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richeeduvie · 1 month

Note

Can you possibly do NSFW drabble (or what you find most convenient) Nacho and reader first time please? 🔥 I adore the way you wrote Nacho in your stories and I'm curious to see him in this situation 🚀

TOUCH ME - NSFW DRABBLE

Nacho Varga x Reader

X READER. Can be read as Madman reader if you like. Sorry this took so long my lovely mutual! I hope you enjoy how terrified I am of writing Nacho WARNINGS: SMUT. 18PLUS. PIV SEX. FOREPLAY -- 2.8K WORDS --

Nacho breathes into you. He holds onto you like your body will turn itself over to the air.

He’s so beautiful, his chest bold against your breast - in the way he breathes heavy into you, you can barely breathe at all.

“I can’t…I can’t,”

He feels like a fucking boy, he feels like he can’t exist outside of you. It’s getting worse with every day. And now…now Nacho knows it’ll be over for him the minute he puts himself inside you.

He sweats, his heart beats. You swallow down every nerve because you want him.

“Are you going to want me?”

You nod, a movement too vigorous against Nacho’s cheek.

His voice is thick, quiet - but there’s a trembled emotion there. He grabs your bicep.

“I do. I do.”

Your voice literally trembles as Nacho’s hands take your cheeks.

“I’ve always wanted you. Always.”

And there, aroused nerves fade into the quickening beat of your heart. But Nacho’s only grows, the blood in his ears rushes louder and louder because he can’t turn away from you. He can’t not touch you after this. It’ll be over.

“I want you now, so much.”

Nacho doesn’t blink.

It’s already over.

He doesn’t smile, but Nacho lays you out on the bed and the air is almost as thick as his voice. The room is warm, but everything about the way he stretches you out against the sheets buries a fire at your stomach.

“Nacho-”

He breaks your words with a kiss and it’s so firm. He buries his tongue in your mouth.

And it’s nothing harsh, but it’s all of his need on his lips.

He’s not going to stop, not when you’re everything he’s ever wanted, needed - what he’s promised to protect.

It’s only been seconds, but Nacho’s cock grows harder with his skin touching yours, lips touching yours. He kisses harder, pressing in.

Even with what feels like a blood rush at his hands groping you, you can feel Nacho taking his time. A great, heavy-breath savoring and he’s so beautiful. His hands, big and gentle but entirely insistent lets your spine roll underneath him.

Everything pools inside you.

Nacho’s hands are rough, calloused as they explore your skin.

You’re so soft.

Your heart races and he goes in deeper, deeper - his breath at your ear and teeth grazing your earlobe.

You search his eyes with yours wide, looking, hoping he’s enjoying the first sight of you. You hope you’re beautiful, that your body is enough. But, even when his fingers trace the line between your breasts, the middle of you - you don’t know Nacho’s intent on making sure you know you’re more than enough.

That you won’t be able to get him off and out of you.

He can’t burn with the guilt of his sudden desperation, not when he was you to take care of. And maybe, he’ll be selfish.

Your eyes are unblinking when your body is bare to the walls of the room, as Nacho leans back and if you think about it, you’d say his brown-eyed gaze is intense.

Taking in the sight of what he’s always wanted.

Your heart hammers away in your chest, but you remain still, you want him to feel all of you. If he wants you. You hope he wants you.

Nacho hopes he’ll be able to move on from the sight of you under him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers it against your skin, eyes dark in the dark. “I don’t know why you came into my life.”

He can’t let the moment just be. He can’t let it just be both of your bodies. He has to say something too fucking desperate, rough in intensity. Nacho closes his eyes as blood rushes, below and above. His cock twitches.

“I’m glad I was there. I…”

Nacho can’t fucking handle of the idea of having to hear the way you try and play nice with what he says, never knowing your heart just can’t quit at his words. So, you can only gasp when he lowers his head with a warm and ragged breath to take your breast into his mouth. His thumb traces lazy, but meaningly circles around your other nipple - both harden beneath his touch.

This is the first time, but it feels like it was always supposed to be this way. It’s that sharp, slight pain of sensitivity with all the pleasure of Nacho’s tongue.

Perfect.

Nacho closes his eyes at your soft moans.

Perfect.

“I’m gonna try and make you feel good. So you just relax. I’ve got you.”

“..What about, what about-”

What about you? It’s something you want to ask, but you can barely get a word in with the bolts of wet shocks to your nipples, all the feeling bolting throughout your body when Nacho’s hands become everywhere. You would think the word exploring.

But it’s claiming. Worshiping. It’s a hunger that matches your own even if you don’t know it. You feel it with every shiver and the fire at your hole seems to burn bright, tightening around nothing.

“What about me trying to make you feel good?”

You stare at the ceiling, but you feel Nacho’s tongue still.

“...I promise you, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Your fingers find your way onto his head, then his cheeks. You pull Nacho in closer - to urge him. Please, please, please.

His hand cups your other breast as he continues to let his teeth graze your hard nipple. Hot, wet jolts that stuff his mouth with you when you can’t help but curl.

You think your moans are met with your name so quietly.

If he had it in him to be confident, not sure - not focused, but confident, Nacho would think it was your name as a prayer. But you feel like the letters drip off his tongue, water he drank too fast as if he’d never drink again dribbling off his lips.

His touch is so beautiful that you need more of it. You always needed it, you can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever had it.

You try and press your legs together, but of course, Nacho’s squeezed in the middle.

Your head nuzzles into his when he comes up and you can feel a hardness pressing against a bit of your crotch and thigh. You focus on how bold and strong his chest is in his own skin.

You need to get rid of his boxers. Now. Now.

Your hands slide down the warmth of his spin and curve to his waist, pulling at the band before you can barely breathe. There’s noises from him and for your own selfishness, you’ll take them as good noises.

His muscles ripple and he tries not to tremble. He can’t tremble. It’d be you to make him fall, but he’s not going to when he has to take care of you.

You tug at his shoulders.

“I need you.”

It’s your voice barely there over the sounds of the both of you. But somehow, brown eyes grow darker and Nacho can feel his body failing him. Everything taking over.

His cock is fucking painful and you’re too beautiful, and he just wants to fuck you, and he’ll fuck you - and he’ll bury himself inside of you.

You pull at the band fully, just until his cock springs out - long and throbbing.

He’s perfect, in the way you hope all of you’s perfect.

Your face grows even more warm at how Nacho pulls himself up as his cock, bare and slightly sticky, presses against your leg - but it makes all of your warm, your pussy ready to take him. Almost.

He should touch you with those perfect hands, big and clean. Shaven?

“I need this to be a night you’ll love. Can I do that for you?”

Fuck. He needs to feel you. He needs to feel how his fingers and cock fit inside you and needs to hear what noises you make. It can be nothing like what he’s dreamt of. Perfect. Better. Real. This is real.

Nacho traces the curve of your waist and hip before he lets his hand trail down your cool, soft skin, just to your crotch.

The opening of you is beautiful, and he wants it wet, warm - he wants his name in your mouth, selfishly. He needs this to be good so he can stuff himself with you over and over and over again, if you’ll let him.

He sucks at your neck.

“So beautiful. So…”

He sucks at your neck, then at your collarbone, and you gasp and breathe with an uneven, passionate rhythm when he puts a finger to your clit. He presses in, and in. A button to press and you clench around nothing. The pool of heat grows into an ocean as he sucks and sucks and lets another finger slip inside you.

If you were dry before, you aren’t now.

It’s so much, his finger, gentle but not unfocused in how it pumps in and out of you.

“That’s how you feel. That’s how you-”

Nacho makes a noise that’s almost a hiss when you grab at his cock, softing pumping there. When you get wet enough, you try - with all your unfocused and only feeling, taking your slick and letting his cock get wet too.

You pump at his cock, twisting your wrist as you roll your head into the pillow. The finger is a welcomed burn that grows into pleasure and the sight of you leaking.

And when Nacho puts another finger inside you, he just takes a moment to look at you, taking himself back, sitting up on the bed as his sights linger.

He can’t fucking look away. He was never able to look away. He needs all of you, and whatever he thought he touched. He didn’t, he needed all of your skin and soft body, perfect, pretty body under his palms.

He runs his other hand over your thigh. He opened you up, legs like a butterfly.

You’ve already been naked for long moments, but you have never felt more open. You spread your legs wider, ready. But he can stretch you out with more fingers and more fingers and all of him if he wants.

“Nacho.”

There, there comes a sudden dark, his fingers slipped out of you to grip at your hip bones.

He knew he wanted to hear his name here, from your mouth - but Nacho didn’t know that’d be what would make him lose it.

He can’t even feel guilt, he only feels the rush to his head and looks at the sight of you under him.

Where you should be, maybe. For the rest of his life. A place where he can always take care of you.

His cock pressed at the tight, wet opening with one finger pressing like a feather-fucking touch over your clit. Then, it's Nacho pressing the bad of his thumb against your clit, wanting to see every face you can make.

You only thought it would’ve taken so long at how he took a long moment to cup your pussy, pulling his cock away from how it clenched and became ready.

It’s already waves of pleasure, the ocean of both of you, the water’s of fire, maybe. But this is where you should be. You spread your legs even further, pulling yourself up on the bed.

“Nacho-”

You’re already hazy and gasping out with his cock stretching through you, it slips all the way in. Slowly, but never coming to a full stop inside you.

“Ah! Oh my god, oh my go-”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Both of you breathe in a sweaty, even rhythm at the first time he comes inside you. You watch the way his cock just looks so…big. It’s the first time, and it burns slightly, but you know it’ll go away and it’ll be him and you and you’ll want him to fuck you. Make love to you.

“You like this? Baby?”

Nacho watches him watching where you two meet before he takes the real, finally real image of how his cock stuffs itself in your pussy.

“Baby?”

“...Oh my god.”

It feels too good. He’d die too happy, and then he’d die guilty.

Nacho says your name over and over, something you can’t hear but feel in shivers. His hot breath reaches the chills of your body before he starts to rock himself.

His cock slips almost out before him fucks himself back in, slowly.

“Oh, Baby. You’re so…”

He struggles in taking your leg up over his shoulder, but he does. He breathes into your skin, shoving his face into your body as his hips manage to quicken.

It’s too good. It’s too much.

It’s the sound of your bodies meeting slowly coming into the air, soft and wet as he goes fast. Hand on your breast, thigh, breath - knee. You cup his heavy heavy and you try to hope that it feels good, but you can only think about how good it feels.

Nacho.

Your body’s laid out flat and stretched before he begins to fuck fast, your hole clenches and leaks, grows hot at the hole and at the hilt as you move like filth. Maybe that’s what it should be, your breasts bouncing and all of you getting groped under curses and mewls, but it’s beautiful.

The first time is beautiful under the moonlight.

He stop feel how your pussy feels as he fucks you, how it clenches. He can’t stop watching how your eyes roll back or how your tits bounce. Nacho doesn’t even mean it when he gropes a bruise into your breast and waist. He’ll throw his mind into a fire of shame at that later, but now - he feels how beautiful you are around his cock.

The thrusts sound out with his grunts.

“Do you like the way I’m making you feel?”

“Yes! Nacho-”

“Fuck. You don’t have to worry. Baby, you’ll never have to worry.”

And it’s minutes going by that way, a beautiful stretch as the long girth of him slips out, only to slam back into you again.

“You’re beautiful. You’re so-”

And then, Nacho slows. You’re already curling over, you wouldn’t have thought slowing down and going softer meant he’s getting close, but you watch his body twitch as you do.

He comes over, chest pressing into your breasts as his arm snakes under you. It’s a hold, tight and warm with something that feels like….

You don’t know, in your eyes - in his, neither of you will say it’s love, not during the first time.

But he stares into you, unblinking as your back arches, making his arm fit between you and the bed. He’s slowed, but each thrust is hard. You would say it’s harsh if it wasn’t for his eyes.

Brown, black in the dark - but that hesitant kindness you know so well.

Your arms come around to grasp at his bicep and shoulders. Every pump of his cock slaps against your pussy, hits his hot, twitching tip at the hilt.

He’s stuffed, buried, and yet, the way he buries his face in your neck gets at you.

“Nach-”

“I’m cumming, Baby. I’m-”

And there, Nacho’s hips buck into yours, balls slapping as his body rocks the bed with you. He puts his finger to your clit, making quick, but struggled circles as his fucks the way he cums.

He cums for a while, you feel him spurting inside you as you cry out in how you chase your own high, riding your arch into his orgasm to get yours.

You cum moments after, moaning and crying into Nacho’s heavy sighs.

And then…it’s over, his cum leaking out of you with everything else, the ocean draining out into a pool. It becomes an aftermath of your first time with him.

And you couldn’t have had it any other way.

Nacho comes at your sigh, still breathing heavy - but it gets more even. You try to focus on his chest rising and falling, so you can remember where you are after the way your toes curled.

Then you replay it all in your head, hoping to God it’ll happen again soon.

“Come…come here.”

You don’t have much room to go anywhere, but Nacho’s order follows itself in him taking your knuckles and kissing them, not over and over - just one long kiss.

Water to a man who’ll never see a drop again, air to a man underwater. He keeps his eyes closed.

“...That was…Nacho…that was perfect. Was it…was it go-”

“I can’t-I can’t think. I can’t think. Just let me…let me breathe, Baby. Relax.”

He hopes you’ll listen to him, because for him to find his breath after the first time. After the first time, he’ll need to keep his face in the skin of your knuckles for a little while longer. Just until the sun comes up.

#inbox #hc's #nacho varga fanfiction #nacho varga x reader #better call saul fanfic #better call saul #nacho varga

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boy-comics · 2 months

Text

STAND OUT!

── .✦ pairing; ♭form!junhan x gn!reader

── .✦ summary; your dear friend hyeongjun regrets his recent styling choice.

── .✦ word count; ~0.8k

── .✦ tags; fluff, comfort, childhood friends, mutual pining, mild background angst

── .✦ a/n; takes place within the xh lore universe (i haven’t got a total grasp on it tho so i am adding my own stuff lol) and set in the “real” world. so ig it's not actually ♭form!junhan since he's not in ♭form here but it looks better than xh lore!junhan and that's why i'm leaving it like that :)

"It's bad."

"I'm sure it's not that bad. Lemme see."

Hyeongjun, his face half-buried in your favorite pillow, simply shakes his head. His beanie is pulled comically low over his eyes and past his ears and it's really an unbearably endearing sight, this beanpole of a boy swimming in a moss-green sweater and curled around a worn notebook thrown haphazardly onto your childhood bed, but you know it is not the time to tease. (Even if you want to do so very, very badly.)

"I'm going to dye it back."

"Noooo," you protest, hands draping over his beanie to tug at it gently. Hyeongjun doubles down on his own grip in response, and you complain, "We spent so long deciding on a color! Why do you want to change it again?"

There's a pause. You let go, and Hyeongjun sighs, muffled by soft cotton fabric. "... It stands out too much."

"That's why you wanted to dye it in the first place."

Hyeongjun just lets out something between a grumble and a whine, and you fall backwards to lie down next to him, crossing your arms.

Your dear friend confuses you sometimes.

You like to think that, in general, you understand Han Hyeongjun quite well. He is not one to be changed much by time, sort of like a pine tree—a little taller and stronger with each year, maybe, but with the same soft needles, the same quiet steadfastness, the same comforting smell. Understanding him is not due to his simplicity because people aren't simple, let alone Hyeongjun, but rather due to walking the intricate lines of his personality time and time again.

But in moments like these, you are reminded that the closest of friends still hold their mysteries.

Your gaze drifts over to the quiet lump beside you.

"It's because this isn't ♭form, isn't it?"

He stiffens.

"Nobody knows who you are on this side. If your looks stand out just a little bit, it's no big deal."

"It's different," Hyeongjun says.

"How?"

"Standing out a little bit here feels worse than standing out a lot there."

Something about the way he words it hurts. Not a lot, just a twinge, but you can't help the way it colors your tone when you reply, "It's just me right now, Hyeongjun-ah."

Don't leave for so long that reality makes me a stranger.

You hear him swallow. His lips part while yours press together tightly, and he slowly shifts, lifting his beanie until it's just above his eyes again. They meet yours and he breathes.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"It kind of felt like it, though." You pick at your nails, raising your hand up to your face to look at them. White polish to Hyeongjun's black. "The real world isn't all bad, you know. It's the one where we became friends."

"Yeah," he admits quietly.

A flake of paint makes its way underneath your fingernail. You scrape it out, conscious of the way your companion continues to stare at you.

Hyeongjun utters your name. When you glance over at him, blinking lazily, he peels off the beanie to let his hair fluff out.

You regard it.

"It's really pretty. It's like hot apple cider."

A flush makes its way to Hyeongjun's cheeks, complementing the reddish-brown strands that kiss them. "Ah, you think so?"

"Mhmm." His face turns redder, and to your embarrassment, it starts a familiar flutter in your gut. You casually turn your head to face the opposite direction. "B-But if you really don't want it, of course you can do what you want. It's your hair."

"I'll keep it."

You're surprised by the swiftness of his answer. "Really?"

"If you think it's good, then it's not bad." There's a sound of ruffling pages as Hyeongjun thumbs at the corner of his notebook. "You'll be the one seeing it the most other than my parents, anyway. I won't stand out to you."

Your response flies out before you can stop it. "You've always stood out to me, Hyeongjun-ah."

The silence that follows seems to stretch out into eternity, despite being only one or two seconds at most. You can feel his eyes widen, then blink, his fingers going still.

You sandwich your head between the ends of your pillow.

In the sudden darkness, a hand lightly taps your shoulder.

"You stand out to me, too."

Han Hyeongjun confuses you sometimes. He worries about dyed hair but doesn't think twice about dressing how he wants, speaks softly but turns his guitar volume to the max, likes his space but touches you in a way that reaches down into the pit of your soul. He is complex because people are complex, and he's a good person in both realities, despite what he fears.

You love him for that. You'll tell him so, one day.

#junhan x reader #han hyeongjun x reader #xdh imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh junhan #junhan #xdinary heroes #xdh #flatform au #beecee's writing

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muiitoloko · 3 months

Text

Bound by Chaos

Summary: In a relationship fueled by danger and chaos, you and Hans navigate a thrilling, toxic dance of power and control. Despite the constant clashes, your dark passions bind you together, creating an unbreakable yet destructive bond.

Pairing: Hans Gruber × Fem! Reader

Warning: Smut, Domestic Conflict, Manipulation, Weapon Use and Threats.

Author's Notes: So, creativity struck and I wrote this, but now that I've edited and read it, I'm starting to wonder if I might have created some big toxic mess? 🤔

Also read on Ao3

You and Hans were fighting again. It seemed like a constant in your relationship, the way you clashed like a dog and a cat. The bedroom was filled with the tension of yet another heated argument, your voices raised, each trying to outshout the other.

"Hans, I can't believe you think it's okay to take such risks!" you yelled, your frustration palpable. "Do you have any idea how dangerous your life is?"

Hans, his brown eyes flashing with anger, shot back, "And you think your life is any different? You're involved in just as many illicit activities as I am. We deserve each other, to be honest."

You both paused, breathing heavily, the reality of his words hanging in the air. It was true; both of you lived dangerously, involved in businesses that thrived in the shadows. There was a mutual understanding that your relationship was toxic, but neither of you cared at the end of the day. You thrived on the chaos and the danger.

"Don't you dare turn this around on me, Hans," you said, your voice lower but still seething with anger. "I may be involved in some shady dealings, but at least I don't go around putting our lives at risk for a thrill."

Hans laughed, a cold, mocking sound that sent chills down your spine. "You think I do this for a thrill?" he asked, his German accent slipping away to be replaced by a flawless American drawl. "I do this for survival, just like you."

"Survival?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. "You have a strange way of showing it. It's like you enjoy playing with fire, dragging us both into the flames."

Hans's eyes narrowed, his hooked nose casting a shadow over his intense gaze. "And you don't?" he challenged, his voice now taking on a British accent, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You love the danger just as much as I do. Admit it."

You hesitated, knowing he was right. There was a part of you that thrived on the adrenaline, the constant threat looming over your heads. It was a twisted kind of love, destructive yet addictive.

But you would die before admitting this to Hans, knowing that it would make you lose the argument. You glared at him, your jaw set in defiance. "Fine," you snapped. "If you're going to be that stubborn, sleep on the couch."

Hans scoffed, his tone dripping with condescension. "It's my house too," he replied smoothly. "If you don't want to sleep next to me, you go sleep on the couch."

You clenched your fists angrily, feeling the frustration boiling over as you watched Hans climb into bed. He made a show of stretching out, taking advantage of the entire space, mocking you with his every move. His brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and his lips curled into a smug smile.

Turning on your heel, you stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind you with a force that rattled the frame. Hans's mocking laughter echoed in your ears, fueling your rage. You paced the hallway, your mind racing with anger and the need to assert control.

A few seconds later, you returned, your eyes blazing with determination. Without hesitation, you straddled Hans, brandishing a gun that you pointed directly at his head. Hans didn't even blink, his self-confidence evident as he remained calm, his hooked nose casting a shadow over his intense gaze.

"Do you think you can intimidate me with that?" Hans asked, his voice low and mocking, his flawless German drawl returning.

You pressed the barrel of the gun harder against his forehead, your eyes locked onto his. "You think I'm playing games, Hans?" you hissed, your voice trembling with fury.

Hans's lips curled into a sly smile. "Oh, I know you're serious," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he switched to a British accent. "But you won't pull that trigger. You need me too much."

Your grip on the gun tightened, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "I don't need anyone," you shot back, your voice laced with venom. "Especially not a self-serving bastard like you."

Hans's hand moved slowly, his fingers gently brushing your thigh. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice taking on a seductive edge. "Then why are you here, straddling me, brandishing a gun, if not for the thrill?"

You hated how his touch sent shivers down your spine, how his words seemed to cut through your defenses. "Shut up," you growled, trying to maintain control.

Hans's smile widened, his brown eyes gleaming with amusement. "Admit it," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "You crave the chaos. You thrive on the danger. Just like me."

You felt your resolve wavering, the intensity of his gaze and the truth in his words cutting through your anger. But you couldn't let him win, not like this. "I won't let you drag me down," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hans's hand moved higher, his touch both soothing and infuriating. "Oh, but you already have," he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "And you love it. Just as much as I do."

You wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the heat between you was undeniable. The gun trembled in your hand, your anger mingling with a dark desire that you couldn't ignore.

"Put the gun down," Hans whispered, his voice commanding and gentle at the same time. "And let's see where this takes us."

With a growl of frustration, you threw the gun aside, your lips crashing onto his in a fierce, desperate kiss. Hans's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the tension between you erupted into a whirlwind of passion and fury.

The line between love and hate blurred, the danger and chaos of your relationship becoming a powerful, consuming force. In that moment, you both surrendered to the darkness, knowing that it was what bound you together, what made you thrive.

And as the night wore on, the echoes of your argument faded, replaced by the raw, primal intensity of your connection. You both knew that this was your reality—a toxic, thrilling dance that neither of you could escape. But in the heat of the moment, none of that mattered. All that existed was the fire between you, burning brighter than ever before.

You broke the kiss, trailing kisses down Hans' jaw to his chest. He was shirtless, just wearing sweatpants, while you were still dressed in a nightgown, both of you having been ready to sleep when the argument had started. Your lips moved with a determined precision, tasting the salt of his skin as you descended further.

Hans’s breath hitched as you swirled your tongue around his nipples, knowing exactly how to make him react. But you didn’t linger there long, continuing your journey downward. His hands tangled in your hair, a silent command to keep going, his body betraying his desire despite his stoic facade.

When you reached the waistband of his pants, you glanced up, catching the glint of control in his brown eyes. He always seemed to maintain that cool, calculating demeanor, no matter how intense the situation. But tonight, you were determined to make him lose that control, to break through the sophisticated exterior.

You tugged at the waistband, your fingers brushing against the hardness beneath, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Hans. “You think you can keep control, Hans?” you murmured, your voice a mix of challenge and seduction. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Hans smirked, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Do your worst, darling. I doubt you can break me.”

You pulled his sweatpants down, freeing him from the fabric's confines. Your hand wrapped around his length, giving a firm stroke that elicited a soft groan from him. His reaction spurred you on, fueling your determination. You wanted to see him unravel, to lose the calculated composure he always held.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper. Hans’s grip on your hair tightened, a low growl escaping his lips. You worked him with a deliberate pace, your movements precise and skilled, aiming to break the control he clung to so fiercely.

“Fuck,” Hans breathed, his voice a strained whisper. You felt a surge of satisfaction at his reaction, knowing you were getting to him. His hips began to move, subtly at first, then more insistently as you continued, the rhythm of your mouth and hand driving him closer to the edge.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were dark with desire, his expression a mix of frustration and lust. “Still in control, Hans?” you teased, your voice muffled but dripping with challenge.

