.  His cock stayed inside of you, though, preventing much of the cum from leaking out.  After a moment, he propped himself up on one elbow and looked into your eyes.

    “You are such a good girl,” August breathed, putting a quick kiss on your lips.  “You always behave so well when I fuck you like that.  You did such a good job.”

    You ran your hands through August’s hair before resting them on either side of his face so you could look into his dreamy blue eyes.  Your orgasms still fogged your mind as you stared at August’s face, his slips stretching into a soft smile.  He thought you were the cutest when your face was sweaty and your hair was a mess and your eyes were glassy from being fucked good and hard.

    “Thank you, Daddy…” you breathed.

    “Oh course, sweetheart.” August pressed a kiss onto your forehead.  “Good girls get whatever they want, and you are the goodest of them all.”

    August gave you another kiss before carefully sliding his cock out of you.  You gasped when he finally left you fully empty, a glob of cum starting to ooze out.

    “I’ll be back with a towel, baby.  Just hang tight.”

    August rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.  You watched him the whole way.  His broad shoulders and long legs and meaty ass made you want to climb right on top of him for more, but you were far too tired for that.  After a moment, August returned with a towel in hand.  He crawled back into bed with you and ran a hand between your legs.

    “Let me clean you up, baby girl.”

    You silently spread your legs so August could clean up the cum that was leaking out of you.  When the towel touched your throbbing pussy, you drew in a sharp breath.  When more cum leaked out, August gently wiped it away.

    “I really filled you up, didn’t I, darling?” August had a light chuckle in his voice,

    You nodded.  “You always do, Daddy.”

    August smiled and set the towel aside so he could give you a proper kiss.  “Why don’t we get your nightie off so we can sleep.”

    You lazily sat up and lifted your arms over your head.  August carefully worked the garment off of you so you were completely naked.

    “No bath?” you asked, watching August loosely fold your babydoll and set it aside with the towel.

    “It’s a bit too late at night for that, but we can have a nice long one tomorrow.”

    You were satisfied with that answer.  August pulled back the covers, and you climbed under.  August followed and curled up right next to you.  You found a cozy spot on August’s chest, and you were asleep even before August could give you a kiss good night.

Tag list:

@agniavateira​ @iloveyouyen​

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers)

Masterlist Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, infidelity, oral sex (female receiving)

Just Friends?

With his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, Keanu paced in front of her bedroom door, the words going over in his mind, playing on a constant loop. Ever since their kiss, or rather, series of kisses, in Paris on his birthday, things had been stiff with Emma. She was actively avoiding him, which was hard considering they were in the same suite, then the same plane, and obviously because she was taking care of his children. That didn’t stop her from trying though, avoiding sitting near him when they were at restaurants, taking her breakfast and dinner back to her bedroom when they dined in the suite and keeping the kids between them whenever they ventured out. Even after returning to L.A, she’d been cold, avoiding small talk, eye contact and the slightest of touches. No brushing hands on the rare event of having to pass each other something, no bumping into her in the hallway and definitely no spending more than five minutes in the same room together.

Truthfully, Keanu had missed her, and it had barely been two weeks. He’d surprised himself by holding up for that long, but wasn’t willing to bet that he could last any longer with the awkward tension between them. He’d missed her smile, her laugh, the ease that was usually shared between them, just everything. And that was why he was going to apologize; say he was sorry for letting things get out of hand when they were in France, ask if they could go back to the way things were and promise to do his best to keep things friendly on his end. Even if being her friend had started to grow increasingly difficult.

Taking a deep breath, Keanu stopped directly in front of the door, squeezing his fist tightly. There was no better time to apologize than that night; his mother had been dying to take the kids for the weekend and Miranda was still out of town. It was perfect, just the two of them, being nothing more than perfectly friendly.

