#only two more emeralds left

[dany36]

one thing I really don’t like about this game is how many medals you have to get in order to play its stages. 😭 And it’s like, these medals are NOT easy to find , and you don’t get hints like you do for the red rings in generations. I literally have to stop and look up a guide on YouTube on where to find them. here I go I guess! 🤷‍♀️

[hauntingblue]

Jaya time

I love these moments of nearly cosmic horror when they encounter inexplicable things (at first) they are so intriguing

Is strawhat here?! *Megan thee stallion saying AAH 😜*

This cover just goes hard... Get it chopper

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, size difference, ab riding, dirty talk, squírting, praise, petnames, mdni.

gym rat bf! toji who’s just so fucking big.

you can’t help but openly gawk at him whenever he’s doing his hourly reps and sets. he’s fit, and you’d just do nothing but watch the veins prod within his beefy toned arms all day if you could. “y’er daydreamin’ again,” he’d gruff, watching as you writhe around his heavy length that’s currently nestled between and inside your sapping folds. you were moaning under your breath, desperately trying to get over your most recent orgasm that left your toes curl in. “wonder what’s goin’ on in that pretty mind,” toji murmurs, lying flat back against his weight bench. he’s got nothing on but a sweat drenched tank and black loose shorts—shorts that would always show off the outline of his his raging boner—shorts that were lazily tugged way down the hem of his waist all thanks you. “fuuuckk,” he hisses, feeling you abruptly sit up with his cock loudly exiting out of you. with a squelching ‘pop’, the noise of your cunt rings throughout the thin walls of his gym and he phews. “what’s . . with that look, baby?”

“i wanna try riding these,” you’d breathe through soft breaths, creating a slow trail down his chest with your finger. a bit of sable-dark chest hair sticks against his skin, his pecs specifically. god, he was just mesmerizing to look at. he’s laid underneath you, manspread as your eyes continue to rove further down his perfectly carvened body. streams of perspiring sweat race down his hewed sculptured v-line before you stop at his curly happy trail. “wanna ride your abs, toji.”

with a sly grin, he swipes a thumb over his scarred glossed lips. “do ya now?” and you could almost see the smugness swell up in his chest. toji’s shaggy bangs fully block his vision as he gets a good look at you, making two bandaged hands glued to your waist. “weird girl,” he snickers, and you moan once his emerald eyes flicker towards your drooling wet cunt. “hn. but go ‘head then. knock y’erself out,” he tilts his head back, crossing his arms cockily. “make me proud.”

slowly, you move yourself closer toward the middle part of his body and you moan almost right away. it’s a pretty sound that he’d never get tired of hearing. toji’s perfectly muscle-bound, such swole arms and even more swole calves—so thick, your skin practically sticks against his the longer you spent on his chest.

the second your bare cunt leisurely slides against his abs, you feel a cold shudder creep down your spine.

“f- fuck,” you whimper through gritted teeth, glancing at his face to see him combing a few cramped fingers through his hair. toji’s broad frame underneath you grew idle and still—and he can’t help but snake a big callused hand around your waist, stroking a few weak pumps at his now soft cock that was inside you just milliseconds ago. “toji, your abs feel so good.”

“they better be,” he rasps as one of his forearms pulls away, stretching outward to grab onto the handle bar that’s directly above the two of you.

multiple veins of his bulge through every part of his arms and you felt yourself throbbing just at the sight. he’s so big, and you only craved more by the second. toji grunts, feeling the coolly air waft against his reddened neglected tip as you continue to thrust forward - sloppily, but forward.

your hips were pathetically slow, barely even making haste as you dragged against each flat sleek ab. you were rickety, cutely making a feeble swivel with your waist despite how your knees were on the verge of bucking. toji continues to watch you, studying your lewd facial expressions and all. he noticed how your breathing continued to change, your eyelids would grow heavy, drooping lower and lower as and your mouth hangs itself open—gasp after gasp leaving your spot-slicked lips. tossing his head back, you glance how his adam apple bob’s, and he’s giving your ass a tight squeeze. “yeah, that’s it. ride ‘em good, princess,” and his voice pitches a deep husky low once your cunt squelches right up against tightening midsection. “mhm, use those hips. fuck me good, baby.”

as shallow breaths continue to ruthlessly snatch away from your full lungs, you resume to rock back and forth against him—his sharpened pectorals now being lewdly slathered from top to bottom with your syrupy juices. “hngh, ‘s ripped,” you’d moan out, feeling your tummy heave and curl inward within every few jerk of your deranged hips. you bit the bottom of your lip, pulling skin back whilst his abs continue tighten even more right underneath you. his six pack’s now entirely wet, shining with nothing but your own candied slick and he grunts. toji hears the greedy squelches of your pussy but he only imagined what it looked like down there. as your lips form into a gasping ‘o’, your brows contort into a furrow as you start to whimper out pathetic babbles. “toji, ‘m not gonna last. fuck, fuck.”

“oh, c’mon, don’t say that, princess,” the dark haired man coos, and you then star to feel the fat round tips of his thumbs massage against your active hips. he’s steadying your waist, helping you grind faster and faster despite how your legs were close—so so close to succumbing to defeat. “y’er a big girl, keep goin’ baby, ride ‘em like you ride my cock, mhm.”

your cunt twitches at his words, at his praise and oh it’s so embarrassing. as you continue to move, toji can feel the faint spasming throbs that vibrate on his flat stomach and he snickers. “shit,” you gasp, and your hands continue to feel up inside the thin linen of his tank top. he’s so buff, you couldn’t help but salivate—imagining toji with his big bulky arms slowly wrapping around your throat. your hips start to accelerate at a much briskly pace. as you were trapped in your erotic seven second fantasm, you sob out a whimper once he spanks your ass, bringing you straight back to reality. he’s telling you to keep going, you could tell from the brief priggish look in his eyes. “toji—ngh, ‘m gonna—”

and as your sopping folds continue to move quicker against his chiseled ripped pecs—you let off a soft dramatic gasp as fluttering ripples of waves surge through your core. out of nowhere, you gush right onto his abdomen while you’re still sloppily thrusting your hips onto his tight flexing stomach. “fuck, ohmygooodd,” you’d whimper out in cute elongated mewls, dragging every poor syllable. your squelches were loud—and your eyes widen at the sheer realization that you’re squirting—trickling out lustrous spurts of your own juices. you were holding in a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and your eyes squeeze shut completely once you fully release.

with weak bucking hips, you let off a shaky sigh and toji’s still got that annoying smug grin plastered across his face. “aw, poor baby,” a hand of his snakes around your waist, dark aroused eyes glancing at your pulsating weeping pussy. you weren’t moving anymore, and yet you were still plopped on his pecs. seconds later, you feel him flex each core muscle against your achy clit and you whimper, geysers of slick dampening his swole abs. “tch. made such a mess, ‘m all soaked,” and you moan, feeling him grab ahold of both of your wobbly unstable hips. you were dumb, dumber than you’ve ever been and all you felt was his tightened abs tensing right underneath your slobbering slick heat.

toji’s entire chiseled midsection of his chest was now sheeny, perfectly coated with your slick that makes his skin glimmer like a jewel and he hums. “my messy girl,” and a thumb of his playfully smears down your cunt, feeling it’s pulse prod against his fingertip. with an amused quirk of his thin black brow, he tastes you by licking his finger slyly. with needy eyes, you’re just blankly staring at him—panting heavily, pawing at his puffed chest for more. “oh, you’re not done?”

“n- no,” you whine, feeling a plethora of electric shockwaves erupt through the undersides of your thighs as you start to pathetically rock against his abs again, rubbing yourself against your own slippery wetness. “fuck, want more. hold still, toji.”

“ ‘m all yours,” he replied in a low mumble, giving your ass one more teasing squeeze. as he grabs a nice chunk of it, he groans throatily before laying his feet flat down against the carpet beside the bench. “good girl, keep ridin’ me,” and his hand tightens against your ass, throwing his head back with his hands covering his face. “fuck, gotta train this sloppy cunt some more anyway, heh.”

[mickandmusings]

third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

-

i.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

-

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

-

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 1: 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑

title: poker face synopsis: luckily, mr. zero didn't knew you were a mugiwara. luckily, mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard to not fall for crocodile's charm. [3.1K] cw: mugiwara!fem!reader, strip poker, strip tease, public sex, cock crush, nipple stimulation, size difference, fingering (f!receiving), riding, biting, scratching, finger sucking, p in v, creampie, possessive behavior, mob boss meets a baddie, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. “Five of a kind”, he dropped his cards on the table. “Seems like the house won. Again.”

Crocodile’s presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.

To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.

He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.

Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.

A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one would’ve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didn’t break a sweat.

One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the man’s existence.

With a hand over the chair’s top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. “May I?”, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.

Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. “Made just in time”, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. “Do you know how to play, hon’?”

You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chair’s rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chip’s box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.

The box was filled to the brim.

Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. “New to poker?”, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.

If only you had looked at him.

“New to this island”, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didn’t want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldn’t care less about this game. “Is it worth?”

“It will be.”

A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.

Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you would’ve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.

Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.

A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesn’t even know that you’re part of the group he wants to exterminate.

Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.

Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didn’t matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.

That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. You’re not here to make money. You’re not here to waste it. You’re here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.

“Showdown”, the croupier called. “Please, bettors, show your hands.”

The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. “Does that mean anything?”

The first man to drop out chuckled. “Only that you lost.”

Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. “Three of a kind”, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. “Do you know the rules?”

“Does it really matter?”, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. “The best liar wins at the end.”

“No surprise you haven’t won yet”, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. “It’s so easy to see right through you.”

But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. “Seems like a failure of mine”, was what you said out loud.

With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.

Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.

Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chip’s box, raising from the chair. “Should have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.” You took your coat, walking away from the table. “Have a good night, Crocodile.”

“One last deal?” Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. “And then we call it.”

You raised the empty box. “I have nothing left to bet.”

And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. “Then let’s bet everything we have.”

Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. “And by that you mean…”

“Everything”, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you weren’t that sure of it. “Every chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.”

As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.

“I’ve been eyeing your rings since I sat here”, you wondered out loud. “Just as you been eyeing my dress.”

But to be so straight to the point… Crocodile wasn’t quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.

Then you sighed.

“As tempting as it is,” and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. “It is also getting late. Like I said, I’m new to this island.”

“You have nothing to fear”, Crocodile bargained. “Not when I’m around.”

“But you won’t be around on my way back to the hotel.”

“Then stay here”, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. “I don’t intent on letting you walk away that easily. I’m a pirate. I’m used to taking what I want for myself.”

For an eternity, you both stared into each other’s eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.

The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.

“Shuffle the cards and leave”, you ordered.

He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodile’s face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.

Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. “Four of a kind.”

Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. “Royal flush”, you smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the highest since we’re not using any wild cards.”

Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. “You said you didn’t know how to play.”

“Oh”, you drank the last sip from your glass. “Did I?”

And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. “You hustle me”, he whispered. Crocodile wasn’t able to get rid of this genuine smile.

Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. “And now you have a debt to pay.”

His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.

Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chair’s arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.

Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. “Enjoy the show”, Crocodile whispered.

His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.

The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.

He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldn’t look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didn’t he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.

You’re a lot of things, but you’re not patient.

Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.

“Stop playing around.” Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. “Don’t make me wait.”

Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasn’t a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. “You are insane.”

“And why is that?”

“Anyone else would fear me”, Crocodile’s voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. “And here you are. Demanding more.”

You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice… it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.

He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. “You talk too much.”

Holding the chair’s top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.

Just like a pirate would.

She isn’t fragile, Crocodile thought. She won’t break.

Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didn’t stop you from moving as you wanted to.

You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.

“You’ll pay for this one.”

It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldn’t care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.

“I will get you anything you want”, he said, voice muffled. He couldn’t get away from your body to speak. “You burn hotter than the fuckin desert.”

No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.

As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.

Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. That’ll mark you for sure. “Ride me, hon’.”

With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodile’s fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.

“Take what you want”, you whispered against his ear. “Fuck me already.”

It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.

A fucking monster.

Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. “She’s delicious”, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. “Will get me addicted to her.”

Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.

Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so… much.

Crocodile wasn’t in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.

“Don’t you dare stopping”, you manage to say. “Just… fu-fuck, just like that.”

Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.

All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.

Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.

“You are worth way more than eighty million.”

Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. “After my head, hon’?”, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.

“Do I look insane?”, you moaned.

Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.

“You do”, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you weren’t being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. “You’re perfect.”

You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldn’t think didn’t stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.

Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.

When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.

Insane, Crocodile thought. She’s making me insane.

As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.

Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. “What you doing?”

Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. “Taking what I want for myself.”

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[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[midatwrtr]

Two For One

Aespa Minjeong & Winter x Male Reader

10k words

Tags: Threesome, Creampies, Squirting, Riding, Missionary, Doggy, Virgins, Deepthroat, Double blowjob

It was a bad idea, a horrible idea. You knew it as soon as you decided to listen to another one of Minjeong’s 3 AM sleepy thoughts: go to the forbidden library of the academy, read the ancient spell manuals, and try their magics. There was already one word you didn’t like in that sentence: forbidden. Most libraries prohibited access to certain books because of their fragility or rarity, which was understandable. However, in a magic academy where not only the teachers could put protection spells on the manuscripts but also repair the damage with ease, surely there must have been another reason. Obviously, it was going to be an important one.

The second thing Minjeong said that sounded suspicious was her desire to try the spells. Both of you knew how hard ancient magics were and knowing that they came from forbidden books should have been a sufficient warning to keep you from attempting them. It was also well known that Minjeong wasn’t the most talented of witches. You didn’t want to be mean to your friend but her academic performance was difficult to ignore.

You thought that being the magic academy’s top student, Minjeong would have brighter ideas, but no. Although you were strongly against the idea, her excitement and puppy eyes got the better of you and you followed through with her plan. 

When you were between the dusty bookshelves and the sounds of the rooms resembled more and more the cries of ghosts and haunted souls, it was already too late to back away. 

“Look, don’t they look so cool?” Minjeong exclaimed, pointing at the black leather book, with ashed gold linings and crooked letters. Clearly a cursed book. You could already feel the languish moans of the unfortunate victims of its curses.

“Wanna take a look at it?” she asked. You were surprised by her lack of worry at the obvious danger in front of her.

“No!” you screamed and pushed her before it was too late. 

“What’s to worry about?”

“What do you mean? If you were to touch that thing, you’d probably lose your hand, you idiot!”

Minjeong looked at you with an offended frown. “You worry too much…” her tone drifted off and she ran to the next bookshelf.

You followed her everywhere, preventing her from killing herself and yourself. There was a moment that almost got you. Minjeong jumped on the shelves with her full force. It was a good thing to remember that these shelves were centuries old and left unkempt for as long as you could imagine so obviously the wood gave out and Minjeong fell together with the ten books she managed to grab out of greediness.

You managed to catch her and shield her from the falling books with your back. Later, she apologized profusely but you had to go back to the dorm with an uncomfortable back pain.

Minjeong followed you to your room. You thought it was to bid you goodbye or apologize some more but then she took a book out of her coat. The weathered leather-bound book seemed to stare at you with its emerald green cover, warning you about its possessor. 

Your friend opened the book and let you see the elegant swirling calligraphy, red and deep. The pages had acquired a creamy yellow color with time and it was hard for you to read it. 

“We should try this spell,” Minjeong declared with a serious tone. 

“We—what?” you replied.

“I said we should try this spell. It will be good,” she said and cleared her throat, gaining a deeper shade in her voice. “It is said to possess the power to bring one’s deepest desires to life. It delves into the very essence of longing and seeks to materialize the aspirations that reside within the caster’s heart.”

“You managed to translate all that from this squiggly writing?”

Minjeong nodded proudly with a bright smile.

Your eyes took the shape of horror.

“Are you really sure? I mean, really really sure.”

“Mh!” she confirmed. Minjeong carefully laid the book on your desk. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she traced her finger along the faded text. “Imagine, our dreams made real!”

You eyed the ancient script warily. “It sounds like a scam. It really does. Do you really think one spell can make all of your dreams come true? It’s even better than the philosopher stone,” you said. “The forbidden section is forbidden for a reason. What if this backfires?”

Minjeong dismissed all your concerns with a wave of her hand. “Oh, come on! This is our chance! Let’s try it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uhm… that we would die? Worse, we could be cursed for life and beyond as soulless ghouls.”

“Pfft. You read too many books,” Minjeong brushed it off.

“Minjeong, we’re literally in a magic academy!”

“It will be fine.”

Reluctantly, you sighed, “Fine, let’s just be careful. We have to follow the instructions precisely. By the way, what if they hear us?”

“Don’t worry, everyone has gone on the school trip. The nearest students are in the other building.”

The moonlight filtered through the tall windows and cast a soft glow on the center of the floor. The flickering candles seemed to get agitated as their flames danced more frenetically. 

You and Minjeong stood next to each other. She held the wand in her hand with confidence, ready. The air in the room was becoming heavy, there was a palpable energy.

“Are you sure about this, Minjeong?” you asked one last time.

“Absolutely.”

You both closed your eyes in unison. Minjeong’s mind cleared as she focused on channeling her energy into the wand. With a shared breath, they opened their eyes, the moonlight and candlelight casting shadows that seemed to dance with their anticipation. Wands at the ready, they spoke the incantation with a synchronicity that echoed their shared purpose.

"Manifestum Desideria."

As the words hung in the air, a surge of magical energy enveloped the room. You could feel the invisible threads of desire weaving around them, responding to the call of the ancient spell. The air crackled with enchantment, and a faint mist began to materialize, swirling around Minjeong.

The air vibrated and anticipation built up more and more until… it just stopped.

Minjeong opened her eyes and looked at you.

“Was that it?” she asked.

“Yep,” another voice answered. 

Minjeong jumped and screamed her lungs out. You got started as well from the unknown voice and her scream. As you turned around, you could see clearly who it came from. It was a girl and she looked exactly the same as Minjeong. 

“Hey, who are you?” Minjeong asked with a trembling voice, pointing at the other girl.

“What do you mean who is this? I’m you,” she said laughing. Her voice too was extremely similar to Minjeong’s but it was slightly sultrier, more playful, and sexier.

“Uhh, Minjeong? No, Winter?” you suggested.

“Yes, I’m Winter if that’s what you like to call me.”

“You can’t be me,” Minjeong said, more confused than anything. Your friend turned around to search for some kind of reassurance from you but you had no idea either.

“Yes, I am,” she repeated. There was a look of pleasure on her face seeing Minjeong confused. “And I know everything about you. Every little secret you try to hide.”

“W-w-wait, you’re just playing with me.”

“Yeah, like how you stole Karina’s makeup.”

“How do you—”

“And how do you like your friend, right over here,” Winter said, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you closer. Your heart suddenly started beating faster. You could smell her perfume, a strong sensual smell. You had hugged Minjeong before and all of Winter’s sizes were the same as Minjeong’s. She was a clone. If what she was saying was true, you might just roll with it.

“What?” you asked.

“What?!” Minjeong asked too.

“What? Are you going to tell me you don’t?” Winter said, getting closer and rubbing your chest. “Then this won’t bother you, right?” she said smugly, tracing her finger along your neck, then under your jaw and near your lips, right as she got her face closer. You felt goosebumps. You knew this wasn’t Minjeong, but she was so real and so identical to the real one that you wanted to enjoy the moment a little.

“Hey! Get off him!” she screamed, pushing her away. Too bad.

“Why? You like him?” 

“N-no!”

“Mh? Stop lying to yourself, sweetheart…” Winter got closer to your face. “What about you, handsome? Do you like her? You got a Minjeong all to yourself, you know? You can do anything you want with me.”

“Hey! What are you saying?!” the real Minjeong exclaimed.

“I see you staring at my lips, do you wanna taste them?” she asked and leaned closer, slowly enough to wait for a reaction, “Oh, you aren’t backing away.” Truth was, you did want to kiss her.

“You’ve done it now!” Minjeong pulled you away and hugged you hard. She felt territorial, almost possessive. “I’m supposed to be his first!”

“Oh, dear…” Winter laughed.

“Wait.” Minjeong turned to you as you stared at her with eyes wide open. You looked at each other for a moment, both slowly starting to blush.“Oh my god… you’ve ruined everything!” Minjeong screamed in frustration, holding her head in her hands.

“I don’t think so,” Winter turned to you, “You like her don’t you?” 

You opened your mouth and stopped for a second. You felt a gentle tug at the back of my mind. “Well, uhm, yes…” you said. It’s a only after a few moments that you realize what you said. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and a hint of nervousness creeps in. 

“Ain’t that lucky?” Winter said and clapped happily while the two of you looked at the floor, not baring the sight of the other one. Your feelings had been confessed and so were hers but you did not know what to do now. Your wingwoman did though.

“You guys should kiss now.”

“What?! Listen, uhm, me, you helped us a lot but that’s too much,” Minjeong said angrily, pointing her finger at Winter who on the other side looked at her with a surprised yet content smile. 

“Why not? You want it.”

“Yeah, but we are going too fast.”

“Listen, I’m not leaving until you’ve done everything you have to,” Winter said, folding her arms and leaning her hips on one leg, showing her attitude.

“Right, are you going to stay here forever or is there a way to let you free?” you asked. “Also, why did you appear?”

“Did you guys not read the warning?”

“What warning,” you and Minjeong said in unison. You rushed to the book and immediately found a blood red paragraph on the other side of the page. 

[Exercise great caution when wielding the Desiderium Manifestum spell, for the line between reality and desire is delicate and easily blurred. The spell has been known to personify desires in unexpected ways, and the manifestations may take on a life of their own, beyond the caster's control. Use this enchantment responsibly, and be prepared to face the consequences of desires brought into the tangible realm. It is advised to thoroughly understand the potential repercussions before attempting to cast this spell.]

Minjeong’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait… the warning in the ancient spellbook? It said something about completing the ritual fully to manifest our desires.”

Winter nodded, a smug smile on her face. “Exactly. You manifested me because of your desires, right? To send me away, you have to acknowledge and act on those desires. I am just here to help you.”

You looked at your friend with disappointment as she laughed awkardely. 

After reading the paragraph you quickly understood that ‘making your desire come alive’ was really meant literally. You blamed Minjeong for not realizing it—she was the one that wanted to use the spell in the first place—and scolded her for not reading everything thoroughly before trying it. She apologized and said that it was her excitement that got her so worked up and that normally she would’ve seen it.

“So, we really have to…” Minjeong’s voice trailed off as she glanced at you, her cheeks flushed.

You felt your heart race as you met her eyes. The air was thick with unspoken emotions. “I guess we have to kiss,” you said softly.

Minjeong bit her lip nervously. “This is so embarrassing.”

Winter sighed dramatically. “The longer you hesitate, the longer I stay here. And believe me, I can be very persistent.”

You took a deep breath and stepped closer to Minjeong, gently taking her hand. “We can do this. It’s just a kiss, right?”

Minjeong nodded, her eyes locked onto yours. “Just a kiss.”

Then came the moment you had been waiting for: you had to kiss Minjeong and Minjeong had to kiss you. Your two figures illuminated by the warm light of the candles inside your room stood still as both of you looked at each other, uncertain. Minjeong bit her lip, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater. “Whenever you want,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. A brief silence hung between you, filled by the soft noise of the wind.

You took a deep breath. You were the man, you had to do it. You took a step closer, your eyes met Minjeong’s for a brief moment and shy smile played on your lips. She felt her heartbeat quicken and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. Their eyes locked and you both inhaled. 

You held your breath and gently cupped Minjeong’s cheek. Minjeong’s breath caught in her throat as she met your gaze, eyes wide open. 

Your lips met in a soft and hesitant kiss. It was delicate, shy, and quick. It was just a moment but you clearly felt her soft skin press against yours and it was a shock. You’d want more of it, it was the final gift of your long wait, and you wanted to savor it more.

As you pulled away, your eyes met again and a shy smile appeared on your lips while Minjeong had an ecstatic expression, her mouth still open. 

“Oh my god, good job you guys,” Winter said, clapping behind you. You almost forgot about her. “That’s your man now, you have to kiss him better, you know?”

“Calm down, that was our first.”

“Yeah, I know but don’t worry, I’ll show you. I really can’t hold myself back with him…”

“Wha—” Minjeong couldn’t finish her sentence that Winter jumped on you.

She kissed you ferociously—deeply, passionately. If she was the embodiment of Minjeong’s desire, she must have waited for years. You could feel the pent-up frustration and all the regret in that one kiss. Winter moans into you, pulling your face roughly into hers as her tongue invades your mouth, taking away the innocence that has sealed your lips until now. She moves quickly and hungrily, taking your breath away.

Your hands are naturally drawn to her hips. You’ve hugged Minjeong before and you knew how her body felt against her—Winter was exactly the same. Your fingers dig into her ass as you exchange the kiss. Winter’s hands on your neck felt possessive and territorial. She pulled you in even closer than you already were, pretty much grinding against you.

It took Minjeong’s whole effort to detach you from Winter’s grasp.

Minjeong immediately glued herself to you. 

“What the hell was that?!” She screamed with territorial fierce.

“I just showed you how to kiss properly?” the other said nonchalantly.

“Wasn’t that too much?” Minjeong stuttered.

“You left me waiting for too long. If you confessed sooner…”

You could see Minjeong pout under you. You placed your hands on her waist and pulled her close to you, making her annoyed expression fade away. You take her lips and meet her in a kiss more intense than her previous one. Her tongue timidly pushes forward, searching for your mouth. 

Her words resonate inside your head: “Touch me.” Your hands move around, alternating between her ass and her back, greedily taking all of her into your arms. Minjeong’s hands instead move to your chest, to search for support for what’s stirring inside her.

After a couple of moments, Minjeong’s lip turn into a shy smile and she backs away a couple of centimeters.

“You’re-you’re poking me,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry! I- it was you—no, the other Winter, have you seen how she’s dressed?” you quickly try to excuse yourself, thinking it might have been too embarrassing if you were to admit that she was the cause. But after all the blood rushed to your groin, your brain was left empty and the poor judgement would cost you.

“You pervert! You just confessed to me and you’re getting hard from another girl?!” Minjeong quickly yells at you.

“But she’s you! I’m getting a boner because of you!” you yell back, afraid that you might hurt her.

“You can’t scream this kind of stuff, you fool…” her tone becomes soft and she hides away.

“Oh, it looks like you two are starting to finally be honest with each other,” Winter announced, patting you two, “well, what are you going to do about this?” she said while rubbing your member. You jolt back, goosebumps running through your skin. The feeling alone was enough to have you throbbing. “Because if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”

“You can’t!”

“I know I can and I know you want it too. Remember? I know everything about you,” she says. “Do I have to tell him about all the restless nights you had rubbing yourself thinking about him? Screaming his name in your bedroom, night after night after night…” “Stop! It’s not true!” Minjeong said. She was so embarrassed that she was almost in tears. You couldn’t tell who was redder in that moment: Minjeong, whose secret was revealed to the last person she wanted to tell it to, or you, whose surprise left you frozen.

“So? You already know how her mouth tastes, want to know how it feels too?” Winter said, turning you. You couldn’t answer her question: your legs gave out and you fell into the bed. It was almost as if someone injected you with morphine. Your head started spinning, you couldn’t stand up but you couldn’t stand still either.

“What have you done to him?” Minjeong asked worriedly.

“Just my powers, he’s really really horny right now and his body is starting to lag. I have a really good aphrodisiac in my spit,” she confessed.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Sorry but I don’t get to leave until he fills both of us with cum.”

“W-what?!” Minjeong was left startled at her clone’s calm demeanor. Their words were a confused blur, from what you knew, you were living a dream, a very fun one.

“The purpose of the spell is to make your deepest desire come true.”

“You must be joking right?”

“Have I said a single lie, yet?”