Hans’s jaw clenched, a strained smile on his lips. “You think you can break me, Liebchen? Keep trying.”

You increased your pace, your mouth and hand working in tandem, pushing him closer and closer. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his grip on your hair almost painful, but you didn’t relent. You could feel him teetering on the brink, the tension in his body signaling his imminent release.

“Scheiße,” Hans cursed, his voice breaking. You could see the cracks in his composure, the cool, calculated exterior giving way to raw, unfiltered need. You took him deeper, the intensity of your actions driving him over the edge.

But you pulled away with a smirk, denying his orgasm. Hans growled in frustration, but you silenced him by grabbing his bearded chin. As you straddled him again, you squeezed his chin, your eyes locking onto his. "How many times have I told you to shave this ridiculous beard off your face?" you demanded.

Hans grabbed your wrist, pulling it away as he turned you around, now pinning you beneath him. "This beard stays," he growled, his voice a mix of defiance and desire. He then slapped your thigh, a sharp, stinging sensation that made you gasp. "Turn around and present that nice ass to me."

You did as he commanded, lifting your ass in the air while Hans pulled up your nightgown. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he revealed that you were without panties, a habit he particularly enjoyed. "Always ready for me," he murmured, his hands caressing the curves of your bare skin.

Hans positioned himself behind you, his fingers teasing your entrance before he thrust into you with a force that made you cry out. The intensity of his movements was both punishing and exhilarating, each thrust driving deeper as he took control.

"You love this, don't you?" Hans growled, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength. "You love it when I take you like this, raw and rough."

You moaned in response, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely. "Yes, Hans," you panted, your voice thick with desire. "I love it. Don't stop."

Hans slapped your ass again, harder this time, the sting mingling with the pleasure. "Good girl," he muttered, his pace increasing. "You're mine, do you understand? Mine to control, mine to pleasure."

You laughed at Hans's declaration, looking over your shoulder with a mocking grin. "You think you can control me?" you teased, your voice laced with challenge.

Hans's expression darkened, and he was having none of it. Reaching out, he grabbed the back of your neck and pushed it down, pressing your face into the pillow to silence your laugh. "Quiet," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I’m not done with you yet."

He continued to move inside you, his thrusts hard and relentless, each one driving deeper as he asserted his dominance. Your muffled moans filled the room, a mix of pleasure and frustration as he took you with a ruthless intensity.

But then, Hans's eyes caught sight of the gun thrown haphazardly next to the bed. With a sudden, calculated decision, he pulled away from you, leaving you empty and protesting. "Hans, what are you—" you began, but your words were cut off as he ignored you, picking up the gun.

He deftly removed the bullets, letting them scatter on the floor. The metallic clinks were sharp in the silence that followed. Hans’s focus was unyielding as he walked back to you, the gun now just a cold, empty shell in his hand.

Without a word, he pressed the metal barrel of the gun against your entrance, the coolness of the steel sending a shiver through your body. "You think you can mock me?" Hans's voice was a dangerous whisper. "You think you can laugh at my control?"

The sensation of the gun against your most intimate place was electrifying, a twisted mix of fear and arousal that made you gasp. "Hans," you whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation and need.

He moved the barrel teasingly, circling your entrance without penetrating, making you writhe with frustration. "You wanted control," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark promise. "Now you'll see what true control feels like."

With agonizing slowness, he pushed the barrel inside you, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your desire. The sensation was intense, sending jolts of pleasure and fear through you. "Do you feel that?" Hans asked, his voice a seductive growl. "That’s the feeling of being truly at my mercy."

You moaned, your body arching as he moved the gun inside you, each thrust measured and deliberate. "You belong to me," he continued, his tone possessive and commanding. "Every part of you."

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the combination of fear and arousal driving you to the brink. "Yes, Hans," you panted, surrendering to the dark, intoxicating power he wielded over you.

Hans's movements grew more forceful, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. "Tell me you love this," he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Tell me you crave my control."

"I love it," you cried, your voice muffled by the pillow. "I crave your control, Hans. I need it."

A satisfied smile curled on Hans's lips as he drove the gun deeper, his other hand gripping your hip with bruising force. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. "Now scream for me."

And scream you did, your body shuddering with the intensity of your release, the sensation of the cold metal and Hans's unyielding dominance pushing you over the edge. The room was filled with the sound of your pleasure, a testament to the dark, consuming connection between you.

As you lay there, spent and trembling, Hans pulled the gun out slowly, his touch almost gentle now. "Remember this moment," he said softly, his voice still tinged with that dangerous edge. "Remember who you belong to."

You nodded weakly, your body still trembling from the intensity of the experience. "I will," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

Hans leaned down, pressing a possessive kiss to your shoulder. "Good," he murmured. "Now, rest. You'll need your strength for what comes next."

As he settled beside you, his body warm and solid against yours, you couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of contentment. In the chaotic, dangerous world you both inhabited, this was your reality—a dark, intoxicating dance of power and control that neither of you could resist.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by the dark, consuming passion that defined your relationship.

#hans gruber x reader #hans gruber #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #die hard

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magoapple · 11 months

Text

The Story of Tonight

Pairing: John Laurens x Reader

Word Count: 1,345

Genre: Historical au

Warnings: Not really a warning but this not historical accurate and is not about the actual historical person but the Laurens by Anthony Ramos

Summary: You've been friends with the Schuyler sisters for years and they invite you to the winter's ball. At the ball you meet eyes with John Laurens and you know you're helpless.

You always wore dresses in shades of lavender, making you a sight for all eyes. You were also born into a family of wealth as the only child. Your job was to marry rich and have children. However, you never found yourself interested in any of the men who crossed your path. Angelica told you that tonight would be different, as there was a ball for Washington and his troops.

In your normal life you weren't too acquainted with soldiers, so you gave in to her request and joined the Schuyler sisters at the ball. One big problem was you had no idea what to wear. Sure you had many gowns, but none seemed to pick your interest. That was until your fingers came across a lavender gown with white ruffles at the ends of the corset, sleeves that ended at the elbow and were adorned with the same pearly white ruffles. There were also pearls along the neckline and you knew this was the dress.

After your handmaidens helped you get dress and do your hair into a beautiful low bun with a pearl clip, you could hear the Schuyler carriage pull up to your home. Squealing, you made your way outside, curtsied at the men opening the door for you. As they did, you could see big smiles on Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy's faces. “Ladies I am truly thankful for the invitation.” Angelica smiled and shook her head while Eliza pulled you into the carriage. “Come on Y/N we don't want to be late!”

It did not take long till you all arrived at the ball and were quickly greeted by eligible, some not, men. You and Angelica were both tired of them men just trying to suck up to you two and not be true and honest. While chatting with the sisters you heard some noise and noticed Washington and his troop were now here. You paid respect and turned to curtsy when your eyes fell on a certain soldier.

He had freckles all over his face and luscious brown curly hair. It felt like your heart stopped beating and everyone was frozen. That was until Eliza tapped on your shoulder bringing you out of your trance. "Hm?"

"Y/N you were staring is everything alright?" You quickly blinked and turned to face her with a smile. "Yes, I'm fine just... Do you know who that man is." As you pointed Eliza shrugged but placed her hands on the small of your back. "No, but you should go talk to him he's cute." Before you could you answer she was already walking you towards the man.

You noticed the small group of men around him smile and back away so he could take a step forward. You felt like you couldn't speak and you needed a timer telling you when to breath in and out. All it took was one smile and a kiss on your hand from the man and you were done for. "John Laurens at your service ma'am." So that was his name, come to think of it you did hear about the Laurens and their wealth from your father but never did you think their son would be this breathtaking. "Are you going to introduce yourself m'lady?"

If you weren't embarrassed you were now as you look at his smirk ridden face. "Ah yes my apologies Y/N L/N it's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, say would you care to take this over to a less crowded area?" You nodded and laced your arm through his as you walked to a more secluded place. You felt so helpless being near John. You had just met the man yes, but you could already feel the sparks flying. "I must say I have heard of the L/N family but they never mentioned the daughter was as beautiful as I am seeing now."

You knew he had to be a flirt and you also knew your game was not the best. "Well the feeling is mutual. I don't mean to burden you, but I'm not great at communication at least not right now." John had given you look of confusion and you sighed. "Please do not laugh. When I'm near you I feel like the world has stopped and it's just us in it, like my heart is beating so fast I can't feel it."

He took your hands into his and smiled the brightest smile you had ever seen. "Y/N when I look at you I feel this sense of longing I never had before, and I do not want to let it go. I have to be honest with you, I am a soldier fighting in the war where we do not know what will happen. If I'm to court you, and if your father accepts, will you take the possibility of not knowing?"

You understand every bit of his words and held his hands tighter. "I do accept, all I ever wished for was a man who had his life planned how he wanted and was never afraid to do the unimaginable. Only request is you write to me when you can?"

"I'm not the biggest writer but for you I promise to send you letters." A beautiful smile made it way to your face and you couldn't feel any happier than now.

During the week's at war John sent you four letters, and you re read them every day. In reading them it was almost as if you could hear his voice. You learned that Eliza hit it off with Alexander Hamilton at the ball and she was also receiving letters from him. The pair was also getting married the next day.

As the day came you were excited for two things. One, your dear friend Eliza had met the love of her life, and the other was you had believed you did too. John Laurens was there at the wedding, so were the others but you only cared for him. You knew you weren't to walk with him as the maid or honor, Angelica, and the best man, John, had to walk together. However you gladly waited for him with the same smile on your face from the first night you met.

The wedding was beautiful and so was the reception, especially because you were able to get some time with John alone. "I missed you dearly, have the soldiers been good to you?" He chuckled and moved a stray hair from your face. "Yes, even they weren't I wouldn't stop fighting for what I believe in and neither should you."

You knew what John was talking about, it wasn't like a war but you knew you would have to fight for it. See you wanted to open a library for kids of the unfortunate, where they could learn to read and write. John mentioned in a letter after you told him about how your caring nature was something he loved about you. Love, it wasn't a word you two expressed before but once he wrote it, the word and feeling became a frequent.

"I'm still in the works of convincing my father, but all can be on the side for now because I want to relish my time with you before you leave again."

"I know my dear Y/N, sadly we can't stay long after the wedding, but my dear I promise to write more than I have and I will help win this war to come back to you if you'll have me." You nodded and held his hands. "I will always wanted you John Laurens always. I'll get this library started and when you come back we can get married, have children and show them how beautiful the world can be."

John caressed your cheek and looked into your eyes deeply. "I would love nothing more than a family with you Y/N." As he was leaning in you did as well giving him a kiss goodbye hoping he'd come home to you.

#fanfic #fluff #hamilton musical #john laurens #female reader #anthony ramos #1700s #rococco

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onstrangerthighs · 9 months

Text

Billy hadn’t been in this particular friend group for very long, but even he knew about Nancy and Steve’s Breakup. While he’d joined after it, from what he’d heard, it was the Breakup. At least for Steve.

It was mutual, both parties deciding they were better off as friends. Still, every time the rest of the group got together, the atmosphere itself seemed broken, too. Maybe it was because Steve had very clearly not moved on. Billy didn’t understand it, but then again, he’d never really been in love, or vice versa.

Being the new member, and an introvert slash selective extrovert, he always seemed to end up right next to a moping Steve. The scratchy silence was agonizing, especially during New Year’s Eve, for... reasons. Billy couldn’t complain, though. His painfully obvious and unrequited crush on Steve could not have come at a worse time. That’s the thing about romance, Billy groused silently, tearing his eyes away from Steve’s pretty face.

He was pretty sure everyone else knew. Everyone else except for him.

“Not a bad spread, eh, Pretty Boy?”

Steve startled out of his stupor, and nodded, grinning goofily at Billy. Perhaps he’d had too much to drink. For him to get honest-to-God shit-faced, would take an impressive amount of alcohol.

This just may be the only thing besides playing basketball in high school that they have in common. Oh, and the whole pining thing.

“You must think I’m pretty pathetic,” Steve burped, not even bothering to cover his mouth. Yep, he was on a bender.

Billy shrugged. “You miss Nancy,” he replied, and Steve shook his head fervently, burping again. “Am I wrong?”

“I hic miss Nancy, okay, yeah. But it’s... more than that. I’m happy that she’s happy, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy hic for her-”

Before he could stop himself, Billy interjected, “You don’t seem like you are.”

Steve blinked sluggishly, then snorted. “That obvious, huh?”

“A little.” Try a lot.

Bubbles shot out of Steve’s nose as he snorted into his empty wine glass. “Ouch.”

Well, you’ve done it. You’re about to get friend-dumped.

“Has anyone ever told you-”

“-how much of an ass I am? Ye-ah,” Billy sighed, starting to get up. As someone with a shit load of anxiety, he always noted where the exits and restrooms were, along with where he put his stuff, in case he needed to make an embarrassing escape.

Steve grabbed his wrist, and squeezed it greedily, like he was drowning and Billy’s the only thing closest to him to resemble a floatation device. Billy didn’t -couldn’t- pull away from him, or those big, brown voids on either side of Steve’s face. Weak even at his grown age.

“Steve... what... what are you doing?”

“Sit with me. Stay.” There was nothing but desperation and loneliness in his voice. “Please?”

“I don’t have to work until next week,” Billy joked weakly, allowing himself to be pulled back to the couch. So close to Steve and yet so far. This would be the closest he’d ever come to confessing that he’d always make time for Steve Harrington.

“I love... love,” Steve said, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder. Billy swallowed, hoping the older man couldn’t hear his rapidly beating heart.

“What?”

“Ya know... hic* love. I love... the feeling. The idea of it. Falling for someone. When Nancy and I were hic together-”

Billy couldn’t help but groan. He did and didn’t want to hear about his friends’ sex lives. Now might as well be the time to confess that he had a crush on Nancy, too. Well, not a crush, exactly, but... he felt something for her. He just wasn’t sure what to call it yet. Or maybe he didn’t want to accept that he c-worded not one, but two unobtainable people.

“I would... hic say “I love you” all hic the time, and Nancy would hic never say it back. I never understood why until now. I said it not hic hic just because hic I loved her, but... because I wanted her to stay with me. I was lonely. We both were. She’s so easy to fall in love with,” Steve said, a wistful look in his eyes.

“She is,” Billy agreed too quickly that he thanked fuck his companion was so out of it.

“I wasn’t willing to hic give, ya know? Nance gave and hic gave, and I just... hic couldn’t hic figure out how hic to give hic her what hic she hic deserved. I hic guess it’s hic hereditary. I really hic hic mean hic it, I’m hic -appy for her.”

For the first time, Billy believed him. He set down his beer and squeezed Steve’s slightly larger hand. Steve gasped, and returned the squeeze. Warmth filled Billy like someone lit a fire up his ass, and he bit clean through his bottom lip. Where was everyone else? Why couldn’t he notice anyone else right now... anyone else other than Steve?

“I’m just hic s-so hic hic lonely. Empty.” The sweaty hold he had on Billy’s hand tightened as he talked. Drunk Steve was everything Sober Steve couldn’t be. Vulnerable. Openly affectionate towards another man. With Billy of all people. So this was what it was like...

He rubbed his sore chest with his free hand, willing himself not to cry. Steve wouldn’t know it, but Billy and the audience would.

“Are hic you hic crying?” No mockery, no bullshit passed down from generation to generation about how “men don’t cry”.

“N-no,” Billy choked out.

Steve turned to him, expression sweeter than honey, and he began to wipe away Billy’s tears clumsily with his thumbs. Billy was so dumbstruck, he forgot to flinch. No one ever got this close to him, to his face. The touch-starved blond cried even harder, digging his nails into his palm. Steve almost poked Billy’s eyes in a race to wipe away the rest of Billy’s tears. He wouldn’t stop staring! Billy tried to hide his face, but he couldn’t let go of Steve’s hand. He couldn’t stop leaning into the other hand cupping his wet cheek. He was completely and utterly fucked.

“Hey,” Steve muttered, burping in Billy’s face.

Ew. Just. Ew. “Hey, Pretty Boy.” Now his eyes were watering for a different reason. Again, thank fuck Shit-Faced Harrington was with him. With any luck, this would be a distant memory tomorrow. For both of them. And... for Eddie. Fucking Eddie Munson was counting down the seconds to New Year’s, and he had the stupidest smug grin on his face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy groaned, rubbing his temples.

Five!

Four!

“I hope everyone’s got someone to-”

“EDDIE!” everyone yelled except Argyle and Jonathan, who were somehow more baked than the noisy guitarist.

Three!

Two!

“Billy? Don’t hate me for this,” Steve hiccupped.

“Wha-”

One!

He leaned in and kissed Billy so hard, the younger man fell onto his back, sinking into the cushions.

Everyone else was wrapped up in watching the ball drop, but the two dorks on the couch were still going at it.

The smart thing for Billy to do? Push Steve off and flee. After all, he was drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing... or who he was kissing. For all he knew, he was kissing Nancy. Someone he loved.

Tears threated to fall once more, and Billy whimpered. Like a fool, like a dog, he stayed put, even after Steve vomited all over him and then fell asleep.

Happy New Year.

#happy new year!!!#billy hargrove #steve harrington #tw unedited work lol #harringrove #harringrove fic #words: 1259 #according to my notes app anyway #steve x billy #billy x steve #billy hargrove x steve harrington #my writing #so... i can't write fluff lmao 💀#a hint A HINT #of wheelgrove #will this end in poly #absolutely #🫡

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kromeihl · 2 years

Note

Could you write atsushi x gn!reader where reader has a very similar background to atsushi except they grew up with their parents until they turnd 18? Maybe reader opening up about their ptsd, and bonding + mutual comfort over not-so-great childhoods ;w;

Sorry if this is too much of an ask, if so i totally understand!! I love ur writing btw ❤️

Pffft...Relatable

GenderNeutral!Reader

↛Atsushi Nakajima

Warning(s): NOT PROOFREAD

↝Requests are open!

"You should do better." Kunikida commented, Dazai being a drama queen he is, putting a hand on his hand. "Why I tried my hardest, Kunikida-kun!" He said, striking a pose.

Kunikida rolls his eyes as he hits Dazai, the brown-haired male wincing in pain.

"You think that's trying?"

You froze at their conversation, the words feeling a bit too familiar. You excused yourself, walking to your desk as you took short deep breaths.

Your friend, the grey-haired male looked up at you, feeling confused as he watches your current state.

"Are you okay, [Name]?" He asks, concerned. You pause, your eyes widening as you froze in place.

You were having flashbacks to those times wherein you don't feel free at all, you're always haunted by the overprotectiveness of your parents and the way they would torture you mentally.

"[Name].." Atsushi let out a shaky breath, he puts a hand on your shoulder till' you came back to reality.

"Atsushi?" You looked up at him, a bead of sweat dropping from your forehead as you look at him with horrified eyes, as if you've seen a ghost.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" He asks, removing his hand on your shoulder. "No, nothing happened." You laughed it off, walking to your desk as you sat on your chair.

Atsushi sighs, walking to his desk which was beside yours. "Are you sure..? Don't try to avoid anything, [Name]. You can tell me..." He looks at you with concern, your breath hitches as you look at him.

"Let's keep this between us.." You started, looking away from him as you stared at your desk with sad eyes.

"The words of my parents. It's been haunting me lately." You pause. "As if they're ghosts. I-I can't even think of something else if someone says words similars to theirs."

"I can't think straight at all, I get a pang of deja vu, get scared, and all of that. I just, don't want it to destroy me." You said quickly, as if you were trying to say it all in one breath.

He looks at you surprised, unable to say anything for a few seconds before his gaze soften. You looked into his eyes again, the two toned colors were your favorite. He blinks before giving a soft smile, "Can I share something about my part, too?"

You nod slowly, "I have been haunted by the Orphanage director's words aswell. As if what they're saying is true when I make a mistake." You look at him with sad eyes. "But, take those words as a way to fight back. Prove them wrong and repeat those words that they've said. They'll be furious."

He chuckled, seeing your face soften a bit after his little joke. "I barely did anything that was enough for them, that's what they said. I was a child, I wasn't supposed to do much yet, although they treated me as if I was an adult. My young days have been..Taken away from me."

You sigh, a bit saddened again. Atsushi's hands comes it's way to yours, he holds both of it in between his slightly big hand and slender fingers. "Now it's your time to make it up for them, feel like a child again, it's okay." He encouraged you, you giggle.

"Oh really, what about you then?" You smile softly, "I didn't get the childhood I wanted either, but I'm sure my life now will make up for it." He smiles. "I didn't know you were quite optimistic." You laughed, "Oh sometimes I am, but I always am when talking to you." He gives you a big warm smile. You pause, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as he took a few moments to realize.

"I-I mean, I- I didn't mean-" You bursted out laughing at his excuse, making him more embarrassed. You relaxed for a bit, seeing a smile on Atsushi's face. "You're quite happy now, aren't ya?" You commented, letting out an airy laugh. "I'm happy you're happy." Your eyes widen at his comment.

"I'm sorry for all the things that guy has done to you, Atsushi-"

"Shhh, no it's okay." He cuts you off, "Actually, I'm sorry for the way your parents treated you, you deserve more than all those things you've had to go through. If I could turn back time I would defend you till' I die! Really, I'm sorry you didn't deserve su-"

You quickly cut his rambling as he felt a pair of soft lips crash into his, pulling away already in just 2 seconds.

"That's what you get for cutting me off." You smirk, leaving Atsushi quite flustered. "I don't regret it.." He mumbled.

#atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #nakajima atsushi x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #atsushi x you #atsushi x y/n #ameijamsBSD🥂

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theflagscene · 1 year

Text

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by @khaotunq 🫶🫶

Are you named after anyone? - Nope, I was actually named something else until I was born when I came out the wrong gender (they thought I was boy, scans weren’t great in the 80’s lol) So I was nameless for the first couple weeks of my life until my aunt named me, she thought the name she chose matched my sister’s name well, said we sounded like sisters.

When was the last time you cried? - Like six hours ago lol, I had an anxiety attack which usually involves some tears.

Do you have kids? - Nope, I cannot medically have children. If I did manage to get pregnant by some miracle, there’s a good chance I could die ☠️

Do you use sarcasm a lot? - According to medical professionals, I apparently use it as a coping mechanism lol!

What spots do you play/have played? - I haven’t played a sport since I was in school, ngl. I was on the girl’s travel soccer team and the shot put team. I also did gymnastics, swam and ice skated. I was big into BMX biking when I was a pre-teen too, it was a 90’s, that was super cool at the time.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? - Height, eyes, lips, hands.

What’s your eye colour? - Dark dark brown, my eyes look black indoors and nearly gold in direct sunlight.

Scary movies or happy endings? - I enjoy scary movies more than anything, but I do tend to write happy endings. So… both 🤷‍♀️

Any special talents - I mean, I have one that tends to be a party trick that people want to see when they find out about it. I have zero gag reflex, no it’s not suppressed, no I don’t have to work past it, it’s just legit not there. I’ve had doctors look at me in shock when they basically stick their hand down my throat and I don’t blink an eye lol. @kellanwrites once watched me put an entire banana down my throat without even breaking eye contact 😉

Where were you born? - Ontario, Canada.

What are your hobbies? - Reading, crocheting, writing, baking, nail art, colouring, video games, sitting around and doing nothing while waiting for the cold hand of death to grip me and drag me away… too dark? That might have gotten too dark, sorry about that.

Do you have any pets? - A dog, a rabbit, and guinea pig and four cats.

How tall are you? - I’m 5’8, which is very tall for someone who’s AFAB, although I am one of the shorter females in my family, shockingly lol. My older sister is 5’11 and my mother is 6’ tall.

Favourite subject at school - English, science, art, music and history.

Dream job - Something where I wouldn’t have to interact with anyone, like stacking books or shelves in the back of a store. Counting out pills in a pharmacy, just a job where I could count/stack/arrange things quietly away from people. Maybe working in an archive of some sort 🤔

Oh no, help me, I need to see if I have 15 mutuals now lol!!! Sorry if you’ve already been tagged in this, feel free to ignore me and as always, there’s no pressure to play along 💖

@neo-neos @hearts-burden @tiistirtipii @alan-apologist @vampetal @sparklyeyedhimbo @fanfictionroxs @negrowhat @hermioneismyrealname @grace-of-creation @thewarpeffect @lotus-soup-pot @oh-goodness-loki @deliveryghibli @absolutelyarealperson

#tag game #15 questions 15 mutuals

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ace-the-fox · 1 year

Text

Was out basically all day today and yesterday was revising but also generally being lazy, but finally caught up! Posting this and then Day 5 immediately after! :D (Haven't started the next two days but we're working on it–)

Anyways, if we can have bro Andrew and Akko, we can have bro Frank and Lotte. It's the law.