“Just do it,” he urged himself, practically forcing himself to lift his fist to the door, though, just when he was finally about to knock, right before his knuckle made contact with the dark oak door, she pulled it open. Stunned Keanu just stood there, hand still raised in the air, eyes widening at her attire; a plain white, silk nightshirt, the top three buttons undone and the black lace of her bralette peeking out. The garment hung off one of her shoulders, and in her hand, Emma held a wine glass, a draining of red liquid left. In the background, indie rock played softly, definitely not audible with the door closed. “Em,” he cleared his throat, still surprised.

“Keanu,” she huffed breathily, using the had with the glass to nudge some of her freed tresses of of her face, “I thought you were out still,” obviously caught off guard herself, Emma turned away for a moment, “I didn’t hear you come back from dropping the kids off.”

“I’ve been here for a while actually,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He’d been mostly fine before laying eyes on her, but then, face to face with Emma was throwing Keanu off balance. It may have had something to do with how she was dressed, legs out and skin on show, but it was mostly because she was the woman he sometimes dreamed about, in ways that he shouldn’t have. “I wanted to talk to you,” trying to sound firm, Keanu straightened his back, “But if you were gonna do something-”

“I was just gonna get more wine,” she smiled sheepishly, dropping her hand to her side, still gripping the door handle with the other, “What’d you want to talk about?” Pursing her lips, Emma tilted her head to the side, slightly leaning against the open door and crooking one of her legs.

It was hard to focus when she was looking at him like that. Her eyes felt like they were seeing right into his soul and her plump, wine stained lips were deliciously inviting. “I want to apologize,” averting his gaze, Keanu cleared his throat, trying to chase away the fog in his brain, “For what happened back at the hotel.”

Before he could get any further, Emma knitted her brows, interrupting, “Keanu, you don’t have to apologize, I think I may have overstepped. You know?” She sighed deeply, “We were talking….and, things got out of hand.” There wasn’t really any logical way to explain what they'd or why they'd done it without exploring their feelings, and Emma seemed to know that just as well as Keanu, instead choosing to stumble around the topic to save them the trouble.

Nodding, Keanu returned his hands to his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them, “Maybe we both had a part to play,” he attempted to smile, but it faltered and Keanu knew that if he was being honest, he didn’t want to have to toe around his feelings for Emma, apologize for a kiss that had translated mutual longing. But he didn’t want to be the kind of man that would hurt two women in one go either. Miranda was the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t just back out on a promise like that. “You’re right though, things kind of just spun out of control. And,” he fumbled again, not even knowing if he was saying the right thing, while something in the back of his mind told him that he wasn’t really saying anything at all. “And…..it was inappropriate. I’m your boss.”

“And I’m your employee,” Emma seemed hesitant too, and there was a pained twinge in her tone that Keanu wished he hadn’t caused, “We should just…..”

“Go back to being friends?” He raised his head, and simultaneously, Emma shifted to face Keanu again, their eyes locking unexpectedly.

Her lips fell slightly ajar and she glanced at his mouth before meeting his eyes again. Emma’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and her voice was a wavering whisper when she agreed, “Yeah, we should do that. Friends?”

Keanu stared at her for a solid minute before managing, “Friends.” Friends. Neither of them budged, an invisible string keeping their dilated stares steadfast. They were further apart than they had been on that faithless night. The night he'd guarded from his unsuspecting fiancée, and the same one they’d just barely addressed. But still, the space couldn’t have been far enough to vanquish the unscrupulous effects that they had on each other.

Keanu knew that their conversation should have been over, but they were both just standing there, unspeaking with Emma looking so astonishingly beautiful that one would have to be blind to deny the fact. She was giving him this look too, the kind where her eyes said so much that it was hard to pretend that there wasn’t something between them. Keanu liked that something, even if it was immoral and wrong, even if it would all just crumble to nothingness one day, he wanted it. And he wanted it to turn into more. “Fuck it,” Keanu mumbled, stepping forward and taking Emma’s face in his hands, crashing his lips to hers, tasting the red wine still lingering on her tongue. As if she’d been thinking it too, Emma draped an arm around his neck, clumsily setting her glass down on top of the dresser nearby before clutching a fistful of his t shirt.