“No…”

“Look, I’m doing you a favor here, you have to stop being so against me,” she whispered in Minejong’s ear. “Your deepest desire is finally going to come true. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

Winter takes your pants off and your cock springs out. At the sight of your erect penis, Winter lets out a satisfied sigh, being able to finally take a good look at it. Her excitement was vivid, her wide eyes scanned the whole length of your member, from your balls to the tip. Awkwardness, on the other hand, was devouring Minjeong alive. She had her hands plastered on her face, trying to cover her eyes, even though she could see perfectly through them, flickering her fingers to reveal her aroused pupils.

The seducer smirked and looked at Minjeong with a bright grin. ‘You like it?’ is what she’d hear if her eyes spoke and ‘yes’ is what you’d hear coming from Minjeong’s mouth despite her bit red face.

“I know what you want, baby,” she said, brushing the cuter girl’s warm cheek. 

“I-I-I don’t want anything,” the poor girl stammered, suddenly feeling the need to look away at the confused boner between your legs.

“Right, sure,” she giggled. Then she reverted her eyes to you. “You know, dear, I’d really really want you to fuck my mouth and swallow you right up… but,” she looked at her identical friend. “I think she needs it more, don’t you?”

Minjeong was now looking down, rubbing her thighs together. She couldn’t matter a single word

“Scoot up close and give him a little taste,” Winter said, pointing between your legs.

Minjeong little steps on her knees, gulping down when she stood really close. “Are you sure?” she asked again, with a shaky voice.

“Lick him. Make sure to look up into his eyes, too.”

Minjeong took a few breaths to prepare herself. She hesitantly brought her head down, shaking throughout, and placed her closed lips on the bare tip of your cock. You felt shivers running down from your member throughout your thighs. 

Anticipation was killing both of you. “Is she gonna do it?” you thought. “Am I gonna do it?” she thought. She looked at you, looking for some kind of encouragement, reassurance perhaps. You looked just as lost as her, just as excited. You placed a hand on the side of her neck, picked up a few strands of hair, and brushed her cheek with your thumb. 

She smiles, her lips still planted.

Minjeong was ready. She inhaled the scent that was coming from your skin, closed her eyes, and took a long sensual lick, from the base of your cock, right to the tip. She straightened up and looked at you with her puppy eyes.

“D-did you like it?” she asked. 

You quickly nodded. You were twitching terribly at the cold humid air. 

“Take it in your hands and stroke him while you lick him,” Winter said.

“Okay… I’ll give it a try.”

Minjeong gave you a couple more licks, bringing her head down, and up. Her mouth was salivating and it wetted your cock completely. Then she placed her slender fingers, awkwardly holding you with excessive care. ‘You can hold it tighter,’ you whispered. Minjeong nodded.

She jerked you off, your cock slick in her palm. Uncertain about her rhythm, she alternated between fast and slow. Her fingers were thin and delicate but they were enough to make you desperate. 

The licking on the head of your cock wasn’t stopping. Minjeong continued, slowly easing to a more regular rhythm as you began to moan.

Winter let her original do all the work, while like a snake, she wrapped herself around your shoulders, whispering in your ear: “She looks really hot licking you, doesn’t she?” she giggled. “I know you’ve waited so long. You’ve been patient. I can’t wait to suck your cock with her…”

“Use your lips too dear,” Winter said. “No teeth.”

Minjeong placed her lips on the tip of your penis and started lightly sucking it. She looked more confident than before. Her hand continued jerking you off, her cheeks sunk in to give you small suckles, while her lips brushed her saliva away. 

You started to moan more deeply. You couldn’t help it. You placed your hand behind her neck this time. You weren’t sure what this meant for you—were you too stimulated and needed some support, were you praising her, were you caressing her—but for Minjeong it meant, “go deeper”.

So she did.

She lowered her head further until her lips touched her fingers and her tongue fully coated your frenulum. Your hips jolted for a moment. It seemed to please Minjeong a lot, who started to suck with more passion.

“You look really cute sucking his cock…” Winter commented again with her lowly seductive voice. “What about you, do you like her?”

“Yeah,” you said in a single breath.

“Minjeong, I want you to take him deeper.”

Minjeong raised her head, detaching herself from you. A big strand of thickened saliva pooled down from her lips to to her hands. “I can’t take them that deep…” she said in a tiny voice as she wiped the liquid from her face. Her eyebrows curved down in a worried frown.

“Don’t be silly, you’re me,” she said. “You can do it. Besides you dreamt about it every night. Taking his cock right down your throat to the deepes–”

“Stop! I’ll do it. Just,” Minjeong blurted out, “shut up!”

“Alright, alright. Just put him in your mouth. You have to relax your throat.”

Minjeong gulped and opened her mouth as wide as possible. Her warm breath made you stand taller. She wrapped her small hand around the base of your penis, to guide to her. You could feel it slide through her tongue, her lips grazing your skin, enveloping you completely.

She stopped midway.  You could feel the bump of her tongue with your tip. That warmth and wetness were already making your heart race, your breath was short and quick.

“Thaaaat’s right. Good,” she said. “But you can go deeper. Mmmmh. Show him how much you love him, how much you love his cock.” The last sentence sounded way too lewd. The growl from Winter shocked you. It was almost demonic, of pure lust and desire.

Minjeong took you deeper and seemed to struggle at first but then your penis touched the back of your throat. You weren’t breathing anymore and neither was she. She squinted her eyes, trying to keep you there, nice and snuck, until she couldn’t anymore and had to come up to catch her breath. 

The moment she took you out, you gasped. 

“I-I’m sorry, was that too much?” Minjeong mumbled.

“Don’t worry. He liked it!”

“Is that true? Did you, um, like it?”

“It… it was amazing, Minjeong. I’ve never felt this before.”

“Oh, that’s a relief! Okay,” Minjeong smiled, puffing her cheeks. She looked adorable, cute. Just like before the whole deal started. Just that this time, she was covered in spit and her eyes were slightly pink.

“Let me show you,” Winter said, taking you away from Minjeong. She put her hand on your cock and started stroking you up and down, while she was explaining. She picked up all of her previous spit that pooled on your crotch, using at lube. Somehow, she knew the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm.

“I know just how to take my his cock. Watch me. You move your tongue like this,” she pulled her tongue out, “and sucking, like gasping just a little will allow you to get his cock down without gagging as much, well unless you want to. You can slowly take him in. Like this…”

For the demonstration, Winter tried to take it in as slowly as possible, that took a lot of holding back, you could tell. She blinked a few times, her eyes crossed on your penis as it slowly slipped inside of her throat. Her throat was the same as Minjeong but her technique was completely different, this time it was smoother, tighter, and deeper.

She held you there, her lips planted right on your crotch, balls deep. You continued to gasp, feeling the twitches of her flesh caressing you and her throat trying to swallow you down. It was about ten seconds later that she decided to take you out. 

You were left disappointed but now was Minjeong’s turn.

“Like that. Now you try,” Winter said casually, whipping her lips clean.

“Okay. I’m going to try my best,” she agreed and then looked at you. “Can you keep your hand on me?”

You pat Minjeong’s head again, like a little puppy. She smiles cutely and closes her eyes as you rub her head. She giggles and smiles brightly. “Okay, now,” she said and focused. You kept your hand on top of her head, trying to guide her in.

She did just as Winter said, sticked her tongue out, gasped and let you in. She struggled again but this time she actually took you all the way in. She kissed your crotch and puffed up her cheeks. You could feel her moan, the vibration caressed your whole skin, you must have hit a good spot. 

Then she took you out. 

“I did it!” Minjeong exclaimed.

“You did so well, baby,” you said and continued patting her.

“Hehe, I like it when you compliment me,” Minjeong mumbled. She wasn’t usually like that. Well, she did become very touchy sometimes and demand your hugs when she drank too much, but she was never this… submissive. You glanced at Winter with a suspicious gaze. She just giggled and raised her shoulders.

“She’s just cock-drunk.”

Minjeong took you again, deeper than before. And when she couldn’t hold it anymore, she took you out, caught her breath, and went again. Again and again. And then she made a discovery: she didn’t need to take your cock out of her mouth to breath, just half was good. She maintained a constant suction, leaving you no rest at all.

“You’re so good Minjeong, your throat feels like heaven.”

After a minute of slow bobbing she made a second discovery: having you graze her throat actually felt good. So then she started bobbing her head up and down, just small centimeters, enough to feel you go in and out of her throat. She continued her moderate bobbing, gasping, and moaning, while her thick spit went everywhere. She was affectionate and sucked with passion, she really wanted to make you feel good, and she loved you.

“God, you’re making me lose my mind,” you moaned as well. Minjeong loved your moans. That and your hands on her head made sure she knew how good you were feeling and she just wanted to suck you more.

Winter giggled and brushed your ear. “Isn’t she doing so good?” she whispered. “Wow, all the way down. I’m a little jealous…”

“You know,” she started. “I think you should fuck her face. I think she might like it…”

It was like her words took control of your body. You kinda wanted it but you also wanted to be gentle for her but you stood up. Minjeong stopped and breathed heavily. She looked at you with confusion as she didn’t hear her counterpart. 

“Dear, why are you standing? Is everything okay?” she asked. You didn’t answer as your knees were getting weak but you didn’t want to leave her hanging either. You put both of your hands on her head and patted her, playing with her hair, caressing her gently. “Ah… I love it when you run your fingers through my hair…”

“Minjeong, do you want to feel him take...a bit more control?”

Minejong looked at you with her puppy eyes, submissive and innocent. “I-I’d be okay with that. I trust you.” She held the hand on her head. “Mmm, I trust your touch. I know you’ll be gentle. I’m ready. I promise. Guide your cock into my throat, please.” You wonder how such a pure girl could pronounce suck lewd and naughty words with the same innocence as when she asked for cuddles.

You stand up and she follows you on her knees, holding your thighs. You kinda of felt bad for her, she had to be the only one to stay on the floor, but she looked more than happy. You pushed back into her, as gently as possible. Minjeong wiggled her head to take you in with a slurp and started lightly sucking on you, with care and love. With both of your hands on her head, you started pushing in and out of her mouth.

At first, you only used your hands at a slow pace. You wanted to make sure she got used to the feeling. You didn’t want to be too rough. But then she got more enthusiastic, you could tell she was buckling her head herself, telling you to go faster.

So you did.

You start moving your hips as well, properly fucking her pretty mouth. It was a moderate pace, you were still afraid of hurting her. She felt amazing, out of this world. If her mouth was already pleasurable before, now with the rhythm, it was ecstatic. 

You almost got carried away when you heard the wet sloppy sounds of her spit pooling out of her lips. You had to stop yourself. You pulled out and saw Minjeong coughing. You quickly brushed her face with worry.

“Are you okay?”, you asked.

She looked at you with resolution. “Please, don’t stop.”

Who were you to refuse? You were back in no time and fucked her face even faster than before. Now she started moaning, the vibration of her voice adding to the pleasure. Your legs start shaking and you moan together with her. Moans, slop, and plops, the sound of spit and her mouth were all you could hear.

“Oh wow. It’s so hot watching you fuck her face like that,” Winter coos. “I feel left out… Do you want my mouth and throat, too?”

She put her hands on you, it’s a seductive hypnotizing touch that took your mind out of the moment. You stare at her, blinking vividly, and you slowly stop fucking Minjeong’s face. Winter must have been a succubus, there was no way she was just a “manifestation of Winter’s desire”. She controlled your every muscle, every thought. You reluctantly let go of Minjeong’s head altogether and turn to Winter.

“Why did you stop?” your friend asked needly.

“Because it’s my turn, he’s gonna fuck my throat now.”

Winter’s knees are already on the floor. She crawls towards your crotch. Her eyes are already more riled up than yours. She sticks her tongue out and you’re buried deep inside her throat. She doesn’t gag at all, instead, she starts giggling and sucking you violently. Her hands on your buttocks help her pull your cock inside of her. 

You give her slow hard fucks. You try to break her throat. The wet mess that is her mouth is way too pleasurable for you to hold back. There comes a point where you stop caring and start fucking her throat as rough as you can.

Fast and rough, hard and deep. Every thrust brings you closer to the edge. Your eyes roll back into your head, slowly but surely, and your mind fogs up. You can only feel pleasure, pleasure, and hunger for more.

You went on for so long, you were even surprised at yourself you could last that long. It must’ve been Winter’s doing. 

You were two thrusts away from cumming when you stopped. Actually, you didn’t stop, it was Winter again who pushed you away. She slurped all her spit and cleared her throat. 

“You know I loved it but I didn’t want to keep you all for myself. I want Minjeong to taste your cum too,” she declared and pushed you back down into the bed. Winter continues to work on your cock with small licks and suckles. She gestures for Minjeong to come closer and join her. She does.

Now both of the Minjeongs are licking and sucking you, with such eagerness and hunger, that you were wondering who the original was. But you didn’t have enough brain left to think about it.

Thinking about it, Minjeong was being a lot more affectionate, mixing her licks with little kisses, she was sloppy and inexperienced. Winter was being a lot rougher, her licks were fast, and she sucked you hard enough that she could have left hickeys on you. Both of their faces were smushed together trying to claim more of you from the other.

But you couldn’t last long. You came right after.

You came harder than you ever did.

Strings of thick cum came raining down on their faces. They both stopped in surprise and admired the cum shooting out of your helpless cock. It was a piece of art. Both of them were painted white. Your penis continued to twitch and contract even when there was no more cum left—the pleasure was too much.

Winter went right back with gentle long strokes of tongue to clean up after their mess. She swallowed your cock once again, to suck up all the cum that was left. 

Minjeong instead slowly picked up the cum from her face and stared at it in the palm of her hand. It took her a moment to decide that she wanted to taste it. She licked it. Picked more and ate it. She continued to brush all the cum from her face and hair and licked it right up, like a cat trying to clean her paws.

Heavily breathing and with your heart still pounding, Winter flashed you a very bright smile. “So what do you want to do now?” she asked you. 

“Huh?” you responded. Your mind was still cloudy.

“You can do anything you want. What’s your next move?”

You breathed a couple of times and swallowed. “I want… I’d like to return the favor, Minjeong.”

“Eh?!” Minjeong jolted up. “W-what are you saying?”

“I want to eat you out, Minjeong,” you said with more resolution.

“You’re being too direct.”

“Come on, have you seen what we have just done? There is really no point in hiding now.”

“You’re right…”

“Oh my, you’re so selfless, baby,” Winter joined the conversation. “It’s okay, I can help with this too. After all, this was one of Minjeong’s desires as well. I have the full knowledge.”

“Please, will you ever stop saying this embarrassing stuff?” Minjeong pleaded.

“No, hehe” she giggled.

Minjeong replaced your spot on the bed, but this time she sat right in the middle and you crawled before her. She spreads her legs. The action makes her blush terribly but you’re just as embarrassed. You position in between her thighs and awkwardly smile at her. “I’m– I’m kind of nervous.”

“Well are you gonna leave me here with my legs open, you jerk?” Minjeong teased you.

To break the ice again, you softly kiss Minjeong’s lips, trailing down to her neck. While you’re sucking her skin, your fingers make her towards her heat. Softly brushing her legs, her thighs, and then her panties. Your fingers start playing with the drenched cotton. It had already absorbed all her juices, one squeeze and it would’ve overflown right onto the bed.

“You’re so wet, Minjeong.”

“Please don’t say that,” she said breathily.

You moved down, bringing her panties away. Your breath hits her very core. You stand low, admiring her pussy, completely wet and excited. “You smell sweet,” you said before placing a kiss between her lower lips. She let out a soft moan of anticipation.

You then started licking her pussy and clit with your full tongue. Minjeong moaned louder and her hands immediately strapped to your head for support. Your tongue started moving around and licking her wildly.

The feeling of your warm breathing hitting her core and your tongue making swirls around her clit was a feeling she had never felt before. “That’s so good, baby,” she moaned. You inserted a finger into her hole and your tongue continued to lick onto her bead.

Second finger in, Minjeong let out another lewd moan. “You taste so good, Minjeong.”

“Wait—you have to slow down! Hhhngg, I’ll cum!”

And that’s what you wanted. The continuous licks and motion of your fingers send Minjeong to her high. Her pussy continued to let juices flow out of her hole, which you licked right up with excitement. She could feel the knots forming inside her stomach and her back beginning to arch more and more with each pump, and each lick.

The poor girl couldn’t hold it in anymore. She was twitching everywhere, the pressure inside of her was begging to overflow and her toes and fingers all curled up in an attempt to resist.

Eventually, she let out the most lewd noise that you had heard yet. “Fuck!” as she came. Her pussy let out thick transparent cum, with such a lewd noise as well. You slurped it all up. It was as sweet as all her other juices. With her hands still on your head Minjeong is breathing heavily and looking at you with surprise as you’re still cleaning her up.

Jaw still open, there is a vague smile on her face.

But she wasn’t satisfied and neither was Winter, especially her. She was here for a reason, to make sure Minjeong’s darkest deepest desire came true. Unfortunately, fortunately for you, it wasn’t simply kissing you, which you have already surpassed by now, and it wasn’t pleasuring you either. It was, to put it simply, to have you cum inside her, but you didn’t know that.

“It’s time for the main course, dear,” Winter said, amused at your little work with her twin.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, we aren’t done,” she said, giving you a confused glance. She wondered why she even had to explain it, of course, you weren’t finished. “You have to…” with a softer voice, “put it in.”

“Uhhhh…”

Winter smacked her lips. “I can understand why you’d be nervous, but don’t tell you me you don’t want to. After all, you haven’t been this hard throughout this whole… ‘interaction’, and I only mentioned the possibility of fucking her.” She giggled and brushed your shoulder. “Look at you, so excited.”

You turned around to search for Minjeong’s opinion but you could only find her cloudy, drugged eyes. She was mindlessly staring at you, full of lust and desire, her lower lips were slightly twitching at your sight. Goosebumps all over, she didn’t need any more time to recover from her previous orgasm, that was her warmup.

She stretches her arm to grab the back of your neck and pulls you into her lips for a soft kiss. “Please, don’t you want it as well? We have already come so far… I don’t think I’ll have that courage again,” she told you in a weak airy voice.

Minjeong was ready. She was ready to take you.

“Alright,” you decided.

Minjeong’s pussy was already dripping wet, warm, and stretched, waiting for you to come in. The demon on your shoulder was caressing your ear the whole time, whispering words of lewd and temptation, encouraging you to act. 

You grab your penis and inch yourself closer to her already parted legs. You position yourself and after Minjeong’s nod of approval, you start lowering yourself into her, steadily, slowly. You stare at your cock disappearing into her folds. The girl whines helplessly and you groan when your shaft finally enters completely, breaking her lock and burying itself completely inside her.

She moans loudly and instinctively hugs you, searching for support. 

You never forget your first time, they say. The first thrust is always the hardest, it makes you grit your teeth. The first time you feel something so tight and warm. Never in your life have you felt such wetness, your lower body stiffens and you already want to cum.

After breaking her lock, every sort of profanity seeps out of Minjeong’s lips. “Fuck! So… full…!”

It takes time for Minjeong to get used to the burn from the stretch. She could feel your every throb and pulse inside of her, so snug and tight. She quickly gets used to this new feeling and finally finds herself begging you to move. 

You’re being careful, not to push too deep and not hurt her more than necessary. But Minjeong liked it. She wanted to feel you against her cervix, your tip brushing against it, and she pulled you deeper and deeper with every thrust, with her ankles clenched around your hips.

Your mind had already lost it. Reduced to grunts and curses, you only knew to push and pull into her pussy, worshipping the beautiful body of your greatest love with the deep motion of your hips. “You’re amazing, Minjeong. You’re—ugh—incredibly tight,” you said. You wanted to let her know. Your movements still don’t stop and you find it a great feat to let out any words at all.

Minjeong responds with a couple more of her moans. Something the lines of ‘Why did you take so long to finally fuck me like this?’ and you were sure to make up for the lost time.

You switch the pace in a desperate attempt to make yourself last longer. Your hips live her and slam against her again, hard, with glistening slick strings stretching between your and her skin. She’s wet, incredibly wet. Everything is too slow for Minjeong, too slow for how desperate she was but you were doing great. You hit exactly the right spot, that exact spot to drive her crazy. All her past frustrations come back with vengeance, building up in her belly, reaching a crazy strong pressure. 

Minjeong’s screams are almost silent, breaking against her vocal cords. Her body finally succumbs to the insurmountable pressure and pleasure of your penis, and she finally cums. She grips you tightly and roughly pulls you into her body, finding comfort in your warmth and weight.

“It’s okay, let it go…” you murmur against her wet skin.

You gently pull out of her, letting yourself rest against her lips and two fingers on her pulsing clit to help her ride her orgasm out. However, you get the opposite reaction. It might have been the heightened sensitivity from her previous orgasm, or how wound up she had been for this long, but your fingers push her over the limit. Another screech and she’s convulsing again, the pressure building up again, and all of a sudden she’s gushing, spraying your arms, sheet, and wetting your whole body.

Her hips buckled and twitched while streams of squirt poured out of her twitching cunt. Her moans were loud, desperate, and helpless. 

“Oh my god, look at her go,” Winter said with a great smug plastered on her face. “Good job,” she said with an even more seductive tone, “look at your work. Look at how totally drenched the sheets are.”

As she talked, her hand came to wrap your cock. She started to stroke you, slowly, and carefully. It was a strange feeling. You were ready to burst, your penis was rock hard, and you were on the edge. But no matter how much she touched you, you just couldn’t cum, it was a constant edging.

“Mh? Wondering why you can’t cum?” she giggled. “Let’s just say it’s a little magic of mine…” 

She turned around to Minjeong, “And to think you were trying to deny it just moments ago and you came so hard. Fucking slut you are.”

“Shut up,” Minjeong replied weakly. She was still trying to recover from her violent orgasm.

Winter laughed with amusement and let you lie down. “Do you think you’ll make me cum as well? But let me tell you something first: I’m the one in charge.”

Her fingers suddenly clamp tightly on your cock, straighened out, she aligned you and sunk you inside of her. It was a totally different feeling. Way sloppier, way wetter, way tighter. You couldn’t believe they were the same person. It was like her pussy was trying to milk everything out of you, clamping down with a choking grip. 

Winter wastes no time and starts jumping on you, with hard pumps. She knocks the air out of your lungs. It was an aggressively fast pace, paired with her tightness, you were already going to cum. But you couldn’t cum. Winter had you on the palm of your hands. 

“So helpless, I bet you want to cum, don’t you?” she laughed.

“Please slow down,” you begged. 

Soon enough, her hips slow down. She remains glued to you, twisting and moving her hips around, your cock swishing inside her pussy. You could feel every single fold of her pussy, she was inviting you to explore the inside of her body. 

It didn’t last long though. There you go, Winter was pounding you inside of her again, with wild hips. You wondered how could she move that fast, even you couldn’t do it. Your hand was just a tiny bit faster than her, which was extremely impressive. 

Your mind was broken. You had difficulty moaning—the pleasure was spreading all the other parts of your body, your fingers were jittery, you curled your toes, and started salivating. 

“Fuck, finally, that’s good…” she exhaled. Her own pleasure was her goal but it was inevitable that you were going to be broken as well.

She stopped once again. With slow forceful strokes, she got up and smashed herself down. It was intense, you had to admit. 

Letting you cum was an act of compassion. She pulled you out and let you spurt your semen everywhere. You covered her tummy and yourself. You collapsed immediately from the exhaustion. Winter lowered herself and started cleaning you, licking your hypersensitive head, and swiping up all the strings and droplets of cum.

“You did a great job, handsome,” she congratulated you with your cock in her mouth. “Didn’t think you’d last that long without passing out.”

“You’re… you’re crazy,” you said with a faint voice.

“Sure, I’m not even human,” she giggles. “Pull yourself together, handsome. We’re not done yet.”

The Deja Vu makes you stand up. “What do you mean?” Her response is a wet kiss. She swivels her tongue inside of your mouth, playing with your tongue and inside of your mouth. A small peck and you’re hard again. 

“Consider that a little help,” she said.

You feel two hands hugging you from behind. It’s Minjeong. She sounds tired but determined. “I haven’t made you cum yet,” she whispered.

“It’s fine, I don’t—”

“It wasn’t an offer.”

When you look at her, your blood runs cold. Pure lust. Pure desire. Pure libido. Stripped of her innocence, there was nothing different from Minjeong and Winter anymore. Strangely enough, her eyes alone were enough to get you riled up. Seeing her desiring you so much got you in the mood as well.

Again she laid on the bed before you, but there was something different this time. Her eyes were a lot more inviting, needy, and she made it clear as with her two hands, she stretched out her pussy, inviting you in. You watch her pink folds slowly open up, completely drenched and tight. You couldn’t resist such a naughty sight.

You slide yourself inside and it’s heaven all over again. Holding onto your arms, you fucked her hard and deep. With her cunt utterly drenched from the non-stop cumming, every thrust was a loud sloppy mess. Her grip was demanding. Her pussy gripped you tight, with her lips glued onto you, trying their best not to let you slip out.

“Don’t worry about me,” Minjeong said. “You can be as rough as you want…”

You were already exhausted but her words could only fire you up even more. You had lost all control of yourself, you pounded her with desperation. 

Her face was contorted in frowns and grimaces of overstimulated pleasure. You got lost in her eyes. They desired you, they wanted you. 

“Please, please, I need you to cum inside of me.”

Minjeong made herself clear. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Her legs wrapped around your waist and locked you against her pelvis. She squeezed you, forcing you to go even deeper into her wet pussy. You continued pounding her as much as possible, trying to enjoy your last moments. 

“I’m really gonna cum now,” you warned her.

“Do it,” was all she said.

You couldn’t hold it in. With Minjeong’s nails deep into your skin, her legs tightly locked around your hips, and her lips quivering in your ear with that needy lustful voice of hers: “Please, I want it inside. I want you to cum inside me… please,” you couldn’t do anything else but fulfill her desire.

You grunted as you cum so deep inside her womb.  Minjeong had complete control over you, leaving you with no choice but to release more of your semen into her. Her tight walls eagerly accepted every intense release, filling her with an abundance of creamy fluid. The relentless contractions and pulsations continued as she milked you completely dry, not allowing a single drop to escape. Even after that, you couldn't resist the urge to keep thrusting, pushing your messy and heated load deeper and deeper inside her.

As soon as you pulled away from her warm embrace, Minjeong loosened the tight hold her arms had around you, and sat upright on the bed with her legs spread wide open. You cam so deep inside of her that it took a great effort of pushing and squeezing for your cum to finally pour out of her. With her wet pussy lips on display, you both observed as your cum trickled out of her—a steady stream of white liquid that left a mark on her thighs.

"Wow, you totally filled me up," she inquired, breathing heavily, as she slid a finger into her wet pussy and provocatively licked it clean. “Was that too lewd?” she giggled.

“Yeah, totally,” you responded and laughed with her.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting someone?” Winter cooed, grabbing your chin. “I think you still got some more juice inside those balls. They don’t look empty to me.”

“Is that fine, Minjeong?” you asked. Unsure. At this point, with your seed inside of her, she probably had some kind of right over you. 

“Oh, what a gentleman you are,” Winter said. “But just so you know, I am not leaving until you fill me up to the brim.”

“If that’s what she wants,” Minjeong sighed. “I don’t want to deal with her anymore.”

“Come on, what are you waiting? Are you gonna cum inside of me or what?”

You don’t want to make her wait any longer. You force Winter’s face down to the mattress. Ass up, hands on her lips, she’s full spread, ready to take you in. One single push and you slip inside. There is no need to warm up again, no need to pick up the pace. Her pussy was already molten and shaped to accommodate your cock perfectly.

You quicken your pace, Minjeong rests with her back fully arched to help you reach her deepest spots. Your cockhead taps against her cervix, arousing you more than it should. 

Your hands kneed her asscheeks with greed. It only turns her on, your lips grip you with fierce. Her hole tightens and twitches as you mistreat her pussy.

Winter laughs and moans with joy. “Oh my god, yes!” She squeals. In a sudden burst of energy, she fucks herself back on your cock. “Come on, give me your cum!”