Day 4: Mutual Pining <3

"And it's just like... I know he's flirting with us as a joke or by accident or whatever. But last week he told me I had really pretty eyes, and I literally– just, like, butterflies, you know... Do you think it's true?"

Lotte sucked a bit of cream from her bun off of her thumb and looked down at the blonde laid down on the grass next to her. He blinked up at her with big brown doe eyes, cheeks flushed from the excitement of his rambling. "Objectively, you know," he amended slightly.

Lotte laughed softly under her breath. It was funny how every one of these biweekly picnics they had ended up leading to one of Frank's rants about how pretty and amazing his crush was. Still, she didn't mind. It helped him get it out of his system.

"I'd say so," she nodded, kindly. Frank brightened briefly, and then went straight back to where he was.

"Also, you should have seen what he wore when we went to see that new Marvel film on Saturday," Frank said, growing excited again. "Like, it was just a t-shirt and some ripped jeans, not something that meant he was actively looking for the attention– Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course."

"Of course."

"But," Frank put up a finger. "The jeans were... shapely. It's not weird to say he has a great butt, is it?"

Lotte took another bite from her dessert, nodding along. "No weirder than anything else you've told me."

Frank laughed a little at that. "Yeah, that's probably true," he said, a little more humbly. He flipped from where he'd been laying on his back on the grass to his side, propping himself up a bit on his elbow. He rested his cheek in his palm. "If I may make a Nightfall reference here–"

"Of course, you may." It had taken perhaps a week of their budding friendship for Lotte to recommend the book to Frank. She'd worried that he'd shoot the idea down immediately, finding the request weird at best, irritating at worst. But Frank was much too adventurous for that, and ended up getting sucked into it as much as she had. To say they had become insufferable around each other towards others was an understatement.

"You know how I once said that the main reason anyone ships Arthur and Edgar together is because everyone loves the whole sweetheart and brooding partner dynamic?"

"That's you two, huh?" Lotte giggled.

Frank laughed in unison with her. "Exactly!" Then his expression turned a little sadder. "Or, at least, it would be. If he'd only notice me that way..."

To Frank's surprise, Lotte was still laughing. "Hey!" he exclaimed, in mock annoyance. "What's so funny? I am in a crisis!"

Lotte shook her head, trying to excuse herself. "I'm sure he'll notice any day now, and you can have your happily ever after."

In truth, Lotte couldn't help but think back to some previous conversations with Akko, after her own coffee meetings with Andrew. How Frank's brooding brunette was going on similar, if a little more refined, rambles about the blonde himself. In that same desperate, lovesick way. Akko had wanted to compose a way to get the two of them together at last, but Lotte had thought against it. She wanted to see how either of them fared without interference.

They'd get it... eventually. Hopefully.

#lwa #lwarpw23 #little witch academia #andrew hanbridge #frank lwa #frandrew #using emotionallydevestatingyo's hc that andrew flirts with his friends by accident in the first bit lol #i just think it's silly and cute and frank just melts every time

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

Text

Mutual Misunderstandings - Kirishima Eijirou - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / F!Reader Rating: 18+ (Contains smut) Words: 5,866 Warnings: Quirkless AU, Aged up characters (they adulty adults!), unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), very very light choking, reader has a bit of a size kink. AN: Another entry for the BNHAREM collab! This time we’re writing roommates, and I somehow managed to snag Kirishima! I’m super excited for all of the fics coming this time around, so make sure you click on the link below and read some of the other submissions!

This is my first time writing Kirishima and I’m super nervous about it. I’ve always really loved him because he’s just the best boy and he’s so brave and strong and gentle and I just want to cuddle him into oblivion. I also firmly believe he’s going to be a huge tank of a man when he gets older and I’m going with that vision of him here.

Collab Masterlist is HERE My Masterlist is HERE Buy me a KoFi if you’re feeling froggy HERE

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You stood in your living room, your jaw hanging open, staring at him in shock. Kirishima had a similar look on his face, the two of you pointing at each other like that Spider-Man meme.

“You mean to tell me you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?” You finally choked out, blinking owlishly at your best friend and roommate. “I thought you liked Mina!”

Kirishima sputtered, shaking his head. “No way! She’s my friend, we’ve known each other since middle school, you know that.” He moved to cross his arms across his broad chest. “And anyway, there’s no way you like me, you have a crush on Bakugou!”

There was no way this was happening right now. “No! I don’t like Bakugou like that! He’s a pain in my fucking ass, and I think about murdering him on a daily basis.” Facepalming, you groaned. “Are we really this stupid?”

How did you end up here?

It started back in your first year of college.

The parties and the seemingly endless studying had become a comfortable routine for you. So what if you were sleep-deprived and living on cup noodles? You were getting your higher education and ready to tackle the real world head-on in just a few short years.

A pipe dream, but still.

You had your best friend Shinsou by your side and a customer loyalty card at the campus coffee shop and everything was right with the world. You’d even managed to get paired up with Hitoshi’s (sort of) boyfriend for an English project, which was a better outcome than what you could have hoped for, not having to work with some rando on something that would be a large chunk of your grade.

Kaminari had suggested that you work on it at his place with the promise of Doritos, and you agreed. Who were you to turn down snacks? Poor college students needed those cheese dusted carbs to survive.

The Upsilon Alpha fraternity was one of the best and most popular on campus, and at first, you found it almost laughable that Kaminari was a member. At first glance, he seemed like a total space cadet stoner who didn’t belong in college, much less as a member of such an esteemed frat. However, after getting to know him, you knew that he was most definitely all of those things, but he was also insanely smart when it counted and kept above average grades in his classes (except for math, but with him being a bisexual disaster human, it came with the territory).

You had made some decent progress on your project after about an hour. The outline was done, and you were discussing how you would be presenting it since you had a choice between a written essay or a PowerPoint presentation.

Without warning, the kitchen door flew open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it.

“Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted, huh?” Kaminari blinked, completely unfazed by the commotion, leaning back in his chair and eating a chip.

Your gaze flitted over to the man who was glaring at the two of you from the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets. Blonde hair that looked so much like an explosion was sticking up in every direction on his head, and you felt his red eyes trained on you as he took in the room. “What are you doing, Dunceface?”

Kaminari didn’t answer right away, raising his eyebrow and grinning at the new arrival. “Hey, Kacchan.”

If the bulging vein in the man’s forehead was any indication, Kaminari had said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth, and you assumed it was to threaten your project partner, but he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder from behind.

“Bakubro, be nice. Kami has company.”

The man that appeared beyond the angry pomeranian took your breath away. He was...big. Like, his shoulders were so wide you wondered how he was going to fit through the doorway. And he was tall, with spiked red hair making him look even taller, big red eyes and sharp teeth, and the most beautiful smile you’d ever laid eyes on.

Blonde and grumpy grumbled, moving aside to let giant and red into the room, who then turned that megawatt million-dollar smile on you, and you tried your best not to stare at his biceps or the way his shirt clung to his chest.

Was it hot in here all of a sudden?

“Hi! I’m Kirishima, and this ray of sunshine is Bakugou, we’re some of Kaminari’s frat brothers!” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you smiled up at him, taking his giant hand in yours. The size of his fingers sent your brain reeling, and you knew you needed to get yourself under control before you started moaning out loud in front of him.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you! Kami and I are just working on an English project.” You explained, grinning back up at him, trying to keep the lust off of your face. You didn’t want to look like some kind of freak.

He took his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, you must be Shinsou’s friend! Kami told us you’d be coming over, I forgot about that.” He turned, watching as Bakugou slunk over to the fridge and opened the door. “Don’t let us bother you, we’re just grabbing some water before we head to the gym.”

Kaminari snorted. “Dude, if you get any beefier we’re going to need to remodel the doors so you can fit through them.”

Kirishima turned as red as his hair, glancing at you, before he grinned at his friend. “If I stop, no one will be able to bench press you and Sero at the same time at the next party.”

“Bro, that is my favorite party trick of yours.” He sat up straighter, looking forlorn at the thought of it not happening anymore. “Okay, fine, go to the gym.”

Bakugou grumbled from behind him something that sounded like “I could bench press four of you if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could, buddy.” Kirishima slung his arm over Bakugou’s shoulder. “Okay, we’re out of here. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Good luck with your project!”

Bakugou grunted and shoved a water bottle at Kirishima, shrugging out from under his arm and leaving the room. Kirishima smiled at you when you said goodbye, hurrying after his sour-faced friend and leaving you and Kaminari to your work.

“Your housemates are...interesting.” You managed, still trying to wrap your head around the red-haired man.

Kaminari snorted. “Kirishima is the walking definition of sunshine, and Bakugou is...well, he takes some getting used to. But he’s not a bad guy.”

You just hummed, chewing on your pen absently. “Can he actually bench press you?”

“Fuck yeah. He does it one-handed. You should come to our next party and see for yourself.”

Keeping your face as neutral as possible, you nodded. “Maybe I can convince Shinsou to come with me.” Wiggling your eyebrows at Kaminari when he blushed, you turned back to the notebook that lay open in front of you. “Come on, let’s figure this out so we can talk more about your intentions with my best friend.”

You did show up to the next UA frat party, Shinsou in tow. Your purple-haired bestie was grumbling the whole way, his hands shoved in his pockets. It didn’t stop him from making fun of how short your skirt was and teasing you about how you’d done nothing but talk about Kirishima since the day you’d met him.

“He’s like Clifford the Big Red Dog, Y/N. Clumsy and adorable.”

“He’s definitely big. I’d like to climb him like a tree.” You linked your arm with his, walking up to the giant house, the windows already rattling with the bass pumping through the speakers inside.

“You’re disgusting. I am appalled and also proud to call you my best friend.” Sarcastic as usual, he let you drag him along without a fuss.

“That sounds about right.”

The party was in full swing, half the campus milling around inside the house with red plastic cups in hand. You found Kaminari almost immediately, shoving Shinsou towards him and making your way to the kitchen to find yourself a drink.

“Y/N!” Kirishima was in front of you almost immediately, giant cat eyes and his shark tooth smile lighting up the room. “Kami mentioned you might show up!”

Blushing, you nodded, suddenly losing the ability to form words. He was wearing a tank top, his arm muscles on display, and you took a moment to thank the Lord for the blessing before you.

“You want a drink?”

You realized you were staring, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. “Yes, please.”

His large hand wrapped around your elbow gently as he tugged you through the crowd in the kitchen and out towards the back porch. You tried not to think about how your skin was burning under his touch. You needed to get a grip.

He got to work on the keg, pumping the handle on the top and grabbing you a cup, tilting it a bit as he filled it with beer.

“Hey, shitty hair! Beer pong!” You turned to see Bakugou standing on the other side of the large wooden deck, his arm resting on the shoulder of a tall and lanky brown-haired boy. “Sero here wants to break up the dream team! Find a partner!”

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, hang on!” He turned to you, handing you your drink. “So, you play beer pong?”

Bringing the cup to your lips, you tilted your head back and chugged your beer, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand when you’d finished. Kirishima was staring at you with wide eyes, looking surprised but pleased. “Yeah. I’m better when I’m drunk, though.”

He held out his hand for the empty cup, moving to fill it up again, his grin never faltering. “Let’s go kick their asses.”

That was the beginning of your friendship with Kirishima. What had started as a crush on the red-haired man had turned into a companionship that you couldn’t ever see yourself without. That was why you never said a word about how you really felt.

As cliché as it was, you didn’t know how you’d survived without the guy. He was nothing short of amazing. He was a great listener, and he gave good advice. He was always there when you needed him, bringing you soup when you were sick, going on late-night snack runs when you were up all night studying for exams, showing up with chocolate and tampons when it was your time of the month.

Shinsou had always done those things for you, but he was spending a lot of time with his boyfriend now. You weren’t upset about it though, you thought they were the cutest and you didn’t want to third wheel their time together, so you hung out with Kirishima and Bakugou a lot more often.

As Kaminari had told you on that first day, Bakugou truly wasn’t a bad guy. His attitude got on your nerves though, and you envisioned punching him in the face at least four times a day, but you didn’t dislike him. He and Kirishima were best friends, so he was a part of the package, and you learned to deal with him.

So it was a no-brainer when Kirishima and Bakugou approached you and asked if you wanted to get an apartment with them once you’d graduated. With the three of you living together, you were able to afford a nicer apartment than you’d ever dreamed of having that was in a central location and only a few train stops away from where your respective jobs were located.

Things were going well, and you’d done a decent job of keeping your true feelings for Kirishima to yourself. It helped that he’d never dated anyone, and you were free to lust after him quietly, under the impression that no one had caught on to how you really felt, perfectly content to continue as you had been since the day you’d met him.

The only wrench in your plans of quiet pining was Mina Ashido.

Mina was awesome, and you loved her to pieces. She was one of the only other females in your friend group and had been around since you’d gotten closer to the boys in the frat that first year of college. She was the perfect person to go to when you needed some self-care nights, always down to put on a face mask and paint your nails, and she was the best shopping partner.

However, you were thoroughly convinced that Kirishima liked her.

You’d noticed, as far back as your freshman year, how they always gravitated towards each other in social settings. Mina was always one of the last ones to leave when you went out back then, always the one Kirishima threw his arm around when you walked back to campus from the bar.

It was part of the reason you’d become close with Bakugou in the first place. Whenever Kiri was with Mina, you always sidled up to the explosive blonde, teasing him to distract yourself from the way your heart was squeezing in your chest.

Neither of them had ever mentioned having more than just a platonic, friendly relationship with each other, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got whenever you saw them together.

It’s called jealousy, you idiot.

You had nothing to be jealous about though. Kirishima was your friend, and that’s all he would ever be.

Things had been going well, at least that’s what you’d thought. And then this morning had happened.

It was Saturday, which was your normal grocery shopping day. You and Bakugou had taken on the burden of shopping for groceries for the apartment. You’d allowed Kirishima to go once and he came home with more junk food than should be allowed in one cart, and half of the things on the list you’d given him missing, and more protein powder than should be legally allowed.

Bakugou had worked out a system and your grocery shopping trips were like a well-oiled machine that took no longer than an hour out of your day, and you were grateful for your grumpy friend and his penchant for being overly organized.

You finished getting dressed, ready to get this over with so you could use the rest of the day to play video games and be generally lazy. Walking into the living room, you stopped in your tracks to see your roommates glaring at each other, which was normal for one of them, and uncharacteristic for the other.

“Everything okay?” Your eyes darted between the two men, taking in Kirishima’s stiff posture and clenched jaw.

“Fine. I’m going shopping alone today.” Bakugou grunted, turning away from his best friend.

Puzzled, you frowned. “What? Why?”

Bakugou stopped in the doorway, turning to face the both of you, looking thoroughly fed up. He lifted his hand and pointed. “The two of you are making me want to commit myself. I’ve been dealing with this shit for years, and it ends today. You’re in love with each other. Figure your shit out and fuck already. I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

You gaped after him as he turned again, giving you both the middle finger over his shoulder as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And that brings us up to speed.

“Are we really this stupid?” You asked, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back.

Kirishima sighed. “This doesn’t make any sense. Since when?”

Snorting, you flopped down on the couch, rubbing at your face tiredly. “Truthfully? Since the moment we met.” You guessed the cat was out of the bag, so you might as well tell him everything. “In the kitchen at the frat house.”

“When you came over to work on that project with Denki?” His eyebrows furrowed, an adorably confused look on his face. “Are you telling me I’ve been pushing you at Bakugou for nearly 5 years for no reason?”

“Yeah, you could stop doing that at any time and I would appreciate it. Unless you want me to strangle him to death.”

Kirishima flopped down on the other end of the couch, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ve liked you just as long, you know? I saw you sitting in our kitchen and I thought I was going to throw up.”

“If that was supposed to make me feel good about myself then you’ve failed miserably.”

“No! I just mean, the butterflies-” He groaned. “Shut up and let me get this out okay?”

Smirking at him, you turned your body, leaning against the back of the couch. “Okay, sorry, keep going.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, red eyes trained on your face. “Do you remember the frat party?”

“Which one?”

“That first one, when you chugged that beer in front of me and then helped me kick Bakugou’s ass at beer pong?” He waited for you to nod before he spoke again. “I’d never felt so enamored with anyone in my entire life.” Kirishima let his gaze fall to his hands. “You were so awesome and funny and beautiful and you kept up with my friends and their dumbass antics like a pro and I just...I couldn’t believe you were real. I just kept telling myself that you would never be into someone like me, so I decided that if we could be friends for life then that would be enough.”

“Ei…” You trailed off, frowning. You’d always known he tended to get down on himself. You and Bakugou had done your best to convince him he was worth much more than he let himself believe, but sometimes he needed a reminder.

“I know, I know. I don’t feel that way anymore, but at the time I did.” His hair was down, tied back in a loose bun, bits of his fringe falling in his eyes. He pushed a piece of it behind his ear and kept going. “So I tried to keep my distance, kept on hanging around with Mina, tried not to think about how much I wanted to be with you. She kept telling me I needed to tell you, kept rubbing it in that I wasn’t being manly about it. But you were hanging out with Bakugou so much I just figured you liked him and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall forward. “I was hanging out with Bakugou because I couldn’t stand seeing you with Mina so much. I was jealous.” Realization hit, and your eyes snapped open. “Mina knew?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one I told.”

“All those times we hung out and she never said a word.” Chuckling, you shook your head. “I told Shinsou. It’s like the only secret he’s ever kept from Kaminari. I threatened to mutilate him beyond all recognition if he mentioned a word to anyone.” You grinned sheepishly at him.

Kirishima huffed a laugh. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Bakugou. Your threats are just as creative as his.”

“Speaking of, I guess he figured it out on his own then.”

Humming, he shrugged. “He was always the smartest one out of all of us.” He looked over at you again. “So, now it’s your turn.”

Raising an eyebrow, you blinked at him. “For what? A heartfelt confession?”

“It’s only fair. I told you how I felt. What did you think when you first met me?”

You felt your ears get hot. “Do you want the truth? Because it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Shifting himself on the couch, he leaned against the arm, tanned forearms resting on his knees. “Oh, this should be good.” He teased, grinning.

“Shut up.” You sighed, preparing yourself for his reaction. “When you walked into the kitchen that day, my first thoughts were...uh...pretty dirty. Like X rated.”

Eyes wide, he stared at you. “Really? How dirty are we talking here?”

You covered your face with your hands, mumbling your answer behind them.

“Sorry, what was that?” He was fucking with you again, you could hear the smirk in his voice, and you were tempted to smack him with a throw pillow.

Taking a deep breath, you moved your hands from your face, looking him right in the eye. “I said, I wanted you to step on me.”

Sputtering, he blinked a few times. “What?”

“I mean, you were this...tank, Eijirou. Like this giant man with gorgeous eyes and a killer smile, with the personality of fucking sunshine and you had these big hands and I wanted you to wrap them around my throat and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, seriously?” His cheeks were as red as his hair, his hands flailing as he stopped your tirade. “You wanted me to…?

Nodding solemnly, you looked him dead in the eyes. “Yes, and I’ve thought about that like every day since then.”

“I am learning things about you today that I never even imagined.” Blowing a breath out he slumped back, looking shook.

You hurried on, wanting him to know it was more than that. “I mean, after that I got to know you and I love everything about you, Ei. I just, you’re such a good person, better than I could ever be. You care about everyone and you’re always there for me, for all of us, whenever we need you. You’re strong and funny and brave. I always know that I can rely on you.” Sniffling, you couldn’t help the emotions bubbling to the surface.

“But you also want me to step on you.” He was grinning, his eyes a little wet, too.

Wiping at your eyes with your fingers, you chuckled. “Yes, exactly.”

Sighing, he leaned forward, grabbing your arm and tugging. “Come here.”

Crawling across the couch, you laid down between his parted legs, your head resting on his chest. He wrapped his giant arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Now what?” You asked, realizing you were afraid of the answer. What happened now?

He hummed, and you heard the sound vibrate through his chest. “I was going to suggest a nap, but now I keep thinking about what you said…”

You lifted up to ask what he meant, shifting your body and freezing when you felt something hard brush against your thigh. Eyes meeting his, you bit your lip at the look on his face, feeling a blush creep over your face and down your neck. “Yeah?”

“I figured we can do things out of order a little bit, right? I’m going to take you on a real date and court you properly, like a gentleman and all that, but right now all I can think about is, well…” He sat up, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you like it was nothing, until you were sitting properly on his lap, straddling his hips. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to your throat, putting the smallest amount of pressure on the sides of your neck with his calloused fingertips.

The moan that tore from your throat was low and quiet, but he heard it, muttering a curse under his breath as you became nearly boneless in his lap. “Eijriou.” You managed, licking your lips and gazing at him through half-closed eyes, your blood pounding in your ears.

It was ridiculous how turned on you were in that moment, and he’d barely done a thing. You felt his cock twitch beneath you, and you couldn’t help but grind down on him, the small amount of friction making you shiver.

Suddenly he was guiding you towards him, your noses bumping and breath mingling as he held you in place, his lips just out of your reach. “You don’t know how much I’ve always wanted you, Y/N.”

Letting your eyes slide closed, you ran your hands up his muscled arms and rested them on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You were tired of waiting, of keeping yourself from what you wanted. “Show me.”

If you were to die right here on this couch it would have all been worth it. The feeling of his lips on yours, the way he ran his thumb lightly over your throat as he kissed you, had your eyes rolling back in their sockets. You couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, of the feeling of his hard body beneath your fingertips. He was careful with his sharp teeth, tugging at your bottom lip lightly, your tongues sliding together as he rolled his hips against yours.

You pulled back for air finally, taking in his kiss bruised lips and dilated pupils. Reaching down, you tore your shirt over your head, tossing it across the room, never breaking eye contact. You watched his gaze fall to your heaving chest as he worried at his bottom lip for a moment, obviously lost in thought.

Before you could ask him what he was thinking about, he’d shifted again so that his feet were on the floor. Kirishima lifted you off his lap and put you on your feet in front of him, hands moving to your waist, fingers slipping into the elastic of the leggings you were wearing. He pressed his face to your bare stomach, kissing your skin as he worked your pants down your thighs, slipping them past your knees. You played with his hair, moaning softly as he kissed along your hip.

When he sat back you stepped out of your leggings, feeling exposed. You forgot how to be awkward when he was looking at you like that, hungry and wanting. Stepping forward, you pouted. “Why am I the only one half-naked?”

Chuckling, he pulled his shirt off, and you sucked in a breath, trying to wrap your head around the fact that this man, with a chiseled and perfect body like a Greek god, wanted you.

You didn’t even have time to admire him, because he was moving again, pulling you closer by your thighs, sharp teeth hooking into the front of your panties and dragging them down. Tugging the tie out of his hair, you slid it on your wrist, letting your fingers card through his red locks. He let his hands do the rest of the work until the offending garment was tangled around your ankles.

Pushing him away gently, you watched him settle back on the couch, red eyes gazing at you as you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor, finally fully exposed to him. Kirishima sucked in a breath, blinking a few times in disbelief. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

You kicked your panties to the side, moving to kneel in front of him, reaching up to grasp the top of his grey sweats, mouth-watering when you started to tug them down. Kirishima was huge everywhere else, so the size of his cock was of no surprise to you. He was massive, long, and girthy, and you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

Rubbing your thighs together for some relief, you left his sweats around his ankles, leaning forward and grasping his cock in your hand. It was almost comical how small your hands looked compared to it. Your eyes locked with his as you licked a long stripe up the shaft, tracing along the prominent vein on the underside, and lapping at the precum dripping from the head.

Kirishima’s head fell back to rest on the cushion behind him, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him into your mouth. Your jaw ached almost immediately as you did your best to swallow all of him down, willing your throat to relax. You’d spent so long thinking about how he would taste and sound as you sucked his soul out through his dick, you were going to make the most out of this moment.

His breathy pants filled the room, along with the obscene slurping sounds of your mouth around his cock. Gripping your hair and tugging lightly, you could tell he was holding back, his thighs shaking with the effort to keep from fucking up into your face. You pulled off, opening your mouth to let him know he could wreck you however he wanted, but he had other plans.

“Come up here, baby.”

The pet name sent shivers through you as you stood up, straddling his lap, his cock pressed up against his stomach. His thumb brushed over your lips, wiping away the spit and pre that spilled down your chin. Cradling your face in his large palm, he pulled you forward and kissed you deeply, his free hand sliding between your bodies. Thick fingers parted your folds, and you lifted up on your knees to give him better access. You moaned into his mouth as he brushed over your clit, gathering the dripping wetness of your cunt along his digits and sliding one finger inside your hole.

You clenched around him, breaking the kiss and keening loudly, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. His finger pumped in and out, curling slightly and pressing against your inner walls, stretching you. Gripping your hip with his other hand, he kissed his way down your jaw to your neck and chest, tongue flicking out over your nipple, hot breath ghosting over your skin with a chuckle when you grabbed his head and pulled him towards you.