Never breaking their feverish, passionate kiss, they stumbled back into the room. Gracelessly, with hurried movements, Keanu undid the rest of the buttons holding Emma’s shirt closed, letting it billow to the floor afterwards. The back of her knees hit the edge of her bed and, just after pulling off Keanu’s navy t-shirt, she let herself fall back onto the unmade sheets, crawling backwards towards the pillows. When he came to hover over her, Emma gazed up at him, almost in disbelief, one hand caressing his face while lithe fingers of the other trailed down his body, grazing the vertical scar dominating his stomach.

Keanu shuddered when she touched it, suddenly a little self conscious. It was from a time in his life where he was careless, reckless, and hadn’t yet cemented that actions had consequences. One stupid ride had left him with a permanent reminder that he wasn’t invincible, that one more wrong move and he might not have been where he was then. “Maybe we should turn the lights down,” he whispered, slowing down for a minute.

“Why?” Emma’s hand inched over his ear, tangling in his mane, while the other found the elastic band of his sweats. Having her beneath him was surreal, and the way she looked so underdressed in just a lace and silk bralette with matching high waisted panties while her hair created a sea of black on the pale yellow pillow, Emma looked ethereal, in the most sinful of ways. “I want to see you,” she whispered huskily, “All of you.” Shifting beneath him, she started pushing his pants down, bucking her hips up towards this hard on.

His touch skimmed her side, ghosting the contour of her full breasts, the slender dip at her waist and her sensuous curves, before his fingers hooked to her panties. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of his,” he divulged, lips descending on the heat of her neck. Licking up the delicate column, he only stopped to suck a bruise into the hidden spot just behind her ear lobe, listening intently to the way she reacted; a hissed inhale, followed by a hollow whine. “Have you ever thought of me?” Keanu probed, goosebumps raising on his skin when he felt her shove his pants down, the sides of her bare heels rubbing against his legs.

“Yes,” Emma admitted, pressing his face to her neck, feeling moisture gather in her panties, ruining the strip of cotton that served as the crotch, “Every time I fuck myself,” her moans were music to Keanu’s ears, “Every time we’re together,” still ravaging Emma’s neck, Keanu sneakily pushed her panties down, “I wish you were mine.”

“Good,” Keanu kissed his way lower, pausing only so they could finally finish undressing themselves. Taking one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth, Emma’s breath hitched and her eyes slipped shut at the feeling of his teeth grazing her skin, between intervals of his tongue swirling around the tip. Favoring her other boob with his large hand, he erotically squeezed and massaged, leaving Emma to dig into his forearm. “Sometimes all I can think of is you,” hastily, he mumbled between more open mouthed kisses travelling down her body, each one slow and lingering as he reached her hallowed stomach.

Upon reaching the top of her sex, Keanu grabbed Emma’s knees, pushing them upwards so her feet were planted flat on the bed and spreading her legs wide. “You’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue and lapping up a strip of heated arousal, “And you taste so fucking good.” Emma’s head lolled to the side and her hand urgently searched for the top of Keanu’s head, her nails grazing his scalp as she held onto a fistful of his hair.

His tongue flicked her clit just seconds before Keanu took the throbbing, swollen bundle of nerves between his lips. A pleading whine was cast out, and Emma bucked her hips, only for them to be restrained by Keanu resting his heavy palm on her stomach. “Fuck…..Ke….” she couldn’t even manage his name, and the pressure in the pit of her stomach built. His mouth worked her well, his tongue, versed beyond compare, fucking her perfectly as he introduced two rough digits to her nub, rubbing vigorously. “God,” her moans reverberated, complimenting the music that had already been playing.

Her little, pleasured sounds were incomparably intoxicating and the hardness of Keanu’s crotch was becoming almost too much to bear. “What do you want?” He raised his head a bit, proceeding to pepper kisses along the inside of her thighs as he awaited her answer. His fingers stayed on her cunt, sliding downwards to slip into her dripping entrance, while Keanu’s beard bruised her satiny skin.