“Fucking cumslut. You’ll get all of it.”

Your hands grab her waist tightly, pulling her hips right into your crotch. Minjeong plants kisses on your neck and lips, to encourage you. The warmth of her breath itches your ears, causing pleasure to the upper part of your body as well. She surrenders completely to you, allowing you to have your way with her. Or maybe it was the other way around and you were her slave, fucking her just how she wanted. 

You couldn’t let Minjeong standing there. You turn around and give your attention to her breasts. They are just the right size to fondle, and you do so generously upon discovering how sensitive they are. You roughly sick on her nipples, pulling on them with your lips and licking them to make her squirm and whimper. She hugs your head, pleading you to continue. 

“Oh God, it only took you one girl to get this good?” Winter mumbles.

“Fuck!" she swears right after. Just like Minjeong, of course, like her clone, she is a messy squirter. 

Winter’s spurts make a total mess of your room. Her climax is intense and drenches the whole floor. Spurts of squirt shoot out from her hole onto the tiled surface and your body, causing her to grip your shaft so tightly that it completely overwhelmed you and triggers your orgasm as well. Although your moans are embarrassingly loud, they are drowned out by Winter's ecstatic cries.

Her cries are shrill compared to the mature and seductive tone she had blessed you with until now. You don't pullout, you can’t. To do so would be to defy her orders. 

You pour all the rest of your cum inside of her with the assistance of the spasm of her vagina, which milked you till the last drop. It takes you a couple of minutes to recover from the mind-numbing orgasm when you finally pull out to witness your cum rushing out of her pussy.

Winter laughs with satisfaction, laying lifelessly on the bed, her hair disheveled, her body ruined. You lean into Minjeong, who was holding you on for support.

“That was your third load? It was so much,” Winter said. “God, I’m sure would have gotten pregnant if I was human…”

“Wait, what about me?”

The color drained from Minjeong’s face, her smile disappeared as the weight of the situation sank in. The fun and excitement of the moment evaporated, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Your hands hands, which had been vigorously grabbing Minjeong’s waist, now clenched nervously. Her heart pounded as they exchanged worried glances.

“Right,” you said. “I- I just came inside of you.”

“What’s gonna happen?” she asked you.

“You might— no, you will definetly get pregnant.”

“Don’t worry guys,” Winter said. “I put a little spell on you, you won’t get pregnant.”

“Really?!” you almost screamed.

“Yeah,” she said.

The tension in the air broke like a popped balloon. You and Minjeong’s shoulders relaxed visibly, and you let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Your hearts, which had been pounding moments ago, began to slow to a normal rhythm. Your clenched hands opened, and a tentative smile returned to your face. Minjeong’s eyes, wide with worry, softened with immense relief.

You glanced at each other, grins spreading as the weight of their fears lifted.

"I really thought I messed up," you said, your voice filled with a mixture of amusement and relief.

Minjeong’s face flushed a deep crimson as she started speaking. “Uhm… and how long does this spell last?”

“Oh my god,” Winter laughed. “You want him to cum inside you again?”

“No! No– I mean…”

“To celebrate you two I’ll make it last a week, just for you two.”

“Oh, thanks…” Minjeong smiled shily.

“Well, my job here is done,” Winter said, standing up on her wobbly legs. You could see the cum still dripping down her legs, with droplets of squirt painting the floor.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” you said.

“Yeah, thank you,” Minjeong repeated after you.

“I had fun guys. Farewell,” she said one last time and disappeared with sparkles falling to the floor. 

Both of you remained still for a few seconds reflecting on what just happened.

Minjeong played with her fingers absentmindedly, her thumb circling around her ring finger. You watched her, your eyes tracing the curve of her hand, the gentle movements of her fingers. The moonlight shined on her skin, her completely naked body. With your lust completely drained, she looked a lot smaller than before.

“Hey,” she said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was gentle and intimate. “What are we now?”

You looked up, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were trembling. “What are we?” you echoed. It wasn’t a nice conversation with the both of you smelling like sex and sweat, but it was necessary.

She nodded, waiting for your response. “Yes. You and me. What are we?”

“At this point… you already know how I feel about you,” you said. “And I guess I also know how you feel.” You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I want us to be together.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes meeting his again. There was a flicker of something there, a spark of understanding. "Boyfriend and girlfriend?" she asked, the words tentative but hopeful.

"Yes," you said, the certainty in your voice surprising even you. It was the first time you were this honest. "Boyfriend and girlfriend."

Minjeong smiled. “Good. I felt the same.”

“Glad we got that out of the way,” you said. “But let’s get cleaned up now.”

Minjeong giggled. “You’re right. Wanna go in together?”

“You… are you not tired?”

“You know, unfortunately, we didn’t get a clone of you to tell me exactly the whole truth about you, so I am not totally convinced… Take my doubt away. Show me how much you really love me.”

THE END

Written, January 5 2024 - June 26 2024

[elizaleclerc]

suddenly, it was everything ✿

lando norris x reader

summary: fem best friend!reader and lando take a beach trip with friends as their relationship slowly turns into something more…(warning! smut & descriptions of blood)

songs: pink + white by frank ocean , the elevator by lizzy mcalpine , lunch by billie eilish (lol)

author’s note: i don’t typically write smut but i got an itch and had to scratch it with this one ; everyone knows about his feelings for you BUT you / hurt comfort / it’s always been you / other drivers playing matchmaker <3

word count: 4.6k

The warm sand tickled your legs as the ocean waves gently lapped at your feet. You had left your group basking in the sun on the beach to cool off in the refreshing water. Your close-knit friend group loved taking vacations during breaks in the intense racing season. This time, you found yourselves on the picturesque coast of France, staying in Alex's luxurious beachfront condo. You were grateful that he graciously offered to let everyone use his space for this trip.

Even as the only girl in the group, you were always welcomed with open arms, especially by Lando, who considered you his best friend. Charles, Lewis, and Oscar had all come to see you as a dear friend as well. They never complained about your company, as they relished in the joy of having you along on their adventures. Together, you formed a tight-knit family, seeking solace and tranquility in each other's company before diving back into the high-stakes world of racing.

You waded deeper into the water, feeling the gentle caress of the waves against your knees. Suddenly, you thought you heard the thump of feet on the sandy shore behind you. Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Lando running towards you, his feet pounding against the sand with reckless abandon. You let out a playful yelp as you knew he was coming to splash water all over you.

Without hesitation, you raced further into the water, diving head first into the oncoming waves in an attempt to escape him. The cool water enveloped your body, sliding smoothly over your sun-kissed skin that was glistening with oiled sunscreen. Emerging from the water, you looked around and saw Lando swimming a few feet away from you, his bronze muscles rippling as he glided through the water effortlessly.

“How’d you swim away so fast?” He shouted, making his moves closer to you. 

“Maybe you’re just too slow.” You let out a hearty laugh. Eventually his body was swimming inches away from you as the two of you moved further out from the shoreline.

“Well, maybe you’re just a fish.” He added, out of breath. You saw the bodies of your friends laying on the sand grow smaller and smaller the further you swam away.

As you and Lando waded in the cool water, you could feel his gaze upon you. You turned to him with a grin, taking in the sight of his tanned face and wet curls. The sunlight danced off his green eyes, making them sparkle like crystalized emeralds. "What?" you asked, noticing a subtle look on his face.

"Nothing, you just...you look very happy," he replied, causing your smile to grow even wider.

You couldn't help but giggle at his observation. "Well, I am happy. I've always loved the ocean," you sighed as you leaned back and let the water support your weight, floating on your back. As parts of your stomach and thighs broke through the surface of the water, you caught Lando's gaze lingering on your body once again.

You hadn’t gotten these looks from him before, or maybe you just never noticed them. You had known Lando since you two were small children, and had followed his side as he made his way through his career, being there with him every step of the way. As his closest friend, of course there was media circulation rumoring a romance between the two of you in the McLaren paddock. But you knew that you would never risk ruining your friendship for a romance. It wasn’t until now as you floated with the movement of the waves that you started to see how people could start those rumors. 

~

On the sand, Charles and Alex watched you and Lando swim out in the distance. “I figured he’d chase after her.” Charles sighed once Lando had jumped up to chase you in the water. 

“It’s so interesting, watching them interact,” Alex added, “so close to being a couple yet so far away.”

“And she still doesn’t know he’s obsessed with her?” Lewis asked, perplexed. 

“Nope.” Oscar chimed in, “I’m just as ready for them to make it official as anyone else. I’m tired of him coming to me to talk about his feelings.” They were each laying on their own beach towels, sunglasses propped on their noses, gossiping about you and Lando like elderly ladies at teatime. 

“You know it’s nice to talk about your feelings, Osc.” Charles laughed and Oscar shook his head. 

“Not when it’s the same thing over and over again. ‘Oscar I swear I’m in love with her.’, ‘Oscar did you see what she was wearing today.’, ‘When she hugged me she smelled so good Oscar.’” He mimicked Lando’s voice and accent, earning laughs from all of the boys on the beach.

“I wish there was something we could do to just push them along. Something to really make her see just how whipped he is.” Alex thought out loud,and the group sat in silence thinking for several moments. 

“Actually- we might be able to.” Lewis finally spoke, and everyone turned his head towards him. “Lando does so much for her everyday without her actually realizing why he does it. Maybe we can sneakily drop some comments about it. Just to make her think. I’ve always wanted to play matchmaker.” 

“That could work,” Oscar hummed, already thinking of how he’d approach things. 

“Are we sure that she’s actually going to like him back? I don’t think he’d be able to handle that rejection.” Alex questioned. 

Charles scoffed, “Oh, she definitely likes him. It just needs to click in her head.” He turned his head and saw your towel folded up by the bags, and decided to grab it, hiding it under his own towel. 

“Mate, what are you doing?” Lewis grinned, and Charles held a smirk on his face. 

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

~

For at least an hour, you and Lando splashed and swam in the crystal clear water, mesmerized by the breathtaking scenery of the French coastline. The sun's warm rays caressed your skin as you lazily floated on your back, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky above. But as your fingertips started to wrinkle and prune from being submerged for so long, you reluctantly decided it was time to bask in the sun's warmth and dry off on the sandy beach.

Lando was behind you as you stepped out of the water, following you back to where everyone was laying out. “You guys should really get in that water, it feels great.” You exclaimed, your body still dripping wet as you stood next to them. 

“No thanks, Y/N, the sun and sand is plenty enough for me.” Oscar replied, his inflection filled with sass. 

“Fine,” You sighed contently, searching for your towel amidst all of the bags of stuff the group brought down. 

“Looking for something?” Charles asked, noticing your confused look. 

“Yeah, I don’t know where my towel is. I swear it was right here when I left.” You were so confused as to how you could possibly lose a bright pink towel, but you had done it. You were about to just lay on the sand to dry off, but soon Lando was laying down his own towel.

“Here, just use mine.” He offered, placing it in the spot you were laying earlier. 

Your brows furrowed, “But then you won’t have one.”

Lando shrugged, “Eh, I’ll just run back up to the house and grab another one.” Your lips parted in shock. The group had traveled far down the barren coast line, and Alex’s place was at least a mile walk, all through sand, from where they were. 

“I don’t want you to have to do that,” You objected, knowing that his body must be tired from swimming for the last hour. You felt the tiredness in your own body as you were more than ready to lay down again. 

“Y/N, I’m an athlete, I think I can manage a little walk back to the house. Don’t worry about it.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, motioning for you to lay down on his towel. So you silently obliged, laying down on the warm, dry fabric. 

As Lando’s footsteps slowly trudged away, Oscar turned to look at you lying next to him. “That was nice, huh.” 

You nodded, as you grabbed your sunglasses and hat. “Yeah, I don’t know why he was so nice about it.” 

Charles laughed, “He certainly doesn’t treat any of us like that.” 

~

His words stuck with you for the remainder of the time you guys were on the beach that day. Slowly, you worked your way through your memories with Lando. He was your best friend, the kindest man you knew, and yet he did treat you differently than the other guys. He wouldn’t have given his towel to Alex or Lewis and walked all the way back up to the house. You thought back to the multitude of times Lando had brought both of you lunch on busy days around the paddock, taking the time out of his schedule to eat with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. 

Once Lando came back, he had grabbed some fresh cut fruit, offering you some first before anyone else. He put his new towel down next to you, as the two of you shared orange slices. The sweet citrus flavor flooded your mouth, but you were still stuck on Charles’s words. 

You laid on your stomach, head resting on your folded arms as you looked at Lando. He was laying on his back, his eyes closed under his sunglasses. Your eyes traveled all around him, watching his curls slowly dry the longer you guys were in the sun. Your sight moved to his slightly sun kissed cheeks, and admired the way some of his freckles had begun to show with the introduction of the summer season. You observed how the bridge of his nose had a small bump in it, rounding out at the tip of his nose, the curves of his lips leading to his perfectly chiseled jawline.

The image of Lando’s face had been imprinted in your mind since you first met him, but you weren’t sure you had ever really paid attention to the details like you were now. 

~

The group called it quits for the day just before dinner time. You all made the trek back to the house, and everyone showered the coarse sand and sunscreen off of their bodies. With fresh clean and tan skin, the group chatted around the kitchen as everyone pitched in to help make dinner. 

You and Lando had been put in charge of chopping up the vegetables that were going into the pasta salad. You had to convince Lando that you could be trusted with the large and sharp knife. He prepped and washed the veggies as you chopped them. The two of you stood inches apart, his arm often grazing yours, sending chills through your body. You had never felt that way before with his slight touch, which sent your mind whirling once again.

Suddenly, as you were going to make another slice into some round baby tomatoes, the sound of broken glass echoed through the room as Lewis dropped a bottle of sauce from the cabinets, your body jolting in shock. With the harsh movement, the blade from the knife cut part of your finger. 

You winced  as trickles of blood blended into the vibrant red of the tomato juice. Lando’s eyes shot over to you, and immediately noticed your fresh cut. It was deep into your skin, slicing right through the fleshy part of the tip of your index finger.

You stood motionless, staring at the deep gash on your finger as blood ran down your hand. Suddenly, Lando's strong hands grasped your arms and guided you to the sink. The other boys crowded around, their faces etched with worry as they repeatedly asked if you were okay. With Lando's warm body pressed against yours, he turned on the faucet and held your finger under the cold water, which quickly turned pink from the blood.

“Lando, you take her to the bathroom by my bedroom. There’s bandaids and plenty of first aid supplies in there. Hopefully the cut isn’t deep enough to need stitches.” Alex had moved over to the veggies, saving the ones that weren’t ruined from the mess of your finger. 

The pain radiated from your finger, searing and intense. You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your face as Lando calmly guided you to Alex's bathroom. Every step felt like agony, but Lando's strong grip never faltered.

You were still in shock, the burning sensation making it hard to think clearly. But Lando was a natural caregiver, moving confidently to retrieve supplies from the cabinets. You stood there, feeling small and helpless, as he laid everything out on the counter.

With gentle hands, Lando lifted you up onto the counter, giving you a better vantage point for him to clean and dress your wound. Despite your tendency to cry at the slightest injury, Lando remained calm and focused, his protective instincts taking over. As he worked, you couldn't help but marvel at how well he knew what to do in this situation.

As he pressed a cotton pad against the cut, you felt your feet sway slightly in the air. The amount of blood soaking into the white pad made your head spin and your vision blur. His voice was gentle and soothing as he reassured you, “It’s alright, you’re okay”, his hand holding yours with a firm yet delicate grip. You could feel yourself leaning into his touch, seeking comfort and safety from the pain.

With a quick, determined movement, he snatched the bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom cabinet. The distinct smell of alcohol filled the air as he uncapped it, and you braced yourself for what was about to come. "This is gonna hurt," he warned, his voice full of concern. You felt a chill run down your spine as he poured the liquid over the wound, the intense burning sensation making you grit your teeth and let out a sharp whimper of pain. Your hand trembled uncontrollably as Lando's gentle touch on your thigh provided some comfort in the midst of this agony. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured as he continued to clean the cut, his eyes full of worry. "We can't risk an infection.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face again. He cleaned away any dirt and grime and wrapped your finger with a thin layer of gauze to help absorb any further bleeding. He then took a thick bandaid and finished up the job.

Your breathing finally slowed as you sniffled. Lando finally looked into your eyes, his own filled with sympathy for your pain. “See, all better.” He placed his lips delicately on your fingertip, giving it a soft kiss. 

You laughed sheepishly, only feeling the pulsating throbs of your wound. He took his thumbs and wiped away the rest of your tears, taking a moment to look into your glossy eyes. You both had paused, entranced in the eyes of the other. 

Lando then seemed to snap out of it, “You should head back to the kitchen. I’ll get everything cleaned up in here.” He cleared his throat nervously, and you hopped off the counter and left the room. You weren’t sure if it was the pain in your finger or if you had gotten burned earlier in the beach sun, but your cheeks felt flushed. 

~

Everyone sat at the dinner table chatting between one another, but you kept to yourself, only chiming in rarely. So many things played in the back of your mind. Lando caring for you at the beach, Charles’s comment, him standing against you as he rinsed off your finger, his delicate and generous touch as he bandaged up your wound. His voice echoed in your ear as he flooded you with reassurance, him calling you “love”. He had never adorned you with that nickname before. 

“Y/N, you alright? I didn’t fuck up dinner right?” Oscar asked, breaking your train of thought at the table. 

You forced a smile, “No, no, it’s delicious. Guess I’m just a little worn out from today.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Lewis sighed. “Long day of getting tired out with swimming, coming back to cook dinner only to cut your finger open.” He shook his head, “Thank god you had Lando here to take care of you. I don’t think any of us could’ve handled that much blood.” Lewis rambled on, but his words struck with you too. You felt like you were going crazy.

Had Lando always been this affectionate? Or was there just something about this beach trip that caused you to think and see him in a different light. Everyone went on chatting about various topics, many regarding the next phase of the racing season. 

As the night wore on and everyone retired to their rooms, you couldn't help but feel torn. Your body craved rest and the warmth of your bed, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of Lando. You had never questioned your feelings for him before, but now they seemed to swirl in a tangled mess. He was your best friend, and risking everything for romantic desires seemed foolish. Yet, your heart continued to ache for his touch and presence. You were torn between what you wanted and what you knew could potentially destroy your friendship. As you lay in bed, conflicted thoughts kept you awake, unsure of what the right choice was.

You decided to get out of your bed and travel downstairs to the kitchen. Your throat was dry and you longed for an ice cold water. It must have been 2am, so you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake as you were only clad in a revealing tank top and short shorts that clung to your skin. 

However, as you turned the corner into the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. Lando, shirtless, dressed only in his boxers, stood around the kitchen island, drinking his own glass of water. 

“Oh-“ you muttered in surprise, as his tired eyes met yours. 

“Oh, hey.” His voice seemed languid, and you assumed he had not had a wink of sleep either. “What are you doing up?”

“I just um…couldn’t sleep I guess.” You shrugged as you poured yourself a glass, the cool liquid already sweating around the cup. 

As you awkwardly drank the water, out of the corner  you saw his eyes track up and down your body, further causing your mind to flip and turn.

“How’s the finger?” He asked, and you broke a smile. 

“Doing better. I don’t think I ever thanked you earlier.” You spoke softly, resting the side of your hip on the counter next to him. “Lewis was right, I think they might have fainted with how much blood there was.” 

Lando smiled, “Don’t mention it. I guess I just went into protector mode.” His words once again caused your heart to pulse. Your breath quickened, and as the seconds passed you were putting all of the pieces together. 

“Charles said earlier that you wouldn’t treat the other guys that way.” You blurted out, your mouth and heart seeming to operate separate from your brain. 

He furrowed his brows slightly in a smile, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean earlier with the beach towel. And the fruit. And healing me, calling me love, wiping my tears away. Why?” As you spoke the smile slowly dropped. You watched his toned, tanned, torso rise and fall with his breath. 

You looked into his eyes, there was a moment of connection, of reciprocation. Then he spoke in almost a whisper, like he was scared of anyone else hearing him, “I think you know why.”

“Lan…” Your voice cracked, and all at once everything seemed to make sense. Of course he had treated you this way. Of course you had let him. You wouldn’t want anything else. He was all you needed, all you craved.

He stepped closer, his warm hand finding its way to your hip and gently resting there. The intensity in his voice was palpable as he begged for your approval, “Please tell me this is okay,” his words coming out dry and desperate.

You looked up at him, your heart racing with anticipation. With a slow nod, you gave him the go-ahead, your lips already parting in yearning for his touch. When his lips finally met yours, it was like an electric shock, sending tingles down your spine and igniting a fire within. Your hands instinctively found their way to his neck, fingers tangling in his soft curls as your movements became synchronized with his. His hands traced random patterns on your waist, each touch sending shivers throughout your body as desire coursed through every inch of you.

Your lips trailed down to his neck, sucking and leaving love bites in between kisses. His breathing became heavy, “Easy now, I might not be able to control myself.” 

You smirked, meeting his eyes again as you traced his abs muscles, “I wouldn’t be one to stop you.” 

The kisses had become intense and passionate, his hands trailing all over your body. This time it was Lando that kissed along your neck and collarbone. His breath was hot against your skin, “Let me please you, I’m begging,” he muttered, and your legs became weak. 

“Not here…” You answered, and asked if you could go to his room.

Lando led you to his bedroom. He pressed you against the bed, peppering kisses along your collarbone and leaving love marks in his wake. Gasping for air, you slowly removed your tank top while he couldn't take his eyes off of you. His lips eagerly found their way to your breasts, causing waves of pleasure to shoot through your body. As he continued his journey down your chest and torso, Lando deftly slid off your pajama shorts, revealing more of your bare skin. "You are so beautiful," he murmured between kisses.

You were almost frustrated with how easily he found his way around in the bedroom, knowing he’s had plenty of attention from other girls in the past. His warm lips traced all the way down to your hips, and they arched as he took his time down your body. 

“I need you,” you whimpered, annoyed with how long he was taking to start pleasuring you. 

“Patience my love, I’m just getting started.” His voice vibrated off of your skin as he kissed your inner thighs. Then, as you were finally adjusting to his teasing, he licked all the way up your entrance, causing you to emit a soft moan. “Don’t get too loud now, Alex’s room is right next door.”

Lando's skilled tongue flicked and sucked against your sensitive core, causing you to squirm and moan uncontrollably. You tried to muffle your sounds with your hand, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. But the pleasure was too intense, each movement of Lando's mouth bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, he pulled away and kissed you deeply. Your taste mingled with his on his lips as you caught your breath. Your fingers tangled in his curly hair, but before you could fully relax, he thrust two fingers inside of you. The sudden intrusion sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you cry out loudly. Lando quickly covered your mouth with his hand, trying not to alert anyone to what was happening between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, “C’mon baby,” trailing kisses down to your collarbone. Your body trembled as he worked his fingers inside you, each movement hitting the perfect spot. His thumb found your clit and began circling, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

Your moans turned into incoherent pleas for more as he whispered dirty words in your ear. With one final thrust, he brought you over the edge, your entire body shaking with pleasure. “That’s it,” he held you close, gently kissing your forehead as you came down from your climax. You traced kisses along his jawline, struggling to catch your breath after such an intense release.

As the passion in the room died down, Lando kept planting soft kisses on your neck. Your bodies had cuddled together, tired from the restless night and the intensity between you. You couldn’t believe how the night had unfolded, as things had become a complete 180 from where the day started. 

“Y/N?” Lando asked softly. Your eyes met his in his bed, limbs intertwined. 

“Hmm?” You hummed tiredly. 

“I want you to know, you mean way more to me than what we just did. I’ve waited a long time to really tell you how I feel. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hope everyday I can show you just how much I love you.” He reassured you, bringing a soft smile to your face. 

Tears almost came to your eyes, “You love me?” 

He grinned, tucking the hair on your face behind your hear and caressing your cheek, “I think I always have.” 

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Lan.”

~

After a few hours of much-needed rest, you and Lando slowly emerged from the comfort of your shared bed to start the day. You were in the clothes he had lent you - his boxers hanging loosely on your hips and a baggy t-shirt that was now adorned with small hickeys peeking out from beneath the fabric. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, tempting your senses.

As you tended to the breakfast dishes, Lando came up behind you at the stove and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He wore a cozy sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, enveloping you in his warmth as you basked in his embrace. Turning to face him, you cupped his handsome face in your hands and brought your lips to his in a sweet morning kiss.

“Oh shit.” A voice from the other side of the room exclaimed. Startled, you looked to see Lewis and Charles standing across the kitchen island, mouths almost to the floor. 

“Fuck, I owe Oscar twenty bucks.” Charles sighed. 

You and Lando just looked at each other with a confused expression.

[hisui-dreamer]

he lives in you

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Lilia

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Notes: uh i was practicing Japanese and researching Japanese names before writing this, so all my name ideas ended up in japanese? if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

right in time for mother's day, so here's to a celebration of the motherly figures in our lives, blood related or not, for being there for us<3

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Hina (日来) with 日 meaning "sun, day" and 来 meaning "coming, future"

Leona reminded you of a shining sun that radiated warmth and light in your life, of how the it would surely shine again no matter how dark the night seemed, and so you named your daughter after that image

your daughter has the clearest emerald eyes and flowing dark brown locks that you often braided in a similar style to her father's

she's very energetic, always curious and asking questions, eager to learn more about the world around her

she's an obedient child, although she's eager to seek your affection and may whine a bit when things don't go her way

if there was one thing that was similar to the Leona you knew, it's that she's extremely clingy and constantly seeks physical affection, hugging your legs and asking for you to carry them any chance she has

and also the fact that she enjoyed her naps a bit too much

her lion ears are a bit of an issue in our world, but you often hide them with hoods, clever hair styling, or simply saying it's a costume

when you told her about the brilliant man her father is, she grew really excited about the possibility of meeting him, and started playing around with magic more to be like the intelligent mage he is

and then it happened, just an ordinary afternoon practicing magic had the two of you transported back to twisted wonderland, face to face to Leona

somehow, he had grown even more handsome in the years you hadn't seen him, but instead of his lazy smile, he looked confident and powerful, like the leader he was always meant to be

A sudden gust of magic swept through the air behind him as he raised his staff in response, only to immediately drop it in shock as your figure came into sight, and beside you, a small child that he had never seen before.

"Herbivore..." he whispered.

Without a second thought, Leona rushed towards you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he reached out to embrace you tightly.

"This better not be a dream," he murmured into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "It's really you."

after a tearful reunion and introduction, Leona quickly excuses himself from his duties with a quick meeting with Falena, and helps you and Hina settle into the palace

since you left, Leona's been working hard to do what he can do as per your promise with him

he's now in charge of foreign affairs and on better terms with his brother after much needed communication

he showers you in affection, he's even clingier than before that it almost starts a rivalry with your daughter

he puts in a lot of effort to spend time with Hina, learning her likes and dislikes and bonding over magic

uncle jack and ruggie are always fun to be around and play with her

though it wasn't his fault, leona feels guilty you had to bare the responsibility on your own for so long, and he puts in a lot of effort to make amends for any mistakes work to build a strong relationship with you two

he has a family now, and you're damn sure he'll protect it with his life

Leona looked down at Hina, feeling a sense of pride and wonder at the little girl standing before him. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "Nice to meet ya, kiddo."

Hina stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you my dad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Leona's heart ached at the question, knowing that he had missed so much of her life. "Yeah, I'm your dad," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

Hina looked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "Can you show me magic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Leona felt a sense of joy at her words, feeling a connection with her that he had never felt before. "Of course I can," he said, standing up and taking her hand. "What do you wanna see?"