One finger turned to two and then three as you rocked and mewled in pleasure, his thumb finding your clit again and pressing against the bundle of nerves, whispered praises reaching your ears as he sucked and bit at your breasts. You were on the edge, wanting to fall over and drown in him, needing to cum all over his fingers and then again on his cock, wanting nothing more than to feel this way forever.

“Ei I’m gonna…” You panted, unable to form the words.

Grunting, he moved his fingers faster, pressing his thumb in a little harder, his words of praise streaming steadily, telling you how good you were, how pretty you looked. Eyes rolling back, your body tensed, a moan in the sound of his name leaving your lips as you shook, cumming harder than you ever had in your life.

You were still clenching when he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand slick with release as he tugged on his cock and lined it up with your entrance, your body mourning the loss for mere seconds before he was filling you again. The slick glide of your arousal had you taking nearly all of him, the two of you groaning in tandem at the feeling. Gripping his shoulders, you lifted slightly, slamming your hips back down and taking him to the hilt. The stretch was just on the edge of painful, but his thick digits had stretched you just enough that the pleasure superseded any discomfort.

Still trying to gather yourself after your orgasm, you took a moment to breathe, studying his face, your gaze tracing over the scar on his eyelid, and his dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. An hour ago you never could have imagined you’d be here, panting shakily, drenched in sweat and skin to skin with your best friend and roommate.

Clenching around him, you held his shoulders, rocking forward and lifting yourself slightly. Kirishima gripped your hips, fucking up into you in a steady rhythm, his lips finding yours once again to swallow the panting moans leaving you. You bounced on his cock, relishing the feeling as he kissed down your neck, his fingertips digging into your flesh, sure to leave bruises for you to admire the next day.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it didn’t even matter. Just being this close to him, feeling him filling you so completely after wanting him for so long, it could have been minutes and you’d be happy. Knowing he felt for you as strongly as you felt for him was enough.

His fingers trailed along your front and dipped in between your bodies to rub your clit again, and you felt the pleasure race down your spine, coil tightening again and ready to break. “Oh fuck, Eijirou!”

Growling, he grunted your name as his hips snapped up to meet yours, chasing his release. “I love you, Y/N.”

His words tipped you over again, your breath catching as you came, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into you increasing as you gushed around him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, completely spent. You held onto him as he slammed into you a few more times, rhythm faltering and hips stuttering until he was filling you up with a loud groan.

Collapsing back onto the couch, he held you to his chest, the two of you gasping for air. It was quiet for a few minutes as he rubbed his palm along your back comfortingly. You felt relaxed and sated, a pleased smile making its way to your face when you thought about what he’d said.

“Hey, Ei?” You pulled back slightly to look at him, giggling when he peeked one eye open to gaze at you.

“You okay?”

“Mm. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, too.”

He looked sheepish, opening both eyes and biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. I wanted it to be romantic.”

“That was plenty romantic, Eijirou.” Rolling your eyes fondly, you shifted in his lap. “I’m just happy to hear you say it.”

“Man, we did this all wrong. I should have at least taken you to dinner first. This is so unmanly of me, I just couldn’t help it.” He frowned. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re too good sometimes, Ei. I’m not complaining, am I?” You raised an eyebrow. “We should go get cleaned up before Bakugou comes home and finds out we fucked on the couch.”

“Please don’t talk about Bakugou while you’re sitting on my dick.” He made a face that caused you to bust into gasping laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t.” You wheezed. “You’re ridiculous.” You moved to get up and he stopped you.

With a serious look on his face, he pushed your hair away from your face, his hand lingering near your ear. “I do love you though, Y/N. And I’m glad we finally got here. I didn’t think we ever would.”

Expression softening, you leaned into his palm, smiling at him. “Me too.”

Maybe if you had just told him how you felt all those years ago, you would have been able to have this sooner. But you promised yourself that you wouldn’t dwell on the past, deciding to focus on the future, because you knew it would be filled with more moments with him just like this.

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #eijirou kirishima #eijiro kirishima #mha #mha x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima eijiro smut #bnha smut #mha smut #eijirou kirishima smut #eijiro kirishima smut #kingexpl0sionmurder writes #bnharem collab

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tiffdawg · 4 years

Text

Chaste | A Din Djarin x Reader Fic

Gif: @bestintheparsec

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW - explicit sexual content, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, creampie, dity talk featuring Din’s bedroom voice. 18+ only.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in my little poll yesterday! And thank you to @huliabitch for encouraging me to write this. This is just something I wrote in between final papers. I don’t want to try to fit it into the current timeline so let’s just say this is sometime in the future well after Din decides to keep the kid. No spoilers for season two. No backstory, no plot; just smut. We might need that to cope depending on how the season finale goes tomorrow...

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… . …

Chaste

Unsurprisingly, Din woke up hard. Again.

Your semi-conscious brain registered his erection pressing against even before you’d opened your eyes that morning. It sent a rush of heat straight to your core. Just as it had every morning for the past week. And despite the early hour, you knew he was awake. Gentle fingertips traced abstract shapes along your side where your shirt had bunched up in your sleep. His dizzyingly light touch sent chills across your skin, but at your contented hum, his hand slipped under the hemline.

In his tender explorations he found your breast. You shifted against him, rubbing your thighs together in a pathetic relieve the mounting pressure building within you. He groaned behind you. His fingers circled your nipple before pinching the now stiff peak. You gasped at the electric mix of pain and pleasure.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” Din rasped, voice still hoarse from sleeping, as he pulled you back tighter against his chest, calloused hand still cupping your tit.

“You started it,” you mumbled back. Your eyes blinked open as you looked over your shoulder at him to find him lazily smirking at you. “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning, cyar’ika,” he greeted before touching his lips to yours.

What was supposed to be a chaste kiss before the two of you reluctantly roused yourselves from bed to start the day, quickly became heated. Your lips slid against his and your tongues urgently explored each other’s mouths, seeking the familiar pleasure you’d been denying each other. Din deepened the kiss and your body yielded to his as he rolled you onto your back. You carded your fingers through his dark locks, pulling ever so slightly and eliciting quiet gasps from your partner.

Moving without thinking, your legs wrapped around his waist and you ground up against him, searching for even the slightest hint of friction where you needed it most. Spurred on by your actions, Din reached around you, his rough hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as rolled his hips in time with yours. A matching pair of sighs resounded throughout the small room at the hint of relief.

But it still wasn’t enough. Not when you wanted each other this badly.

“Whose bright idea was it not to have sex again until we’re married?” Din asked in between messy kisses.

“Mine,” you admitted begrudgingly.

... . ...

“Will you marry me?”

Din’s words, delivered softly and without preamble, pierced your heart even before you could process the simple sentence. You flicked on your ship’s autopilot, letting your old astromech take over, and turned to him. You found him watching you carefully.

You paused to admire him and the little foundling sleeping against his chest, needing to remember everything about that moment for as long as you lived. You didn’t have to think about your answer; the two of them had stolen your heart years ago. “Yes,” you replied easily with a smile, “of course I will.”

Din beamed at you. You crossed the small cabin to perch on the armrest of his seat. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he quipped as he leaned in to kiss you, careful not to disturb the baby.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to ask.”

“I know. You’ve been patient. That’s not like you,” he teased.

“Shut up before I change my mind,” you threatened playfully even as you pressed a kiss to his temple. “How exactly does a Mandalorian marry?”

“The riduurok is a simple exchange of vows. We can...” –he swallowed hard– “we can do it right now.”

“Now?” you exclaimed. You grimaced as the baby stirred. Din adjusted his blanket and he settled down. He turned back to you with a raised brow.

You’d been through so much together. Loved each other for so long. Really, marriage vows were just a formality. Nothing would change. But it didn’t feel quite right. Something was missing.

“On my homeworld a marriage is something to celebrate. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I haven’t been back in years but I always imagined getting married at home and celebrating with my family. At the very least I always thought I’d take you home to meet them first. I guess that’s stupid,” you shook your head, trying to banish the thought. You had bigger priorities.

“No, it’s not,” Din said firmly. “I– I don’t have that. I’m glad that you do.”

“We can still say our vows in private. Just the three of us. But it would mean the world to me to share this with them.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Then we’ll go as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” you said around a smile before eagerly sealing your mouth to his.

He made a happy sound before speaking conspiratorially against your lips. “Let me put the kid to bed and we’ll start celebrating.”

A cold heat ran through you at the insinuation. “Shit,” you cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“How long do you think it’ll be before we can go to my planet?”

Din shrugged. “It’ll be at least a month before we can make it to the Tashtor Sector. Why?”

“Well,” you started hesitantly, “it’s tradition for couples not to have sex once a marriage promise is made. Not until the wedding night.”

Din’s head hit the back of his seat as a long exhalation escaped him. “Anything else I should know about?” he grumbled.

“Nope,” you chirped, stifling a laugh. “I mean there’s a whole bunch of other stuff, but that’s the only thing that’s actually important.”

“Of course it is,” he grumbled with a shake of his head as he leaned forward. Except he paused just before his lips touched yours. “Am I still allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes,” you laughed. His mouth matched with yours and when you parted, he was smiling again. He rested his forehead against yours, an unbroken habit from the early days of your relationship, and you felt the weight of your new situation settle between the two of you. “Think you can last that long?” you teased.

“Can you?” he challenged with a tilt of his head.

“You couldn’t go a whole month without this pussy,” you whispered, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“I’m a Mandalorian.” He said it stoically as if that was an explanation in itself. “You’ll be begging for my cock by the end of the week, cyar’ika. Just like you were last night.”

“We’ll see about that, Mandalorian.”

... . ...

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. And a month seemed perfectly reasonable. You were wrong. It was supposed to make the night of your marriage special, but so far all it was doing was frustrating the hell out of both of you. Every night you slept next to him unable to touch him like this was fucking torture. You trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck in silent apology.

“How the fuck are we supposed to wait two more weeks?” He asked though heavy breaths, not expecting an answer. Normally, you were the wild spitfire that countered his cool demeanor, but at that moment – cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hair mussed – he looked absolutely wrecked. “I wanna bury my cock in you right now.”

“I know you do,” you panted. “I want you inside me. Want you to fill me with your cum so bad.”

“Yeah?” He fumbled with your shirt that had twisted around in your sleep before hiking up your sleep shirt. His mouth latched onto your breast so he could kiss and suck and bite your breasts, marking the tender flesh as his own as he continued to rock against you. “You want that?”

“I miss the way you make me feel so full. The way it drips out of me.” Your cunt clenched around nothing and your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you tried to control your desire. “I need it,” you whined instead.

“I know you do.” He raised his head from your chest to look at you. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

“Oh, Din,” you mewled, practically on the verge of tears.

“Are you as wet as I think you are?” He leaned back on his knees to reach a hand between your bodies. He smirked, his brows lifting in amusement, as touched you through your panties. You were drenched. “Take it off.”

“What? What are you–” You placed your hands on his broad shoulders to stop him as he repositioned himself between your legs and covered your body with his. “We shouldn’t–”

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he said as he pulled his briefs down just enough to release his cock, hard and leaking already leaking. “But I am going to fill you. Just like you need.”

Your chest caved in and a broken, pathetic whimper escaped you at his admission. “Really?”

“Can I?” he asked, brown eyes practically beseeching you. He was always so polite even in moments like that. Even after all that time together.

Your hold on him softened, hands moving to gently cradle his face. “Please, Din.”

He helped you strip. As soon as you were exposed to him, his thick fingers teased your folds, coating them in your wetness, before wrapping around his length. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Ready?”

You nodded and he notched the tip of his dick at your entrance. He started pumping himself, using your slick to lubricate himself.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried when you realized what he was going to do.

The feeling of his hand moving in between your legs as he jerked himself off made your head spin. You felt filthy and you fucking liked it. You arched toward him, hips angled to take more of his dick, but he stopped you.

“No, cyare. Not this time,” he whispered against your cheek. You squeezed his tip as your cunt contracted instead, earning a delirious moan from him. “I missed this pussy.”

You could tell he was close. After weeks of hardly touching each other, it wouldn’t take much. You ran your hands down his bare chest and across his soft sides before gripping his hip, hoping to encourage him and hold in place as he neared his climax.

Eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared, he came with a shout. You felt him cum spurting inside you as he filled you. He continued to stroke himself, drawing out his orgasm as long as he could even as his spend started to leak out.

“Touch yourself for me,” Din demanded gently, placing light kisses on your face. “Wanna watch you cum.”

He pulled out and leaned back just as your hand replaced him. Watching him watch you sent a fresh wave of arousal to your center. With a devilish smile, you gathered the cum dripping out of you and swirled your fingers around your throbbing clit. Din groaned at the sight. Two strong hands gripped your thighs and spread your legs further as his eyes locked on your cunt.

Every muscle in your body seemed to tighten as you played with yourself, your own climax was right behind his. But just as you were about to cum, Din grabbed your wrist and removed your hand. The noise he made was practically a growl as he leaned down to spit on your pussy.

“Oh fuck, Din!” you shouted, body keening off the bed. When he finally released your hand, you rubbed furiously at your clit, eased by the mix of his cum and saliva.

“That’s it. Cum for me.”

Your vision blacked out before an array of stars burst behind your closed eyes as your orgasm tore through you. Pleasure clouded your mind, but you could hear yourself chanting his name like a prayer.

When you fell back against the bed, Din collapsed half on top of you, his cheek pillowed on your chest. “Fuck, that felt good,” you sighed. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both caught your breath. “But I think that might be considered cheating.”

“No,” he insisted, “Just... bending the rules a little.” You both laughed and he held you a little tighter. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“So you can finally fuck me again?”

“No.” He shook his head. “So I can be your husband.” You felt him smile against your skin. “And so I can finally make love to my wife.”

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses

Story Tags: @softpedropascal @mindless--ramblings @disgruntledspacedad

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #fic: chaste

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damselofblueroses · 3 years

Text

The Name of the Rose, Chapter 4

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo taught the Reader how she should be touched. After the lesson the Reader answers his question and tell him her observation about the lesson. (Note: This chapter is fucking long, so grab your drink before reading babes!)

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 11.2k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: I Am Gonna Love You

A gentle breeze puffed past the slightly open window, as it blowed the curtain, moonlight spilled into the room. There was dull light, coming from the top of the walls, casting a dim yellow tint along the carpet and bed.

A soft smile tugged at Kyungsoo’s lips.

You were glaring at him, to be honest, Kyungsoo felt a little bit exposed to you, but he was more than okey with being naked for you, all with his body, and soul. He was ready to give everything he had. Sometimes he believed that he must be crazy for loving you at this extent, definitely he had gone mad, there was no logical explanation of willingly being at your fingertips.

“We do not,” his voice was reminding you all the warm autumn nights you spent together, it was rich, baritone and velvety, your entire body stiffened as his index finger wandered around your face, from forehead to chin. “We do not do anything you do not want.”

You looked at him, forgetting how to blink. That bloody dim light painting him with a shiny halo, increasing his ethereal beauty and to your dismay, his already so-fucking-strong impacts on you. Sometimes you could not help but wonder if he has been knowing how he affected you or not. His eyes, fucking pair of big-doe eyes, chocolate brown and always full of emotions, skimmed over your face, you swallowed your heartbeat in the throat.

“I know.” you miraculously found your voice out of nowhere. With slow moving fingers, without noticing what the heck you were doing, you touched his upper lip.

Kyungsoo held his groan back, and his hands clenched into fists. He hated himself for his quick response to your touch, he wanted to keep himself as one fucking piece.

You took your hand back off him, hiding it behind your back, sagging against the pillows. A deep sigh emitted from both of you.

You were looking to each other, the silence invaded the room but this time it was different from before. This silence was like a messenger, it was not eerily or strange. Both of you were testing the waters, you were waiting for the one who was going to make the next move, but both of you were aware of the fact that this silence was nothing but an emissary.

An emissary that was telling your mutual desires for each other. Your dire needs and hopes.

He raised his hand, looking at you as asking for your permission, you forgot how to swallow but immediately shook your head from up to down. His lips formed as his fucking signature smile, heart shaped one, the type of smile which Kyungsoo gave only when he was really happy. Your breath stuck in your lungs, an unmistakable blush spread across your face, made its own way to your neck. He crawled towards you, his hands caressed your ankles and spread your legs enough to make a space for himself, sitting between your calves.

The little air which was left in your lungs left your body.

His closeness and warmness started to rile you up, if riling you more than now was possible. You could easily smell his perfume, fuelling your excitement that already brewing the potions in your lower stomach.

Kyungsoo had dangerously lingered in your mind since the first day you saw him.

And now he was sitting between your legs, and only God knew what the heck he was going to do. You knew you could not say no, fuck’s sake you just could not. If he wanted to teach you as you requested, you would say yes. If he wanted to just stay like this, you would say yes. If he wanted to take you over there, you would say yes.

You knew how dangerous your love for Kyungsoo was. You were always imagining him, Kyungsoo has been living with you literally and figuratively.

You did not say this to him, you would never ever, but it was always his name coming from your mouth when you think about the bases. There was no other option, Kyungsoo or no one.

You suddenly remembered the question that Baekhyun asked to you. Unfortunately, as Baekhyun would like to define, your Virgin Mary status, was a topic that the boys really liked to mock with you. However, once Baekhyun seriously asked you, if you could wish for someone ravaging you, who was going to be? As expected Baekhyun gave you a detailed scenario which made you terrified, ended up with a huge fight between you and Baekhyun, however when you were alone, you could not stop thinking about that scenario.

It was Kyungsoo.

The name was his name even when you thought that type of imagines.

It had been Kyungsoo, and it seemed, it was going to be always his name.

When that scumbag, the touchy one pressed his fingers onto your thighs, you did not like it because they were not Kyungsoo’s. You preferred to be violently murdered than admitting this, however when you were be back into the security of your room after that unlucky experience, the only question lingering in your mind was how you could response if those would be Kyungsoo’s fingers? What would you do if those bonny, pale, and sinewy fingers touching your thighs?

You were totally ignorant to the intimate relationships, if Kyungsoo would not be in the picture, you could be sure of you were not engaged to the desires and bodily needs. However, the reason of your hunger was sitting between your legs, and to your dismay you were more than aware of the calls of your body. God, did he have to sit this fucking close to you, enough to make his breathes hovering your hair? You could not tell if you wanted to throw yourself forward to his arms or pushing him to the mattress. God only knows what was going to be next, but your eyes coasted down his biceps, as taut as ever, and the fucking veins that were visible on his wrists appearing more than prominent as he gently held your ankles.

“Are you okey with this?” Kyungsoo pointed his position, smiling a little bit nervously. You inhaled sharply, then a sharp laugh fell from your lips.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you covered your mouth with your hand. Kyungsoo lifted his head, directed his gaze upon you, you wanted to beg him not looking at you with all the power of his eyes.

“No, I need to hear your words.” he slightly pinched your left calf. You tried to free your ankle from his iron grip in order to show your current discontent of his pinch, but your effort made him laugh, despite of his movements shuttered.

“I am okey.” you sheepishly whispered.

“Do you still want me to teach you?” he bit his tongue. While he was itching to teach you, -and to be honest, his inner peace was already destroyed after you asked him if he had feelings for you or not, he was dying to taste you, JesusfuckingChrist, he never had a piece of inner piece since you came into the picture of his life, he also refused to push you for any case. Whether you chose was going to be fine by him, he was not going to dig his own grave by insisting or shoving you.

“Depends.” you murmured. “Only if you do not make fun of me.”

“Why should I make fun of you?” Kyungsoo felt his heart churned. “You asked weird questions, first about leaving you, now about mocking you. Do I make you uncomfortable by any chance?”

“Yes.” you did not think about your answer, then registered to your word. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened, for the first time of his life, he could not find anything to say. He never think that he could be the reason of your discomfort. You quickly realized the meaning of your response, while you were swearing at your fucking useless brain, you took a deep breath. “I mean, yes, you do but not because of anything you do.”

“With all my respect to you,” Kyungsoo took his hands off your ankles. “May I ask what the heck you are talking about?”

“I can be uncomfortable when you are around,” your fingers brushed against each other. Kyungsoo realized that little habit of you, you always do this when you wanted to say something which really mattered to you. “Because sometimes your presence gives me heart attacks, Kyungsoo. I do not know to describe the feelings you cause in me; I am not an expert on the field, but what should I have to do when the only one I want to keep for myself is you?”

Your words caught Kyungsoo off his guard, turning him into a mummy who could not perform anything which were preserved for the human beings.

He never ever give himself the permission of hoping such as hearing these words from you.

“I thought I could control myself.” you let every miserable thought of you came out. “But I failed, I cannot press the feelings I have for you anymore. I know it sounds very poor, and I know how much popular you are.”

Kyungsoo heard himself as snorting, but still he was numb. You were peering him, as you have been expecting a response, a voice, a thing. However, Kyungsoo was not able to give anything, he was frozen, tearing off from his wit. He knew that you were going to get wrong deductions of his persistent silence, but his fucking voice was playing hide and seek.

Surprisingly, you continued to talk.

You realized that talking was refreshing and soothing the painful circles which had been staying in the darkest cliffs of your mind. Despite of your usual behaviour when it came to express how you feel, you decided to communicate with Kyungsoo.

Ride or die.

“I know we are friends, and I really afraid of losing you, but I am losing my fucking sanity, Kyungsoo. Day by day, you had been becoming the center of my thoughts. I thought I was better than this, I made all my effort to seal my fondness of you, but it drives me into crazy. Maybe I am just pathetic.”

Was it really your self-perspective? Kyungsoo wished you could perceive yourself from his eyes.

“You? Pathetic?” his voice was cracked, sounded like an old man. “Impossible.”

There was no hesitation in his face.

“You are quite opposite.” he finally managed to vocalize his thoughts. “If you were pathetic, I would immediately warn you.”

Your head was throbbing because of the hidden passion of his voice tone. His gaze became something irresistible, dawdling on your features, focusing on your pinkish lips.

“Thank you, Soo.” you vaguely smiled. This was Kyungsoo being coddling, as Kyungsoo could possibly be. He fucked the things up, then popped in front of your door, pressed you to the wall, had a shitty conversation, nested between your legs, and in the end, told you his opinion of being pathetic or not by pointing he would scold you as he generally did.

“If you would be pathetic,” he continued. “I cannot be so adamant to be close to you. I would be lying if I say I do not want to be with you. Always.”

It was your turn to lose the trail of thoughts.

“You are not the only one who has feelings.” an eerily laugh followed his words. “And you are not the only one who is afraid of losing what we have. Maybe we are both pathetic, who knows? But I am sincere when I tell you that I have interests in you.”

Silence hovered in the air, you watched his face while he was standing in front of you, refusing to take his eyes off you. You knew he was honest as always, he always said what he thinks, what he believes even it could be hurtful.

If your feelings would be platonic, despite of the sake of your friendship, Kyungsoo would tell you at once.

You leaned forward, you reached to his face, his brows were knitted.

“We are idiots, you know that, right?” you smiled to him.

“We always have been.” he assured you with a serious face. You wholeheartedly laughed. “By the way, is it sake or you I have been talking with?”

“I am sober as fuck.” you chuckled. “You?”

“I did not drink as much as you did, you filthy drunkard.” Kyungsoo quickly shifted between moods. “I am abstinent, abstemious and sober as a judge. However, I do not want to hear those poor self-thoughts from you. Never again.”

His fingers lightly stroked your lips. Your breath stuck in your throat, you lost counting how many times you lost yourself in his touch tonight. Anyone else could consider his tone intimating, but you knew Kyungsoo well enough that he really meant you were precious and beautiful in his eyes.

“Okey.” you nod.

You wanted to ask him what you were going to do with seems-very-correspondingfeelings, but you did not want to push him. Kyungsoo wanted to ask you what you what was your plan about him or if you wanted to have a relationship with him, but he kept himself under the yoke and refused to impel you. His hand was still cupping your face.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely warm.

“Soo,” you placed your hands onto his shoulder. You actually cooed. “I was also serious when I said I want you to teach me.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Your logic was fogged by the heavy desires, and your logic persuaded you, the one who started all of these was Kyungsoo. He was the one who said that scumbag did it wrong, and since he never ridicule someone for doing something wrong if he did not have the knowledge of the right ways.

And also, you wanted him, you wanted to feel him and have a proper taste.

So, you may be looking for the excuses in the book, but the frustrating heat was unbearable. You did not know what was going to be tomorrow, when you wake up, however you were sure of if you would not feel his lips again, you could not survive enough to see the sun again.

You did not care if you were going to torture yourself by having Kyungsoo for this night even when you were going to want him for the rest of your life, when there was always a possibility of losing him.

“Yeah, you said.” Kyungsoo inhaled. “Okey, I really need your words, and you have to promise me if you want to stop the session, you have to be vocal about it.”