Her throat burned and Emma could barely think straight, though, she knew what she wanted. She’d known for a while, “I want to feel you Keanu…..” her sultry words were slipping out without her full consciousness, using up the last bits of sensibility before she completely gave into her senses, “I want to feel you inside me.”

Tearing his mouth away, Keanu smirked when Emma emitted a frustrated sound as his fingers deserted her too. With his hands planted on either side of her petite frame, Keanu crawled up her body, once more taking a minute to admire her wanton state before capturing her lips, letting her taste herself. Arching upwards, Emma threw both her arms around him, her legs winding around his waist and trying to press him to her. “Please……” Emma begged huskily, “I’ve waited for so long…..”

“So have I,” Keanu pressed his forehead to Emma’s, slipping one of his large hands between them so he could line himself up with her sex, his tip teasing her folds. Pushing into her slowly, he swallowed up her lewd moan, trying not to lose himself in the way her tight walls cocooned him. Giving her a minute to adjust to his size, briefly pulling away to observe how her eyes had widened as her jaw hung slack. She felt so good, took him so well, like her body had been shaped to his.

He started by pulling out almost completely, the throbbing veins running along his shaft creating an unmatched, addictive friction, and then sliding back in, his pace steady and controlled. The slick sound of their bodies moving together joined the sinful symphony, though the sound of blood rushing in their ears was enough to drown it. Her nails raked up his back, the sensation painful and each time Keanu filled her the pleasurable burning between her was intensified. No one had ever stretched her so wide and no one had ever taken him so very well.

"Faster," Emma promoted, the tips of her glossy, polished nails sunk into his shoulder blades, “Go faster.” And as she pleaded, Keanu quickened his pace, one of his hands lowering to hold her hip in place, while the other stayed sunken on the soft pillow near her head. His balls slapped her core and the air swirling around the room started to feel warm, their passion heating it up.

His gruff, strained sounds were caught in his throat, his praises broken. Below him, with her head tossed to the side, the purplish bruises barely covered by her messy hair, the image of Emma was almost enough to get him off, though he could already feel her legs stiffening. Her breaths were ragged and Emma’s eyes were screwed shut, “Cum for me,” he gnarred, struggling to hold himself together, “I want to feel you, I want to feel everything.”

Still clawing at his back, surly leaving her own marks on his body, Emma whined quietly. Her toes curled as her high reached its crescendo and the heat brought with it a barely visible flush to her skin. Exertion dampened their bodies and loud, languid gasps ricocheted as her walls clenched around him. Keanu’s movements stiffened, restricted by her cunt squeezing his sheathed cock, though he still bucked his hip, rigidly, seeking his own release as Emma came around him, a gush of slick moisture coating their thighs and dripping onto the wrinkled sheets. “Keanu….” she sounded hoarse and out of breath, barely keeping up as he continued to ride out her high.

Just as her legs started slackening, going limp and lifeless around his waist, Keanu grunted, the pads of his fingers digging into her skin, simultaneously squeezing a handful of the pillow in his fist, as his climax creeped up on them. Faltering thrusts made his movements uncoordinated as ribbons of cum were spilt deep inside her. By then, Emma’s noise had softened, no match for the satisfied groan that reverberated Keanu’s chest, just before he collapsed on top of her.

“You just….we just….” Panting, Emma could barely manage a sated smile, threading her fingers through his sweaty hair, the guilt not yet catching up even as Keanu buried his face in the side of her hair.

A slight nod had his rough beard scratching her rosy cheek, and his hand skimmed her side, almost as if he were checking to see if she were real. “We did,” he huffed, swallowing thickly to quell the dryness in his throat. His mind was too fogged, his heart to contented to realize the gravity of what they’d done. But regardless, they were both sure of one thing; they’d certainly crossed a line that night.

So much for being just friends.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @nonsensicalobsessions