Sakura (桜) meaning "cherry blossoms"

your daughter has sleek teal hair that reminds you of the sea, a single strand of dark hair, and mismatched eyes in the same manner as Floyd

Floyd had lovingly given you the nickname "Shrimpy", and it only felt right for your daughter to be named Sakura, after the tiny sakura-shrimp

she's incredibly mischievous and there's not a moment of silence with her, she's spontaneous and playful and you've got your hands full

though she is very considerate of you and will listen to your words, she's uncontrollable when she's bored and in need of a spark of interest

she's also a squeezer, much like her father, and hugs you every time she sees you or anyone she likes, and you're thankful her strength hasn't developed too much yet

she enjoys biting you, albeit gently, and you find your arms littered with bite marks, but it's her unique way of showing affection

her eel form won't show unless she's been in the water for too long (thankfully), and she enjoys squeezing you in her eel form even more

ever so curious, she's asked about her father many times, and you've told her how carefree and easygoing her father is, and that he'd love her the moment she saw her

which leads you to her magic actually teleporting you to him, her spontaneous idea having manifested itself, and you found in a dimly lit room similar to the Mostro Lounge

Floyd looked matured, his hair sleeked back and his features sharpened, though his wry smile that you loved had stayed the same

Floyd's eyes widened with shock and disbelief, and his steps quickened as he rushes towards you, his long arms outstretched in a gesture of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the beautiful and curious-looking child standing close to you.

"Shrimpy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way... It's really you!"

Floyd pulled you close, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I missed ya so much, I wish I hadn't let ya go," he said, his voice choked with emotion as tears threatened to spill. "You're not allowed to leave again, okay?"

Floyd is so ecstatic he can't stand still, once he's calmed down a bit, be immediately carries Sakura and drags you to Jade and Azul

Azul and Jade are pleasantly surprised at your return, and it's a warm welcome back

the two of them are glad Floyd won't be moping any time soon

the trio have now expanded into a franchise and divulged into many businesses, though Floyd largely acts as Azul's right-hand man

Now that you're back, he refuses to be apart from you, always holding onto you tightly and afraid you might disappear just like how suddenly you appeared

he does get mood swings where he's upset or angry, not at you though, just at how unfair things were and how he couldn't be there for you

he's a good eel who does everything to make sure you and Sakura are happy and comfortable, often cooking meals for you two

he's so curious about Sakura and enjoys playing with her and lifting her high up in the air

don't worry, he's extremely careful, this precious gem is why you got back to him!

Jade is the best uncle and Sakura wants to marry him??? (honestly same)

poor Azul is getting pranked by the daughter- father duo, though Sakura does comfort him afterwards with squeezes and kissss

Floyd looked down at Sakura, and he saw her staring back at him with wide, curious eyes in the opposite colours of his eyes. Though she resembled him physically, there was an air about her that was so distinctly his Shrimpy.

"Heya," Floyd said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm your dad."

Sakura giggled and reached out to him, her tiny hands grasping at his hands. Floyd froze, not sure what to do, letting her yand his hand forward. But then, she opened her mouth and bit down on finger.

"Hey!" Floyd cried, pulling back in surprise.

Sakura just laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Floyd couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his finger.

"Yer a feisty one, aren't ya, Sakura-shrimpy?" he teased, grinning down at her as he ruffled her hair. "You know," he whispered, "you can't just go around biting people like that. But I like your style."

Isami (功己) 功 meaning "achievement, credit, honour, merits" and 己 meaning "self, serpent, snake."

your son has smooth ebony locks and sharp grey eyes that make him look slightly intimidating

Jamil had shown you how much he valued his achievements over his social status, so you chose a name the could embody him

he's a quiet child who's always attentive and careful

he's rather shy in front of other people, but when it's you he'll soak up all of your affection and stare at you with longing eyes seeking praise

he's a cute helper at home too! he always volunteers to help you with chores and cook in the kitchen, though you're careful he's not close to anything sharp or dangerous

he does have an inherent fear of bugs, something he's inherited from Jamil, but thankfully you've taught him to be less destructive than his father

do expect screams and for him to be crying as a little fly chases him around though

he's incredibly smart and talented at magic, easily grasping the concepts of magic you can only teach him theoretically

when you told him about his father, you've told him about the diligent man that his father is, and how would let his guard down around those he treasured

he had listened quietly without much of a change in his expression, but you could tell there was a bubbling excitement building up in his eyes

and no long after that, he managed to teleport the two of you to a warm, airy room of marble walls

Jamil's features had sharpened, he seemed more openly confident and comfortable with himself

Jamil's heart skipped a beat as he saw you. It had been five years since he bid your farewell at the mirror chamber and lost you forever. And yet here you were standing here in front of him with a child in tow, a child who resembled him so much.

"It can't be..." he murmurs.

Without hesitation, Jamil dropped all the papers and rushed towards you, his heart pounding furiously. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. He could see the love and longing still shining in your eyes, and he knew deep down that he had never stopped loving you.

Jamil couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down his face. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice raspy. "Letting you go is the worst decision I've ever made." He reached out and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms shaking with emotions.

he's a bit overwhelmed but still so thankful you're back in his life

Kalim barges in at this time and exclaims in surprise at your return and ??? OMG JAMIL YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jamil has half a mind to dissuade him from holding a banquet immediately to welcome you back, and instead take things slow to not overwhelm you or Isami

asks Kalim for some privacy and the second he's away, he melts into your embrace

he hasn't felt so at ease in so long

if he wakes up in the morning and you're not right there beside him, he's panicking and searching all over the place for some confirmation you're still here

he's very curious about Isami and asks him all sorts of questions to piece together his development and personality

they definitely have a rivalry over who's braver over bugs but it just ends up with the two hugging you for safety

he's a bit awkward with how careful he is with his emotions, so it takes Isami some time to fully trust him

but trust me, Jamil will go above and beyond for his family and there's no way Isami will have to endure what Jamil did in his childhood

Jamil's eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He couldn't believe that they had created a life together. He knelt down to the Isami' eye level and looked into his eyes. "Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and warm. "What's your name?"

Isami starred back at him, his eyes wide with distrust and caution before he buried his face in your legs. Jamil chuckled softly. "It's okay," he comforted. "You don't have to be shy around me. I'm your dad."

Isami looked up at him again, this time with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "Daddy?" they said, testing the word out.

Jamil smiled warmly as nodded, his heart swelling with love and joy. "Yes, daddy," he parroted. "And I promise I'm never going to leave you or your mommy again."

Yuri (百合) meaning "lily"

Lilia's name always reminded you for lily flowers, and what better name for your daughter to embody him?

your daughter has straight raven hair with some of the hair flipping upwards resembling two horns, angular fae ears, and bright crimson eyes

she's always up for pranks and mischief, it's rare to see her without a smile

she loves exploring places, if you keep your eyes off her for one second, she's letting her curiosity take her to whatever she wants

if you're serious and stern though, she will listen to you, she wouldn't dare make her mother upset!

she's friendly with everyone and isn't shy to say hi to neighbors or absolute strangers

she's not overly affectionate, but she definitely enjoys hugs and kisses from you

she has an odd habit of taking stray animals back home in an attempt to adopt them, so you have little adventures with her trying to find an owner

do not let her in the kitchen

she has surely inherited her father's cooking abilities, somehow, she can render even a piece of toast beyond human consumption

magic comes as second nature to her, and she's always standing on ceilings

gosh her eyes absolutely sparkled when you told her about the teasing and mischievous fae that is her father

and soon, the portal opened and you found yourself in a gothic castle lit up by green candles

He's a lot taller, his hair longer and reaching his waist, and more enchanting than ever

Lilia stood in shock as your family figure come into sight. In all his years of living, he had never been so utterly stunned. After all these years, you had finally returned to him.

"Beastie..." Lilia gasped, his voice catching in his throat.

With a surge of energy, Lilia broke free from the trance-like state and hurried towards you, his hair streaming behind him like a dark flag as he enveloped you tightly in his embrace. "After all these years, you've truly come back to me?"

Carefully, Lilia held you at arm's length, studying your matured features, etching them into his memory like a cherished work of art. His eyes traced the lines and contours of your face, memorizing every detail that time had etched upon you.

"My, how you've grown," Lilia murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness coloring his words. "The years have shaped you into a remarkable individual."

it's family reunion time!!!

he immediately drags you to the throne room where malleus, silver and sebek are

malleus is now king with two incredibly reliable bodyguards, and Lilia's his most trusted advisor

malleus is so glad his dear human friend is back, silver is satisfied that his father will have someone to be with, and sebek is screaming about Yuri, though she enjoys his loudness

for a while, Lilia is extremely affectionate, trying to make up for all the years that had gone by

when you're sleeping together at night, he hugs you tightly and it's difficult to leave his embrace

he definitely tries to cook for you two, going on and on about how the two of you need to stay healthy and need lots of nutrients

you always volunteer your portion for Yuri, and she'll gladly eat whatever her father has cooked for her

silver is an older brother often on babysitting duty, and Yuri loves watching him spar with sebek and also wants to learn

Sebek is quite fond of Yuri, and he sees his half-fae self in her

Lilia is always trying to fun with Yuri, bouncing her high up in the air and teaching her to hang upside down and swing around

plans so many family vacations, he can't wait to be exploring places with his two darlings

"Is she... ours?" Lilia asked. At your nod, he reached out to caress Yuri's cheek, his touch gentle as if he were touching fragile porcelain.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lilia chuckled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never thought I'd be a father again. But I'm glad to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Yuri giggled and and beamed at his touch. "My name's Yuri," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yuri," Lilia repeated, his heart swelling with emotion. "What a beautiful name for my beautiful girl," he reached up to fondle her hair. "You know, Yuri," Lilia said, his voice growing serious. "I may not have been there for you when you were born, but I promise I'll always be here for you from now on. No matter what happens, I'm your father, and I'll always love you darling."

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[shaisuki]

SON, YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS CUTE. MIND IF I HAVE A TASTE?

FUSHIGURO TOJI X MEGUMI'S CHUBBY GIRLFRIEND READER

content warnings ─── noncon, drugging, reader is megumi's girlfriend, voyeurism, forced orgasm, thigh fucking, brief daddy kink, somnophilia, pussy eating, megumi and reader in 20s, toji in his 40s.

ᝰ synopsis.ᐟ: in which toji couldn't help but to steal a taste of his son's girlfriend. hope he doesn't find out. poor megumi.

“—gumi... oh fuck...”

he can hear your filthy moans leaking through the crack of his son's bedroom door followed by the breathless whispers and the sound of bed creaking under the weight of you two. he listened for a brief moment before going to his kitchen.

opening the refrigerator and grabbing a water bottle and twisting its cap off then taking a swig from it. toji chuckles at the "study session" you both were doing. ahh, kids these days and his thought goes to you. his son's girlfriend.

he still remembers how you came into his life. his son introducing him to you as a friend but by the looks it's more than of it and you were the first to never ogle at him like he was a piece of meat. there's nothing such as lingering stares, the batting of eyelashes and the seductive voice trying to get him — only a quick bow and an introduction of your name and that's all.

and toji did like that however megumi made clear you were off limits. his son could be so possessive and protective over you and who can blame him — sweet, little like you doesn't know the dangers that lurks at every corner including him and toji has the tendency to fuck who will give him the slightest of interest including you but it still doesn't happen. keeping him at arm's length and that's fine with him — he says but nothing's fine with it.

it is not his business to pry the people his son is dating, he's no different from it. jumping from woman to woman after his wife passed away. he got needs. anyways, his son is old enough to do whatever he pleases and dating is no exception from it and looking at you, his son's relationship with you — it's looking good.

closing back the fridge, in the corner of his sight. he caught the familiar spiky tuft of a hair belonging to his son and you by his side. raising a brow at you two. megumi only gave his father a side glance before escorting you to the door to accompany you in safely going back to your place.

“uhm, thank you for letting me stay fushiguro-san.” you say to him, bowing quickly before following megumi. he only looks at you longer — too close for comfort and noticing his father's gaze at you. megumi glares at the man and toji almost barked a laugh at his son.

don't worry, megumi. i ain't touching your girlfriend but only if she wants too. he wants to say at megumi. their relationship already estranged. well, who could blame his son he wasn't the best of fathers.

then after that, you both were off. the slam of the door being closed briefly echoes in the room and then toji was left on his own. settled in the couch and the television playing his horse races.

“pretty please?” you bat your pretty lashes at him. your eyes getting rounder and wider staring at him with doe eyes of yours and toji isn't so weak at them but gives in. your palms pressed in his chest while your slick covered cunt brushing at his hardened length. “hasn't my boy been treating you well?” he asks. his emerald green eyes similar to his son glints. “no, that's why need you to take care of me.” holding his cheek and leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and then to his jaw and then to his lips. “please, daddy~” you begged in a cute voice that leaves the older in front of you smirking. “if that's my pretty baby wants.” the scar in the corner of his mouth twitching. large palms holding your wide hips slithering to grip your butt cheeks. not breaking eye contact and watch your expression change. chuckling at already your cock drunk face when he plunges his cock inside you. “ah~ yes!” you moaned out. holding his shoulder for balance before shaking your hips to get the best use of your boyfriend's dad cock.

“you're a disgusting one, aren't you?” he mused. cocking his head to examine your once innocent face turning into one of a whore. “moaning like a bitch after taking my cock....is my son really not that good at pleasing you, huh?” a playful chuckle leaving his lips. “nuh uh but not enough, ohh~” kissing his jaw and toji grabs your nape. pulling you into a bruising kiss. his other hand holding your plush waist in tight grip before thrusting his cock violently to your cunt. “oh god, yes! more, more, more!” you screamed pressing your chest against his. your nipples rubbing his pectoral muscles. your cunt spasming around his lenght and your orgasm coming through. “to...oh... ji...mmmm” you moaned out. repeating his name over and over as your orgasm builds up in the pit of your stomach threatening to explode at any given moment and toji, oh he's getting close as well. you got the perfect pussy for him. such a shame his son can't please this slutty pussy of yours. there's a pause in between his growls. fixated on your face turning into an expression of a cock drunk slut while you moan his name. “toji! toji! toji—”

“toji-san?”

the call of his name brought your boyfriend's dad to his not so innocent daydreams. standing in front of him was his son's girlfriend whom he can't stop fucking with his eyes and it didn't get better when you're standing in his doorway with your collarbones displayed in front of him and his sight gets lower he sees the soft swell of your chest and curse the choice of your outfit. a fucking sundress that he's close to nutting in his pants.

“first name basis are we now, sweetheart?” he teases despite the smoldering look he had on you. his sight flicks in to your face. “uhm, sorry for calling you like that.” you apologized. “there's nothing sorry about that, sweetheart.” the nickname you are being called takes you back. your feet taps continuously. a nervous habit you developed. megumi's dad isn't someone you are comfortable with. it doesn't mean you disrespect him but more like you were just intimidated by his father with his muscular build, the scar in his lips moving and his attitude. anyways, you were being polite to him.

“need anything if you're here.” his eyebrows raised at you and the scar in his lips twitch. his body blocking the door. leaning on the door frame posture relaxed and that smug smirk painted in his face.

“i—”

“who's that?” megumi's voice interrupted you. toji glanced behind him and scowled before turning into a neutral expression. moving to reveal you and megumi's stoic features softened.

“just the right time. come.” he said walking towards you and ignoring his father. it was your cue to follow him. “excuse me, toji-san.” bowing your head slightly before discarding your shoes to follow megumi.

toji's sight follows you. pressing a kiss to his son's cheek and returning it by patting your head and kisses your forehead. your cheeks warming up and megumi glances at his father. his scowl deepening and megumi glares at him before taking you to his bedroom.

that little brat. toji thinks but what about it. he was supposedly to support his son's partner not lusting over you but he's a man and it's unfortunate for you for someone like him to take interest.

he slumps in his couch with a groan. annoyed by this carnal urge to just jump on you and make you cum multiple times. he would be better than his son. you will truly be pleased by him. toji plays with his bangs moving it upward to fully see the ceiling above him and ponder about stuff, to you. getting childish of taking his son's happiness for him but how could he resist you. the more you try to pull away from him the more he wishes to get closer to you. you seem to be wary about him and toji can't blame you but that what makes it sweeter. ripe for the picking. always been attracted with the innocent ones and you were not so innocent than you think.

you would be incredibly suited for him. sucking him dry and warming his cock while you sit prettily in his lap watching those races. if he wins he'll fuck you nice and good and if he loses he'll fuck you hard and deny you of release endlessly.

the sound of door opening followed by voices perks him up. “don't you want me to accompany you?” your voice worried and megumi is quick to assure you. “i'll be quick. i'm just picking up the work what kamo finished. wait for me here.” megumi said. quickly to diminish any further worries you have for him. a ghost of a smile in his face before heading to the door.

deciding you can't comeback to his room. you settled in the couch. observing the man in the other couch who's focused with whatever's the television playing and you remained quiet before pulling out your phone to entertain yourself and ignore the awkwardness in the air with your boyfriend's father.

toji stands up making his way to the kitchen but before that he stands behind where you are seated. “what you want to drink, sweetheart?” he offers. the deep rumble of his voice startling you that you almost jumped from your seat.

“water would be fine, sir.” you politely replied and your phone dings. alarming you of a message and toji gets a glimpse of the message.

megumi: i apologize, got dragged by itadori. i'll be back in an hour.

you frown before typing a quick reply and toji continued his way to the kitchen. taking a can of beer in his fridge and pouring you a glass of water. whistling casually as he easily crushed the white, little, round shaped pills before mixing it to your drink. his eyes boring holes in the glass as the pills turned powdered mixes in the water. he grabs the glass and handed it to you.

“here you go, sweetheart.” you naively accepts the glass of water cause it's just water right. a regular water used for drinking.

toji settles in the couch. popping the beer can before taking a swig. discreetly taking a glance at you and following your move. he watches you put your cellphone before taking a sip and then another sip and bingo. placing the glass in the coffee table. watch as you blink. sleepiness taking over you with a confused look in your face and then you were passed out on his couch. sleeping soundly without a cry. finally, toji thought as his plans came into fruition.

toji ignores the television playing. standing up to examine your sleeping figure. you won't make a peep at your current situation. “come on now, sleeping beauty.” he coos. scooping you up in his arms. the back of your knees hooked in his arm while the other supports your back.

“there we go.” he mutters. peering at you through his bangs and toji couldn't deny how pretty you look in his arms. your soft features only for him to ogle at. toji never expected he would be attracted to you despite your heavier physique and being his son's girlfriend. toji would never in a million years would go someone for like you but his son got a good taste in choosing partners in which he took the liberty of pleasing them in bed. they showed interest first, he just returned the favor. to you he needs to work and it's not you'll find out.

he kicks the door open and closes it with his foot before placing you to his bed. he sits beside you. his added weight made the bed creak slightly. admiring your features and running his knuckles in your face. starting from your forehead and then to the side of your face and your round cheek and his thumb swiping your soft lips. such tenderness present in his touches if only it was for his good intentions but toji have so much stored for you.

toji realizing for a minute that the gesture he just had done to you wasn't even bestowed to his wife and only you had experienced such softness in him. that still wouldn't justify what he is about to do with you.

he leans down. the proximity of his face and yours are closer. his breath fanning to your cheek. moving to your neck while he kiss that tender spot he knew that you would like and so he was rewarded a soft sigh in response and a sly smirk graced toji's lips.

so you like that, eh. he moves towards to your pulse point. nose brushing and pressing another kiss again. licking on the tender spot and another soft moan emits from your lips and toji wonders if you can make the same noise again if his lips would kiss your other parts...

the time didn't bother him when he slowly undresses you. beginning to lower the straps of your sundress and pulling it down in your chest area until you were bare in front of him minus your underwear. your bra holding your soft breasts and that cute panties you're wearing is already damp.

he began to kiss your chest, his lips stopping in your stomach to nibble the flesh there. sucking and trapping it between his teeth before reaching to your fat mound. his breathing getting shallow, once he smells you. almost drooling at the sight of your pussy lips inviting him to take a taste. he presses his nose to your pussy still protected by your panties.

the sudden contact made your body involuntarily jump and toji had to hold your thick thighs to stop your drugged body to stop squirming.

his eyes almost roll when his brain registered the scent of your pussy. inhaling your scent through the pesky fabric and toji moves your panties aside. admiring your fat pussy and he can see the cute clit of yours throb and slick is already dripping from your aching hole.

he raises your thigh to place in his shoulder. rubbing the soft flesh in his cheek and bestowing a chaste kiss to it before sucking the flesh. careful not to leave any marks that will reveal of the unwanted deed he had done. you remain still. motionless aside from the sudden jerk of your body responding to his physical exertions to your body.

“you're dripping wet for me, darling.”he mutters. his eyes half-lidded and a nonchalant chuckle spills in his lips. staring at your fat pussy waiting to be taken care by him.

“now, now. daddy's taking care of you.” he says. pulling your panties down and putting it aside. spreading your pussy lips before taking a lick. toji groans at your taste. “no wonder that brat's pussydrunk.” diving back again to your slick cunt getting wetter the more his tongue flicks up and down. catching the wetness with his tongue and although involuntarily your body began to react with his licks.

toji buries his face in between your legs deeper. wanting to get more of that goodness being produced by your sweet cunt. if he'd known sooner, he would have taken you away from his son and make you his. warms his bed and your mouth ready for fucking and this fat pussy of yours, wet and warm to nest his cock inside you.

you remain asleep. your chest fluttering in response to the pleasure of your cunt being licked. it's almost making out with your pussy from how toji frantically catches the drops of your arousal. the translucent wetness settling in his tongue that will sure linger in his mouth for days.

your boyfriend's father begin to ponder. how long it has been since he'd gone down on someone. clearly, it was that long that he can't even remember and you coming to the pictures and with the opportunity of being able to taste you. it tells him to get back at it with an exception. you're the only one who can receive it. such a shame you're sedated. he's quite curious of what sounds you can produce from him fucking your brains out. you're not the screamer, he knows that. it's not the first time he had catched you and his son being frisky but he's sure he can bring the noises you never knew existed.

your legs shakes in his shoulders, a sign of your impending orgasm and your wetness in his tongue increasing that he had to swallow and slurp that goodness coming from you. his tongue flicking back and forth to your folds and sucking your cute little clit. he proves that he still is the expert of making someone cum with his tongue and he's not rusty like he thinks he is.

“good girl.” he praises you as he detaches his mouth to your fat cunt. licking his lips to brush the remnants of your cum that is coating his lips.

his emerald eyes staring at your body. asleep and snoring softly. your chest getting back to it's regular rhythm after being bestowed by an orgasm that a father could give to his son's girlfriend.

he contemplates for a bit if he should fuck you but what about when you wake up. he's sure there would be the familiar sting in between your legs and he doesn't know if you have his son the consent of allowing him to touch you while asleep. that would be a problem. should he use your mouth? ah, clearly not. his sight darts to your thighs and it's going to be good like your hole. that's settled then.

he hoists your legs up. grabbing your ankles as he leaves a trail of kisses in your chunky calves. he's already rock hard and his cock is uncomfortably pressing in his boxers. he tugs his pants down followed by his boxers. his burly cock slapping in his abdomen. its tip red and angry. pre-cum already beading in the tip and toji groans. spitting in his palm to lubricate your thighs before putting his cock in.

“needs to get your thighs lubricated, princess.” the rough and calloused texture of his palm rubbing through your inner thighs. after getting your thighs wet and lubricated. he slowly slides his cock and there's a deep rumble coming from his throat similar to a growl.

“s—shit!” he curses out. feeling the sparks of desire moving upwards to his cock and to the pit of his stomach. if your thick thighs is already this good, how could it be much better if he's going to fuck your pussy. he keeps your thighs together. slowly thrusting his burly cock between your creamy thighs. reveling in the softness of your flesh and how his cock is being squeezed by this heavenly goodness. he should steal you from megumi now. he could sacrifice his relationship with his son for this body of yours.

fuck!

he promised to himself that he would not leave any evidence of your body being touched by him, however his resolve dissolves as the minute goes by. what once and steady pace he's going now isn't going to cut it.

he hugs your legs. his hips speeding up to slam his cock to your thighs faster. he's going rougher and deeper that his balls slaps to the back of your thighs. his muscular thighs also adding the obscene sound of skin being slapped together. the sound echoing in his bedroom and he's sure it can be heard outside. he didn't care though. he's close. ready to burst his seed at any moment.

his semen trickling down your thighs as it's being milked everytime it disappears in between your thighs. although he's working through his orgasm, toji is mesmerized from how your body moves. imitating his thrusts as your body jiggles. the layers of stomach are turning into ripples as his rough thrusts turns to be harsher than the last. you're still sleeping soundly though.

his hips stutter, before slamming with a brutal strength. growling as he released buckets of cums in your thighs. spilling in your thighs and watch droplets of his cum stain your dress and decorating your round stomach. that was fucking intense. the best of thigh fucking he ever experienced and he can't wait to pound your poor, fat pussy until you cry.

he puts your legs down and he takes a moment to memorize your every inch of your body until his gaze landed in your face. he's glad you didn't wake up or else there would be trouble. he fixes himself before going to his bedstand. grabbing the box of tissues and wiping your thighs clean and to your stomach. what a waste. he thinks to himself. he could be pablo picasso or some shit from how he painted your body with his cum.

he tugs the hem of your dress and puts your panty. pressing a kiss to your fat mound and with that he carries you back to the couch and pretends he didn't taste and fucked his son's girlfriend's thighs.

just as he's about to settle in his couch. the door swung open. his brat, bored as ever in his expression. softening as his gaze meeting his girlfriend sleeping on the couch.

he ignores his son and pretends he's focused on the television while takes a drink from his beer like he didn't experienced the best sex of his life although it's just your thighs. it won't be too long before he can bed you. he just have to be patient for now.

you wake up to the scent of megumi's cologne. your head on his lap as you clear the fog in your head. blinking softly as you adjust your sight to your surroundings.

“megumi?” your boyfriend hums. caressing your cheek and the first thing you noticed when you moved is how your thighs felt sticky. you're confused did megumi touched you while you're asleep in his dad's couch?

“did you—” megumi's brows furrows in confusion and seeing the look in his face. you shaked your head. “nevermind.”

“you fell asleep.” megumi commented. “i don't remember falling asleep.” you shrugged as you eyed the glass of water resting in the coffee table.

“stay the night.” he muttered and you nod. sitting up to get closer to him and megumi wraps around your soft middle. almost sitting in his lap before pressing a kiss to his cheek. your boyfriend returning it to your forehead. not minding that his father is only a few seats apart.

he wouldn't admit it but seeing you lovey-dovey and shit with his son, he's jealous. what is he? a fucking teenager? it almost puts a damp in his mood but who cares he almost fucked his son's girlfriend and won't be too long before he can do it again minus the sedatives. get a taste of his cock and you're leaving his son in a heartbeat despite the loyalty shit you have for him.

glancing, a smirk dances in his lips. he just have to wait again to get a taste of you again.

a good father he is.

[seraphdreams]

DON'T FORGET ME | BAJI KEISUKE.

⋆˙⟡♡ synopis. going to a concert with your best friend certainly has its perks. and so does hooking up with one of the bandmates.

⋆˙⟡♡ contains. bimbo!reader, rockstar!baji, unprotected sex, pet names, asphyxiation, creampie, semi-public sex, baji being sleazy + eighteen plus, mdni.

⋆˙⟡♡ word count. 3.3k.

“Thanks for coming to tonight’s show! Here’s one more song before we head out!”

You’d never been much of a fan of underground rock music, and quite frankly, you still weren’t. Something about obnoxiously loud vocals backed up with random electric guitar riffs just never settle right within your spirit. In fact, you almost forgot the real reason you stood just yards away from one of the biggest up and coming rock bands.

For one thing, the air was incredulously too suffocating. Bodies upon bodies virtually sewn together despite the spacious arena that held them, and the stage lights abnormally dim—Only a few saffron-hued luminescences casted upon the four males that appeared on the platform. You hardly saw the members in the far back on their guitars but of what you could make out, one had white hair decorated with a small black streak and tan skin that glimmered under the hot lights while the other, with a dark neck tattoo and bold eyes, drank from his half-full water bottle.