“I…” you stopped before gearing up for the way. “I want to learn. I promise.”

“You are making everything hard for me.” Kyungsoo exhaled, staring at your small hands on his shoulders. “Do you know how you sound like? You are inviting me to please you, sweet Jesus, I want to make you feel good. Do you have any idea how hard to keep myself as a fucking one piece?”

“Do not hold yourself back.” you could not believe your own words. Your voice sounded like you were begging him, as you have not done till now. “Please, Soo.”

Kyungsoo thought that he poisoned you with his warped desires, he was not sure if he deserved you or your trust. You willingly put yourself in his palms, and he deeply believed that you deserved to have someone make you feel good, make you happy and feel secured. You deserved to feel fucking good, and Kyungsoo knew that he wished nothing but happiness for you.

But he could not stand the idea of someone else were to make you happy, make you feel good, even if that person could do it right. He was jealous to the bits even thinking about another man, being with you. He wanted to bring you such a high, maybe that was the worst thing to vocalize, however Kyungsoo wished nothing but be that man. He knew you like knowing the back of his hands, there would be one and only for you, you were an old-fashioned girl when it came to love someone.

He knew you would do everything in your power for the one who you loved, and you would keep him as the only man in your life.

And Kyungsoo felt like the most selfish person in the world for wanting it to be him to be loved by you.

He was aware of the fact that teaching you was just an excuse you came up with. You could tell him that you wanted to have a taste of Kyungsoo, you were too shy to say those words, however only you could be brave enough to find an excuse and play that card.

My little fox, Kyungsoo thought. How could I refuse you?

But there was fear.

After hearing you were also interested in him, you had feelings for him enough to make you to invite Kyungsoo to touch you, Kyungsoo was afraid of nothing, but you would change your mind. He could not endure if you were going to tell him that he made you unhappy. What if he was going to seed wrong thoughts and perspectives in your brain such as you feel like unwanted? He could not survive if he was going to hear that he made it wrong like that scumbag.

But you were leaning to his chest, he could feel your heartbeats and warmness. Your breath hovered his neck, and he could feel your velvety lips just over on his skin.

He was dying to feel more of you.

Shit. He really could not help himself.

He held your chin and lifted your head.

“I will do what you wanted.” he made his final decision. “But I have to warn you before starting to teach you. Every nerve of my body steer me towards you. I really want you. Consciously, logically, physically, emotionally. You name it, you get it.”

Your chin dropped at his bluntness. Well, you did not expect to hear those words, and Godfuckingdamnit, if Kyungsoo was going to be vocal and could not stop his goddamn mouth, you were going to burn right now.

“O-okey.” you shuttered. Your entire body tensed beneath his feathery touch, and you felt his touch made your heart rapping at a pace which your lungs could not support.

He closed his eyes.

“Damn.” you heard his low grunt, that made the fire in your stomach worse. “Remember, you promised t-

You could not help.

But kissed his closed eyelids.

Kyungsoo swore on there was no capacity left in his lungs for air as he felt your plumed and delicate kisses on his eyes, from right to left, then you made your way to his eyebrows.

“You have very beautiful eyebrows, Soo.” he heard your whisper, his heart twisted again and again. You had a grip on him, you could revel him in the blink of eye, he had a first handed experience of your power on him. He was riling up even with the idea of being at your call, being at your service, fulfilling your needs and desires as the best way he could. “And your eyes are spectacularly stunning.”

He wished you could stop praising him, otherwise he would just come in his fucking pants after hearing two nice words from you, but to his dismay, you seemed like you could not stop your goddamn mouth tonight.

Even worse, you could not prevent yourself from memorizing the details of his face with your lips and fingers. You laid your lips on his forehead as you got your hands through his stubborn hair to his neck, and you could not be sure if Kyungsoo’s body was actually trembling or if you were persuading yourself on managing to seduce him because you were deadly anxious about the issue.

The things you had no idea on that you already ignited the wheels of the machine, set Kyungsoo on fire and there was no turning back.

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you look at me?” you asked. “Even though when you look at me, I feel like I am going to explode, I love to be the view of your eyes. You are breath-taking, Kyungsoo.”

“Can you stop talking?” Kyungsoo could not hold his grunt anymore. “You cannot say these without noticing how effective they are!”

“Why?” your lips formed around a very little smile. “Don’t tell me you are into praising.”

“You little…” Kyungsoo was shocked due to your sudden transformation from a shy schoolgirl into a sharp brat, but you did not hesitate to make it worse by quickly pressing your lips onto his, then backed off.

“I see you really are.” you raised your eyebrow. There was a devilishly look on your face, you remembered something Baekhyun told you, and you did not hold it back. “So, what would happen if I told you how good you are for me?”

Kyungsoo immediately blushed.

“You are really blushing, Soo!” you exclaimed. “Look at your face!”

“Do not forget,” he deeply growled. “You started this game.”

You were not disappointed that seeing his transformation in the blink of an eye. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and securely pressed them on the pillows while pushing you into the mattress. His face was fucking close to you, your lips parted for him.

“You learned that I am into praising,” he beamed. His eyes started to shine like a boy unwrapping his Christmas gifts under the tree. “From now on, I am definitely going to discover what you are into.”

You wanted to answer by saying that you are irrevocably into him, but Kyungsoo’s lips covered your mouth, but he did not stay on your lips more than enough to make you shut up, he swiftly climbed over your body, slipping his waist between your thighs, his hips were fucking close to set your world on fire.

Kyungsoo did not hesitate to give you a couple of short kisses before fully taking your lips in his, just like he was testing the waters and tasting you before starting to completely ravage you. You had no idea how far he was planning to go; however, you were bloody sure on that if he wanted to encourage you to go to whole way, you were going to say yes. His lips were warm and soft as before, feeling you like you were a fucking addict of him.

You felt things you have never ever felt before to the point where he had you coming to stay in the palms of his hands. It could be your lack of experience, but in the deep of your heart, you knew the fact that it was not about being inexperienced or not, you knew that you were trembling, shuttering, shivering, and shaking because what he has been doing to you and for you was nothing but right.

Feels right.

He paused for a moment, he was out of breath and his face all blushed now. He leaned your forehead, cupping your face while he braced himself up on his right forearm. He kissed your forehead, kissing you fervently, he was drowned in all things about you. Your darkened eyes. Your plump lips. Your silky hair. Your words, your kindness, your firmness. You were composed by the everything Kyungsoo could wish for.

Your voice, begging him to touch you. Persuading him to take you.

Fucking hell, he should have kept himself far away from you. He really had to not listen your words when you said you liked him while you always could leave him in the darkness.

But running away from you was also equal to living in a personal hell, especially after learning the fact that you liked him.

Kyungsoo cupped the back of your neck in his palm and traced your eyebrows with his lips, he could feel the heat of your skin, singing the songs for him. All he could think was eating you alive, devouring you, marking you as his.

All his.

He hated being so clingy and cheesy, but he could not help it.

His lips followed their way from your eyebrows to your earlobe, you gasped when his lips brushed your ear, your hands freely moved and grabbed his shirt, digging your finger onto his flesh.

“Remember your promise.” his breath fanned your neck when he whispered. Godfuckingdamnit.“If I make you uncomfortable at any point, tell me.”

“Stop whispering.” you unconsciously moaned, swallowing hard. He made a mental note of your voice, storing the tone in his mind and boyishly grinned. So, you were into whispering. His fingers trailed the back of your neck, moved to your side, and caressed you gently. Your chest rubbing against him as you squirmed under his body as you could feel his hands pressing your sides, locking you in place, it was like your body responding to his heavy touches so well.

You were feeling weird, but it was not about Kyungsoo.

You were meeting with the most foreign part of your body.

There was an ache building between your thighs that you never ever felt before.

“Soo,” you glanced down to his mouth, then backed up to his eyes. His eyes were darkening with hidden desires that he was holding back all these years. “I am generally not like this.”

Kyungsoo wholeheartedly laughed.

“Oh really?” his face was lit up because of your funny explanation. “I know, you little idiot.”

He could feel you falling apart already, the softest whimpers getting caught in your throat and fuck, he could also feel that those stupidly nice noises you were unconsciously making, their effects go straight his dick, then climbing into his stomach and forcing him to dip his mouth against yours. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, your arms jerked around him, and you could not control your hips rutting against him.

Both of you could feel the pressure forming against to your pelvis.

And you heedlessly grind him, when you did that, he was the one who had to break the kiss.

“Shit,” he muttered, barely loud enough.

But you heard him. You heard him, not only hearing but also recording every reaction he gave to you in a folder in your head. You slide your hands up his shoulders and pulled him back into another kiss, even though you were aware of how much you wanted him, you had no idea of how thirsty you were for Kyungsoo’s lips. He was so careful with you, his touch was so delicate, and he was aware of your body and mind, completely tuned into your responses and reactions. He was reading your needs and limits out of your reactions, by every inch of your body where his fingers shifting against your skin, he was learning and composing a new song to be sung together.

You loved it.

Maybe you were sickly eager to be at his fingertips since ages, but you loved how he cared for you. Your blown pupils and glimmering irises were telling him that he was on the right track as he peppered more kisses on your cheeks, nose, and jawbone.

He dipped his head forward, pressing his lips on your neck where he begun to kiss diligently. This was new for you, it was consuming and tantalizing sensation which had you squirming under Kyungsoo, catching your desperate side, and turning you more needy. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, you clung onto the fabric of his t-shirt, and partly his muscles. One of your hands moved immediately to his hair, tugged the back of his head, and pulled him closer, enough to make his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You could feel his little smile on your skin.

His hair smelled like bloomed roses, paired with something reminded you the salty fragrance of the sea.

Your heart was on the verge of exploding as your blood pressure was skyrocketing.

Kyungsoo bit you very gently, you could hardly feel his teeth, then he drawn a line on your collarbone with his tongue, your head tilted backwards, opened more place for him and you moaned.

“You are so sensitive, huh?” he mocked, and his tease caught you off guard. You shivered more than before in response as his hands wandered around your waist, pressed you against his chest.

So, you were also into teasing. Kyungsoo made another mental note for the future.

For the future.

Kyungsoo had already decided to never ever let you go. Not after hearing your whimpers. Not after tasting your lips. Not after feeling your curves under his stiff body. Not after being the target of your witty remarks.

You bewitched him in body and soul, and he never want to apart from you. If he had to lock you in a room with himself, he would even do it.

He could feel you trembling in his arms, he knew that if he was going to let another one to have you, he would die in that second. He irrevocably fell apart inside, he hovered over you to get a good look at your face, and it was the nail of his coffin.

Your pixie haircut lost its model, splayed out prettily, your cheeks were blushed, you were panting, and your lips were swollen and parted.

“Please.” you gasped, reaching to him again but Kyungsoo removed your hands over his shoulders, placing a tender kiss on your head. It was obvious that your lungs used all the capacity they had as you were out of air.

“Relax.” he murmured very delicately. “Take a deep breath. We are here to go for a long way.”

He turned back to your neck, finding the point of your pulse, circling around the point with his index finger while peppering your collarbone with kisses, touching you less to provide you with the chance of taking a full breath of air. He realized once again the amount of trust you just put in him. He knew that you did not do any of these before, you were totally handing yourself to Kyungsoo, blindly believing in him, the way of feeling proud was making his heart to swell in his chest. He resisted to the need of taking a good look on your curves, he also kept his instincts telling him to run his hands over your body in control. Instead, he made the eye contact and looked at your face when he lifted his head, then he hovered above your shoulder, waited for you till he could feel your breathing was under control.

“I am good.” you sighed.

He took the clue, then his mouth once more connected to your pulse point. He loved to feel your heartbeats beneath his lips and tongue. To be honest he really wanted to suck your sensitive flesh, however he knew that your skin was too pale and delicate, easily be bruised and he did not want to give you that horrible lavender colour as he was informed how much you disliked the bruises. You were extremely clumsy, enough to make him to want building a bubble around you to keep you always safe, however since that was impossible, he had to see and count the bruises and wounds all over your legs and arms.

So, he kept his desires under the yoke.

There were different ways of marking you as his.

He could do that, right? He could make you feel so good, enough to forget every possible name maybe you were keeping in your mind or the invisible rivals whose could always come to your way? He could carve his name in your heart, he could burn you well, so you could not remember anything but Kyungsoo.

What he did still not fully grasp was the fact that Kyungsoo was already the one and only for you.

While he was kissing your neck and collarbone, your fingers made their way from his shoulder to his toned chest and digging into his muscles. Slowly, very slowly, Kyungsoo began to slide the straps of your dress, driving you into crazy and your chest came on display. You always thought it would be very embarrassing, you did not like to be seen by anyone, but when Kyungsoo pressed his bonny fingers onto your chest, you fucking lost it.

It was not embarrassing. It was nothing like you could think of. You just wanted to look beautiful for him, when he lay his palm against your breast, you did not think anything but how much you wanted to please him. His eyes glazed over to your face, by keeping the eye contact, he slightly cupped your breast and gently squeezed.

Your eyes blown up, and you wiggled like a worm again beneath his body, that simple move alarmed your nerves and gave you goosebumps. Your heart thumped around in your throat, rammed against to your ribs just like a bird who wanted to achieve freedom.

“Is this okey?” Kyungsoo asked, his eyes were covered with a glistening thick layer of lust, his voice sounded darker and lower, doubling the tingles he was causing on you, you wanted nothing but crawling into his body. At the same time, he wanted to keep himself, he was afraid of pushing you more than you could ask for, however your fucking choice of undergarment made it almost impossible for him. He did not think Sehun also chose this for you, you were not the type of woman who could go and ask for the fashionable undergarments.

This stupidly attractive bralette must be your own taste, a dark navy bralette was covering your breasts softly, looking wonderful on your pale skin and the decorative details which composed by lace was wrapping your chest.

He closed his eyes for a second, he was not sure if he could survive or not.

You were drowning into the foggy thoughts, but even in this situation, you could not miss a single thing about Kyungsoo. You sharply observed something was wrong with him, and you were scared out of your mind.

You immediately thought that something was wrong with you.

Your insecurities did not wait for even a single moment, and quickly started to howl in your head. Your body stiffed like a rock, your fingers spasmed on his chest.

“What happened?” Kyungsoo reacted to your transformation as your body was frozen in his arms just like he was holding a sculpture which was carved out of ice. You shook your head, but due to the tension you got under your skin, the tears formed around the edges of your eyes.

You hated yourself.

“Can you tell me what is wrong?” Kyungsoo asked, he thought he fucked the things up so badly, he pushed you too much, he made you afraid of him.

“You didn’t like it.”

“Ha?”

That was the best shot he could give. You were embarrassed to death, but you forced yourself to make an explanation, you pointed the bralette you were wearing, Jesus, the only reason you purchased this type of underwear, was… Well. It was very obvious why you owned a couple of good undergarments.

And why you chose to bring them with you.

Kyungsoo followed the direction you were pointing to, his eyes widened, and he swallowed hardly. Were you an idiot? How could he manage to not like the view since he was waiting to see it since ages? Godfuckingdamnit, the view in front of his eyes was worth for all the years.

Then he really registered to the meaning.

You were anxious more than he thought, and you wanted to be praised by him. When he closed to his eyes, you got the wrong impression.

He concluded that you were an idiot, but he loved you more than anything for also being so clueless. Your reactions were priceless.

You felt Kyungsoo’s lips on your finger, then in your palm. Your eyes immediately opened.

“I love it.” he directly looked at your eyes with all the power in his gaze. You literally bit your lips in order to keep that fucking need of whining under your control. “Now, watch me.”

“For what?”

“I am going to show you,” his mouth watered after he took a really good look at your chest. “How much I love it.”

Your body tingled after his words; he did not miss a second and dipped his head onto the vault between your breasts. You could not help but wonder where in the hell Kyungsoo learned how to do these things and how he could be so fucking good at.

He hooked his thumb around the strap of your bralette and slide it down your shoulder, lifting his head and pressing his lips onto the new patch of skin. You were going ballistic when you felt his tongue, your hands searched anything to hold on for your dear life. Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his chest, he has been leaving soft kisses along the line between your neck and shoulder, his hand curved around your waist as he yanked your dress down and tugged it all the way down to your spine, granted himself the opportunity to easily take you out of that fucking dress. You tugged on his shirt, half of your face was submerged in the yellow dim lights, however the fact of your brain already went to mush was palpable.

Kyungsoo nod once, looked at you, and rubbed his hips against your core.

“Damn you, Soo.”

He chuckled when he heard your sweetest moan. He felt your quivery fingers found their ways around his hair, sneaked to his neck, while you were pressing his head onto your chest and giving him more opportunities to taste you. Shit, you were smelling so good, your skin was too soft, and your heart was drumming. Your bodies are pressed together, you were melting in each other, your thighs were wrapped around his hips, you were touching him, he was touching you.

There was no surprise he could not fucking breath.

As his eyes poured into yours, your stomach churned. You were throbbing for him; his hair was splayed between his head and the vault between your breasts, and you felt something which was coming into life in the very deep of you.

Something wet.

You did not experience it till now, but you listened a lot of stories from Baekhyun and Chanyeol. They assured you on one day you were going to need this information, so you knew what the fuck was happening to you.

You were soaking, clenching around nothing, and to your dismay, all he has done was kissing you. He was unravelling you slowly, and you were taking everything he was giving to you like you had been starving since years. When it came to experience, you were totally ignorant, but in the secrecy of your head, you knew that if he would want to slide himself inside of you right now, you were going to take him like a very good girl.

You closed your eyes, then you sensed a stingy feeling on your breast.

He bite the hardening bud of your breast as your eyes blown up.

“Oho.” his voice was fucking dominant and demanding, his eyebrows were knitted but he was glaring at you with the softest look you have ever seen in his eyes. “I said, watch me.”

Embarrassment?

It was already left the room out of the window as you lifted your head and concentrated on him.

Kyungsoo brought his face closer to your collarbone, remained exposed and placed a gentle kiss on the sternum, and did not neglect your clavicles. You wondered why he did not take the bralette off, or if he was going to do, however you were so messed up to think clearly. You were trying to solve the problem, if the increasing pace of your heart was about the arousal or stimulation, however when he nudged your nipple with his fingers, all questions immediately faded away. His fingers circled around it as he lifted his head to watch your reactions.

You thought that your eyes must be wholly black because your pupils expanded to their limits.

Then he made everything worse for you by bringing his mouth down on your breast over the fabric of your bralette, kissing along the soft tissue. Your gasps were so sharp, you cried out.

Kyungsoo fought against himself in order to behave and have his fucking manners while every nerve of his body beg him to take you right there, right now, as that bloody sweet sounds of you reached out to his ears. He never ever hear your moans, to be honest he was certain on that no one heard the noises you made, but he imagined it before.

God, it was too wrong maybe, but he imagined all of these before.

He made all of these and beyond with you in his mind, again and again.

To be honest, Kyungsoo’s mind always dangerously wandered around you. He reserved the vastest place of his mind just for you, for every version of you, from the best friend to the partner in crime, from a witty brat to a trustworthy companion, from a bashful girl to the most alluring woman. Generally, he just think about the days you were spending together, noticing something that you pointed out in the library, laughing for the lame jokes you made all the time, finding your notebook full of your shitty handwriting in his bag, or coming across to a note you took on his currently readings. Damn, Kyungsoo loved to read even your fucking gibberish. Or he just harkened back to the moments that you gave him handmade bento boxes for the lunch, even though he was cooking better than you or sitting next to him without saying anything. Laying down on the grass together or walking around the campus during nights. He just recalled the moments of your presence like all memories you had were pearls for him such as the times you were waiting him to be back in front of the dorms with an umbrella because of the sudden raining.

But sometimes, he was imagining you in your lewdest forms, while he always make you to feel fucking wonderful in those dreams. You just entangled in his thoughts with the moment you made a speech with sinfully deceptive red dress, or running to his open arms after summer break, whispering to his ear when you were watching a movie in theatre or he remembered that you came out of bathroom without noticing he was also in your flat, smelling so fucking good and the water splashes were dripping off your body, your widening eyes when you noticed his presence and immediately started to curse him, making him burst into laughs with your vocabulary, or the moments your hands clashed each other, or you were stretching your body like a cat… He immediately caught them, stored them his mind and then, when he was all by himself, hooking them in the sea of memories.

God, he painted many pictures of you in his thoughts.

He had been thinking about you a lot, how he could touch you if you would allow him.

That’s why he was so fucking damn good at it.

He knew everything about you, he had been watching you for his dear life. He was aware of how you should be touched. How you should be cared. How you should be loved. He knew that you were made of steel, but you were also made of cotton candies. When you allow someone to be with you, that bastard had to create a perfect balance between carefulness and coarseness.

You should be bend, not broken and Kyungsoo was fucking devoted to do it rightly.

He wanted nothing but hearing his own name like a chant from your mouth, he wondered how you would sound like when his name was the only thing you could say.

He took a look at you, and he thought you were ready for the next step. Hell, he was born ready for doing these to you. As an answer to the silent question in your mind as he could feel it, he slide the straps of your bralette and swiftly stripped you out of it. When your bare chest come to display, he lost his self-control, as he did not spend any single second to clamp down on your nipple, digging his hands into your sides.

He was sure of you started to leak between your thighs as the increasing heat was alarming him, as you could feel he was literally hard against you.

“Fuck…” you murmured, closing your eyes, then immediately opened them widely as you remembered his command about watching him. You knew that he had a strong will and self-control, you did not know how much you affected him, but you could not take any risk which could make him to stop. You had to watch him.

Kyungsoo kissed your nipples softly, his hands glided upwards and caressed your flesh, his touch was an equilibrium of gentleness and roughness, had your body squirming more than before, then he took your bud between his fingers, tweaked it and devilishly smiled to you. One of his hands cupped your breast, while the other moved downward, sneaking inside of your dress and his fingers softly brushed to your inner thighs.

Another moan ripped from your throat, to be honest you started to feel like an earthenware and Kyungsoo was your potter.

“Is this okey?” as he clearly intended to peel your dress off you, knowing what you were going to say, but still asking for permission. You were melted in his hands you were amazed by the fact that he was really taking good care of you. Despite of your lack of experience, you could understand the situation was really unbearable not only for you, but also for him as you could see his eyes, darkening and his jaw, clenching more and more by every second.

“More than okey.” you mumbled inside of your mouth, your answer caused a luminescent glow on his facial expression, he rolled the fabric above your head, Jesus, he badly wanted to rip you out of this fucking dress.

“I have to say,” he chased the unveiled skin with his lips. “You have no idea how much I wanted to punch Sehun on the face.”

“W-why?” you tried to hold on your reasoning.

“This dress,” he grunted, threw your dress to the floor, and slithered himself throughout your body. “Is nothing but a sin.”

He gently bite your tummy, you wriggled inadequately, Kyungsoo found a new way to torture you, the whimpers fumbled past your lips reminded him how easy to tickle you.

He had never ever said he was a saint.

He held you between his arms, in his iron grip, then skimmed your belly with his nose, you wagged like a puppy tail as you tried to free yourself, your effort made him burst into laughs. You saved one of hands while he was laughing, punched his shoulders, he pinched your side as his response to your poor attack.

“Do not worry.” his smile was nothing but diabolical, and a sick part of you dangerously captivated by seeing that. “I am not going to leave you hanging.”

Godfuckingdamnit, you were not sure what he actually meant, but you were dying to learn.

Was it really terrible of you to think all of these made him yours? Could you really endure it if he would have these moments with someone else? Could you bare it if someone else got to see his eyes, glittering with ardour, love, and care?

You could not.

Your fingers desperately tugged onto his brown hair, you wanted to believe that if you held him strongly, no one could take him from you. The only thing you had to do was clutching him with all your power.

Kyungsoo looked at your eyes, your gaze was dissolving him as you were carefully watching even the tiniest move he made, he could see his own reflection in your pupils.

Wasn’t it enough to mark you as his girl?

You were standing in front of him, with only your panties, dark navy panties, what the heck you were wearing Goddamnit?!

His heart spasmed.

“You are going to be death of me.” he spilled the beans as he looked at the parts of your body where no one see before him. Well, you were embarrassed, it was tangible from the crimson red tone, which was spreading all over your face and chest, however at the same time, you enjoyed seeing his broadened eyes and he became slack-jawed as he wandered his fingers over the panties.

Well, he was not only one who became slack- jawed!

And you begun to notice that you were too compliant. Maybe you could not play this game with the rules, but you wanted to see him as he was perceiving you. Before Kyungsoo could make his next move, you held the hem of his shirt.

“Is this okey?” you echoed his persistent question, raising one eyebrow. His jawbone was tightening, but he did not say anything, the sudden silence was enough to let you hear his gulp and to see his Adam’s apple bobbled. He lifted his arms to help your sloppy hands.