Mostly by the front and center of the stage, occupied the drummer and the person who was just speaking out from the mic mere seconds ago.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Your best friend and little sister of the main vocalist, Airi shouted. She was but the replication of her brother; large, emerald orbs dazzled with long dark brown eyelashes and heaps of wavy blonde hair that fell downward to her lower back. Her outfit choice of leather pants donned with a matching corset top left none of her figure to the imagination, an ode to her love of the genre.

Wherever Airi went, you followed, and when she proposed the idea of seeing her brother and his bandmates perform, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity—Not to mention the free front row tickets he offered.

It was clear Chifuyu heard his sister from the crowd, looking down at the two of you with an illustrious smile and gesturing a two finger salute. He inched back with the microphone taut in the grip of his left hand and sent off a cue to the rest of his bandmates. Music followed hastily after and he began to sing.

Throughout the whole show, your eyes remained locked onto the raven-haired drummer. You marveled at each and every ministration he made, how his demeanor seemed to switch with each passing song and how the sweat accumulated on his perfectly toned body. In your head, you could’ve cursed Airi for not telling you about him beforehand, he’s totally your type.

You bobbed your head along to the melody that flowed within your ears and it was evident to Airi that you were enjoying the show you formally told her you “probably wouldn’t enjoy.”

She leaned over to sonorously whisper-yell in your ear. “Having fun?” The expiration of her words practically fell to flat ears had you not seen her in your peripheral view. In all honesty, you were more-so focused on the aggression that sexy drummer displayed while he played. How did he not break the drumset? Surely, he was strong enough to do so.

“Huh?” You peered over at her, vacant eyes meeting her jaded ones. She gave you her signature allknowing look and turned back to face the band.

Soon enough, the music stopped and the venue was filled with its final cheers. The stage went ominously tenebrous and the rest of the audience filed out of the stadium, except for you and Airi.

“Wanna go chill backstage?” Airi proposed. She pointed her thumb in the direction of a hallway filled with staff. “Are we even allowed to?” you started. “The place is packed with security.”

Airi mirthfully elbowed you, that sly smile on her perfectly made-up face. “I’m family, they’ll understand.”

One thing you couldn’t knock about your best friend was her adventurousness. Truthfully, you were just as bad as her, yet a bit more wary of getting in trouble—Especially if the law was involved, but you liked fun. And this was definitely what you needed. “Show me the way then, Little Matsuno.”

And with that, the both of you had set foot on your way to heading backstage.

Which undoubtedly felt like the case until you found yourself stranded among other concertgoers and personnel that you lost sight of your friend. She couldn’t have gotten far so where the hell was she? You continued your search by calling her phone, walking in any direction to pick up the slightest amount of signal.

“Hey.”

The bellow of a deep voice stopped you dead in your tracks and you sheepishly looked up with silent hopes that you hadn’t gotten in it with the wrong person. Much to your dismay (Or maybe it was a blessing), the man you’d been eyeing all night stood tall above you. Long, wavy noir tresses sat at his wide shoulders to match his black tank top that was slightly rolled up at the hem, showing off his midriff and that delicious v-line. His toned and ink littered arms folded across his chest while an undistinguishable expression etched over his features.

“Uh, hi.” You blinked a few times in dubiousness at the circumstance you so gracefully landed yourself in. Proximal distance to his figure led you to tread backward a few steps until you were at a comfortable enough range to take him in fully.

He looked so fucking mean, thick eyebrows pursed together, and sharp, amber eyes narrowed upon your figure.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?”

You had half a mind to drop to your knees and show him what was on your mind, yet you remained to keep yourself where you stood, for his sake of course.

His eyes bored holes into your frame. Whereas you couldn’t keep up with his unwavering eye contact, he managed to take note of every little quirk about you. “Um.. I was looking for my friend.” Your throat felt dry as you began to speak. “She said I could come backstage—Her name’s Airi Matsuno, Chifuyu’s sister.” The words got quieter as you spewed them out. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves or the intimidation, he’s so much taller up close.

“Eh? Fuyu’s lil’ sis?” He looked behind him to one of his bandmates, that same one as before with the blond streaks and neck tattoo. It seemed as though every member had genes blessed by the deities up above. “Tora, does Fuyu have a sister?”

The man you come to realize as “Tora” affirms your claim, adding that he had just seen Airi and Chifuyu leave the venue.

“Damn it, Ai.” You thought to yourself as if she’d actually given one day to not be herself.

The drummer turns back to look at you, this time unfolding his arms and standing somewhat widely. His thick dark brows remained quirked in a perplexed manner. He leans down to meet your gaze, hands hidden in his pockets as he concludes. “Some friend you got there. She left ya all alone.”

“She does that sometimes.” You reply.

He straightened up back to his full height, his expression softening, and a slight crack of a smile on his lips. “Guess i’ll keep ya company ‘til she comes back.”

Any other day, your humility would’ve been disregarded to the back of your mind. In all actuality, you were discourteous and loved attention, yet the feeling of a celebrity seemingly stooping low enough for some lost, 20-something year old groupie in disguise, kept your modesty in perfect condition.

“Oh, you don’t have to-“

Your words were quickly cut off by his cold demeanor as he opened one of the doors in the narrow hallway beside him. “But I wanna. /Ven aqui/.“ Eyes looked into yours like daggers and you couldn’t quite tell if he were vexed at your facade or if he were just blessed with bedroom eyes.

You followed him into what seemed to be his greenroom. It’s complete with a set of drums on one side near the corner and a half opened window, and a leather couch in the middle, not to mention the rack of clothes on the other edge.

“Didn’t catch your name, though. You are?” He questioned, sitting at the drumset in front of you. You made yourself comfortable on the plush couch, pulling the hem of your pink bodycon down in hopes you don’t reveal too much.

“I’m Y/N. And you are?”

He raises an eyebrow then follows it with a hearty laugh. “You came to my show ‘nd ya don’t even know my name?” You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but he was right. You didn’t know any of the members aside from the obvious, Chifuyu.

“My friend dragged me here, I just go wherever she goes.” You retort, a cordial grin on your face. He adjusts his sitting position and spreads his legs slightly.

It’s coming. The urge to suck dick.

“Yeah? Name’s Baji. You can call me Keisuke though.”

He pulled the pair of drumsticks from his back pocket and quietly tapped away. “You’re cute.” Dexterously, he twirled one of the sticks between his fingers where you noticed his black lacquered nails paired with the skull-esque designs of the rings that adorned said digits. “You like a college student or something?” Heat spread across your cheeks at the comment. A band member calling you cute was not something you thought you’d experience tonight, but there’s lots you haven’t experienced yet.

“Mhm. It’s a lot though, I'm thinking of dropping out.” More calm your voice was, and he picked up on your energy, sending a stern glance your way.

“Nah, don’t do that.” The melodic tapping from the drumsticks halt. “Ya seem like a smart girl, don’t be like me.”

Curiosity overtakes you, causing you to press forward. “And what are you like, Keisuke?” His name tasted saccharine falling off your tongue and filling your ears with the sweetest music. Keisuke, Keisuke, Keisuke.

“Dropped out at 14, ran around with a few gangs, and now ‘m doing music.” His words register in his mind before he continues. “But ‘m makin’ good money now, maybe you should live like me a little.”

A giggle resonated within the room and he felt his heart swell at the cute laughter. He wasn’t quite sure what urged your joy but he returned it with a smile of his own. You truly do have the prettiest face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ya know..” His words slipped off his tongue like honey and in turn you gave him the most of your attention, curious eyes locked on his dismal bronze ones. “I got this beat I can’t get out my head. Can I get your opinion?” His expression was glazed over in calculation with a slight pat to his thigh that you seemingly picked up. Instinctively, your body moved on its own and replied to his silent call. As you nestled into his lap, you only hoped that this had been what he was asking for. “Mhm.” Your response was curt and barely escaped under the pressure of your breath.

Your back was pressed against his chest and your core was slotted over his thigh, a relatively intimate position despite the need for cordial relations. He started up on the drums, stirring up the common one-two, one-two beat that emphasized its focus on the round bass drum that sat at the bottom of the set. It was as if with each press to the drum pedal the muscle of his thigh dangerously tensed beneath your heat, eliciting surges of delirium and pleasure straight to the very source. It’s clear he knew what he was doing from the onsight of your glossy lips parting and the faintest decibel of a gasp leaving your lips.

“Y’like it?” Deep voice ghosted over your ear as he leaned in precariously close. “Y’sure it won’t sound better like this?”

The beat he originally created morphed into one of a sonorous, heavier tone. Your body vaguely rocked over his, your tits bouncing from the nefarious rising and falling of his leg in the sweetest, yet most sinister tandem with his flexing thighs.

And all restraint vanished from within you as you diligently rutted your hips. You felt embarrassed. Like a needy nuisance needed to be taken care of, yet again, your humility sat idly by and pride dwindled from your very being.

“That—That sounds nice.” Your reply was breathy and if you thought enough of this through, your little plan of passing your insatiability off as adjusting your position would’ve worked on him. But it didn’t.

The sultry, damp sensation he felt on his blackened denim pants told him otherwise. Baji chuckled to no one in particular, the sharp canines on display while he smirked mirthfully to himself. He’s had his fair share of girls practically throwing themselves at him, and still, you were the most fun to play with.

The flexing and relaxing of his muscles didn’t let up, as with your ruthless humping. You held tightly to his knees with the pressure only gradually increasing when you felt yourself crumbling in his hold.

On the verge of your awaiting orgasm, Baji’s lips press against the shell of your studded ear.

“I saw you starin’ in the crowd tonight—Couldn’t keep my eyes off that tiny lil’ dress you’re wearing.” He moved one hand from the drumset to snake over the front of your garment, calloused hands kneading at your soft and pert breasts. The movement was one of full dexterity. Your nipples ached as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

“Knew you weren’t wearin’ a bra.” his lips against your ear trailed down to your neck which caused the helplessly rutting of your core over his thigh, strikingly close to orgasm. You had managed to keep your whimpers low but due to proximity, you left nothing to be unheard. A harsh tug of your nipples pulled you from the hazed out state you were entranced in.

“Gotta tell Tora I won our little bet.”

False lashes fluttered with every move the both of you made. Your voice was soft as you responded, “You’re just so fucking fine, Couldn’t help myself.”

He was used to the attention. He’s a 6’0 rockstar with a checkered past — Any girl would fall for that cliche shtick, yet something within him wanted to toy with your naivety. Would you really believe anything he said?

“I don’t get much attention from fans, but you? You’re special.”

It was that moment that sent you over the edge, a lewd cry followed by your body convulsing, pretty face screwed up in pleasure, letting Baji know your release had hit you, and fucking hard at that.

“Oh ho? That did it for ya, huh?” He watched in awe at the sopping mess of his pants while allowing you to ride out your high completely before those same strong hands bunched your dress up at the hip.

You rested against his back for a while as stray pants waned themselves from your lips.

“Ya poor thing, I ain’t even get to finish my drummin.’” his hands left your tits as he rasped out the words and settled on turning you around to face him on his lap. “Sorry..” you meekly responded. An airy chuckle sounded itself from him as he whips out his throbbing hard length.

It should be illegal to be as thick as a fucking Coke can, yet there he was — The tip flushed a deep mauve, and pretty pearlescent beads of precum streaming down his cock and over the few veins that seemed to run along the shaft. The prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, and you stared in awe until the deep clearing of his throat caught your attention.

Pumping it shallowly, he pushed those cute fucking pink lace panties to the side, revealing your glistening and sticky folds to him. He prodded the tip at your hole, bullying your core that left you aching for his touch.

“Ride it for me, muñequita.”

With no hesitation, you sank yourself down onto his cock, carefully taking him in.

“Fuck—” The low whimper is sounded from you as you began to bounce yourself on his lap. He felt impossible to take and with your hands rested over his shoulders paired with his arms at your waist, slowly pushing you further down, you didn’t think you could take it. “That’s it, baby. Ride it like it’s yours.” He cooed, letting his head fall back as you got him off.

You bit at your plush bottom lip to elicit any moans from flying which reigned ineffective when you picked up pace and rolled your hips, allowing his cock to drag against that spongey spot within your walls that had your resolve weakening.

Obscenities and the reverberation of skin on skin bounced against the walls of his green room. You were tighter than any girl he’d ever been in and much cuter too.

Once you were able to fall into a comfortable rhythm of bouncing on his cock he hastily began to work toward his own release having grown tired of your saunterous riding.

He lifted you up off his length and turned you around so that you were bent over his drumset. “I know you were trying your best,” he followed up his words with a quick slap to your ass before aligning his cock with your slit once more, “But i’m gonna need better than that.”

Baji noticed the way you faltered once he built up his own pace, with more fervor than the previous. You almost fell forward with the trajectory of the thrusts and to his chagrin, your moans amplified.

“D-Deep! ‘S so deep!” You cried wantonly. You felt your guts get turned inside out with his vigor. A scoff was heard from him in response, the inked up hands that rested at your hips now filing up your body and hooking at your elbows, holding you back flush against him as he continued to hit harder within your walls.

You felt unsteady when his right hand trailed up to your neck and gripped at your jaw before his index and middle finger slipped past your lips into your mouth. The metal of the rings tasted metallic and felt cold against your tongue, those being the least of your concerns when you felt your high from previously coil right up within you once more.

Without warning, you were hit with your release that left you limp in his hold, his fingers retracting from your mouth and messily running down your fat bottom lip where he also smeared a mix of saliva and cherry oil gloss down your chin.

Just momentarily from the sight of how pretty you looked, convulsing and crumbling because of his doing, he followed suit and filled your insides in thick, hot spurts of his cum, drops dripping down your thigh when he continued to rut inside you, emptying himself of his need.

It took you both a while to settle down, his lips hungrily taking in your neck down to your shoulder.

“Was that deep enough for ya?” He rasped and haziness filled your system when you pant to respond. “I-“

Just before you could respond, there’s a knock at the door and a familiar voice accompanied.

“Y/N! You in here? I’m ready to leave!”

It’s Airi, loud and clear after her awaited reappearance.

“Shit.” Baji cursed under his breath. He pulled you off of him and bent you over slightly, fetching a thick black marker from the table beside him and holding the cap between his teeth.

The uncomfortable sensation of the felt tip on your ass trailing down to your thigh lasted mere seconds as you tried to make out the shapes you couldn’t see. “Here’s my number. Don’t forget me.”

He stood you up properly and fixed your skirt, sending you off with a pat to your ass.

“I’ll see you again, Keisuke?”

“Damn right you will.”

tags - @meena-in-a-nutshell @imkumichan @messofavs @aotdump @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @saffronity @aasouthteranoswife @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @anahryal @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @bunnyyamor @koucaine @bluerskiees @ready2readagain @sarnghoe

+ a great big thanks to my moot ! @lovelysho thank you so much for beta reading my love !

– all rights reserved © seraphdreams 2023. do not repost, change, copy, republish, read, translate, or recommend my work on tumblr or any other platforms without prior permission. feedback is widely appreciated!

[authorhjk1]

Hello writer! I happened to stumble across your work while browsing on tumblr and liked your idea about idols in dresses and making a story about them.

Here’s a very nice one of Irene with easy to take off and easy to access top and bottom features, you get the drift (wink). Hoping you can make something amazing out of it. Have a great day/week ahead of you.

Green

(Bae Irene X Male Reader)

"Keeping going!"

Irene let's her head sink onto the makeup table.

You make her body and the table rock back and forth. She reaches between her legs with one hand, while the other keeps the hair out of her face.

You look through the mirror at Irene. The plastic straps of her dress left her shoulder minutes ago. Her tits slightly swing with every thrust into her. You reach forward taking one of them into your hand, kneading it, before you pinch her nipple.

"Oh, baby!"

Irene moans at your touch. Your cock pushes deeper into her pussy, pushing her further against the table.

"We don't have much time left, guys."

Joy looks at the two of you, watching her leader getting fucked from behind, before looking back at her phone. The other members are sitting next to her, waiting for their next performance. Another group is currently on stage and Red Velvet has to be back in a couple of minutes.

Time for you to up your game.

"It was quite obvious that you were wearing this while you were on stage."

You tease Irene by reaching down, slightly pulling at the metal plug inside her ass.

She moans loudly as you come to a hold.

"Please. Use my ass."

She sighs as you start to pull the plug out. The green emerald matches her dress.

You put it there this morning, knowing that it will make Irene a horny mess for the rest of the day. Her hole clenches onto the metal as more and more of it leaves her. She takes heavy breaths as you see her legs quiver.

Finally, you've pulled the plug out all the way.

"You have at least one tight hole."

Irene gasps as you press against her ring of muscles.

You've been her boyfriend for some time now. And over the years, you've found out that Irene likes to be treated lie a slut in the bedroom. That doesn't just include free-use sex whenever and wherever you want. But also degrading. Irene gets off on the fact that she is getting older, while you are younger than her. And so you occasionally tell her how "loose" she is becoming, or how she is losing her flexibility.

Even the thought of being only a hole for you to fuck makes, the otherwise prideful, respectable, responsible Irene a wet mess. She is completely different compared to being on stage, when she is with you. Submissive, obedient, someone you can boss around.

The plug might have been your idea, when you started putting it inside of her, while she was still asleep this morning. But, knowing your intentions, Irene enjoyed the feeling of waking up with something inside her ass.

"Holy fuck!"

Irene cries out as you bottom out inside of her. The ring of muscles around your cock squeezes you almost painfully tight. You pull back halfway, before thrusting into her again. Slow, but as deep as you can go.

Looking at her through the mirror, another movement behind you catches your eye. Yeri has looked up from her phone. You expect her to do something else and ignore you, since this isn't by far the worst you did to Irene, while her members were in the room. But she shamelessly stares at the two of you from behind.

You are about to call her out, when suddenly, Irene climaxes on the table. You almost lose your breath as her asshole squeezes around your cock, her whole body shaking with pleasure.

"Oh my god! Cuming!"

Irene has a habit of always warning you too late.

You almost climax yourself as you try to prolong your own orgasm as long as possible. Still driving yourself into Irene's ass again and again, you look back at Yeri through the mirror.

She is back to looking at her phone again, but you could swear there is a light blush on her cheeks.

"Babe, please. I have to go soon."

Irene moans, a little weaker than before, while you fuck her ass, letting your hands wander over her tits and her ass cheeks.

She lets you do pretty much everything to her. This scene alone is proof enough. You are buried deep inside Irene's ass, while her members are only meters away, used to the two of you by now. She is about to go on stage, while you fuck her hard and deep, knowing she would have trouble walking later. Even more while dancing.

Could you take it even further? Could you tell her to stay and miss the performance, so you can fuck her longer?

It's something you would never actually consider. The thought does drive you close to your orgasm though. The other girls performing on stage, while their leader is getting fucked in her dressing room like a slut.

"Fuck, Irene."

You groan, signaling her that you are about to cum. You realize that the "were" wasn't decided yet. Since she isn't wearing panties...

"Just put it back in. Please, let me feel it."

She must've read your thoughts, her needy whine sounds more desperate than it usually does. It takes you a second to realize what she means.

The thought alone almost makes you cum. Irene's asshole is the thing that finally pushes you over the edge though.

Whit a loud groan, you bury yourself to the hilt inside Irene's tight ass. You hold onto both of her cheeks painfully tight as you unload inside of her. Irene moans and whines, feeling your semen invade her guts.

You barely hear the members behind you standing up and getting ready. You are too focused on your orgasm. When it finally does wear off, you look at Irene's face through the mirror, after she lifted her head. Her post sex expression makes you hard again, some of her hair is sticking to her forehead and cheeks.

You reach for the metal plug and start to pull your cock out of her ass. A small trail of your cum does escape, but you are able to trap most of it inside Irene's ass, by putting the butt plug where it belongs.

Irene reaches between her legs, scooping up your cum off her leg.

"Thank you, baby."

She is out of breath, but ready to perform again, now that you've filled her with cum. Once she turns around and fixes her dress, you give her a deep kiss. You watch her and her members leave the room before you go back to your seat. You don't want to miss out on watching your girlfriend on stage.

[cvnt4him]

Spicy plot idea‼️

What if Bakugou Katsuki is Y/N's ex and now she is celebrating her engagement to Izuku? The happy couple announce the news during a little get-together with their old classmates and Bakugou's still kind of hung-up on his ex,.. DRAMA!

He's just staring at Y/N, who's proud to show her emerald engagement ring to everyone

So here is Y/N, now on their knees for soon-to-be husband Izuku while he's on your phone with your ex because its the 3rd time he has called you after your big announcement

Wow... This is... Beautiful. Idk how your gorgeous mind came up with something like this but it is.. MWAH.

The man on the other side.

Izuku wasn't a jealous man. He was nothing of the sort, he wasn't a possessive or vile human being like someone he knows. Your ex boyfriend, bakugou katsuki was a horrible excuse for a man. Izuku hated how the night he was just silently staring at you and occasionally sipping his drink, not even giving izuku a single glance because his volcanic ruby red eyes were stuck on you and your figure.

The way you jumped up and down in excitement to share the news of your engagement to the number one hero. Katsuki felt bile rising in his throat at the news, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret, anger, and something more. Katsuki knew he lost something good with you, if you were to ask him why he did what he did he would tell you he didn't mean it. That it was a mistake that should've never happened. If he even got a chance to be in your presence, speak to you, breathe the same air as you, he wouldn't know how he'd react.

Izuku hated the fact that those fierce ruby eyes craved you, that he wanted to be near you. Izuku could see it, he could see right through the intense blond. Izuku only acted on pure impulse walking towards you and pulling you close by your waist to kiss you deeply and passionately, you wrapped your arms around his neck with a giggle some of the girls awing and cooing sweet and praising words to you two about how cute you are and how your engagement will be the news of the century.

The guys groaning and teasing izuku for trying to be the center of attention with this heated long lasting kiss, when you finally pulled away he rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip smearing your lipstick just a little bit more it had already stained his lips the deep wine shade of red that painted your own. He licked his lips before slapping you on the ass and telling you he was going to get a drink. You felt so embarrassed all the girls whistling and teasing you.

While walking away izuku made damn sure that katsuki was looking at him instead of you. Their eyes locked onto each other staring deeply into one another. Katsuki was furious, he hated seeing you be claimed by another man that wasn't him, he hated that you were happy with him.

Izuku loved this however, the angry fiery look behind katsukis eyes only egged him on more, izuku bit his lip before licking them and shooting the blond a wink. A chuckle left izukus lips as he finally turned away from the staring contest, katsuki was infuriated by izuku nearly exploding his cup before kirishima calmed him down.

When you were left alone with mina the conversation ended up shifting to bakugou somehow. You didn't like how she managed to get you to talk about your ex, you wanted to leave such things like 'situationships' and highschool loves in just that, highschool. You were an adult now who didn't have time for this petty rivalry with your fiance and your ex. Izuku knew you were his and he knew you loved him, he always found some sweet loving way to remind you that you'd be stupid to leave him. Something about him treating you like you were meant for nothing more than to be a pretty little housewife turned you on.

"have you ever thought about him? Y'know like at all??"

Mina pestered taking a sip from her cup with raised brows, she was really trying to get just something out of you and honestly you weren't here for the gossip.

"no. not once, I'm happy with my relationship and my fiance, katsuki is my past and nothing more. of course he is always welcome to the wedding but I can't say that I've thought about him in anyway."

You shrug and excuse yourself to grab another drink. You weren't drinking an alcoholic beverage so it was easier for you to finish your drink a lot faster than everyone else. Walking to the drink stand you felt eyes on you again, you knew whose eyes they were, the same eyes that had been eyeing you all day. You turn slightly to look at your ex at the corner of your eye, the way he looked at you with such a soft gaze, his features looking so pretty, and the fact his bow tie was horribly tied made you see that he tried to look nice. He tried to put up an effort and that was admirable.

You turned back to the drinks before sighing and setting your cup down. You didn't want to have to carry the stress of a never ending relationship that had already ended. You two had unfinished business that the both of you sensed. You lied to mina before, you told her that you had never thought about katsuki at all, but the truth is you have. You'd thought about him before, in fact you were thinking about him the entire car ride there. You were afraid to see him, you assumed he was going to cause a scene once he found out he news of your engagement to his former best friend.

You decided to stop being the way you were and suck up everything. You were going to relieve yourself of this random piling stress. You sigh once more before shaking all of your jitters away and walked toward katsuki, his eyes widened as he watched you walk to him with an awkward smile. He didn't know how to react, his eyes darting from side to side then back to you.

Once you were in front of him it made you realize how much taller he was than you, his intense volcanic red eyes squinting down at you with a raised brow and a slight smirk forming on his lips.

"well well well, look who finally came up for air to realize others around her."

You chuckle and shake your head, you and izuku had only kissed the one time and the fact that he was capable of telling you this was proof he really had been watching your every move all night.

"yes well, I suppose I'm the bad guy for wanting to have a conversation with you, eh? If that's the case I'll leave you be, enjoy the rest of your night katsuki."

You courtesy lifting your dress as you bow your head before giving him a slight wave of your hand signifying some sort of goodbye. Katsuki groaned slightly and rolled his eyes, grabbing at your wrist to pull you back towards him. You chuckle before your face came directly into his chest, both of your eyes had widened. In all truth he hadn't intended to do that, he just meant to pull you gently back towards him he didn't mean for you to end up flush into his chest.

You both clear your throat as you pull away and dust off your dress. You were praying for yourself to the gods up above that izuku hadn't just seen this weird display of emotions. But he did. He'd seen it and fucking hated it. Izuku stared daggers into the both of you, his emerald eyes that formerly matched you diamond emerald ring were filled with something much darker than before. Something heavier than just spite, he wanted to rip katsukis arms off for even toughing you. It's like izuku could see orange marks where his hands had touched your wrist. He swore that by the end of this night you weren't going to be thinking about anyone but him. He was going to remind you who you belonged to.

"yeah, so uh, how.. how have you been, katsuki."

"tch, like you even care, cupcake."

"I do... Maybe."

"maybe? Oh come on, tell me you haven't thought about me at least once."

"don't flatter yourself, katsuki."

You spend the rest of the night chatting it up, telling stories, and making each other laugh. You wouldn't admit it out loud but you enjoyed his company. It was refreshing to clear the air between you two and share a laugh. You had missed him, but you wouldn't forget what he did to you. How he made you feel inferior and small. How he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you. Just the thought of that made you laugh cease to exist. Katsukis followed suit.

"it was really good to catch up, katsuki. I enjoyed this."

"me too, cupcake."

"but you have got to stop calling me that lame ass name I tell you."

"tch, that name has meaning dumbass. It runs deeper than your stupid cringe culture."

You snort and slap his arm and he simply scoffs with an eye roll. Izuku had been spying on you two for the rest of your time there, he listened closely to everything you said and tried his damnedest not to just charge at katsuki the first second he got. Izuku would be patient, he was going to wait for the very moment he could fuck katsuki over.

Izuku walks over to the two of you taking both of you by surprise, he kisses your forehead before giving the angry blond a half smile that instantly fell once you turn to look at katsuki again. You looked back up to your fiance to see his dark demeanor, the way something dark and evil radiated from him. It was almost like you could see a dark cloud surrounding his very figure.

You put a hand on his chest which made him look down at you with the same look that he gave katsuki, his grip on your waist tightened and was almost bruising, it stung in the worst way and almost brought a tear to your eye.

"I think we'd better start heading out, hm love?"

He asks you in a low tone, his eyes never leaving yours as you simply nod with a squeak. He smiles and hums at you rubbing his nose against yours. You giggle before waving slightly to katsuki, izuku slaps your ass as you both head toward the door katsukis eyes never left you two as a scowl painted his face, izuku looked back to the blond, looking him up and down before rolling his eyes and walling out with you. That enraged katsuki even more.

Izuku being the gentleman he is even though he was furious with you for talking to your ex, he still opened your door for you but he swore the second you two got home you would be on your knees.

Once you arrived back at your house you were ready to take your clothes off and go to bed, you wanted to cuddle your soon to be husband and get in the bed, that sounded absolutely perfect.

You both go up to your room and you ask for izukus help unzipping your dress, he hums and stands behind you closely, his fingers dragging up your body all the way to the zipper. He twirls it around his finger before putting his nose in the crook of your neck and inhales your sweet scent. The strong smell of your perfume and natural essence taking over his mind. He sighs into your skin, gently placing kisses from your shoulder to your neck.

He hums and pulls you deeper into him, his hands going down to your waist and the other finding itself around your neck. Normally when he does things like this you usually gather that he's trying to initiate sex, however it was kind of hard to tell this time. He seemed more angry than horny, his movements gave him away, his anger was practically seething from him but in a quiet manner. You knew your finance, you knew when he was bothered by something. You just didn't know what exactly he was so bothered by.

His grip on your neck got tighter and tighter by the second making you slightly gasp for air, you bring your hand up to his and placed it on top of his gently. His pointer finger tapped against your chin lightly, he stared daggers into your eyes through the mirror, lucent emerald green eyes getting darker and full of lust by the second.

"izu,—"

"why were you talking to him, my love."

He mumbles lowly into your ear, his grip getting tighter and tighter cutting off your air circulation as you gripped the hand that was choking you, he looked at your eyes closing in the mirror and watched the way your face contorted and changed in discomfort and need of air. He simply just watches, his grip was harsh and seemed like it would leave a mark, he watches closely as a single tear falls from your eye. A smile was brought to his face as he let your neck go, you nearly fell to the floor and would have if he hadn't been holding your waist so tightly.

He cups your cheek and craned your head back up to face him through the mirror, you sniffled and your breath shivered as he wiped away the tears that fell with a smile. He kissed your cheek as he slowly unzipped your dress, it began sliding off of your shoulder slightly and he was quick to kiss and nip at the exposed skin.

"what.. mmh~ what do you mean, zu?"

In one swift motion izuku pinned you against the nearest wall slamming you hard against it, you hit your head rather hard and he didn't even seem to care. You winced and he just looked deep into your eyes, it's like he was stealing your souls with how his dark lidded eyes were staring into yours.

Your breaths were shaky, you knew if you said or did the wrong thing it'd end with you being edged teased and probably without his cock in general, you had to play things smartly if you wanted to gain leverage.

Izukus large hand finds itself snaking up your bare thigh to rub gentle circles on the inside of it, his fingers coming dangerously close to your clothed cunt. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried to turn away from him before he gripped your jaw and turned your head back.

"don't look away, slut."

You gulped and let out a sigh, his middle finger gently rubbed up and down your slit, his brow raised at the dampness he felt. His lips quirked up slightly and he leaned in to you, you lifted your head up to reach his lips until he stopped right in front of you, his eyes trailed down to your lips and he lets his breath fan over you.

You whimper in slight annoyance which just makes him chuckle lightly above you, you were so cute like this. Soaking your panties for him while he gently plays with your pretty puffy pussy.

"do you want me to touch you baby?"

You nod, and bury your face in his neck. He hums and kisses your head taking in the scent of you. You two haven't had much time together due to him working, he hasn't had time to fuck you like he knew you needed. He felt that he didn't have time to be cruel with you. He needed to fuck you right then and there.

He quickly hoisted you up into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks the both of you to the bed, he lays you back and instantly rips the rest of your dress off of your body. He undoes the tie you did for him earlier and takes his suit off, he unzips his pants and leans down to kiss your stomach, he trails his kisses all the way up your body to your neck which he then starts suckling lightly on.

You whimper and wrap your legs around him again as a way to say you're ready, he sighs and lets his thick cock out of his boxers, he strokes it up and down a couple of times until he sees a bead of precum spawning at the top of his large mushroom head. It was red and leaky, ready to be buried inside of you. He sighed shakily and moved forward towards your heat until you stopped him with your foot to his chest.

"zu... condom?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. A snarl tried to pull at his lips as he hummed and looked down at you. Izuku has grown a lot since UA. He wasn't some little boy anymore, but he knew how to use those puppy dog eyes when necessary.

"I'm.. I'm sorry honey, I just don't think I can handle a condom.. I want to feel good, I want to feel you. you want me to feel good.. r-right baby...?"

Izuku knew you were weak, especially because you were horny and craved to feel him inside of you. You sigh with a smile forming on your lips as you own your arms for him, he smiles back at you widely before diving into you and placing gentle kisses atop of your covered boobs. He snuck his hand between the two of you and led his eager cock head to your fluttering hole.

Izuku wasn't the biggest in the bunch but the stretch of his cock was so mesmerizing and delicious it always made you feel so full. He was thick and he knew how to drag his cock against your walls in such a sexy way, it had you wettening and gripping his cock tightly, he winced at the tightness of you.

"fuck baby you're so fuck— fucking tight..."

You scratch at his back which makes him groan into your neck, he was so close to drooling he had to suck it all back up before it left his lips. His eyes were rolling in pure bliss, he thrusted in and out of you at a fast pace, his hips instantly started stuttering and he had to bite his lip harshly just to not cum inside of you yet.

You knew izuku was going to cum inside of you, he didn't know how to not cum inside of you, he could promise you that he wouldn't and turn around n empty his guts inside of you. You didn't have too much of a problem with it because your head was spinning in pleasure, your cunt just didn't want to let go of him, It's like you took in the shape of his very cock and sucked him for all he was worth. With every thrust you felt the air inside of you get knocked out.

Just as izuku was about to cum your phone ring. The loud sound of your phone on the bed vibrating, he groans and grabbed it with intentions to simply silence it but once he seen the name. God he was even more infuriated.

You look up at him with glossy wide eyes in concern, those same eyes he wants to make cry. He looked between you and the phone and just before the ringing was to cease, he answered it.

You had thought that the phone simply stopped ringing so you grabbed at your fiances back and brought him closer which he happily obliged, he started gently thrusting inside of you making little mewls leave your lips, you bit your bottom one and let out a breathy sigh loudly which made the man on the other side of the phone chuckle.

You assumed that it was just izuku and shook it off, meanwhile izuku thought that the blond knew exactly what was happening, he was quite disappointed with the thought.

"tired of me already? You left before we could finish our conversation, cupcake."

"she's tired alright, ngh~ fuck baby juuust like that, shit.."

Izuku exaggerated into the phone, you looked up to him realizing he was in the phone and was soon to quietly protest as not to be heard but before you could even get a peep out izuku seen your mouth open and thrusted inside of you which made a moan rip out of your open mouth. Izuku chuckled as silence fell through the call.

Izuku kept letting out loud and some faux moans and groans just to piss the man on the other side off you roll your eyes and throw your head back as he continues to fuck into you at a godspeed pace.

Izuku stopped thrusting and groaned loudly, you gasp at the cease of movement. You were so close and it's like your orgasm just disappeared. You whined and before you could even protest he flipped you on top of him and started thrusting up into you. You were bouncing on his cock due to the intense move of his hips, he could carry you on his hips no matter your weight.

"f— fuck izuku!!"

"just like that baby let him hear the pretty song you sing for me."

Green electricity started trickling around his body, parts of it tickling and zapping your body. You placed your hands on izukus thighs for some type of stability only to fail, he was moving and thrusting far too hard and fast for you to even comprehend.

"...what the.."

"fuck~— !!"

You choke on your breath and feel the knot inside appear again, you groan n throw your head back as you cum all over his cock, you were so sensitive and you got so tight izuku just couldn't hold back the moans that started leaving his mouth. They were so slutty and airy you could tell he was close.

He soon followed suit to you and came inside of you, the pumps of his warm cum spreading throughout your insides leaving you in peace.

Katsuki was silent but only for a moment, he started yelling and shouting at the green haired man who simply chuckled and argued back with mean and cruel words. This went on for a while as you sigh and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Izuku was still buried deep inside of you, you felt the vibrations of his chest every time he laughed or spoke.

It lulled you off into a deep slumber, you couldn't even begin to think about katsuki or what he must think of you and the events that went down. You were too fucked out in pure bliss. You felt yourself and your consciousness floating away as you fell into slumber in your soon to be husbands arms. He held you close while still shit talking with the blond who ended up hanging up in izukus face. He simply laughed and threw your phone somewhere in the bed.

Izuku kissed your forehead and pulled out, shoving his limp cock back into his boxers he pulled the cover over the both of you and sighed in content. He was happy with how things went down tonight.

AN: this was finished at 12:21 n I'm so tired. I have work tomorrow AND I still have to write something for my zuzubears birthday, chat this was a stressful day. The ending was rushed but I can't begin to care so. Enjoy!!

[crescenthistory]

Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Your and Regulus' private study session is interrupted by one Barty Crouch Junior who is inviting you on a triple date. You remind him for the thousandth time, that you aren't dating.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: not proofread (who's got the time), fem!reader, longing, barty being barty, featuring wolfstar, rosekiller and james, fluff, sitting/half-cuddling without leaving space for god, typical marauders cursing and banter, me attempting to improve my dialogue and comedy, unresolved mutual pining, light discussion of black siblings drama, reader and regulus are teased relentlessly

Note: part two & part three

***

The Hogwarts Library was always slightly more still and calm on Saturdays, a luxury you made sure to never miss out on.

In a hidden-away corner, you and Regulus sat crammed into the same overstuffed emerald armchair. He sat normally, though slightly squeezed to the left, while you had your back to the right arm, leaning into his side with your legs sprawled across his lap. He evened the score by lolling his head gently against your shoulder as you both tried to focus on the parchment before you. It was an awkward fit – Regulus was all angles and sharp lines – but you never really cared, and neither did he.

"You know, if you had actually studied for Potions last night instead of playing chess with Barty," Regulus began, his voice a teasing whisper, "you wouldn't be stuck relying on me to help you through this essay."

He didn't bother lifting his head as he drawled, so you felt his breath on your skin. His dark hair, always perfectly in place, had fallen just enough to shade his eyes and tickle your neck.

"You're the one who insisted on going over three different ways to brew Amortentia, which, mind you, wasn't even required for this essay," you countered, smiling for no one to see.

He snorted softly. "It was for educational purposes. Not my fault you’re hopeless at memorising–"

"Not hopeless," you interrupted, smirking at him as he sat up straighter and fixed you with those cool, swirly eyes. "Just resourceful. Why bother memorising when I've got you?"

Folded in the crevices of his eyes and your words, there was that gentle push-pull between the two of you, a habit developed over years of being each other's only real reprieve. Your families were pressure cookers, a constant source of demands and expectations, of screaming and fears. It had tethered on explosion many a time, but through your years-long friendship, you had been able to make it a bit lighter together. Regulus had his complicated relationship with Sirius, but other than that, no one really knew how heavy it weighed on the both of you – just each other.

And then there was Barty, of course.

“Oi!” The familiar, obnoxious voice you somehow loved rang through the – thankfully nearly empty – library, making you tense for a split second before you exhaled. “Merlin’s bloody balls, you two are stuck in here again?”

Barty Crouch Jr. strode in, tossing himself onto the sofa opposite you and Regulus. He stretched his long legs out like he owned the place, flinging an arm across the back of the cushion.

“We’re not stuck,” you corrected him lazily, shooting him a glance from beneath your lashes. “We’re enjoying a bit of quiet. Something you might want to as well, seeing as we're in a library, Junior.”

Barty raised an eyebrow and then snorted, “Quiet? More quiet? You two sit in silence more than any couple I’ve ever known.”

You rolled your eyes, but Regulus – who you now, with the added presence, noticed was more tired today than usual – shot him a look that could have frozen hell over. As per usual. Barty, being Barty, didn’t care of course, just snickered for himself. He was the only one who could get away with constantly poking at Regulus, at both of you, with no more than witty quips thrown back. Maybe because he had been the one to pull you out of your shells, dragging you both into the light when you would have otherwise spent your time locked in your shared solitude and messy brains. Or maybe because he had been able to weasel his way into your hearts before you were old enough to realise he's a bit of an arse. By then, he was your arse.

"We're not silent, dear, we just aren't obnoxiously loud," Regulus hinted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, you do sit around whispering all the time. One would have thought you were spellbound to your books – and each other." Barty grinned, not even a little apologetic. “Or maybe just by each other."

"Oh shut up, Barty," you scoffed, though not without a slight smile.

"I’m just sayin’!”

Regulus leaned back against the chair, his elbow brushing your arm. "You’re always just sayin' something,” he said, eyes flicking toward the fire. “And you’re always wrong."

Barty’s eyes lit up, leaning forward with a grin that could only mean trouble. “Oh, come on, Reg. It’s been years. You two, together all the time, acting like no one else exists. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t killed each other or, better yet, finally gotten over yourselves and just snogged already."

This has always been Barty’s favourite game, teasing the two of you relentlessly, but it felt more pointedly overt tonight. Yet it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. Just because he's so very ridiculously wrong, of course.

“We have not–” Regulus began, but Barty cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

“Right, right, you’ve never even thought about it." He makes an, arguably poor, attempt at imitating Regulus' tone. "But let’s be real, everyone else think you're shagging, so maybe you should too– oh, speaking of–" Barty had a poor habit of cutting himself of when a new train of thought entered. "Guess who finally asked Evan out?"

The shift in the conversation barely registered with you; you are very attuned to rolling with the Junior way of conversing, but Regulus shook his head in surprise.

"You? And Rosier?" Regulus asked, staring Barty down with more interest than he had shown the poor sod all evening. "Are you serious?"

Barty gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, but the grin never left his face. “Took him long enough, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought he was avoiding you after that time you hexed him in Transfiguration–”

“Self-defence,” Barty cut in, giving you a wink. “He had it coming.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Didn't he have it coming for trying to ask you out, Barty?”

“Like I said. Self-defence. Son of a witch should let me be the one to make the first move.”

You shook your head fondly, happy for your second-oldest friend. "What a gentleman you are, Barty. Happy for you though, finally the pining and drunken hookups have led to something of sustance."

Barty nodded gravely, in faux seriousness. "Exactly! And that says something, coming from the Queen of pining."

You kicked his shin under the table and he laughed a bit too loudly for the library, evidently pleased with himself.

"I do no such thing, thank you very much."

Glancing sideways at Regulus, his expression was carefully neutral, though you could tell he was happy for Barty. Though, you were sure, he would never say that out loud.

Barty, ever the troublemaker, wasn't finished yet. “Which reminds me,” he said, leaning forward again with that dangerous glint in his eye, “We’re all going out this weekend. You lot, me, Rosier... oh, and your brother too, Reg.”

Regulus stiffened slightly beside you, just enough for you to notice and Barty to ignore. “Sirius?”

“Yep,” Barty said cheerfully, “and his boyfriend, Lupin. They're finally official as well, trying to steal my spotlight it seems.”

You and Regulus share a glance, trying to take it in. Sirius and Remus had been dancing around each other for what felt like ages, but apparently, they had finally made the leap. Regulus' jaw tightened slightly. His relationship with Sirius was still relatively uneasy territory for him, but they were making an effort to heal it together. You moved on from him, focusing your attention on Barty, so Regulus could process undisturbed.

"Since when do you and Big Black keep tabs on each other, let alone plan a double date?" you implored, genuinely confused.

"Well, firstly, Treasure," Barty drawled. "I always keep tabs on my best friends' sometimes-shitty-sometimes-good-always-complicated siblings. Secondly, as I said, they're stealing our spotlight, so of course I got involved."

"Ah, so it's not voluntary?" You quirk a brow at him, jokingly challenging him.

"Is too! The bastards are lucky I even suggested it."

"Riiiiiight," you dragged out, cocking your head at a huffing Barty.

You rolled your eyes laughing, then glanced over at the boy whose lap you were partially sat in. His gaze had trailed off into his lap, thoughts clearly elsewhere. You and Barty made eye contact and he sent you a look that clearly said his involvement with Sirius was for Regulus and not actually to bother him. Over the years, you had developed almost a form of telepathy with Barty, always seeing the aggressive loyalty behind his actions.

You placed a hand instinctively on Regulus' elbow and he seemed to come back down to reality.

"Anyway, the six of us are headed for Hogsmeade next weekend for our triple date. You better schedule us into your shared calendar." Barty went straight back to teasing.

"There is no shared calendar."

"And there is no triple date," you added.

Barty’s grin widened, and he flicked his eyes between you and Regulus. “What do you call a date with three couples? Regulus and Treasure, me and Evan, Sirius and Lupin. That's three. Three Broomsticks, that's a date. Triple date! Or do you prefer French, Reggie, un triple rencard? More romantic for ya?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Regulus beat you to it. “We’re not a couple, Junior, would you just knock it off."

“Well, someone should tell the rest of the castle that, mate,” Barty said, smirking. “Everyone else seems to think you two are already married."

Before you could continue the seemingly never-ending argument with the grinning black-and-green-haired rascal before you, you heard footsteps and chatter approaching. Regulus whispered something in your ear about none of these buffoons respecting the quiet in a library as Sirius, Remus, and James appeared from around the corner. Sirius’s eyes flicked over the three of you, his gaze landing on Regulus, and giving a rather genuine smile.

“Greetings baby brother, sister-in-law and unfortunate acquaintance. What’s this I hear about a triple date?” Sirius asked, sauntering over like he owned the place, ignoring Regulus' groan.

If offended by the less-than-affectionate greeting he received, Barty did not show it as he grinned even more maniacally at what he likely saw as back-up in his torment of you two. "Good afternoon to you too, Big Black, we're just discussing the wedding colours. I am in support of emerald green, and I will listen to no other opinions as I know them best."

"No fair, I've known Reg the longest!"

"I do believe they would look lovely in a red," James teases as the group settles down around the table.

Regulus groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For the love of–"

"You guys can walk around in whatever colour you'd like – we aren't getting married." You tried to set a stop to the conversation now. The jokes didn't roll as comfortably off you when in larger company. Though you and Remus had become quite good friends through class and you were seeing Regulus through his healing friendship with Sirius, you still weren't entirely accustomed to the bunch up close all at once.

"Well, surely not now, but the day will come and it's never too early to start planning," Sirius quipped, his grin matching Barty's perhaps a bit too much. "I will be best man, yeah?"

"Absolutely not, I will!" Barty butted in before you had the chance to reply.

"Wouldn't you be her best man? Or man of honour or whatever?" James raised an eyebrow, trying to pick up on the dynamic.

"Of course I will."

"Then Padfoot can be Regulus'?"

"I have no idea why you are talking about pads and feet, but no, I will be best man and man of honour thank you very much."

"That's no fair!" Sirius cried.

"Shouldn't this be a decision the lovely couple makes?" Remus chimed in, trying to calm his partner with a smile.

"For Salazar's sake – we are not dating!" You cut the whole conversation off, emphasising your point with hand gesticulations. The table actually went quiet for a moment, the newest additions sharing confused looks.

"What?" was all James could say.

"We are not together," Regulus spoke up for the first time, rolling his eyes in true Regulus-fashion. "We're just close friends."

Barty snorted at that.

Sirius looked absolutely floored for once. His eyes flick between you and Regulus in genuine surprise. “Wait– you're serious? You aren't dating? Since when?”

"Since forever?" Regulus questioned right back at his brother, finding his groove in the sarcastic exchanges. "Can two people not be close without having to be shagging?"

Sirius and Barty both chimed a "no" at the same time, though Barty was finding much more humour in it all than the other. He added, "Well, Treasure and I can. Evan and Reg can. You two on the other hand..."

You felt heat rise to your face, Regulus' leg shaking you slightly as he began to bounce it. "Where did you all even get that from?" you questioned, looking at everyone but Barty. You were well aware of why he thought what he thought.

“I mean–” Sirius spread his hands, gesturing towards how the two of you were sat, as you suddenly became aware that most of your body was touching Regulus' in some way. "Look at you! You’re always together. You act like an old married couple half the time. And you basically let each other get away with murder. I'm still not entirely convinced Trouble here won't kill me if Reggie ever asks."

"Don't call me that."

"I probably would."

Sirius was unaffected by both comments. He look towards James for support, who was nodding emphatically, clearly shocked too.

"Yeah, no, I thought it was just, like, common knowledge that you have been dating for years," James said, raising his hands a little at the look on Regulus' face. "No offence, just how it seems from the outside, 's all."

"Not to mention you look at her like–” Sirius started.

“Like what?” Regulus cut in, his grip on you loosening, just a little.

Sirius blinked, still thoroughly confused. “Like you’re bloody in love with her.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Remus suppressing a smile, engaging in some stare-down with his brother. You worried your voice would fail you, so you just shook your head disapprovingly.

Barty, never one to leave well enough alone, leaned back with a smug grin. “Told you tossers. The whole castle thinks you're dating, so you might as well get on with it."

"Well, we're not and we won't, so can you guys please just shut up." Regulus' jaw was still tight, scouring at his friends as he debated if that term was still one he wanted to use about them.

Sirius just shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, Reg, whatever you say. But you’re both coming, yeah?”

You turned more into him as you scanned his face for an answer. Regulus held your gaze for a long moment, and you could see the wariness flickering just behind his eyes. You smiled, quirking a brow at him as if to say it's up to you, babe. He sighed and then said a low fine.

With a dramatised sigh, you turned back to Sirius and Barty and their expectant looks. “It’s not a triple date,” you said firmly, lifting your chin just slightly. “But we’ll join you as... I don’t know. Fifth and sixth wheels.”

Regulus grip on you tightened again as he settled back into his seat. “Exactly. Fifth and sixth wheels. Sure.”

Barty threw his head back and barked out a loud, unrestrained and frankly unnecessary laugh. “Sure thing, sweetcheeks,” he teased, grinning from ear to ear. “Whatever you need to tell yourselves. I’ll make sure Rosier knows it’s not a date.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, mumbling some indelicate words under his breath that only you could catch. You stifled a laugh, at which Regulus’ lips twitched – just the slightest hint of amusement given to you.

Sirius, still grinning, clapped his hands together like this was some great victory. “Brilliant. Can’t wait to see you both there. It’ll be... enlightening.”

Remus, who had been watching this whole exchange with thinly veiled amusement, leaned in closer to Sirius and muttered, “Enlightening? You've spent too much time with McGonagall.”

"Yeah, in detention," James muttered, evidently a shared trauma.

Sirius nudged him with his elbow, snickering. “Shut up, Moony.”

"Oi, that's no way to speak to your fresh boyfriend, is it, Black?" you teased, glad to have some revenge.

"Firstly, my darling not-quite-sister-in-law, you may refer to me as Sirius," he drawled with a lazy grin. "Secondly, I'll have you know he enjoys it when I'm a bit rude."

"Did not need to know that," Regulus mumbled with shut eyes as Remus swatted at his boyfriend to get him to behave.

"Anyway. We are happy for you." You smiled warmly, missing the shared glance between Remus and Sirius at your use of we. Regulus hadn't seemed to notice either, used to it.

"You won't be as happy when you have to see them sucking faces at this triple date." James' voice was laced with faux annoyance. You didn't bother correcting his use of the term triple date. Regulus scoffed, but it seemed to be more aimed at the idea of his brother sucking faces with anyone.

"You're just upset Evans isn't willing to suck faces with you yet, Prongs." Sirius' comeback caused a groan from James as his head thumped on the table – clearly he was right.

Barty made an ooooo sound, leaning in closer to poke at James, wanting to know all the hopefully-gory details.

With a tired sigh, you shifted back into the chair, pulling the Potions book from the table onto your lap once more, determined to return to your homework. You still had an essay due tomorrow, and Merlin knew Slughorn wasn’t going to accept any excuses, even from his favourite students. Regulus, sensing the shift in your focus, followed your lead, picking up his quill with a kind of forced determination. Your eyes met and you smiled at each other, back in the comfort of your little bubble, even with the overflowing table.

The chatter around the library became a dull hum as Sirius and Barty went from interrogating James to discussing the specifics of their plans for the weekend with Remus and James chiming in here and there. You didn’t need to listen – Barty would tell you all the ridiculous details later, no doubt with some embellished commentary on how hopelessly “in love” you and Regulus clearly were. He loved pushing his narratives, ever the comic.

But now, as you tried to force your attention back to your notes, the exhaustion that had been creeping up on you all evening settled in. You had barely slept the night before, and after a more exerting conversation than you had prepared for as you entered the library, you were reaching your limit.

Unconsciously, you let your body lean further into Regulus’s side, your shoulder pressing against his more firmly, your head coming to rest against the crook of his neck. It was such a small movement, something you had done hundreds of times before, but it felt more loaded in these surroundings. You could have sworn you felt Regulus' breath hitch. Nevertheless, your body naturally relaxed into his warmth.

Regulus tried to relax his posture to make it more comfortable for you, and let you rest against him without complaint. His quill hovered over the parchment for a moment, forgotten, as he swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his heart had started pounding in his chest. It did every time. It didn't seem like you had noticed before, so why worry about it now?

He told himself it didn’t mean anything – he said it a thousand times, you were his best friend. You had always been close like this. But Merlin, if his skin didn’t burn oh so deliciously where you touched him. If his mind didn’t wander to how you smelled, to the warmth of your body pressing against his. If he didn't savour the moment as if it would never happen again, as he felt so damned lucky that he knew it would.

He fought to keep his expression neutral, forcing his gaze back down to his notes, but the words on the page were little more than a blur now. He let his head drop onto yours as he kept rereading the same sentence.

Remus had drifted away from the conversation, eyeing the two of you. The others had – thankfully – moved on by now, but he risked elbowing Sirius slightly to point out how comfortable you two had grown together the second the attention was off you. Sirius had an eyebrow raised, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were glinting with that same, familiar mischief. Remus shot him a knowing glance, as if to say don’t push it.

Sirius didn’t say anything, knowing Remus was unfortunately right as usual, but the look he gave his brother spoke volumes. Despite what Regulus may want to think, he knew him. And he knew for a fact, that his little brother was in love. He smiled.

Barty and James had begun to bond over some grand plan to prank Evan during the supposed "not-date" this weekend. You had half an ear in the conversation, trying to catch on to whether you should warn Evan beforehand. But none of that really mattered to you at the moment. Not to you and certainly not to Regulus, who was trying desperately not to give in to the warmth spreading through him as your sigh fanned his skin.

You let your eyes drift close, just for a moment, feeling the weight of your pull at your consciousness. Caught somewhere between exhaustion and peace. Regulus noticed immediately and rubbed soothing circles on your back as he began to plot your escape to the dormitories.

You could have stayed like that forever. And maybe, Regulus thought, as his other hand brushed against yours where it rested on the armchair, he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

[theorist-fox]

Takes practice

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Crossposting from AO3.

Part 1 >> Part 2

In my feel-good romance era. Usually more of a slap me pull my hair touch me there, there, there - no more talking. But not today. No SIR.

The bit regarding the satellite phones and telemarketers was inspired by the first chapters of Shadowed by Tarajanee. Absolutely adore that work and I thought those scenes at the beginning were lovely!

Word count: 13k

Summary: Simon is deployed for the first time since the beginning of your relationship. Instead of finding purpose in keeping the world clean, he finds it in keeping himself alive, because he's never been this eager to come home.

18+

CW: smut!!! dry humping, mutual masturbation, thigh fucking, P in V. Fluff, this is very fluffy. Soft Simon Riley, Simon is absolutely fucking whipped. Self-deprecating thoughts, intrusive thoughts, angst if you squint so don't squint and you'll only get yearning and love making.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon doesn’t remember your eyes.

He’s been clawing at his face, both literally and metaphorically, because each time he closes his eyelids to succumb to exhaustion, he sees your face.

And you’re pretty. So much. He envisions the curve of your smile and how your lips part to give way to your teeth. The lines at the corners that scrunch your nose and how it flushes when it’s too cold out. He has memorized the shape of your brows for every expression. Knows the line of your cheekbones and how they swell under your eyes when you smile.

Your face is lovely, even when he conjures it in his head. But when your form breaks through the mist, he gets startled every time. Because he can’t see your eyes.