“Take it off if you want.” he said between his teeth. You happily engaged in the task, in a second, his t-shirt joined to your dress on the floor. This was your first time to see his bare chest, Kyungsoo felt a little bit shaky to be honest when you literally examined his upper body with your eyes.

Actually, you were fucking him with your eyes.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah?”

“You are really so pretty.”

“Oho!” his ears turned to red, but he felt like he was over the moon after your very simple words. You were definitely amazed by his beauty as you licked your lips unconsciously. “Shut up, you filthy woman.”

“You were licking my breast, Jesus Christ,” you hissed. “And I am the one who is filthy?!”

“Your comparison is shitty.” he gave you a feverish kiss. “I am worse than you.”

“Ah, that makes everything clear.” you nod, as he followed the direction in his mind with his lips that are fucking velvety, soft, and warm. He grabbed your leg, bending it at the knee and placing your ankle on his shoulder.

What the fuck he was aiming to do?

You remembered what Baekhyun told you during a night that he was drunk and out of his mind, you were immediately panicked but Kyungsoo sensed it. Well, he wanted nothing but pressing his mouth on your cunt, however he knew that it was too early for taking that step.

He did not want you to be freaking out.

“Calm down.” he smiled at you. “I told you we are not going to do anything you do not want.”

He kissed your Achilles and peppered kisses along your calf, he had you go fucking ballistic. You were not sure if you were panicking anymore or not, the heat between your thighs became a literal suffer, and your heart was ready to burst, you could feel there were knots tightening with every second in your stomach.

This bastard was going to make you cry, if he was not going to give you any type of relief.

“Kyungsoo,” your sound was desperate and vulnerable. Finally, he got his name as a fucking moan from you, he learned how it would be, the way of your lips chanting his name over and over again. He could see your panties ruined, you made a mess over there, and to be honest, Kyungsoo never felt so proud in his life like he has been feeling tonight.

You were needy, and all his.

He leaned forward and kissed along your inner thighs, your grip on his hair tightened, he almost laugh with sheer joy.

“It is really cute.” he could not help but teased you. “I mean how wet you are already, even though I just get started.”

“Damn you.”

“If I were you,” he dragged his tongue through the crease, where your thigh met your pelvis. “I would not curse me.”

You bit your tongue to suppress your cry, your fingers weakened, and your legs were twitching.

“I…” you tried to come up with something classy, but Kyungsoo kissed you.

Over there.

“Please!” you cried with the power of your lungs allowed you.

He wanted to give. He wanted to give everything you could ask for. He wanted to follow your instructions, your reactions, and goddamn, it was really so hard for him, he was fighting himself from the beginning, fighting with the utter and absolute need of having you. Your breathing, that sinful noise of you, the violent shudder of your body, all of them was burned into his head, the image of you carved into his eyelids and he was fucking sure you would hunt him for the rest of his life.

He dragged his index finger along your folds, quickly gliding over the wetness and tapped on your clit with the tip of his finger. A bare touch, nothing more nothing less but he had you, you grabbed his wrist, looking at him with big-doe eyes with tears on the edges. Kyungsoo pulled his hand away from your cunt but storing the reaction you gave to his feathery touch.

It was easy to see you wanted him to continue but you were also terrified by the speed.

He tempted to completely pull away, he could not help but feared if he pushed you so hard, enough to make you hate his touch, or him. Kyungsoo’s head was spinning as you were still holding his wrist and panting like his touch burned you.

Actually, it did. Behind every kiss, every touch, everything he did to you, there were his thoughts he never vocalize, not only his lust for you but his love and care for you. That’s why his touches were permanent, they were going to stay on your skin for the rest of your life.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered.

Trust him?

You could laugh, if you were not extremely turned on by him, but there was no capacity in your power storage to do it. Kyungsoo should already know the fact that he was the one and only person you trust unconditionally and irrevocably.

You took his hand and brought it back to yourself, where his fingers brushed over your nipple. Your hands were shaking to death, but Kyungsoo understood what you wanted to show him. You were not going to know how much your answer reassured him.

“Good.”

Damn you and your fucking spells on him, damn you for being the prettiest in his eyes.

He could feel himself soaking through his pants while your leg was still hooked over his shoulder, his hands wandered up to your sides, brushing over your ribs and stomach. He dipped his head again on your tummy and he sprinkled feathery kisses, switching from one side to other side until your brain melted out of your ears, and the only thing you could understand was his lips, memorizing every curve, every line and mark on your skin. His breathes tickled you, you were desperate enough, your instincts were telling you that you had to relieve yourself, you had to find a way, your fingers wandered over to your panties, however Kyungsoo was too fast to notice your every move.

“I do not presume you tried to do this before.” he caught your naughty fingers. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever tried to touch yourself?”

“Oh, fuck off!” you preferred to die instead of answering his question. You could feel the heat on your cheeks, the only thing he had to do was taking a look at your face, and he did that. One look at you was enough to inform him.

He was going to never ever tell you this, but he was more than shocked when he understood you also did not touch yourself before.

“You cannot be serious…” you heard his shocked voice, you covered your face with your hands, he had to take them off your face.

“Isn’t it more precious now?” he pressed your hands on the mattress. “You have really made a mess of yourself without knowing a single thing.”

“Shut your damn mouth.” you were panting, embarrassed to death, but his gaze settled on you, he was really damn hard had him on the verge of shifting against the bed, he had to repress his own moans.

“I do not think so.” a shiver ran down your spine as his rich baritone filled your ears.

“You cannot say that!” you refused his words, trying to refill the air in your lungs.

“Does it turn you on,” he whispered to your ear. “Hearing me state the facts?”

You attempted to kick him, he laughed and grabbed your foot. Then, he pressed his lips to your swollen folds over the fabric of your panties, damn, your thighs clenched around his body. He continued to hold your wrists as your hips jerked beneath his mouth, had you growling from the back of your throat. He was driving you fucking insane.

“You wanted me to teach you.” he lifted his head, enough to make an eye contact with you. “This was how someone should touch you. You have to want relief desperately before their mouth land anywhere near here, they have to touch every inch of your skin, they have to unravel you.”

You were dripping after every word he said, you were registering to every sound he made, you were soaking and aching, your heart was beating against your ribs with a force you could not endure.

“However,” he slide your panties, enough to create a space for himself. “You do not have to think about others, because I do not intend to let you go.”

How could you describe your feelings when you heard those words? How could you tell him you could not stand it if anyone else would do the things he had been doing right now to you? You knew that you could not hand yourself over to anybody but Kyungsoo.

“Unless you want me to let you go.” He released your wrists, you immediately reached to his face, caressing his cheeks, your fingertips stroked his cheekbones.

“I do not think so.” you gave the same answer he gave you just a couple of minutes ago. “If it happens, it happens, but I am not going to seek anyone else.”

Your answer made him want to cry.

He swallowed hard, partially satisfied with your response, damn he would prefer to hear a certain answer without an open door, but he leaned into your touch before he pressed his lips in your palm.

“Good.” he guided your hands into his brown tuffs. “Now, I will say it again, but this is the last one. Tell me to stop if you do not like what I am going to do. You do not need to think if I will be offended or not, I will not.”

Your mouth watered in anticipation, you hummed.

“Words.” he bite your finger.

“Goddamnit, okey!” your eyebrows knitted together with unsatisfaction, but Kyungsoo knew that you were happy at the moment.

And Kyungsoo needed you to be happy as he was fucking tempted to turn you fucking stupid. He wanted to hear your voice, he wanted to give you reasons to imagine everything he could do to you, and he could let you to do him.

He wanted you to cry his name like a carol, until his name would be the only think you could say.

He knew that how he could make you feel good quickly, but he was not an idiot. To be honest, you were more than ready to cum, a few licks and strokes on the right places would finish you. However, Kyungsoo was not ready to let you, not before he could be certain you were going to always come back to him, not before the memories were eternally burned into his head, not before he could engrave his love into your heart, mind, and body.

He circled his tongue around your clit, very carefully. Every lick was fucking calculated, he wanted to hang you just there as he watched your face between your thighs, as he listened your blabbers. Seeing you like this was literally and figuratively so hard for him, however he had no intention to lose his chance with you.

He wanted you for himself. For the rest of his life. Even though he wanted nothing, but take you immediately, he could behave better.

“Goddamnit, please…” you whimpered like you were on the verge of crying. “I.. I want…”

“You want?” he mumbled, blown to your clit and teasing you with his tongue.

His thumb knocked against your bud, neglecting the spot where you craved for him, he just brushed your folds and bud lightly, you had been becoming louder. It was like a circle of pleasure and torture, you were squirming, clenching, and burning.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked fucking bluntly. You never think that Kyungsoo could be shameless like this, devilish at this level, logically you disliked his sudden cockiness but a really sick side of you, the side in the driver seat, found the wicked version of Kyungsoo fucking hot.

You nod your head at a rapid pace, making him chuckled.

“No baby girl.” he turned and hovered over your clit, securing your legs over his shoulder. “Not yet.”

You groaned with a sudden anger, but he shut your voice by sucking your swollen bud, he was growling inside of him when he felt your toes curled, he could not help but he was also grinding his hips into the mattress, your moans were stimulating him so fucking bad. His fingernails dig into your hips, as he held you in your place, but he started to moan too. Every vibration went straight to your clit.

You could not think.

You could not speak.

You have been dragged into a place of euphoria where you had no idea of its presence, however Kyungsoo fed your veins with nothing but pure pleasure. You could feel that the knot in your stomach has been tightening and heating, you were so close to your first orgasm. You could feel it. You could almost name it.

Kyungsoo let you go.

He pulled his mouth off your cunt entirely and lifted his head.

He trapped you on the edge of your fucking first orgasm of your entire life.

“Why?!” you panted, panicking, and looking at him, searching for any possible reason of this sudden cruelty. His face was burning too, his eyes were never blackened before, however your frustration was fucking obvious. “Why d-”

“You are not ready to cum yet.” he cut your plea off, his hands moved from your hips up to your waist.

“Soo, please…” you could not help but whimpered with irritation. Your voice was so bitter, even though you called him as Soo.

“You will.” he kissed your lips gently, carefully destroying everything you felt in your stomach. “When I let you.”

You could be burn, turn into the ashes in the blink of an eye, on this fucking bed, and could he still talk with fucking future tenses?!

You bite his upper lip, enough to irk him to let him know about how much annoyed you were. The corners of his lips went up, he dragged you towards himself and literally manhandled you over his lap, making you to straddle him.

Your eyes widened to their extend as you could feel every part of Kyungsoo while he supported his back with the pillows, while leaning on them.

You. could. feel. every. fucking. move. on. your. lady. parts.

You groaned, a mix of frustration and excitement.

Kyungsoo held your hips and making you grin onto his lap.

“Better, right?” he brushed his nose to yours.

Your lips parted and formed around a silent O-shape; your hands locked on his neck. He pressed on your hips, enough to make you move in a row, but very slow. You started to feel the knot in your stomach again, however, Kyungsoo was fucking slow, and he did not let you to move with your own pace.

Kyungsoo was almost losing his fucking sanity with every friction you cause while you were grinding on top of him. He knew that he had to slow you, otherwise, he was going to not survive. Your taste was still on his tongue, your voice was still on his ears, he could not survive.

“Kyungsoo, please.” you lost the count, you even did not remember how many times you whimpered, you moaned, you asked him to finish his torture. He was keeping you inside this insatiable mix of delight and exasperation, he was insisting to keep you on the edge.

“You can.” your face lit up after his words, but he quickly continued. “Only if can tell me how you should be touched.”

He added more pressure to your hips, wanting to highlight the importance of his words, and making your moves a little bit faster. The stars were dancing in front of your eyes, and he slipped his hand inside of your panties, adding more pressure to your clit.

“Come on, do you want to stay here for all night?”

Kyungsoo wanted to hear what your learned tonight from your mouth even more than relieving himself. His throbbing cock was not an issue to compare with your observations.

He wanted to learn if he could carve his image into your head or not.

And this was his one and only chance. He could not be sure if you were going to let him to do all of these again, even though he said that he never let you go.

He had to know.

“Because I can easily hold you here for the rest of your life.”

You shivered, but you felt like he really could hold you on the edge forever, and you were already a mess.

You gave the only answer you could give.

Very bottom of your heart.

As plain as fuck.

“You have to touch me.” you whispered.

Kyungsoo just looked at you, he was frozen after your answer.

“You are the only one I want.” you were plain as fuck. “I learned that I should be touched by you.”

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razorblade180-heated · 3 years

Text

[Smut!]

Midday on Menagerie, Ilia was getting ready for her favorite place, bed! Community service for past mistakes meant getting up so early, so while others days were revving up, hers was coasting down. The young faunus made her way up her massive tree house and walked through the front door. Immediately her shoes came off and postured slouched as she made her way to her couch.

“One more day over with. At least I got lucky and got cargo moving instead of trash.” Her body sunk into the sofa. The peaceful mood of her home wrapped Ilia in comfort. From the gentle sunlight, cool breeze, the delicious smell of pasta coming from the pot simmering on her stove, even the way Sun wore a ridiculous apron as he-

“Wait, what the!?” Her body sprung up onto her feet. “Sun!?”

“Oh hey. Took you long enough.” He smiled, watching Ilia’s face go through a vast amount of expressions before settling on a smile. She gave him a running hug filled with surprised laughter. “Aw, hehe, glad you’re as happy as me.”

“I didn’t know you were visiting. Wait, did I forget something!? Did we plan anything!?”

“No. This is a bonafide surprise from yours truly. How was your day?”

“Same shit different day. Only today is now better than most.” She placed her head against him. “Not that I don’t appreciate the smell of pasta, but I already ate before I got home.”

“That’s fine. Consider it left overs. At least now you have more than takeout for a while.”

“Takeout is perfectly fine. I’m gonna change into something comfortable. I expect no more lifestyle judgments when I get back.” Ilia took off down the hall and into her room.

“What’s the point of a dirty clothes hamper if you put the clothes next to it?” Sun snickered, waiting for Ilia’s face to pop out of the doorway. He wasn’t disappointed for a second to see her squint at him.

“Don’t enter my room like you own the place!”

xxxxx

Time seemed to go by a little quicker when Sun was around. Afternoon had arrived in the blink of an eye with the sky turning shades of red and purple. Ilia had made herself cozy yet again on the couch but with Sun acting as a big spoon. The white t-shirt and light blue basketball shorts she had chosen made cooling of all the more easier. This moment should’ve been perfect, yet… it wasn’t. Sun never did anything without a reason. As much as she enjoyed this surprise visit, something had to have sparked it. Ilia turned her body towards him and studied his gaze before it was directed towards her with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“You tell me. You look a little tired, Sun. What’s eating at you?”

“Me? Nothing. The flight was longer than usual so I guess I’m a bit tired-” Her right hand held his face. Sun looked into grayish-blue eyes and found himself sighing.

“Hey, aren’t you the one always telling me to lean on you when I need to? Don’t try the cool guy act. You can lean on me too.”

“I know. I… it’s hard to explain.”

“Was it a fight with Neptune?”

“No, nothing like that. Honestly, I just really, really missed you is all.” His arm draped over her back, keeping her close. “I know it sounds a bit silly but lately I keep missing you.”

Now that was a shock. “Missing me?” Ilia blushed watching Sun rest his head on her while his arms hugged her body gently, “S-Sun?”

“Outside of meetings twice a month and calls, I go about my normal routine. Missions, hangout spots, it all feels like a loop recently; and all I want is the thing that makes it all worthwhile. The time with you just never feels like enough. My head has tons of things to think about but it wants you to be a part of all of them.”

“What’s so silly about that?” Ilia pulled Sun away to get a good look at his face. There was sadness, a longing in his eyes. One she easily recognized. She pressed her forehead against his. The warmth of his body swallowed her whole, drawing her in and erasing the loneliness she saw in him. “I miss you everyday, but it makes these moments all the more worthwhile.”

The typically cheerful blonde remained silent, basking in this moment. Without words, they both leaned in gently to kiss briefly. Seconds after, they found themselves once again getting lost in each other’s looks; the mutual feelings making Sun give Ilia a longer, more passionate kiss that she gladly melted into. His lips alone made her heart flutter. Sun really missed her, more than ever. The shift in his weight turned them over until Ilia was under him. Her hands came around his back and her voice escaped from her the longer their kiss. She had no intent on denying him, but even so, the feeling of Sun tenderly nipping her bottom lip and playing with her tongue made her body feel weak with pleasure.

“He’s so…vulnerable.” She felt his hands grab her legs, propping them up on either side of his body before sliding them up under the shorts, gripping her hips the way she liked. This desire he had for her filled Ilia’s thoughts. “Maybe, I’m not loving him enough? No, stop that. You know he doesn’t think that. Still…” Their lips found a moment to separate for a moment of air. “Sun, am I loving you right?” Her voice was soft and a bit pleading from all the kissing.

Sun gave a soft smile. His hand ran through her long brown hair as he kissed her forehead. “Your love is perfect. It’s why I want more. Ilia, I want to be with you more. I want to love you more. Everything about you, I just…” his thumb traced over her lips, “want more.” And so he went for it. Sun continued to kiss the woman who stole his mind and claimed his heart. He felt her fingers grip his short and tug it until it fell off his shoulders. Sun found the patience to stop again in order to remove it altogether. Not that it took long.

Ilia in her flustered state took the break as a moment to calm her beating heart. She slipped out of her t-shirt no problem and let out a yelp feeling Sun raise her hips. He pulled down her shorts, tossing them on the ground and leaving her in dark blue lace panties. Ilia felt her heart rate quicken the moment his fingers slid in between her labia.

“Ahn~”

“You’re already this wet. Not to mention wearing something like this is never your first pick.” Sun leaned closer over Ilia, who’s eyes fought desperately not to close. “Are you wearing these for me?”

“You…ah- know the answer, jerk.” She moaned, arms holding him close again. A sudden burst of pleasure and slight pain hit her neck as she felt his teeth gently bite the sensitive flesh, marking her. The heat of his mouth on her was second only to his tender rubbing along her slit. Her hips raised instinctively and Sun took the opportunity to pull her panties away. Ilia was so caught up in all these little actions that her body tensed the moment she felt the head of his aching dick press at her entrance.

Her face may have been hidden over his shoulder, but it made hearing her contained whimpers all the sweeter as rolled his hips forward; opening her up agonizingly slow as he was greeted with warmth and her walls pulling him in until Sun completely buried himself inside her. Sun didn’t even have the strength to pull more than halfway out before sinking back into her again and again, picking up the pace after each thrust. Ilia’s whimpers grew louder until she began panting.

Sounding needy was always what Ilia tried avoiding, but that became increasingly difficult when there was someone who didn’t think twice about expressing theirs. The sound of Sun’s lustful groans and erotic breathes hitting her ear only turned Ilia on. How he was able to be so shameless about it was beyond her, but she never wanted him to stop. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t feel like flames. The body pressed against her, the lips that devoured her neck, and most of all, the rock hard length that filled her up to the point her waist felt numbingly good. Somehow…it just kept digging into the exact same spot.

“W..Wait! I’m…ngh~” her toes curled against the couch. Despite her attempt at words, her body didn’t want him to stop. Sun finally pulled away from her neck but went straight back to assaulting her mouth. Her entire body shivered from him dominating and stealing her tongue from her control. If that wasn’t bad enough, Sun took liberty of pulling her left arm off his body,taking her hand in his to hold against the couch. Ilia could no longer put up a fight. Her body all but melted into the couch as her heart danced and voice let out a muffled cry while her legs trembled throughout her orgasm.

Sun winced, his girlfriend squeezing him in every way. He stood on his knees to give her space to actually breathe, her chest constantly falling from all their kissing. The freckles on her face were red and though she didn’t look at him, she refused to let go of his hand. Not that he wanted her to. Sun groaned, pulling out of her, his own climax still far away. That was fine, because he wasn’t done seeing her like this.

Ilia’s head was slowly getting itself together. They’ve had memorable times but that felt good. Like…drunk sex kind of good. Her mind barely registered watching Sun reach down for his jeans and pulled out a condom he swiftly tore open with his teeth before rolling it over his cock. Ilia couldn’t comprehend fast enough on what went through her own mind let alone Sun’s as he grinded against her sensitive pussy. That was…until he slowly dragged it down a bit lower than expected. The haze Ilia experienced cleared the same time her heart skipped a beat and blush overtook her face. “Wait are you-” was all she got out before her voice gave out, her lungs exhaling everything in her as she felt her ass accommodate Sun’s throbbing cock. A guttural moan rose from the base of her throat. Ilia’s eyes shut tightly and her back arched, unable to fall back down to the couch thanks to Sun holding it in place.

He managed to free his other hand to grab her waist in order to themselves, then, he fucked her just how she loved it. Unlike with her pussy, Ilia wanted it rough and hard here; her dirty little secret that she hated to admit. Sun’s moans were drowned out by Ilia’s cry of ecstasy. “There’s those moans I love.” Ilia did nothing to stop them but that didn’t stop her from placing her arms over her eyes while her entire body went pink with bright red freckles.

She’ll kill him. This time for sure she’ll do it! There wasn’t a nerve in her body that wasn’t feeling him ravage her completely, sending her into bliss too strong for her to think. Sun was giving it to her without a second thought. His hips smacked against her ass. The hand on her hip went down to her leg and raised it until her foot was over his shoulder. It wasn’t too much of a change until he leaned forward ever so slightly and plunged deeper.

“AHHH! FUCK~ SUN!” Tears welled up. Ilia turned her head towards the couch pillow and bit down, hard.

Sun listened to all of her gasps, moans, and whimpers; each one spurring him on while he watched her pussy flow like a river. He wasn’t even touching it anymore but it twitched violently with each thrust he gave. He dared to press a single finger into the nectar and feel it grip him while her hips began shaking. “That’s right! Cum whenever you’re ready. I’m so close~” he sped up again.

Ilia felt herself get dizzy, the haze returning stronger than before until everything went white. Any feeling of embarrassment was pushed away, and Ilia screamed into the pillow like it actually did anything. She felt the condom inside her begin to swell with Sun’s cum that felt hot and heavy enough to burst right through it. Thankfully it appeared to stay contained. Ilia’s body went limp, exhausted from her second orgasm. A small moan left her lips feeling Sun leave her body as he placed her softly on the couch. Ilia couldn’t decide what was worse. The fact that yelling at him would hurt right now, or the fact she didn’t want to yell at him at all. She finally looked at him, eyes half opened and still riding her high. She saw just how sweaty he had gotten and the used condom already safely put aside for the moment. He was still right in between her legs with a gaze that saw only her.

“Ilia…”

“I know.” She cooed. His eyes said it all, and she knew hers did the same. Her arms reached out, inviting him back into her grasp. “I want more of you too.” This time their kisses were less hungry but still every bit as passionate. Right down to the way she moaned his name as Sun slid right back inside her soaked core. Ilia could feel every inch of him glide effortlessly through her in great detail. Somehow he felt bigger than earlier.

“Are you okay?” He could feel her quiver in his arms.

“I’m good. Not so fast this time okay? I want this to last.” It was the truth, but Ilia couldn’t bring herself to mention that she wouldn’t be able to withstand another intense round. It was already challenging to not cum on the spot. Sun listened to her request, rolling his hips into her like waves swaying a boat. “Yeah. Like that.” She gasped, hugging him. Her legs looked locked around his lower back before getting washed away in the moment. She felt her lips graze his again multiple times, continuously demanding attention.

Sun laughed as he felt Ilia’s hands comb through his hair. The moans she tried hiding were all to clear for him. As was her trembling pussy. With each move, he felt her clench tighter and kiss a little deeper. “Cumming again?” Just asking made Ilia hold on tightly. “I’m close too. Cum if you need to.”

“No.” Her voice whined, happily tired. “I wanna cum with you.” The weight of his cock pressed straight down into her, throbbing immensely in a way that made her overwhelmingly weak. His raspy breathing hit her ear.

“I love you.” Sun gasped, his limit finally reached. He pressed his hips right up against Ilia’s, burying his cock in her as he came. Ilia’s limps clung to him for dear life. The way he felt her insides wring him out as Ilia let out a voiceless cry sent him completely over the edge.

Ilia desperately wanted to return his words but try as she might, all she could was hold him close while her body let her orgasm rush through her body, and even down Sun’s shaft. She could still feel it giving her everything it had until it finally stopped, softening enough to slip out of her. Her legs finally freed her blonde, but his body remained on her; Sun’s head on her chest while he still groaned from the pleasure. He didn’t meet her gaze but his arms still held her close. Ilia could see his ears burn bright red. Giggling to herself, Ilia rubbed the top of his head. Now he was embarrassed?