It's like a mock picture of you. A mimicry gone bad. You’re there, fresh and real, whispering sweet words to him, tossing a quip, or moaning breathlessly as he remembers the way he’s fucked you, but your eyes are carved out. Blank spots instead of the windows to your soul, like everyone always seems to chatter about.

Sure, he remembers the shape of your eyes, and if he takes deep breaths, cancels out Johnny’s blabber blaring from his cot, and enters a deep meditative state, he might be able to draw their outline.

But it’s the shade he misses. Are they sapphire, dark, and cryptic? Or frostbite blues. Emerald, maybe. He ponders, but he’s not sure. Brown, like his? Chocolate, with swirling hazels like golden speckles. Stormy grey. Charcoal black. Amber. Gold. Fucking crimson.

He doesn’t know.

But it's only been three months since he left.

And it’s been six months since Simon has taken you on his bed and fucked his name into you. Six months since he’s finally tasted your skin and imprinted your flavor on his tongue. 

It’s your fault, he thinks, if now everything he eats tastes bland. Nothing sweeter than the salt of you. The dichotomy is not lost on him. He’s a rational man, and figures easily that skin can't be sweet, especially not after he made you sweat by pounding you into the mattress. Yet he might have lost a marble or two after that, because now not even honey can compare.

Which is why he’s moved his things in your room. Just because it’s bigger, he told you. No other reason, really.  

Fucking liar. 

But again, you’re as saccharine as you taste. And maybe not as naïve as he thinks. Because ever since that night, six months ago, your hands often intertwine with his own when you guide him to bed – your bed. 

And that’s how he found a nightstand full of his things on the side closer to the doorway of the room. There’s the book you’ve lent him and a re-filled plastic bottle of water right next to it, one that he should probably throw away like you constantly tell him. Something about microplastics, but fuck if he knows. Because ever since that night, he’s lost a bit of his logic, a lot more of his sanity: you can speak for hours on end and he wouldn’t hear a damn thing if not for how your voice vibrates against his eardrums, sending tingles down his spine. 

Surreptitiously, his things have started to appear in your room. He doesn’t have much, a phew photos of his family are shuffled with your trinkets. Plain, white frames stuffed in between your smiles on pictures you’ve taken with friends. 

A frame of his medals, the ones you insisted he kept, nailed to the wall next to your PhD certificate. 

Tidy, onyx wardrobe polluted with pinks and greens. Breathable cotton and faux furs. Fuzzy fabrics that leave a rainbow of synthetic hairs on his clothes. He doesn’t bother to pluck them off, it’s just another piece of you he’s lucky to carry around.

His old bedroom turns into a storage room. Filled with boxes of forgotten things and broken appliances you can’t be bothered to fix. 

And he promises to tinker a little with the vacuum, so you won’t have to spend money on a new one and use your savings for your guilty pleasures. That book you saw when you went out together for groceries? Consider it yours. The cooking classes you wanted to attend at that restaurant you’re always raging about? He’s already bought you a pristine new apron. 

And maybe he’ll take you there, too. Ask for a more secluded table where he can still spot the door, so he can also uncoil the muscles of his back and use his eyes only to look at you, instead of having them dart around for dangers.

But fuck, he can’t do any of that now. 

It’s his first mission after that night, six months ago, and Simon is already feeling withdrawal symptoms. You’re worse than morphine on a dying man; you leave him aching for something he knows he can have because you're so obviously there, but he’s so stupidly far away.

And he can’t even tell you where he is. Can’t even give you some peace of mind. Can barely call you, because Johnny’s been hogging the satellite phone to talk to Lord-knows-who.

The Scot is not selfish, Simon knows he would only have to ask, and the bulky device would practically materialize in his hand. But Simon also knows that if he dared, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Because in the years spent in the task force, he’s never needed to call anyone. 

Can’t call the dead, now, can you? 

And now, popping a question like that would only raise suspicions. It would have his mates up his arse until his head would split in half.

But it’s been six months since that night. Three months since he left. 

And that pocket of time he’s managed to spend with you, uninterrupted, almost made him accustomed to civilian life. To the lack of his mask and the AC of the flat breezing against his face. The taste of homecooked meals. The constant presence of another soul (a beautiful one at that) in his same space. 

With you, he’s never parched – of anything. You feed him mind, heart and body, showering him with that innocent love you so easily dispense, allowing him to bathe in it. 

He’d listen to your never-ending chat for days. His mind has always roared with sounds, yet the more noise you make the more you silence it. Baffling, really, how he’s spent his whole life looking for quiet and found it in the loudest person on earth.

He’s always sated with your kisses, your words, your quick mind and razor-sharp wit, your moans and your mewls, and God, anything you were willing to give. Your lips, your spit, the juices he makes you drip, and the ones he makes you spray. He dreams of cupping your clit with his mouth as he ravages your cunt with two thick fingers until you’re splashing on his tongue. He’d drink you dry, if you’d let him. 

And oh, you have. 

There’s  the wonderful catch. These are not wishes; these are memories. Too real and fresh ones for them to be just another one of his daydreams.

Finally, after three months of pondering – or better, yearning – he realizes that every skin-prickling migraine his mates would induce is worth the sweet, sweet sound of your voice.

He’s disgustingly sweaty. He tugs at the lip of his collar and grimaces when he feels the cotton unstick from the dampness on his chest. 

Johnny's sitting idly, enjoying the few days of break from mayhem. Just a handful of hours allowed, really, enough to get them back on their feet – tactical planning, refill of their resources. Boring shite like that. But at least it’s a breather all right.

“Got the phone, Johnny?” He grumbles.

And Johnny would love to act as none the wiser, but his eyes peek from behind the sketchbook he holds in his hand. The smirk that curls at his lips has Simon roll his eyes. 

He makes a beckoning gesture with his fingers, giving him a pointed look. “Johnny.”

“L.T.” He responds in kind. “Callin’ the landlord?”

Simon levels him with a deadpan look that could freeze the desert they’re stuck in. “Sergeant.”

Bastard’s too cunning for his own good.

Johnny drops the sketchbook immediately, showing the lieutenant his palms in defense. The cheeky bastard that he is doesn’t manage to conceal the absolute fascination in his eyes. He’s studying his superior as if he’s staring at another species.

And Simon doesn’t blame him. He’s like a sock that’s been turned inside out, the negative image of himself. All that gloomy energy turned blinding light, ever since he’s had a taste of what life could be with you in it.

But alas, no one wants to have the Ghost up their arse, so Johnny looks around the messy area around his cot and plucks the girthy satellite phone out of it.

Simon picks it up by pinching the tiny antenna on its side. It prompts Johnny’s smirk to broaden. 

“Haven’t done anythin’ with it.” He quips, letting it hang in the air for a second longer. “Or have I.”

Simon grunts a noise of disgust. “Spare me.”

He finds a secluded spot in the area they're occupying. There's nothing around them but the rubble of a city that has been torn by war and time. The sight is dour, and the silence echoes a dark past he hasn’t witnessed. Even so, the remains of the buildings are tall enough to offer their lot some cover. 

He slides with his back against a wall, knees spread wide. 

He knows your number by heart, his thumb presses each button with newfound resolve. Only when he brings the phone to his ear, does his determination falter. Because he hasn't contacted you in any way, shape, or form for three months. So, what if you’re livid, now? You’d have every right. He’d understand if you’d rip him a new one through the receiver. He just hopes you didn’t spend these days rethinking your choices. 

God, you’ve infected him with this overthinking bullshit.

“Hello?” Your voice breaks through the fog in his brain, like a hand wiping mist from glass, and his own breath threatens to choke him. He’s speechless for a moment, forgetting how to function properly.

Just your voice has sent his mind into overdrive - burnt his synapses to ashes. 

He reckons he’s completely fucked.

“Hello?” You repeat, sounding a little more annoyed. 

You grumble something about telemarketers having lost the decency to call at a reasonable hour. And when he doesn't answer again, he hears you sigh. Your voice gets all clinical, then, as if you were trained to repeat the same script over and over. “Listen, if you’re trying to sell me somethin’, my husband’s not home – he takes care of that stuff.”

He snorts.

“Your husband?”

Silence.

There’s a sort of shifting sound, he gathers you might have removed the phone from your ear and checked for the number on the screen. He can practically see your eyes squinting at the phone.

He hears you gasp, and he hints at a smile. Fucking hell, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s done that.

“Simon?” You venture.

“Hello, love.” 

You squeal, and he pulls the phone away from his ear with a grimace. But he’s tired of lying to himself – his heart is soaring. 

"Christ. Made my ears ring," he deadpans.

You chuckle, sighing afterward, as if a weight has been lifted from your chest. God, you’re a dream to listen to. If only he could also look at your face right now, just bask in the way your smile would light up the room. 

“Serves you right,” you chide him, as if that could ever be a punishment. “Could’ve called a little earlier than three months in. Was already looking for a new flatmate.”

He’s eternally thankful for the skull mask, even if it’s soddened with his sweat because if anyone were to walk by, they wouldn’t see how his face has softened. 

“Yeah?” He sniffs, “Made a new flyer and all tha’?” 

“Oh yeah,” You agree flippantly. There’s a shuffling sound that reminds him of bedsheets. “Made sure to add my boyfriend left me as a footnote.”

The corners of his lips twitch minutely. 

“Thought it was your husband who wasn’t home.” He retorts. “Got a stash of ‘em, then?”

Your chuckle is a breath of fresh air. He wants to have it imprinted in his eardrums, replacing the aggravating tinnitus. 

“Oh, y’know,” you sigh dramatically. “Bit o’ this, bit o’ that. Keeps things interesting.”

“Gotta have a chat with the lad, then.” He taunts, “Set some rules.”

“Good luck with that. He rarely listens.”

He hums fondly. It’s all he can give you, right now. 

He’s new to this, relationships have never been his forte. For the first time in his life, he’s having someone else guide him. It’s hard, he won’t deny it, having another set of hands grasp the wheel, instead of his own. But he’s letting you, however slowly. You’re understanding, and you’re allowing him to leave his foot on the brakes. You never push him, you go at his pace – even if it’s blatantly annoying, how sluggish his movements are. Yet you don’t seem to mind, and he’s eternally grateful for it.

“How…” You start. He can tell you’re unsure, whether or not you can ask these things. Whether or not he can answer them. “How are you?”

His eyes soften. 

“Good,” he reassures you. “’S hot.”

You hum. “North Africa.”

He clicks his tongue. “No.”

“Okay.” A beat. “Middle East?”

Eh.  “No.”

You gasp. 

“You’re throwing me off guard, aren’t you? You said it’s hot, but it actually isn’t.” You say cleverly, even if you’re aware it’s most likely untrue. “North America, then. Like - Canada.”

“Drop it, maybe.” He offers gently. “Making a fool o’ yourself.”

“Alaska.” 

“Love.”  He warns, but his voice is kind. “Wastin’ time.”

“Mh, the script has changed, I see.” You tease him, and he can tell you’re smiling, by the way your voice comes. “Thought you were gonna hit me with the classified.”

“Like to keep you on your toes.”

“Been on my toes for three months.”

His heart clenches a little. He doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want you to live on the line like that. He wonders if you’ve ever felt like this, in the four years he’s lived with you without having anything tethering each other, if not a casual friendship. Were you ever afraid when he left for his deployments? Or is this new to you, like it is for him?

“Fixed the vacuum, by the way.” You tell him lightly, as if sensing the tense air your comment has instilled. 

He silently thanks you for breaking the silence when he couldn’t. A gentle huff of relief travels through the receiver. 

“What was the problem?” He asks, even if not really fussed about the state of the thing.

“Fuck if I know.” You shrug. “Gave it a few whacks and it started working again.”

He fails to keep in a huff of laughter. “Fucking hell, ‘s tha’ what you’ve been doing, then? Hitting appliances?”

“Fixing appliances.” You correct him. “And stress baking. Lots of it.”

“Work’s botherin’ ya?” 

“S’fine.” You sigh sweetly, as though that could give him some peace of mind. “Everything’s fine over here, you don’t have to worry.”

Selfless angel, you are. He would have to be daft not to realize that you’re probably leeching your heart dry at the thought that something might happen to him. He feels like a fool for not having contacted you sooner, even when he had only a minute to spare.

His pride be damned.

“’M sorry I didn’t call earlier.” He apologizes, because the least he can do is hope you forgive him for being like a baby deer on ice about all this. 

“You called.” Your voice is soft. “’S what matters.”

He knows what you mean. He’s alive, that’s what matters. He’s faring good enough to chat with you, that’s what matters. He’s missing you as much as you’re longing for him, that’s what matters. 

He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His offhand runs across his face and he has to rip his own head out of his arse before the thoughts overwhelm him. 

How can he put you through this?  He should’ve left three weeks in, four years ago; should’ve let you share your home with someone more reliable, one who didn’t have a blade oscillating above his neck.

And yet at the same time, he can't let go of you. 

You’re so good to him, you’re the drop of water in a life that’s always felt arid. You made his barren heart flourish without even trying – he didn’t think anyone could, he thought he was bound to be frozen soil, not a garden. But here you fucking are, with your tiny watering can, nourishing the earth and causing it to sprout.

He’s selfish. He is. There is no karmic balance in his reasons. The scale tips in his favor through and through, because he’s sure you’re not gaining anything from this relationship, if not a spike in anxiety and its hand around your neck.

“How long?” You ask, seemingly unable to bear the silence.

"Few weeks." He croaks and clears his throat when he notices how cracked his voice sounds. “Be back in three. Could be two, if things go to plan.”

The silence on your end is deafening. Unwittingly giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“Countdown starts, then.” You reply with that sunshine in your voice. Sunbeams through ominous clouds. “Gonna tally the days on the wall with one of your can openers.”

He snorts. “Lotta money to fix.”

“We can put ugly wallpaper over it,” you propose. “So the next person to rent the place will remove it and a whole kidnapping slash ghost story will spread around the neighborhood.”

You’re crazy, he thinks, but not unkindly. His heart squeezes in his chest.

“Fucking numpty.”

“Fucking numpty, or fucking numpty, derogative?”

He smirks. “Former.”

“Wonderful.” You say with a pinch of a smile he can’t see, sounding all smug.

However, nothing nice can last forever, not in Simon Riley’s plane of existence. He spots his captain approaching him, fiddling with the boonie hat in his grasp while his other hand lazily dries droplets of sweat on his forehead.

“Gotta go.” He mutters. Waits a bit. Shuffles through his thoughts and decides to swallow his pride, because you deserve at least that much. “Missed you. Still do.”

You're silent for a moment longer before you give him a last glimpse of your voice. The one he'll hold onto like a lifeline for the next three – hopefully two – weeks. 

“Miss you too.” You say gently. “Come home soon.”

And he’s back suddenly. 

Earlier than expected, at that – one week only. Price was all business, a few days after he caught him sneaking a phone call. Telling him things like “Need you at HQ. Work with Laswell, make sure classified intel stays classified”. And when he questioned why would he send his sniper and lieutenant to do a job an analyst should do, Price answered with a curt “Because I can trust you”.

Honestly, what could he have said to that? Even if it smelled fishy from afar, his reasoning sounded mostly reliable. Because you would send your most trusted to deal with sensitive information, right? And if Simon were a bit more daft and a bit less intuitive, he would've shrugged it off. 

But it was plain as day when his boot landed on British soil, duffel bag in hand. When his phone pinged after he turned off airplane mode, and a text popped up:

[Unknown number]: Take a few days off for the jet lag. 

That he realized the ploy his teammates had concocted. To be honest, he wasn’t as resentful as he thought he was going to be. There was lingering thankfulness – somewhere, deep below layers and layers of stoicism.

[You]: Time zones aren’t that different. 

[Unknown number]: Take a few days off to just rest, then. 

[You]: Not that tired. 

[Unknown number]: Never took you for one to question orders. 

[You]: Never took you for one to put personal life before our job. 

Simon waited patiently under the overhanging lip of the hangar. The Kevlar of his glove crinkled as his fingers curled around the hand of his duffle bag. The rain creates a gentle buzz against the metal.

It took a while for the other bubble to appear, as if the other person – most likely Price, judging by the vocabulary used in the texts – was thinking about the right thing to say.

And the right thing it was, when the words fluttered on Simon’s phone screen.

[Unknown number]: About time you put yours first, though. 

Simon, for once, agreed.

────────────

The keys slide into the keyhole with familiarity. He turns it three times, content to see you’ve locked the door all the way. When he steps in, the flat is quiet, but he isn’t expecting otherwise. It’s late at night, the hands of the clock that’s hanging above the telly mark somewhere around three in the morning, but it’s too dark to be sure. 

He's ever so gentle when he closes the door and gingerly sets the duffle bag at his feet. 

The first thought popping in his head it’s you. You’re not expecting him to be back so soon, and he has this trepidation in him that wants to command his feet to the door of your bedroom only to see how you’d react to his unexpected presence.

But he takes a moment to digest this new feeling. 

It's hard to realize that, finally, you're not dreading something. For the first time in an excruciatingly long while, Simon isn't afraid. While his brain is rigidly wired in a way that makes him refuse to acknowledge his vulnerabilities, the heart knows best.

And he is scared. He’s always been scared, ever since his mother granted him the possibility of walking this earth. Being excited to live has never been his strong suit, but he’s learning. He’s trying. 

Takes practice, to accept you’re worth your happiness.

So, as a novice learner, it’s a little jarring to realize that when his feet land on the hardwood floors of this house, there's no need for fear. He can tuck the dread away, stuff it in a pocket, and close the flap, all the while being sure no harm will come his way. Certainty that with you there’s no need for all that, for vigilance – he can unravel the knots, and simply feel what comes, because it's not going to hurt him. 

You could never.

Hooking a finger under the hem of the balaclava, he snatches it off his head and lays it on the shelf next to the doorway. It’s soaked in rain, but he’ll wash it tomorrow. And he’ll use your fabric softener, so it’ll smell like your sheets. 

The flat looks awfully dull with the lights off. The bright colors are mere shades of grey, and while he’ll never admit it out loud, he truly thinks the orange of the eastern wall brightens the room as you've told him. The thought itself baffles him – Simon Riley now knows a thing or two about home design. You’ve changed him in ways he never expected. 

However, the thing that shocks him even more than his newfound knowledge of home interior embellishments, is when the smell of baked goods bullies its way into his nose. His mouth waters in a Pavlovian response. 

Right.  

Stress baking. 

He kneels to unlace his boots, before toeing them off gently, making sure they won’t thud against the floor and disturb your sleep. Then, he practically floats to the kitchen, still unbelieving at the idea that he gets to come home and find delicacies as such ready to eat. Sometimes, in the span of life he decides to call the “Before you”, he’d snatch a few MREs from the stash in base and eat them once back in his flat. 

Easy, quick, and edible. Even if they taste like cardboard.

And now he gets to walk into a kitchen that smells like blueberries and buttercream and black tea. He gets to grab a lumpy muffin from the tray on the kitchen island and sink his teeth in its golden and blue fluff. The flavors erupt on his tongue, from the saccharine spongy cake to the sweet tang of the blueberry juice as the fruit bursts under his teeth.

He selfishly hopes your stress baking will last for a few more days.

Nevertheless, while he’d gladly eat the whole tray if it were up to him, there’s something he craves more than a full stomach. And you're currently waiting in the other room, probably tucked under the duvet because the British weather tonight is rigidly cold. 

He shrugs off his wind jacket and drapes it over the backrest of a kitchen chair. He can’t afford to take any steps backward. The coat rack is just a few paces back from the kitchen, nailed to the wall near the entrance, but he really doesn’t care. That handful of seconds is too precious to waste.

The steps he takes through the dark hallway are measured and silent; years of special forces training have taught a man his size how to be what his callsign implies.

Discreetly, he turns the knob, trying to make sure he won’t wake you with a startle because the door has barged open. However, the one caught by surprise it’s him. Because you’re not asleep, even if it’s three in the morning. 

Oh, he wants to give you a proper earful – sure, he's not your father, and if you're so keen on staying awake up until this hour on a weekday, then it's your funeral. 

Does it help school the unruly necessity of keeping you as healthy as can be? Absolutely fucking not. You’re a heathen and he hates you for it. 

But now you’re resting your back against the headboard, cross-legged on the bed. Satin blue navy camisole paired with matching shorts, big headphones on your ears, and your laptop on the mattress. You’re typing away. He’s sure you’ve pushed back an assignment from work and now you’re running out of time.

The room is dark, the only light being the screen of your computer casting your silhouette against the wall behind you. It’s silent aside from the patter of rain on the windowpane – you haven’t closed the blinds because Simon knows you love the moon flooding your room with gentle light. However, tonight the clouds are dominating the night sky, but the lampposts across the street are doing what the moon can’t, and you seem to favor that over complete darkness.

It’s clear you haven’t noticed him yet, music blaring in your ears and eyes focused on the monitor. But he’s seen you all right. And your eyes are cast downward, your lashes like annoying curtains depriving him of what he's been missing for the past three months. 

In spite of how muffled his movements have been, you seem to notice a shift in the air. Something that makes your skin prickle, a pair of eyes that shouldn’t be in the same room, nor in the same flat – not now, at least, when he should be mummified in Kevlar and breathable cotton somewhere in the desert. He's secretly proud of how easily you seem to feel fluctuations in the environment. Makes him take a breath of relief, that your reflexes aren't dull even when your senses are already busy.

You lift your head swiftly, and he helps you focus on him by flicking up the light switch. The sudden brightness makes you squint, but you blink it away and finally clock him at the door. 

And your eyes are the color of the sun, he thinks. How could he forget, that they’re the color of a bonfire when it's cold out. Of yellows, oranges, and those occasional sparkles of green when the wood is not dry, but still burns to keep him warm.

Realization paints your face with stunning colors: darkening cheeks, eyes shaped like crescent moons under the pressure of rising cheekbones. Mouth curving beautifully, and it seems to catch your teeth. The smile stretches your lips abruptly, morphing your face in spare seconds.

He sees it happen in slow motion. You rip your headphones and carelessly toss them on the bed, your laptop is skewed to the side so quickly that he instinctively reaches out a hand to prevent its fall. Thankfully, the stars are on your side tonight, and the balance tips it on the mattress, instead of the floor. 

You’re a little hurricane, scurrying off the bed and kicking off the sheets. Getting on your feet and almost slipping in the attempt to reach him in as little time as possible. A tornado of limbs envelops him in the blink of an eye. He barely has time to react that you’re already coiled around him like ivy– arms, legs, and all.

Luckily, the doorway is right behind him, and he manages to tumble back and lean against it. Your arms are vines around his neck. Your legs are roots encircling his waist. You seem to grow on him, supplying his wretched heart with the sap of life you carry – symbiotic. He feels like he can breathe again and has been doing it wrong all this time.

He helps your balance by keeping a firm hold around your waist with his arms, encapsulating you in his warmth. Lean fingers spread on your back, yearning to touch as much as he can reach.

“Easy,” he rumbles. His voice is hoarse because whatever reaction he'd imagined, all this fussing surely wasn’t it.

Your fingers thread through his hair and tug lightly at his scalp. He’s silently apologetic because it must be wet with both rain and sweat, and he's sure the smell wafting from him isn't exactly cologne-worthy. But you don't seem to care, because after you've thoroughly inspected the crook of his neck, your face comes back into view.

Your eyes are the color of joy.

“Welcome back.” You whisper, as if it’s a secret between you two. And you kiss him because surely you must want it as much as he does. A flutter of lashes brushes his cheekbone when you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Nails scrape at his scalp in the gentlest of ways. 

Simon feels your smile before he sees it. “You taste like blueberries.”

And he exhales against your lips. “Found ‘em waiting for me in the kitchen. Baked for an army, y’ have.”

You peck his lips once more, as if you couldn’t fathom a second longer without having them on yours. “Figured you’d be hungry. MRIs can’t be that tasty.”

"MREs,” he corrects. “And you’re right. They ain’t.”

Simon is not sure he’s ever received such a warm welcome, or such warmth in general. He’s not going to complain, of course, but that doesn't mean it leaves him any less rattled each time.

He gently sets you down at the edge of the mattress, standing between your legs – which you’ve pliantly spread to make room for him.

You gesture with your hand from left to right, "Potato, Po-tah-to."

"One is food, the other is medical equipment," he deadpans.

You glare up at him, as if to ask what the hell he wants now – it's three in the morning. Can’t be arsed to correct vowels at three in the morning.

“Potato.” You enunciate it better now, and it steals a lazy grin from him. “Po-tah-to.”

After having flicked your forehead at your insistence, he reverently lays his hand on your cheek and spreads his fingers into your hair.

“Alright?” You ask him.

“Mhmh,” it’s his only reply.

If only to feel you more, he guides your face to his belly. You seem to appreciate the gesture because you're already nuzzling his shirt, fisting it at his back for good measure. Simon feels your back expand and deflate under his palm when you breathe. Feels the rhythmic thump thump of your heart at his fingertips.

You’re life in its purest form. 

Face first into his abdomen, your voice is obviously muffled, but he hears it clearly anyway. "You smell like a sewer, mate."

He snorts, and lightly tugs at your hair, enough to make your head tilt back. He squints his eyes at you. “Cry ‘bout it, mate.”

Simon bends at the waist as you chuckle. Places a kiss on the crown of your head. Your eyes flutter closed and so do his. 

For a moment, there’s nothing but you two. The world muffles its noise to favor the sound of your breaths. The rain patters against the windowpane. Your laptop has gone into standby mode so now the screen is dark. The mellow light on the ceiling, a pale yellow, is like your discreet personal spotlight. 

Then, he reluctantly pulls away, and you chase him for more, pouting when he doesn’t seem to come back. But when he starts to undress, your scowl is easily replaced by a lazy grin. To increase the dramatics of the moment, you lean back on your elbows and wiggle your brows at him, “Well, well.”

You’re not subtle at all with the way your eyes follow a trail down his back, how the muscles fold when his hand reaches to the collar of his shirt and pulls it off his head. Curves and muscles and the indent of his spine. Skin freckled with scars you never ask a thing about because you're kind and you’re giving him time to open up on his own.

He’s put on some weight ever since your relationship has transitioned into something more meaningful, including feelings he still doesn’t have the guts to acknowledge. His abs are not as defined as before, they’re tucked under a layer of fat he’s not really accepting as of lately. The scar running across his stomach and its other companions only add to his self-deprecating streak.

He eyes you briefly as he unbuckles his belt, searching for what he’s sure is going to be a grimace, but he's met instead with the stupidest look he’s ever witnessed. Slow blinking at his form the more he undresses himself. Lips parted as if you’ve tried and failed to catch your jaw.

And that gives him the right to take those thoughts and shove them into the fear pocket. Sew it shut. No need to fear a thing, if you look at him that way.

You bite the tip of your tongue between your teeth. "Givin' me a show, lieutenant?"

The corner of Simon’s lips tugs upward and the sudden self-hatred sublimates under the warm adoration in your eyes.

“Cheeky little thing,” he rumbles, letting his khakis pool at his ankles. He steps out of them and shrugs them off when they catch his feet. 

One last step, and he’s already hooking a finger under the hem of your blue camisole, slowly lifting it up. There's an impish gleam in your eyes that promises trouble and he would love nothing more than to drown in whatever disaster you're planning.

He stands between your legs only in his underwear and after you’ve shut the laptop and placed it on your nightstand, your hands immediately come to rest on his stomach. Simon sighs at the touch.

“You’re a menace,” he says gently when you drum your fingers up to his chest.

Honestly, he hopes you don’t care if he smells like a cocktail of grime and sweat and rain, because, as much as he wishes for a hot shower, the sight of you melts whatever need away. 

Your eyes travel downward, taking a generous eyeful of him. However, he knows you’re not just ogling; you're searching him for wounds. 

Bandages. 

Sutures. 

Anything  that might tell you whether he's hurt or not. 