“Sigh, so needy, but who am I to talk?” Ilia put her other arm around him. “I love you too.”

xxxxx

After a well deserved and comforting moment in her arms, Sun sat at the dinner table across from her. A little embarrassed from earlier, he wanted to talk to Ilia but the girl silently stuffed her face with pasta and avoided his gaze. He wanted to believe his cooking was just that good but the fact her skin was still pink gave him other thoughts.

“Maybe I went a little overboard this time?” Watching her flustered face pout from his actions was always cute, but he did feel a little guilty. After all…he did go for all of her this time around. “Ummm.” He didn’t know what to say.

Ilia traced her fork around the plate. By no means was she upset at him. It was just hard to say anything when what happened was on repeat in her head. For both their sakes she worked up the will to speak. “Two weeks.”

“Huh?” Sun watched Ilia’s cheeks get redder. “Two weeks?”

“Yeah. That’s how long I have left until my community service is officially down. So….maybe we should celebrate? A proper vacation, just you and me.” Her eyes finally met his, “I want it too ya know? Being with you more I mean. I…can’t think of anything better; coming home to see you here made me really happy. So let’s plan a long vacation together.”

Sun got up from his seat and walked over to her. Ilia could see the joy in his eyes and the gentle smile on his face made her lips curl up. She closed eyes, already knowing he was going to kiss her. It was just as lovely as all the others that came before and would be as incredible as the ones bound to come after. She opened her eyes to look up at him, his forehead against hers.

“Let’s do it.” He cuffed the side of her face, watching her lean into it. “Ilia?”

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t think I can let you sleep tonight.”

Honestly, what was she going to do with him? It was like his love was spilling over, and so was hers.

“Okay❤️”

#rwby sunshower #sun wukong #sun x ilia #ilia amitola #demi ilia #rwby sunspots #rwby #rwby ships

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butchdanvrs · 3 years

Text

Today I... Pictured I Was Driving Home To You

rating: Teen & Up

pairings: Carol Danvers/Reader

word count: 1.8k

content/info: alcohol usage, drunkenness, mutual pining, possible unrequited love, fluff, nb friendly <3

Every time you thought you had it. Every time you thought you were good. Every time you thought you could move on and that feelings would fade.

Every thought, every time-you were wrong.

Carol Danvers had you. And she didn’t even fucking know it.

Every time you shared a kiss with someone you wished it was her.

Every time hands landed on your hips or waist; you wished it was her.

Just the sight of her made your heart race and blood pound in your ears.

You had it bad for her-but you already knew that. Really it was more than that.

For what felt like forever, this unknown feeling would twist in your stomach along with stealing your breath away and you didn’t know what the fuck it was... until you did.

You were in love with Carol Danvers.

Hopelessly, stupidly, deeply in love with her.

Your eyes are on her long enough that you’re grabbing another drink-some unassuming and pretty looking cocktail that’ll get you on the way to being fucked up if you have more than one.

After an hour of dancing your clothes are sticking to your skin, and heat washes over every inch of you as you down the cocktail-too consumed in your own mind with thoughts of Carol.

If it wasn’t her eyes, it was her smile; if it wasn’t her smile, it was her voice; if it wasn’t her voice, it was the way she moved and the energy she exuded.

You were so past whipped it was almost fucking pathetic.

And it was-is pathetic. Because Carol Danvers had no interest in you.

You were only ever spared a close-lipped smile, a wave, a polite and friendly hand on your shoulder… nothing else, nothing more.

You ached for more.

You wanted her to look at you. To smile at you-one of those big, bright, wide and cheerful smiles that fucking melted your heart.

You wanted her to touch you, in more than a friendly or polite way. The touch of a lover, filled with intimacy and cherished thoughts and intent.

And you needed her to see you-to see you out on the dance floor, to look at you as being more than a friend.

But for now, you’ll settle with agreeing to dance with a cute stranger-the music flowing through your every movement and keeping you occupied.

So no, you don’t care really, when someone pulls you into them, wordlessly asking for a dance. You just smile and start dancing-not minding much when they get a little too handsy and participate in a little bit of mouth on mouth.

You’re feeling warm and like you’re floating, so yeah, you let a few people kiss your neck-too needful of the person you want the most, but are scared you can’t have in the back of your mind.

The night rolls on quickly and slowly all at once, and as it gets later and later the crowd dissipates.

Then it’s nearly 2 am and she’s still here, and you’ve pathetically counted each time her eyes fall on you-which is easier to see now than in the middle of dancing bodies high on alcohol or pure adrenaline.

By the fourth look you head over to her, head still floating and stumbling a teeny bit.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” She smiles-and you swear it’s different from the ones she usually gives you. Whipped.

As you try to sit on the barstool next to her, your thigh slips and you grip the edge of the bar-your body feels like it’s on fire when Carol touches you; a hand soft and strong on the middle of your back, anchoring you.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Her eyes crinkle a little bit, the corners of her lips twitching upwards like she’s trying not to laugh at you.

The realization of how drunk you’ve gotten sinks deep into you and makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I… I gotta go home.”

“Where’s your ride?” You shrug absentmindedly, and then scoff once you realize-your ride is gone.

“...I forgot I made a dumb choice and wanted to stay when they said they were leaving.” You groan a bit, cursing the decision.

Even though your body feels loose and light while your mind grows heavy, you’re hyper aware of how close Carol is to you.

You can almost still feel the warmth from her hand when it was on your back.

God, you had it so fucking bad for her.

You’re both silent for a short moment, watching each other, and time feels like it’s stuck, or maybe you feel like you’re stuck-stuck in her reach, stuck in her gaze.

But you break the moment, blinking a few times and looking away as you unnecessarily narrate your actions. “I’mma call a cab or somethin’...”

Her hand falls on your arm as you start reaching for your phone, and it stops you right in your tracks.

“No, come on. It’s 2 am in the city, let me take you home.”

The skin of her hand touches the skin of your arm and you can’t help but shake your head “yes”, watching her with-no doubt-wide eyes as she steps down off the stool.

Time freezes again, and you linger in a moment that you wish could last forever.

Stepping outside is easy, the smell of colognes and perfumes mixed with sticky liquor and sweat is replaced with smells of the city-exhaust fumes and aromas from a Chinese takeout place two blocks down.

The ride to your place is mostly quiet but not uncomfortable, soft tunes playing from the speakers on a low volume along with a comfortable silence was a big relief-after such a loud night with the bass so deep and heavy you could feel it bumping in your chest.

It’s like a cool breeze of air against your skin when your body temperature is rising. Or when you have a drink and it fizzes in your mouth, filling an unsatisfied craving.

Again, time plays a game with you as it seems to skip over itself, because one minute your head is lolling back onto the headrest and next thing you know, you’re walking to your front door-with Carol right beside you.

Your heart flutters at the consideration she shows, helping you get inside because she can tell you’re struggling with the lock on the door… and with taking off your shoes.

A groan of relief as soon as you hit your bed-the small part of your brain that’s not intoxicated cringing at the fact that you’re in your bed… in sweaty and boozy clothes random people grinded up against.

You don’t even realize you’d closed your eyes until you hear footsteps, panic rising quickly in your throat until you remember that Carol was there.

Carol Danvers was in your apartment with you.

Carol. Freaking. Danvers.

Carol Danvers was bringing you a glass of water to drink.

You hate to admit that you grumbled a bit like a child when you were given it, but drank most of the glass anyway because it was refreshing and most definitely needed.

She helps you put the glass on your nightstand to prevent it from falling and the feeling of her fingers against yours makes you feel a little jittery with nerves.

Now you’re wide awake, toes fidgeting under the sheets at the end of your bed as you watch her.

”Carol… can I tell you something?”

She’s listening, you can tell, brown eyes looking into you as if she can read your thoughts like an open book. It almost makes you backtrack-the words never mind it’s not important sitting on the back of your tongue.

“I-… Thank you for taking me home.”

She smiles and your heart aches as you sit up, willing yourself to summon a little confidence, a little bit of bravery.

But Carol’s still looking at you, eyes still searching you while you fidget with your fingers, heart beating a million times a minute when she asks, “Was there something else?”

You nod jerkily, your throat tightening, “I...I love you. I’m in love with you. A-And I have been for a while now.”

Your eyes blink back nervous tears, and there’s only a few milliseconds of silence before you’re talking again-feeling a weight come off of you that pushes you to keep talking until it’s all gone and no longer suffocating you.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago, I know, and ‘m sorry that I’m dumping this on you now but… I just- I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

Your eyes are flitting all around her face, nervously trying to read it and gauge her reaction. It’s only ten seconds later but feels like forever, the anticipation and anxiety of the moment of waiting for her response sat in your throat like a thick ball of regret about to manifest itself in tears.

“I’m sorry… I’m drunk, I shouldn’t have said anything, sorry. Just forget I said anything, okay.”

A hand on your shoulder stops you from turning your back to her, making you flinch as you look up at her. You’re still so terribly embarrassed and are dreading her reaction-expecting a negative one.

Instead, she steps closer to you, her head nears yours and your heart leaps a little in your chest at what she does next-her lips planting softly on your cheek in a small and sweet kiss.

You think for a second that you probably hallucinated it, wanting so badly for something to happen that your alcohol-induced brain conjured it up just to trick you.

But you know it was real when you realize her lips linger, and then she leans back, her hand slowly leaving your shoulder to rest on your cheek, her thumb rubbing it almost affectionately as her lips twitch upward, her eyes shining in the dark.

“Hey, tell me again… when you’re sober in the morning.” Her hand slyly moved from your cheek, fingers grabbing your chin softly and letting go of it as you nod somberly.

“Can… Can you stay with me? Please?”

She smiles warmly, an almost tender look on her face that makes your heartbeat a little faster-not able to help the feeling of hope coursing through your veins. Hope blossomed and bloomed in your heart so quickly you felt like you could burst.

“I’m not gonna leave you by yourself, princess. Get some sleep... I’ll still be here when you wake up. Okay?”

You nod softly, whispering a small “okay” in response. On the outside you’re silent and sitting still, but on the inside-the weight on your shoulders is gone and the tension in your muscles loosened in relief.

For the first time, with Carol, you allow yourself to feel hope as you fall down into your pillows, squirming until your sheets are tucked over your shoulders and under your chin-falling asleep comfortably but delighted about what’s to come.

#marvel fanfiction #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers fanfiction #carol danvers fluff #carol danvers fanfic #captain marvel #captain carol danvers

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jaskierek · 4 years

Text

Wildflowers

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier had been friends for over two decades before Geralt forced them apart. Afterwards, he’d looked everywhere. The bard was nowhere to be found. Not even magic could find him. What had happened to his friend? ao3

Eight years into their partnership, Geralt was commissioned to rid a village of a nasty foglet that had taken up residency in a swamp at the centre of the neighbouring forest. The blacksmith, Filip, lived closest to the forest edge and had three young daughters who he feared for. He had collected money from the villagers in order to afford the Witcher’s services and had insisted on showing Geralt the way. He’d said the forest had many low-lying bogs and marshes, especially during this time of year.

Jaskier had been eager to join the Witcher, despite knowing that his outfit would return ruined, yet he’d been relegated to the role of babysitter.

“Come on, Geralt!” He whined, watching the Witcher swing his swords onto his back and collect the moondust he needed.

“No.” Came the simple response. Jaskier huffed.

“Honestly, why can’t Filip hire someone from the village for a night or leave the kids on their own? It’s not like they’re infants, and there’s three of them for goodness’ sake.”

“All of them have yet to reach the age of ten,” Geralt said in that rumbling voice of his as he walked up to the bard, gear on and a vaguely scolding look on his face, “and why hire someone to babysit when we’ve got a lovely and willing nanny here for free?”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped dramatically and he sputtered, trying to get past the offence and form a coherent sentence in response to Geralt’s shit-eating grin.

“You - I - listen here, Witcher - while I am lovely, there is no - how -“

The Witcher simply patted Jaskier on the head a bit harder than necessary, and stepped out of the room Filip had given them to get prepared.

“Ready?” The blacksmith asked. He stood in the doorway dressed in a thick, wool coat, hood over his head and straw-blonde hair peeking out from under his coif. He held a glass lantern in one hand and a sturdy, steel sword in another.

“You won’t need that.” Geralt grumbled, walking towards the man. Filip took what Jaskier knew to be an involuntary step back. The bard still winced. There was still a ways to go in Geralt’s image rehabilitation he was learning.

“I could help.” Filip countered weakly. Jaskier admired the man’s bravery, most tended to let the Witcher do what needed to be done with no care for his return or survival. Jaskier also didn’t doubt that Filip could have been of help. The man stood tall, with rounded shoulders from years of smithing, the thick coat only making him look bigger. He could definitely have been of help if-

“Silver swords kill beasts, your steel won’t do much harm.” Geralt said, walking past and heading to the door. “Better to just stay out of the way.”

Filip paused for a moment.

“Yes, well, I think I’d like to take it. For my own peace of mind.”

Geralt studied the man over his shoulder before seemingly accepting that there was not much else to say on the subject and the two left. Jaskier tapped his foot uncertainly before running to the door and swinging it open.

“Oi! Witcher! I am very much not willing and this is very much not for free! I am expecting compensation!” He yelled out to the shrinking figures.

“Fuck off, Jaskier.” Jaskier could just make out Geralt’s gruff but amused reply through the whipping of the wind. He smiled and returned inside, only to be faced with three pairs of large brown eyes. Startled a little, he smiled tentatively. Unlike their father, all three girls had reddish-brown hair and gentle features.

“You must be Filip’s daughters.” He said in way of greeting. He received an eerily unison blink. “Right uh…you should be in bed.”

“Where’s daddy gone?” The tallest one to the left asked.

“He…he went to go show his friend something.” Jaskier responded, trying not to worry the children.

“That man is a Witcher.”

Jaskier paused, not really knowing what to say and eventually settling on a slow “yes, he is.”

“Daddy’s not friends with Witchers.”

“Well, he is now.”

“But Witchers can’t have friends.”

“Now that’s just not true. Who told you that?” Jaskier asked, a bit peeved. They just blinked again and didn’t respond. “Ok, well, that’s not true because I’m friends with a Witcher.” He huffed, whether or not the friendship was mutual was still a bit in question for him.

The girls stared at him silently and Jaskier was honestly at a loss. He hadn’t had much experience with children, apart from singing the occasional fairy tale or nursery rhyme.

“Would you like me to play you a song?” He asked, fingers twitching to hold his lute.

“No.” They all said monotonously. Alright, really, were all children this difficult? And this…synchronised?

“You really should be going to bed then.”

“Can you paint?” The smallest one asked suddenly. Jaskier frowned at the question, a bit confused.

Thats how Geralt and Filip found him three hours later. Paints and unfinished artworks scattered around the floor and at the centre of it all, a very colourful bard. He sat on the floor, legs spread out as three auburn-haired little girls stood around him, paintbrushes in hand.

Filip laughed loudly. “I just bought them all paints and parchment two days ago.” He commented, taking his coat off.

“You don’t say.” Jaskier responded sarcastically as one of the girls poked at his temple with a green brush. He had rolled up his sleeves and trousers to give them some more space to work and also to avoid as much paint on his clothes as he could. It hadn’t worked very well as evidenced by the many drips and smears on his purple doublet. His face, arms and legs were covered in mostly yellow smudges, with a couple of green and pink accents here and there.

The girls hadn’t reacted much to their father’s return, nor to the intimidating presence of the Witcher. Speaking of, Geralt was currently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking very entertained. Jaskier tried to communicate with his eyes that he was in dire need of aid, yet the cruel man did nothing but observe the multicoloured bard and the three little girls dancing around him.

“Ok, girls,” Filip said, coming over and kneeling beside them, gently removing a paintbrush from the youngest’s hand, “time to say goodbye and go to bed, hm?”

“Do you like our painting, daddy?” She asked, blinking those big brown eyes at him. They all looked very pleased with their work. Filip’s eyes looked over to Jaskier, giving him a once-over and smiling apologetically.

“Yes, love, it’s gorgeous as always. Now bed?” He tried again, reaching out to the others. Jaskier didn’t know how happy he was at being called an “it” but decided to hold his tongue for now. The brushes were all handed over. They themselves were smeared with paint as well, nowhere near as much as the bard though. He was more canvas than a bard at this point.

Filip told Geralt and Jaskier that he’d wash the girls - and their sheets - tomorrow and that they could have the bath for tonight, both men in desperate need of a wash.

Geralt, in a rare show of mercy, allowed Jaskier to go first. He sat by the wall, listening to the bard complain about how difficult the paint was to scrub off. He couldn’t help but let out an amused huff occasionally, earning a sour look from the bard.

“Oh, how you revel in my misery.” He muttered. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Now we know that you’re not cut out to be a nanny after all.” Geralt teased.

“All things considered, I think I did an alright job.”

“Jaskier, you’re yellow.”

Being glared at by a wet bard sitting in yellow water was not the most intimidated the Witcher had ever been.

Not long after, Jaskier stepped out of the wooden bath and Geralt stepped in.

The Witcher melted into the tub as Jaskier’s nimble fingers threaded through his hair. Albeit, a bit rougher than usual. He had started using his own soaps and oils on Geralt, leaving his hair soft and shiny. He could tell Geralt liked it, despite his complaints that it left him smelling like rose water and cloves. It was a pleasant scent though.

“Why’d they paint you yellow?” Geralt asked placidly, eyes closed. Jaskier laughed softly.

“I told them what my name meant. I was meant to look like a field of buttercups, I presume.” He replied fondly. Geralt hummed. They bathed in silence for a while until Jaskier said softly; “the second eldest one is called Julia. She told me the name means strength.”

Geralt said nothing, sensing the bard’s mood had changed.

“I had a sister once.” Jaskier continued. Though surprised, Geralt made no comment. “Her name was Julia.” Silence fell again as Jaskier gently pushed Geralt’s shoulder. The Witcher moved at the pressure, allowing the bard to tilt his head back and rinse his hair off.

“Julka przed samotnością nie odczuwa lęku, bo to dziewczyna pełna wdzięku.” Jaskier said, more to himself than to the Witcher.

“What does it mean?”

“In the face of loneliness, Julka is not afraid,” Jaskier whispered, recalling the old saying, “because she is a girl full of grace.”

Geralt clenched his eyes tighter, not knowing what to say in the face of Jaskier’s gentle grief.

Geralt had stared down that same face of loneliness. Could he say that he’d confronted it fearlessly?

Jaskier ran his fingers through the Witcher’s hair one last time and gave it a hard tug.

“That’s for calling me a nanny again.” He remarked weakly. Geralt opened his eyes, watching Jaskier walk away and change into his night clothes.

The face of loneliness seemed to blur.

Filip allowed them to stay the night and they left early the next day. Geralt was prepping Roach when Filip’s three young girls ran up to him, the one in the middle holding a bag of coin. The blacksmith was crouched in the doorway, watching them with a small smile.

“This is for you.” The one in the centre said very seriously, handing over the payment with an air of importance. Not an ounce of fear showed on any of their faces. Geralt felt vague concern over their survival instincts.

“Er…thank you.” Geralt said awkwardly, taking the money. He was about to stuff it into Roach’s saddle before he thought better of it and placed it gently into his breast pocket, patting it to reassure the girl that he’d keep it safe. She smiled brightly at him and the three of them blinked at the same time. Geralt could only blink in return, not knowing where to go from there.

“Goodbye, Jaskier’s friend!” They announced and scurried off. Jaskier was just coming out of the house as they ran past, giggling. He jumped out of the way with a yelp, eyes following them bemusedly. Looking back to Geralt, he raised a brow. The Witcher simply shrugged. Jaskier laughed.

No, loneliness did not feel as present anymore.

—

Eleven years into their familiarity, Jaskier asked a question.

“I wonder what it feels like to die.”

Geralt had sensed his miserable mood all day. He’d been quiet and he hadn’t touched his lute or hummed a melody and strangest of all, he’d done what Geralt had told him. He’d stayed at the camp when Geralt had taken a contract to get rid of a wild boar and he’d collected firewood with no complaints when told.

Geralt sensed Jaskier’s unhappiness, he knew something was wrong, yet he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. The very fact that he wanted to help, instead of revelling in the silence, came as a surprise. Jaskier’s statement was even more of a surprise. The casual way he said it jarred with the reality that this was the first thing Jaskier had said in hours.

They stared at each other from across the fire between them. Jaskier’s cornflower eyes lustreless and not expectant of an answer.

“I know what it feels like.” Geralt responded, own voice gruff from disuse. He could tell that he’d startled the bard. Jaskier’s blue eyes suddenly cleared and glinted with concern.

“How…how do you know what it feels like to die?” Jaskier asked and Geralt was surprised by the emotion behind his words.

“There are many ways to die, bard.”

Jaskier frowned.

“How do you know what it feels like to die, Geralt?” Jaskier pressed.

“I do not know what death feels like, but I am familiar with the journey.”

Geralt didn’t know whether he was skirting around the question on purpose. The initial response to Jaskier’s statement of a question had come unbidden and honest. Now he could feel heat under his skin and an urge to sneer and turn tail. He couldn’t do that though, not now, not with Jaskier as he’s been all day.

“Geralt, you-“

“Jaskier,” He cut him off, then stopped himself. He took a breath, “I can’t imagine a Witcher who isn’t familiar with the experience.” Jaskier shut his mouth and remained silent, an unspoken offer to continue. Geralt accepted the moment of quiet, taking the opportunity to arrange his thoughts and suppress the grief that had suddenly swelled in him.

“When boys were recruited to become Witchers, they underwent mutations that most did not survive.” Jaskier nodded, this Geralt had told him before, “They put elixirs, poisons and mutagens into our tea for days beforehand and when we were immobilised, they injected them directly into our veins. Most who did not die immediately, died by the third day. Those who did not die by the third day, went mad from the pain -“

Geralt stopped, hesitating, eyes drifting to the writhing flames between them.

He remembered their glassy eyes, unseeing. Nothing existed but their agony. They’d scream themselves hoarse, shredding vocal chords and vomiting out blood. He knew that he must’ve been the same but he could not remember anything he did while undergoing the mutations. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, but the torment.

Geralt looked back at Jaskier, who’s gaze remained strong and level, though sad.

“After we went mad with pain, they injected us again. We were all restrained, of course, otherwise we would have torn our skin off to find some relief. This round of mutagens induced seizures, hallucinations, and in our weakened state, our body had to fight the viruses. On the seventh day, three out of ten boys woke with cat eyes, the rest were dead.”

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment.

“I did not…I woke up with human eyes. The mutagens hadn’t worked on me to the extent they had worked on the others. I was uniquely resistant.” The words sounded bitter. “They gave me a couple of extra rounds and that’s why you won’t ever find another white wolf, bard.”

Jaskier remained silent. Geralt saw tears had slipped down his face, the reflection of the fire turning them gold. Geralt couldn’t stand the thought of tears being spilled for him but he stayed quiet, he found he had no more words to give.

“That’s not dying.” Jaskier finally said, voice unwavering through the tears. “That’s not dying. That’s torture. That’s something that no one should go through, let alone a child. You don’t know what it’s like to die, Geralt, and you won’t know for a long time to come.”

Geralt didn’t know who he was trying to convince.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Jaskier,” The Witcher tried to make his tone gentle, “Witchers don’t retire. I know what it’s like to bleed out. That is likely my fate.” Jaskier flinched and looked down at his hands, clenched around each other, knuckles white. Golden tears slipped between his fingers.

“What does it feel like to bleed out?” He whispered so quietly that Geralt wouldn’t have heard him had he not been what he was. He frowned, but complied.

“You’re thirsty and your tongue feels swollen. Your vision becomes distorted and blurry. You feel a numbness as your head pounds with pressure. You can’t stand for long, so you’re left bleeding out on the ground, trembling and sweating, feeling like you’re going to vomit.” Jaskier’s shoulders were trembling. Geralt couldn’t stop. “You feel like you just want to rest your head forever.”

Finally, Jaskier broke, a sob breaking out past his lips, only for more to follow. It felt like the whole day had been building to this breaking point and Geralt itched to hold him. Let Jaskier release all that had been welling inside him. Geralt stayed, staring at him through the fire, sure that his own grief was showing.

“Geralt?” Came Jaskier’s small voice, head finally rising to look at Geralt. His eyes were red and tears fell freely.

“Yes?”

“Has this happened since we’ve met?”

A pause.

“Once.”

“You didn’t tell me.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, yet it sounded hurt.

Geralt suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t thought it information that Jaskier needed, or wanted, to know. He’d clearly been healed and the next time they had run into each other had been months after the incident. Geralt himself hadn’t thought much of it. Yet now he felt guilty, it felt as if he had withheld something from the bard. He didn’t know why the thought of him keeping secrets from the man sparked a pain in his chest. He couldn’t stand to look at the hurt in those blue eyes so he looked away.

“I understand why you didn’t, Geralt, I don’t blame you…just - just please -“ the bard’s voice broke. He took a moment to breath in, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Please tell me, whether I’m around to help or not. I can’t - I can’t be a part of your life and not know. I -“

“Okay, I will.” Amber eyes locked with blue, reflecting the same flame. They gazed at each other for a time. Then, the bard rose on unsteady feet, rounding the fire and sitting beside the Witcher.

“I meant what I said. You won’t know death for a long time, dear friend. You will live for a good while yet.” He stated with no room for argument. Geralt couldn’t help but smile.

“Does destiny will it?”

“No,” said his friend, “I do.”

And so they sat for the rest of the evening. Golden eyes and golden tears.

—

Fourteen years into their friendship, there was a meadow.

It was spring and the meadow was blanketed by buttercups and dandelions and daisies and wild lupine. It was a messy quilt of colours that beckoned the bard forwards. The Witcher had taken notice of Jaskier’s love for spring, he’d taken note of a lot of things. He watched Jaskier run into the field, voice bubbling with laughter.

“Geralt look at this! It’s exquisite! We have to break here.” He was grinning at Geralt in his faded blue doublet. Geralt ached at that smile. He reluctantly agreed. How could he not?

That’s how they’d spent an all too rare afternoon lying on a sunny patch of grass. Geralt listening to the bard talk and hum, feeling the gentle heat from the sun-warmed ground seep in through his clothes, and when he opened his eyes he watched. He watched birds flit between trees and leaves shuffle in the breeze. He watched the bard blow a dandelion, blue eyes following the fluff as it glided through the air. Then those blue eyes turned to him and Jaskier smiled.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to learn, dear friend?” Suspecting another long Jaskier ramble, Geralt closed his eyes and hummed noncommittally. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to braid a flower garland.”

“Hmm, you don’t already know?” What with Jaskier’s love for spring, Geralt would have assumed that something as simple as making a flower crown would have easily found its way into the bard’s skill set.

“I suppose I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“Hm.” Geralt responded, mulling it over. They lapsed into a calm silence, well as much of a silence as one can get with a humming bard collecting flowers.

It was noon and the sun was overhead, its brightness filtering through his eyelids.

The humming stopped and he heard an excited “Geralt?”

“What, Jaskier?” He sighed.

“Teach me how to make a wreath.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you grumpy Witcher.”

“No.”

“But just look at these beautiful blossoms, it’d be such a shame not to put them to use.”

“Flowers have no use to anyone other than bees. Unless you’ve found some verbena or white myrtle.”

“How cynical of you, I can hardly believe it.” Geralt snorted at that. “Flowers have many uses, some of which I will detail to you now.”

“Please don’t-”

“Flowers are used for beautiful arrangements, placed at the centre of dinner tables or on mantelpieces, for magnificent perfumes that attract even the most stoic, and they create the most darling garlands, of which I am dying to learn the craft and am imploring my dear friend to teach me.”

Geralt groaned and opened his eyes to glare at the bard who was grinning cheekily at him.

“You are a pain in my ass, bard.” He acquiesced, knowing that Jaskier would take it as the acceptance that it is.

Sitting upright, he saw that Jaskier had already collected a bundle of wildflowers. Cornflowers and daisies and a myriad of others lay between them as they sat crosslegged, facing each other. Geralt’s hand immediately drifted to the cornflower nearest to him.

“It’s easier when you have a circle of string to wrap the stems around,” Geralt began, glancing back up at the sun-lit blue eyes looking right back at him, “but we’ve no string to spare. So once you’ve picked your starting flower, you pick another and wrap the stem a way’s down the stem of your first. Then you pick a third and wrap it around the stems of the first two.”

“A bit like braiding.”

“More like weaving,” Geralt explained, already a couple of flowers down his chain, “and then you keep adding more.”

Quiet settled between them once more. Geralt looked up every so often to check the bard’s progress, watching his nimble fingers weave his crown of flowers, rarely faulting. His eyes would wander up to Jaskier’s face, the bard’s brows frowning in concentration. The Witcher allowed himself a small smile. Jaskier had once told Geralt to alert him whenever he’d do this, hating the thought of wrinkles between his brows. Geralt of course never did. After all, it wasn’t his job to look out for the bard’s skin when it wasn’t being threatened by beasts or cuckolded spouses.

Geralt finished his garland first, realising that it consisted mostly of blue cornflowers and yellow dandelions and buttercups, broken up occasionally by reds.

“Complementary colours.”

“Hm?” Geralt asked, looking up at the bard.

“Yellow and blue. They complement each other. Honestly, Geralt, it’s simple colour theory.”

Geralt levelled him an unamused look, sending him back to work. Not long after, he watched the finishings of Jaskier’s own crown. An eager gaze slid up to Geralt’s face, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“No.” Came Geralt’s instant response.

“Please Geralt.” Jaskier whined. “No one’s here, your reputation is safe.” Geralt grunted, scowling at the bard whose big, blue eyes were pleading with him. With a sigh he reluctantly agreed. How could he not?

Jaskier’s own wreath was more varied than Geralt’s, with white daisies and purple aster and multicoloured poppies. Geralt let Jaskier shuffle closer, raising himself up on his knees so he could crown his Witcher in blossoms. Geralt watched his delighted face as he arranged the flowers just right, fingers grazing and pushing back the Witcher’s white hair. Geralt resisted the urge to lean into the touch. The gentle hands fell to his shoulders, warm gaze falling to look into yellow eyes.

“I’d write a song about this, a Witcher in a flower crown, if I didn’t think it’d be very unpopular.”

Geralt growled, glaring up at him.

“Ah, yes, and also because you’d gut me on the spot.” Jaskier added on. “I must say though, you look very dashing.”

Geralt didn’t say anything to that. He continued to stare up at the bard, glad that the man was happy, and content to be in his presence in a rare moment of peace.

“Now, my dear, I must wear yours.” Jaskier said. Geralt blinked then looked down at the wreath in his hands. Jaskier sat back, awaiting his floral coronation. Geralt smiled softly as he placed the crown on Jaskier’s head. It was a bit big for the bard’s head and pushed his fringe further into his eyes as it slipped down his head slightly. Snorting, Geralt pushed the brown hair from Jaskier’s face, fingers brushing his cheek as he pulled back. He found himself longing to touch him again but pulled away at the look of wonder in the bard’s eyes.

Jaskier went on to make another garland for Roach, making a show of crowning her “Lady of the Meadowland”. It was all very ridiculous so Geralt closed his eyes again and lay back onto the sun-warmed grass. He heard Jaskier amble over, felt his presence as he lay beside him with a deep sigh.

Geralt cracked an eye open to look at him. His eyes were closed. The sun turned his brown hair bronze, blue and yellow petals resting there crookedly. Geralt couldn’t help but think that Jaskier belonged here.

He belonged among the sun and the wildflowers.

—

Sixteen years into whatever the fuck they were and Geralt had been hired to kill a Griffin.

Fucking griffins and their fucking talons.

Geralt felt the ground pull at him magnetically.

He’d lost a lot of blood.

He stumbled to the ground.

He would have been content to press his feverish face into the cool, damp grass and simply lay there, if it hadn’t been for a single thought in his head.

Jaskier.

“Please tell me, whether I’m around to help or not.”

Fuck.

He pushed himself up shakily, a stab of pain pierced through the pressure in his head. He tried blinking past the faded edges of his vision and the spots floating between the trees like black will o’ the wisps.

He stumbled forward, hands pressed to his stomach. They didn’t do much to stop the heavy flow of blood gushing out of him. His fingers were numb but the rest of him was warm, so warm. He had to make it back, he couldn’t die without seeing Jaskier one more time. He couldn’t die here alone.

The face of loneliness came into focus amidst the blurry forest.

Somehow he made it back to the camp. Jaskier’s back was to him. He was stroking Roach’s snout, singing to her softly. It was a lullaby Jaskier sang whenever either of them couldn’t sleep. Geralt smiled in relief, the pressure in is head lifting slightly at the familiar sound.

“Jaskier.” The bards name fell out of him like a breath. Finally, he let the ground pull him down.

He woke up again in rather large bed, head cushioned on a feather pillow. Looking around he saw a glass of water on the desk in the corner, a painting of a long-bearded, angry-looking man on the wall across from him and a silk sheet covering him up to his bare chest. He frowned. This was not the typical establishment he was accustomed to.

Shifting slightly, he felt a weight on his arm. Confused, he looked to the right to find a mess of brown hair resting on his bicep. Geralt blinked, eyes widening. Jaskier was clearly asleep, curled around his side, head on his arm and hand resting in Geralt’s loose fingers. The Witcher suddenly felt warm and couldn’t help but tighten his hand around the bard’s.

While closing his hand, he involuntarily closed his other one, feeling something hard and cool under his fingers. Lifting it to his face, he saw that it was actually a stone, vaguely triangular in shape, with a wonky hole in the middle. What was strangest however, were the smudgy yellow flowers that had been painted around the hole. He assumed they were flowers as he could just make out some petals and wobbly, green stems.

Putting the mystery aside for a moment, he placed the stone down on the bed beside him. Removing his covers gently so as not to wake Jaskier, Geralt felt along his bandaged belly. The pain wasn’t too bad, more of an ache than anything and that could’ve simply been from the blood loss.

He wondered where they were. Their camp hadn’t been too far from a town, but that meant that Jaskier had somehow lifted him onto Roach and galloped through the forest and into town in search of a healer. Geralt knew that the bard was strong, muscle lined his arms and legs, tightened his stomach when he stepped into cold water. Almost two decades of joining Geralt on the path had given him a rather large build. Nevertheless, a limp Witcher was no easy feat to lift, especially onto a horse.

He felt Jaskier stir beside him. His head was still towards him but he could tell he’d opened his eyes because he promptly covered the Witcher back up with the silk cover he’d peeled off earlier. Geralt shifted and suddenly big, blue eyes were looking up at him. From this angle, he could see that the bard’s feet had been hanging off the edge of the bed from his position on Geralt’s arm.

“Geralt!” He exclaimed, smiling brightly. “You’re awake.” Geralt gave a soft grunt in response. “How are you feeling?” Jaskier asked, sitting up. He realised he was still holding onto Jaskier’s hand, so he let it go reluctantly, allowing the bard to pull it out of his grip.

“Like I lost most of my blood.”

“Ha ha.” Jaskier said humourlessly. Geralt sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked finally. He knew Jaskier was upset but he didn’t know what kind of upset it was. Angry? Sad? Annoyed?

“I was,” Jaskier began. Geralt’s jaw tightened and Jaskier grasped his hand comfortingly. “But then I realised that I had no reason to be upset with you, I think my feelings of fear and concern got a bit muddled. Geralt, I was fucking terrified.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, it was just…a lot.” Geralt winced and looked back to the bard. He was looking at their joined hands, blue eyes hazy and far away. Geralt didn’t know what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He gave Jaskier’s hand a tight squeeze, bringing him back. Jaskier smiled at him sheepishly.

“Were you surprised to wake up?” The bard asked. Geralt thought for a moment.

“No.”

“No?”

Geralt raised a brow, not entirely knowing what Jaskier wanted him to say. No, he wasn’t surprised. His only thought had been Jaskier. That he wanted to see him again. He wasn’t thinking much of being healed or waking later. Yet now that he thought about it, there wasn’t much doubt in him that Jaskier would help him in whatever way he could.

A thought came into Geralt’s mind.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising the painted stone. A blush tinged Jaskier’s cheeks pink.

“Ah…it’s a - it’s a hagstone.”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I see that, why was it in my hand and why is it covered in flowers?”

“Well, if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.” Jaskier said pettishly, reaching for it. Geralt pulled it out of his reach.

“No, I want it.” Geralt said, grinning. Jaskier dropped his hand and huffed, looking away.

“Remember when you left me to babysit those three girls a couple of years ago?”

Geralt blinked, vaguely recalling three sets off big brown eyes.

“They painted you yellow.”

“They painted buttercups, just…on me.”

“They painted you yellow.”

“Yes, okay, thank you.” Jaskier sighed, rolling his eyes. “The hagstone dropped out of my pocket and they…painted that too.” He smiled sheepishly.

That was nearly a decade ago. Geralt couldn’t believe he’d held onto it for that long. He pulled it closer so he could examine it genuinely. He could make out the smudgy, yellow petals attached to green stems. They were dotted around the stone, growing in a cluster. The yellow paint had remained fairly unfaded. Geralt rubbed his thumb over the stone.

“You can keep it if you want.” Jaskier said. Geralt turned to find him already looking at him, eyebrow raised and smiling. The look of sincerity on the bard’s face had Geralt looking away.

“Why did you put it in my hand?”

“They’re for protection and healing. Surely you know that.”

Geralt knew what they were for, theoretically. The protective powers of witch stones were a myth though, just humans placing undue importance on an unusual rock. In reality, it was just that. A rock. One that had been eroded by water or animals. Geralt didn’t say anything though.

He didn’t know if he could say anything. Jaskier had carried this stone with him for a decade, maybe more, hoping for protection and now he was giving it to him. A Witcher who, by all appearances, didn’t want nor need luck. The bottom line was that the bard wanted him safe and Geralt had absolutely no way of dealing with that.

“They’re also used to keep witches away,” Jaskier continued, “useful incase we ever cross paths with Yennefer again.”

Geralt snorted.

“She’s a sorceress.” He countered

“And I’m a musician. It doesn’t mean I’m not also a bard.” Jaskier sniffed disdainfully. He pushed himself up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard and sitting next to Geralt. He continued to talk, allowing the Witcher to simply listen and think about how close their hands were between them.

—

Twenty two years since they met.

The wind bit at him, seeking to push him off his feet as he looked down at the snarling Witcher.

“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shovelling it?”

“That’s not fair.” He couldn’t help protesting weakly.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.” Geralt gritted out between clenched teeth, amber eyes burning with emotion, he was practically shaking with it.

Jaskier stood and watched as the Witcher turned and stormed further away from him. Tension and aggression written into the way Geralt’s shoulders tensed, fists tight, arms loose, ready to attack. Jaskier had seen Geralt like this before, more times than he could count, but it had never been directed at him. No matter how many times he irritated the Witcher or inadvertently gotten them into trouble, Geralt never had more for him than a hard glare and some frustrated shouts.

This was different. This felt final. This felt like the end. The inevitable conclusion to his tragic love story because fuck him, he’d fallen in love with a man sworn to someone else.

“Right, uh,” Jaskier managed to get out, suddenly finding it difficult to breath, “right, then,” he tried again, looking away, eyes blinking rapidly, “I’ll - I’ll go get the rest of the story from the others.” He turned and walked away, his attempt at casualness flimsy and transparent.

While Geralt berated destiny, fought against it and ignored it wholeheartedly, Jaskier accepted his fate because he had always known it was coming.

But, damn, did it hurt.

He didn’t get the rest of the story.

He stuffed all of his belongings into a bag, slung his lute over his shoulder, gave Roach one last, teary-eyed hug and ran. Geralt had walked away from him, both physically and metaphorically, and now Jaskier needed as much space between them as possible. He ran down the mountain, tripping on uneven paths and scratching his hands bloody. The burn in his lungs and chest felt poetic.

In the last two decades of his life, he and Geralt had always found their way back to each other after weeks or months apart. Sure, he’d keep an ear out for news of a Witcher but most of the time, Melitele save him, it had been a gods-honest accident. The romantic that he is believed it to be fate, and perhaps it was, but he knew now that it wasn’t the kind sort.

Fate was cruel and maleficent, making him believe that their hearts were intertwined when in reality it had been a ploy to torture them both in the end. Destiny left Jaskier heartbroken and Geralt with a life he didn’t want.

—

Some part of his mind registered Jaskier walking away.

Most of it was focused on containing the pain.

He had felt it slowly bloom in his chest at Yennefer’s weak “that’s why we can’t escape each other?” Anguish and bitterness in her voice. From there it had unfurled and spread throughout his body, the emotion burning him from the inside.

His being was now solely fixated on not letting it spread further.

Again, some part of him registered that it already had, it had spread to the bard, it had lashed out at him.

He felt like a flaming whip pulled taught. He felt in in his shoulders, his fists, his jaw.

He breathed in deeply.

His eyes were wet. He tried focusing them on the green valley below.

He breathed out and sunk to his knees.

He waited for the rushing noise in his head to stop.

His cheeks were wet.

He turned around. Yennefer was gone. Jaskier too.

So were their things when he returned to camp.

He breathed in and wailed.

—

The world was dull to him. The trees were not as green. The shades of blue across cornflower petals didn’t look the same anymore.

The world was quiet to him. Too quiet. Something was missing.

Never did he think the world would be dull and quiet. It had always been the opposite, too much, too loud.

He missed Jaskier desperately.

He hadn’t found him again since the mountain.

He could tell Roach missed him too.

Snippets of songs and melodies that had Jaskier’s mark drifted here and there. They were never him. How strange it was to hear others recount his own tales when he had grown so used to Jaskier being the only one.

For the first six months, he’d kept an ear out for any gossip of the famous bard but he had always seemed to arrive just a few days behind. Two months later and the chatter had dried up. No one had seen the bard, no one sang any new songs of his. He had searched the continent, gone to the coast, gone to Jaskier’s own town and found no sign of him.

It was like he had ceased to exist and so, Geralt’s world was dull and quiet.

The face of loneliness had never been clearer.

After those first eight months, he’d also started sleeping poorly.

Before, he’d been a light sleeper, ready to jump out of his bedroll fully aware and ready to defend. It came with being a Witcher. Although, admittedly, the nights spent in inns, on a relatively soft mattress, with a sleep-warm bard next to him had left him sleeping a bit deeper, waking a bit dazed.

Yet after those eight months, he’d slept restlessly. He’d dream of a weeping willow, drooping sadly. He’d dream of an open field and oddly wake up feeling caged.

When he himself found no sign of the bard, he’d gone to one of the few people he trusted, Triss Merigold. He had given her an old undershirt that Jaskier had forgotten to take with him. He made her try for three days before she had finally said “I really am sorry, Geralt, but truly, I can find no sign of your friend.” Geralt took the soft material back. “I fear he’s -“

“Don’t.” Whatever look he’d had on his face made her snap her mouth shut. Dark eyes looked at him with pity as he had turned, dropped some coin and left.

He’d go to Yennefer next.

“Geralt,” she greeted tensely, “didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

Geralt had found Yennefer a few months after the dragon contract. They’d agreed that though they cared for each other deeply, it was best for them to have space, to move on. Geralt hoped desperately that one day they would become friends. Yennefer, though difficult and battle-hardened, remained fair and kind, one of the only people with whom Geralt shared easy conversation.

There was a longing between them, one that both knew was not falsified by the djinn. Neither knew what sort of longing they felt. One of friendship, companionship, understanding? Time and space would let them learn.

“I know,” He muttered apologetically, “I need your help.”

“You look awful.” She simply responded. Geralt winced. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

The Witcher opted for silence. He knew that she had heard him and knew that she was studying him, pondering his request.

“What do you need?” She asked finally, tone not one of acceptance but of curiosity.

“Jaskier.” The word came out sounding more distressed than he had intended. It was harder to maintain a mask through sleep deprivation. Yennefer’s expression briefly shifted to one of concern.

“What happened?”

Geralt’s throat suddenly felt compressed. Those two words somehow confirming that something had happened. Something had to have happened if he and Triss couldn’t find him.

Fear was a terrifying emotion because he truly didn’t know what he would do to end it.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t find him and neither can Triss.” Geralt pulled out the same shirt he had given to the other sorceress, gripping the folded fabric tightly in his hands. He looked up at Yennefer to find her looking right back with a sort of unease. “Please,” he said, offering the garment to her, “track him if you can.”

She stared at the shirt apprehensively, gaze snapping up to Geralt’s, looking for something. Finally, she sighed and turned to walk over to a large bookshelf, pulling out a thick, yellow-paged tome that had clearly not been removed for a good while.

“You’re lucky night is falling,” she said, stepping outside, not waiting for Geralt to follow. He did. “If regular tracking didn’t work, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” She walked to the middle of her large garden, sitting cross-legged in the grass, wine-coloured dress pooling around her. Geralt approached, ready to be told off and to step back, yet Yennefer said nothing as he sat down across from her.

The sorceress flipped the tome open to the centre, each side resting on a knee. Each side also being a couple inches thick. Tucked into the middle, between the two pages was a thin, silver geometrical compass. Yennefer lifted it with an elegant hand and placed it over one of the many configurations on the page. Geralt’s limited knowledge allowed him to surmise that they were astronomical. He looked up to the sky and the stars that he only knew to use for navigation.

“The shirt.” Yennefer said sharply, snapping his gaze back down to her and her outstretched hand. Shirt in one hand, compass in the other and tome on her lap, she began to speak. It was some variation of Elder. Geralt, only knowing the basics of the root language, was left clueless as the space above the book began to glow.

The light transformed the yellowed pages gold, illuminating Yennefer’s perfect features and making her look all the part of the powerful mage he knew she was. She dropped the shirt on the grass between them. Violet eyes looked up to the stars, compass travelling across the golden pages of the book. She flipped back and forth between the pages, her eyes shooting between stars. The compass twisted in complicated circular motions across configurations.

The light began to die slowly, Yennefer’s words slowing to a stop as she closed her eyes, clearly disappointed. Geralt’s stomach dropped and he felt like he might throw up the paltry dinner he’d had a few hours earlier.

“Yennefer, please -“

“I’m not done yet, Geralt.” She responded sharply before taking a breath, “I need something personal to him, something with an emotional connection. I may not be able to find his physical body,” because he may be dead was left unsaid “but I can perhaps find his spirit.”

Geralt tried to keep the devastation off his face at the implication.

An emotional connection. He knew immediately what to give her. A small pocket in the side of his leather armour held a painted witch stone. He gently pulled it out, rubbing his thumb over the messy petals of the buttercups. Yennefer didn’t comment on the item, though she looked at him with pinched brows. He placed the stone in the sorceress’ outstretched palm.

The golden light returned and Geralt watched as the sorceress studied the stars, measuring out constellations and distances in her book. Geralt had never been one for religion but he prayed, prayed for something.

Again, the light faded and Yennefer looked to him with a frown.

—

He’d been looking for tracks in the large forested area Yennefer had pointed him to. He’d been looking for two days and nothing had been found.

Honestly, he didn’t know what he was looking for. Yennefer had been unable to find his body but had found his spirit? Were they no longer attached? Geralt’s mind had been filtering through the different options of what that could mean, but even Yennefer didn’t know what to say. The thought that he might be dead was an unwelcome one in his mind.

It had recently rained and the ground squelched and shifted under Geralt’s boots. Most of the tracks had been washed away by the rain. Geralt lead Roach through the trees, eyes catching on imprints in the ground and broken shrub twigs. All signs indicating animal presence rather than human.

The forest was familiar to the Witcher, he’d been here before. He didn’t think much of it, he’d been to most places on the continent, the Path taking him wherever he needed to be. Yet when he tried to recall the memory tied to this place, it was not one of necessity or danger. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Giving up on the meagre prints, he let the memory lead him. His feet found a forgotten path. Boots had flattened the earth so compactly, it was likely to last a long time. But it was littered with leaves and branches, clearly not trod on for a long while. He remembered the path, it had not looked so different the first time he had found it. It had soothed him that though this forest may once have been peopled, it was unlikely that they’d run into trouble.

They. He hadn’t been alone in the memory.

Vague and distant chatter tugged him forward, the line between reality and recollection blurring. He let go of Roach’s reins, trusting her to follow. He surged through the trees, pushing aside branches. Sunlight and grass filtered through the trees.

Spring.

Buttercups, dandelions, daisies, cornflowers.

A laugh ringing in his ears.

“Geralt look at this! It’s exquisite! We have to break here.”

The Witcher burst through the line of trees and froze. A field of green grass. It was familiar, but not just from the memory. A shiver down the back of his neck. Dread tightened his chest. His eyes landed on a weeping willow, its leaves pale. He didn’t remember it being here the last time.

Uneasily, he made his way towards it. It sagged so low that Geralt could not quite make out its bark. The pale leaves almost sparkled in the sun from the wetness of the leaves.

The Witcher crouched lower as he got closer, seeing a body through the drooping leaves. His hand hovered over his sword. He stopped before the wall of pallid green. The person behind had not moved, clearly unaware of his presence. He reached a hand out and pulled the leaves away, one hand still on the pommel of his sword.

His eyes landed on the man sitting on the damp grass, leaning back against the tree.

Geralt felt like the air had been punched out of him, body becoming immediately slack.

Wide shoulders. Soft, brown hair. Blue, inquisitive eyes.

“Fuck-“ the word came out sounding more like a sob than anything else, “Jaskier”.

Geralt took two steps forward and collapsed on his knees.

“Jaskier.” He reached out to touch him, to feel him warm and safe.

He felt nothing. His fingers slipped through.

A shimmer and a blur and the bark of a willow tree.

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