Obviously, Simon knows you want to ask. But you’re sensible when it comes to his job. In spite of the jabs about all the “Classified” he’s given you as answers, he knows you don’t hold a grudge against him. He also doesn't like to bring work at home, taking pains to leave his safe space untainted by it – instead, he lets you do the detective work yourself. 

A sweet sigh leaves your lips when you settle on the fact that he's unscathed, and you lift your arms up to help him take off your top.

"A menace?" You quip, feigning offense. "M’not the one looking naked and yummy."

“You’re about to.”

You don’t look away from his eyes when his fingers pull your top up and off. The camisole is gently removed past your head, the satin leaving your hair a little staticky. 

“A menace,” he murmurs once more, his tone softer now as he tosses the garment in a vague direction.

You wrap your arms around his waist, propping your chin on the hollow between his ribs, taking in his face as the sight that it is to your eyes. He doesn’t have the energy to question why, and just basks in the adoring attention and in the well-deserved skin-to-skin contact.

"How was it this time?" You ask gently.

His arm drapes over your shoulders, slowly stroking at your skin. A tender kiss to your hairline has you automatically sighing. You do it every time he kisses your head. He's mentally taken note of how his lips press a button of sorts that makes it all wash away, like suds under the jet of water.

“Same as always,” he murmurs, keeping his tone low and soft for your ears only. 

You hum in acknowledgment. "So?"

He smirks, a curve hidden in your hair. “Classified.”

You scoff and playfully slap his butt. He pulls back with a newfound glow in his eyes.

“Not Full Metal Jacket, if you’re wondering.” 

You hum, deciding to play along. “Spies involved?”

He snorts and tucks a rogue lock behind your ear. “Sure.”

You poke his chest as you make your definitive guess. “Three days of the condor!”

His eye twitches when, amongst the myriads of films you’ve ever watched in your life, you quote the one with the CIA involved. He has to flatten his face into something more neutral. Surely yours was a clear shot in the dark that somehow hit the right spot – even a broken clock is right, twice a day. Still, your blind guess doesn’t leave him any less distressed.

“Sorta.” He offers through gritted teeth.

And you don’t push any further, sluggishly resting your cheek on his belly.

"Were you more Robert Redford?” You mumble with half-closed eyes, "Or Faye Dunaway?”

Relief washes over him and he can’t help but huff. Plops a hand on top of your head and smooths down to the ends of your locks, rolling them between the pads of his fingers.

“Faye Dunaway, love.” He rumbles. “No question.”

You playfully tighten the hold around his waist, and with a tug, he's pulled down onto the bed. Simon knows he could easily win whichever battle if you’re the opponent, but he’ll always pretend to struggle just to humor you. He’s careful though, so he props himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you with his bulk. 

Gently, you kiss his nose but he doesn’t pull away, instead allowing the kiss to be reciprocated on your cheek. He reaches out for the switch next to the headboard and turns off the lights. 

Your eyes are the color of a summer’s night. 

They’re dark but twinkle with starlight. Pupils blown and the glowing halo of your irises around them like an eclipsed sun. The light coming from outside seems to favor you, creating shapes around your face able to turn you into a dream made reality.

“I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” You tell him, nose to nose. 

“Won't bother anyone, will it?” He asks mindfully, although he cares very little if your co-workers might get a little miffed about your last-minute call.

You shake your head softly, causing your noses to brush. “Nope, they’ll understand.”

And so, he unfolds, rolling onto his back and taking you with him. Your head is guided by a big hand to rest on his chest. He fits you perfectly into his side, making sure every piece of you adheres like glue to his skin.

“Y’need a shower?” You murmur in his skin, eyes fluttering closed. Your fingers are tracing mindless patterns on his chest, skimming over hair and the odd scar here and there.

“Tomorrow,” he replies quietly. “Sleep now.”

“Alright,” you whisper. “Wake me up when you do, yeah?”

“Sure.” He says, looking down at the top of your head. He leaves a kiss in its ruffled mess.

“G’night, love.” He breathes. 

You murmur it back, and fall into your slumber.

────────────

Simon opens his eyes with his heart thundering in his chest. He doesn’t know why, and likely pegs it to mere habit. Three months stuck in hypervigilance will have your body unconsciously overreact at the most subtle of changes, even if there are none.

There’s too much light in the room for it to be night, and a single look at the window tells him the sun is just shy of rising. 

During the night, you must’ve moved around and he must have followed you, because now he has your back to his chest. An arm slung around your waist, the other tucked beneath your neck. 

He gently tugs the duvet a little higher, over your shoulder, and spends the next few minutes just looking at how peaceful you look.

Next to a killer. 

His stomach churns wildly. 

You’re home,  his heart says. You’re not a killer here. 

A shame, truly, that his brain doesn’t agree in the slightest. Two organs fighting like separate entities, and the whole brawl is happening inside of him, mercilessly tearing his flesh apart. 

But it’s already broken, isn’t it? What else is there to shred. 

Yet he’s home and you’re comfortable next to him. So how broken can he be, really?

Torn. Shredded. Lookin’ like you went through the grinder and barely came out of it alive. 

He forces his eyes shut and buries his face in your hair, nuzzling your nape. 

Pretty thing, she is. Who the fuck d’you think you are, mh? 

A sharp inhale. Breathing you in. You smell sweet enough for the sounds in his head to buzz out. Not silent yet, but quiet enough for him to have a breather.

You don’t know how long it takes for his body to expel the exorbitant amount of adrenaline produced in three months of deployment. How his back cracks when it hits the comfortable mattress of yours and his bedroom, after having spent way too much time packed like a sardine on sordid cots or much-too-small sleeping bags.

How he fucking hates it, when you feel so soft and untouched, while he has more scars than bloody years on his back. 

Not right. Ain’t fucking right to you. 

His hand snakes from your waist to follow the curve of your arm. He follows the bulge it makes under the comforter. The rain has turned into a light drizzle, allowing the sound of his skin brushing over yours and the shuffle of the blanket to echo in his ears.

He scoots impossibly closer, pressing your back against his chest hoping your skin would mold with his. Nose buried in the crook of your shoulder; kisses light as breeze following the length of it. 

You smell so good you disarm him. He sighs as if he’s been utterly defeated, lost a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting. 

His mind hushes, finally. His heart unwinds itself – springs let loose, pulse calm. 

There’s you. The way your breaths come. Your limbs stirring at the gooseflesh left by his kisses. The rising sun lapping at your skin. The rise and fall of your back. 

It’s calm.

Your head turns slightly, looking over your shoulder. You must only see his eyes, lazily glancing at you through pale lashes.

Yours are a dawning sun.

They’re soft and gentle, pale yellows and blues, peeking above the sheer horizon of sleep you’re trying to overcome. Idle, slow, but most welcome.

“Hey,” you croak, blinking the drowsiness away. “You okay?”

He hums a quiet yeah in your skin. Hasn’t even noticed his hand returning to your stomach and pulling you in, angling you against his lap. 

And fuck him, but he’s sporting the hard-on of a lifetime. 

He knows you’ll understand that he’s been deprived of such pleasures for three months, but it doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. A hand in his pants, while he hid somewhere more private in the middle of nowhere was a temporary fix that fixed very fucking little. Especially not after having been spoiled by you.

Simon doesn’t necessarily want to fuck you, now. Sure, his dick might have a head of its own, and he wouldn’t complain against it were it to happen, but he still has control of his actions. And now he just wants to feel you, whether inside or out doesn’t matter – as long as it’s you.

Nevertheless, he isn’t expecting you to have much different plans. Naturally, he isn’t going to protest.

Your ass tentatively presses against his length, the satin of your shorts sliding easily along the cotton of his boxers. You’re still so sleepy – he sees you digging a knuckle in your eye, nostrils flaring as you let out a big yawn. 

Were you aware of what you were doing, or were you being a goddamn minx?

“Well, good mornin’,” you murmur, a lick of a smile on your lips. “Brought me a souvenir from bumfuck nowhere?”

Minx it is. 

He snuffs out a chuckle by harshly pressing his lips against your shoulder, sewing his lips shut. Unfortunately, his chest rumbles against your back and you catch it before he manages to catch himself. 

Your hand goes to rest above his own on your stomach, fingers intertwining. 

Soft skin on both sides: palm to your belly, knuckles to your hand. He’s sandwiched in bliss. Three months away, barely any contact, and all he apparently needed to alleviate some wounds was just a handful of hours spent asleep in your presence.

His lips part slightly. Kisses turn wetter and teeth bite at your neck, his tongue darting out to subsequently soothe the ache. Your hand has already guided his own to your breast, and your mouth is breathing sounds he’s missed.

And he tells you, because why should he hide a thing from you.

“Missed ya,” he croaks, voice a little shaky for reasons unknown. He could look in his head (or his heart) and find them – surely, they’re there. But he figures the present feels much better than the jumbled mess inside.

Reasons can wait.

“Let me feel you, yeah?” 

Your head bending backward to his face is the answer you give him, back pressed flush against his chest. You guide his hand up and squeeze it around the fat of your breast to assert your approval. 

But he’s not satisfied with that. Needs your voice to tell him it’s alright, that you’re not under some sleep-induced spell. That you’re fine with having him feel you, and you’re not just offering yourself because he’s been away for so long and you want to give him some sort of reward.

Simply, that you want him as much as he wants you.

His voice is raspy and low, “Words, love.”

"Please," you whisper and vigorously grind your ass against his groin. “Touch me.”

He hisses and presses forward too, meeting your movements. 

He’s still a little out of it, senses overrun by the general fatigue clinging to his muscles as the aftermath of deployment, his bones weary and getting accustomed once more to the comfort of a bed instead of a cot. 

Mind absolutely quiet.

He flicks his thumb over your nipple. Rolls it between thumb and forefinger. Your shuddering breath prompts him to pull at it, and it causes you to arch your back off of him, pressing further against his painfully hard cock. 

He grunts against your shoulder, hand busy teasing your breasts and hips rutting against the plump flesh of your ass. You grind back against him, working in tandem to relieve at least some of that ache. 

Each movement is a languid stroke of fabric that gives him enough pleasure to cause his resolve to falter. When he turns your head sideways, leaving your tits to grasp your jaw, he loses it. Your flushed cheeks, lower lip trapped between your teeth, the whites of your eyes still a little red from sleep.

Lips on lips, slotting together like magnets. 

Too long. 

Too damn long. 

Sure, he kissed you when he came back, a bunch of hours before. But this is a whole other thing. The connection behind it, the pinch of your brows conveying the same desperation he has. Hands grabbing at flesh, bodies grinding against each other. Tongues dancing privately. Eyes closed to shut the world out. Moans and pants, dotted with the occasional curse slipping from his lips when the length of his cock catches the cleft of your ass.

His palm slides down and crosses the threshold marked by your shorts. He’s awfully delighted to find out you have nothing underneath them. Feels blessed when his middle finger slides down your cunt to find it impossibly wet. 

“Oh - Simon,” He hears you whimper, and he almost comes in his briefs then and there because he has no right to hear you say his sullied name with such devotion behind it. 

Seemingly feeling the need to respond in kind, your arm blindly reaches behind, and you slip it between your butt and his groin. Your hand is soft as it palms his cock, the cotton of his boxers an annoying barrier. 

The tip is leaking tremendously, and he should be embarrassed about the obvious wet spot he must be sporting on his briefs. However, he can’t even manage to concoct the thought that your fingers are already fumbling with the elastic band of his underwear and finding their way in.

Simon shudders when your warm hand curls around his shaft. 

You glide your hand up, collecting precum on your palm, before sliding back down again – velvet skin being pulled over the head to steer clear of overstimulation, and then down once more. Similarly, he crooks his finger to gather your wetness and uses it to roll idle circles around your clit. 

And it goes on, and on, and on, and on. It’s slow and drawn out, both of you wanting to reach that high but at the same time don’t – cutting off pleasure doesn’t seem fitting, when both of you have been starved of one another.

He bends the arm beneath your neck to pull your head back, next to his own, cheek to cheek. Simon’s hips jerk to blatantly fuck your fist, yours flow with the movement of his fingers circling your clit, stroking yourself against his hand.

He starts getting antsy, however, when he notices that he can’t properly reach you. Can’t have you unravel on his fingers like he’s done so many times before. Simon wants – needs – to see you unfold and squirm under the pressure of his hand. Needs to have you cream on his fingers – as simple as it’s primal.

He murmurs against the shell of your ear, “Need to stretch you out, love.”

And – goddamn you, you whine. Your hand doesn’t stop its languid movements, but it further slows down, as if you needed all of yourself to cooperate and form a single thought.

“Jus’ do it, I missed you.” You whimper, breathy and high-pitched. “Won’t hurt much, I promise.”

Simon sucks in a sharp breath, closing his eyes because your voice has gone straight to his cock and he needs to disassociate for a second to recollect himself.

You’re a temptress, even in your loving, tender desperation. And how sweet it is to know that he isn’t the only one craving those intimate touches he can only give you. You’ve had your fair share of relationships and lovers, but has he? Some quick ones, enough to get rid of natural aches. Definitely not with a connection so deeply ingrained. 

And he tastes, then, the beauty of mutuality. Of giving and receiving. 

He retreats his hand and prompts you to do the same. Helps you take off your shorts and pulls his cock out of his underwear. He holds you still with one arm around your waist, palm flat against your lower belly to angle you better. 

Gingerly, he guides the tip to your slit, dragging it upward until it catches your clit and you hiss, and then down to your hole. Back and forth, happily realizing that he has, in fact, made you wet enough to make it hurt less. And while he tends to be open to many requests made under the bedsheets, anything that causes you pain is a huge, firm no in his book. 

Which is why he’s a bit hesitant now, pressing chaste kisses against your shoulder, trying to soften the ache that will inevitably come. A juxtaposition, really, to his cock dragging a raw, slow dance down your cunt.

It’s then that you turn your head in the pillow to groan against the fabric, and your legs clamp together and essentially choke him between the plush of your thighs.

The sensation is initially a sharp jolt that makes him spout a series of curses under his breath. But then the glisten of your cunt mixed with the precum you’ve diligently smeared all over him, with your folds and your plump thighs wrapped around him in a warm, wet hug – he sees the appeal. 

And thrusts. Shamelessly – once, twice, thrice. Snapping harshly, only to draw back slowly. Grunting to your skin. Chest vibrating against your back.

“F – fuck,” he manages to choke out, wringing his eyes closed to regain some control over his actions and failing spectacularly.

Your moans don’t help. They perfectly align with the slap of his hips against your ass, with the wet noises of your sodden cunt against his cock. It’s as filthy as it’s fucking wonderful, and he’s terribly afraid he’ll finish before he can even fit the head inside of you. 

The grip he has around your waist only tightens, leaving you breathless by the second. Simon has his mouth next to your ear, giving you the privilege of hearing even the smallest breaths he exhales. 

“You’re so fuckin’ soft,” he whispers, panting from the effort. 

Curiously, he takes a peek over your shoulder as he fucks your thighs, catching the flushed head of his cock stroking your clit and appearing each time he thrusts in. It’s fucking debauched and he loves it to bits. So much that he groans and rolls his eyes, struggling not to paint your thighs with his spend.

“Need to fuck you,” he hurries, choking on the words. “Now, love.”

Rapidly (and reluctantly), he pulls out of the pillowy, snug space your thighs had inadvertently created for him, almost hissing when the cold air hits the sensitive skin of his cock, coated in yours and his arousal. 

“On your back, swee’heart,” he gently guides you down, adding a brisk yet tender “C’mon.”

And you comply, feeling almost like a ragdoll in his hands. Lips parted and slick as they form small Yes’s to convey the same ache he feels. It takes him less than a breath to place his mouth over yours again. 

As he hovers above you, thick arms on each side of your head and chapped lips crashing against your own, he slots his hips between your legs. The softer flesh of the inside of your thighs is still wet from when he’s buried his cock between them. He feels the fluids stick to the skin of his hips.

Taking his time, he lets a hand wander down your chest, flowing to your belly until his fingers reach your core – where you’re wet, and warm, and still pressing up against his cock, searching for friction.

He plunges a finger inside, making the movement of your hips stutter and your mouth gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Gotta stretch you out," he repeats languidly, because he cannot - for the life of him - put words into sentences without thinking about the structure beforehand.

He’s aware he’s big. It used to chub up his ego when he was younger and brash, but now he can’t be arsed about it. Big or small, he’s learned that it’s how you use it – and to be frank, he hasn’t used it much before you.

But he knows it’s going to hurt if he just puts it in with little to no preparation. He hasn’t seen you in three months, and you can trust him when he says he’s as ravenous as you are and can’t bloody wait to be inside you where he’s warm and blessed – but causing you pain? When it can be avoided so easily (and he can make it feel good, too)?

Absolutely not. Categorical. 

He wants you to indulge in the blissful touches and the highs he can bring. Needs you to associate him to kindness and soft breaths and how much he hungers for you – he'll gladly eat you up, but only if you say so. 

“’S not gonna hurt,” you mumble again, sounding a little drunk in the effort to convince him. “Please.”

Your eyes flutter to him, and they’re this dark pool he can’t seem to navigate. Lust overflowing like fat, miry tears that can’t fit in the space of your sockets, and then something even darker – longing. You’re looking at him as if it's the first time you’re seeing him.

He gets it, then, how good you’ve been at hiding it so he wouldn’t hurt at the thought of hurting you. He must've unconsciously taught you a thing or two, by wearing stoicism, neutrality, and more tangible skull masks. 

You’ve missed him body and soul. 

You’re there, eyes heavy and full, begging for him to come back to you. 

How long have you been waiting for me like this? 

“Oh, love,”  he breathes and kisses you again.

A long finger inside, pushing against the place he knows makes your eyes water.

“M’sorry,” he whispers, thumb steadfast on your clit, as if he could apologize just by using his fingers because words tend to fail him when he needs them the most.

And so, he slides in his ring finger too, feeling the momentarily tight fit and the subsequent way you relax to welcome him. Your lips part to sharply breathe in, eyes scrunching close at the stretch. He can feel your hands stiffen against his back until they travel up his spine and tangle through shorn blond hair. 

You’re keeping him close, with your forehead pressed to his almost to the point of pain. Your noses are in the way of the onslaught you’re causing on his mouth. Strained, heavy pants brush his lips when you part from him to breathe, before lavishing him with attention again.

You’re always good with words. You always know what to say, and yet you’re being extremely quiet – it worries him more than the look you have in your eyes. 

“M’sorry.”

For being away. 

For not telling you where I was. 

For leaving you to wonder whether I’d come back, or not. 

For not calling. 

I’m sorry. 

“M’so sorry.”

My girl.  

His hand cradles the back of your head as if he could get you any closer, and he fucks you with his fingers.

“Don’t be,” you reply, your voice so faint and lost in the sounds of your bodies he has to perk his ears for it. “You’re home.”

My sweet, sweet girl. 

And he buries his face in your neck, leaving wanton kisses that have very little erotic power to them. He’s just trying to taste you, really. Trying to commit you to memory again, conveying fierce apologies to your skin. 

He can feel you clench around him, almost sucking him in, each time his fingers reach deep.

“Fuck, need to see you come.” He murmurs to the skin of your neck.

Thumb aching, he replaces it with the heel of his hand. A continuous and tortuous curl of his fingers inside of you, palm cupping your cunt and rolling against your clit. His cock aches when you whimper and stifle it by biting into his shoulder. A sharp exhale. Skin sweaty and pressed against his chest. Hands tugging at his hair. 

“Don’t-” You croak. “Just- just fuck me, Si.”

He groans because stop being stubborn, will ya?

“I’ll cum the moment I get in, swee’heart.” He tries to reason and almost loses it at the raunchy, squelching sounds caused by his fingers between your legs. "Lemme take care of you before tha'."

But it's like talking to a wall.

"'s fine, love. I don't care, yeah?" Your hips move against his hand, but at this point, he gathers it's just a natural body response to pleasure. “You’ll take care of me tomorrow, and the days after that.”

Just when he’s about to rebut, you sandwich an arm between your bodies and curl soft fingers around his cock. The simple act makes him stop his motions, and he feels you pulse and clench around his fingers.

“Please.” You whisper, voice like silk. 

He crumbles, then, at the sight of your eyes. Watery and glossy and wide – lust a long-forgotten thing. 

He nods briefly when he surrenders. A jerky movement of his jaw as he swallows thickly. Doesn’t dare to avert his gaze from yours when he retrieves his hand and loves to catch how your brows pinch at the sudden emptiness inside. Sloppily, he coats his stiff cock with your wetness with a few weak pumps.

His eyes stay on you, as he goes in blindly, guided by touch only, and drives the tip to your hole. Tries to gauge your thoughts by the expressions on your face, and fails miserably, for once, at keeping his own concealed.

Barely aware and in control of what his face is conveying, he gathers you must appreciate it because you shift your palms to cradle his cheeks. He doesn’t know why you do it because there’s nothing on this godforsaken planet that could make his attention swerve to any thoughts but how beautiful you look when your lips stroke his own with featherlight pressure.

And he slides in, comfortably easy. Feels your puffy lips stretch to welcome him whole, inch by inch. Piece by piece of him, in every way you want to interpret it. 

His jaw is locked tight because as soon as your walls envelop the head of his cock, he already feels himself shutting down. His eyes close – he can’t afford to look at how you morph for him. How your pussy swallows the first inches of his cock, puffy clit begging to be touched and lavished. How your mouth parts against his own to yield soft moans and breathy whispers that encourage him to please, please, please go deeper. 

He can’t. Stubbornly thinking he must last long enough to give you some pleasure or it will all be worthless. And so, it’s a repetitive dance: an inch in, and a full pull out. Stop. Another inch, and pull out. 

It’s driving him fucking mental.

“Let go,” you say, tearing his head out of the gutter. “Look at me, and let go.”

He can’t exactly decide whether you’re being the devil on his shoulder, or an angel sent from heaven – either way, the aim is to ruin him. Yet it doesn’t matter when he opens his eyes, and you look so beautiful his heart cracks, with a thin layer of sweat on your brow and the sheen of his spit on bitten lips. 

You don't have to tell him twice at this point, because the way your hands force his face steady so he keeps his eyes on you does most of the trick. His resolve crumbles at breakneck speed.

He bottoms out, pushing his pelvis flush against yours. Your eyes roll back at the same time, legs going stiff and tight around his hips. He does a tentative roll that causes the coarse hair on his groin to press against your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," you breathe, your voice cracking at the edges. He echoes it right after you, or at the same time – he's not sure, but in his defense, he's not confident about a single thing right now.

If not how absurdly scorching you are, all wrapped around him.

With that, he hooks one arm around your waist and tucks his other hand behind your head. He holds you close like you might slip away, and he’s sure as hell not taking any chances.

He fucks you slowly, deep thrusts that fill you up all the way, and greedy love bites on your neck. Open-mouthed kisses at your throat, sliding up to your jaw and cheeks, all the way to your lips. Truthfully, he’s both trying to get his senses chock full of you, and keep his mouth shut so no words spoken while in ecstasy escape.

The slap of his hips against yours drowns the taps of the morning drizzle against the windowpane. He’s got your face buried in the crook of his neck, and your pants echo in his ears like a fucking promise that threatens to unravel him.

Each thrust has him fully sheathed inside of you. It fills him with primal pride and fuels his pleasure, because you take him so fucking well he can't help but think he's modeled you in his perfect image. He grunts against you and tugs at your hair out of sheer desperation to hold on – just a little longer.

But you’re swearing in his ear. Breathless fuck’s whispered like a curse and a vow at the same time. You shift your hips to change the angle and that makes him hit even deeper and he swears he hears you whimper in that telltale way he knows well.

He lifts your hips up and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

And he absolutely rams into you.

“Christ I missed you.” He rumbles and his voice cracks while your moans rise in pitch and your nails scratch his back. “Fuckin’ thought of you," Thrust. "Every bleedin’ day.”

He’s rambling now, intoxicated on the feeling of you. His words are slurred and strained and, deep down, there’s a more sober version of Simon Riley cursing at himself for speaking his heart out.

Luckily, it’s drowned by the slap of flesh against flesh and the wet sounds of your cunt milking him dry. 

Finally, he thinks, he's using his strength not to wield a heavy M4 or to ram against hostiles, but to fuck you on his cock – knee-deep in the mattress for leverage.

He lets go, like you asked.

He murmurs in your ear (Fuckin’ beautiful), words alternated with heavy pants (An’ all mine) and the animalistic grunts of a man cocooned in bliss (All fuckin’ mine).

His hips stutter and he knows he’s close, but you’re not even nearby, in spite of how he can feel you clench around him, sucking him in. And God, the guilt that fills him almost makes him stop even if he has that sweet, sweet release just around the bend.

But you won’t have that, naturally. 

Your fingers thread through his hair, clammy and sticking out weirdly because he’s sweaty and hot. He feels his head being shifted to the side, so you can look into his eyes.

And oh, how can you look at him like that? How is he even deserving of it – fuck you and your relentless ways to crawl under his skin and make him feel like he’s worth a damn, with your eyes glossy and hooded. A thick veil of admiration, fondness, and you. 

You, you, you. 

Where have you been all his life, with this color in your eyes?

“Come inside.” You plead tenderly, breathless and raspy, as he pounds you into your own bed. Your fingers smooth back rogue strands that are sticking to his forehead. “Please come inside.”

And you crush his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. One that marks his demise. He’s falling hard into your embrace, figuratively and literally, too.

He uses whatever shreds of strength he has left to ram into you as if his life depended on it, punching gasp after heaving gasp out of your beautiful lips into his hungry mouth.

It works like a spell because he feels the familiar pressure building at the base of his cock. Syrupy hot warmth runs down his legs to the tips of his toes. Tingling. Tightening. Burning so good he thinks he's melting within you.

Suddenly, his head spins, and he groans in your parted lips as he ruts into you one last time – until he has you filled to the brim. His eyes slam shut as he spills inside of you – cock pulsating and hot. 

His high takes its sweet time, canceling out all background noises and only leaving your sweet breaths to fill in his ears, and the pounding of his heart. 

Simon unceremoniously drops on you like dead weight, allowing your legs to return around his waist. His lips slide off yours until his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. He’s absolutely spent, but there isn’t enough fatigue in this world that could keep him away from you. You’re sweaty and he’s worse, but he doesn’t see why, in the haze of his orgasm, he shouldn’t have his lips reach every inch of skin he can.

His kisses are lazy – a stark contrast from the desperation he’s displayed until now. 

He feels safe. He feels at home, still buried deep inside of you, feeling the come that couldn’t fit inside ooze out and onto the bedsheets. A bummer to clean, he’ll realize when he’ll get his sanity back.

And he wants to tell you so many things when he feels your hands skimming down his back in a soothing dance. Wants to tell you how you’ve flipped his life, with the ease of tossing a coin – heads and tails. Opposites so striking you should be deemed a witch. 

He was in deep fucking shit before you offered your smile. Inching closer and closer to dead-ended alleys and dark, murky thoughts that could only lead to dreadful places.

You gave him something to yearn for, something to miss when he's away, and something to cherish when he's here. 

There’s nothing he can do to return the favor but love you in equal measure. 

It’s not the first time the word love has come up in his head when his mind was lost in memories of you. And while he’d rather not dwell on it now, while you hold him to your chest as he comes back to his senses, he knows the time will eventually come.

Yet he doesn’t dread it. Not one bit.

Fear pocket sewn shut. Finally. 

He lifts his head to look up at you and finds you doing the same – he’s sure he’s thoroughly fucked in the best way imaginable. 

“I’ll take care of everything later,” you say, reading his thoughts. “You okay?”

It takes him a while to respond. Mental gymnastics to reawaken the parts of his brain that are still tingling in the afterglow. 

“Never better, love.” 

“Sleep?” You offer, as if he isn’t still buried inside of you and effectively crushing you under his weight. 

You don’t seem to mind, and so he trusts you and doesn’t either.

His eyes are half closed as he slides down to rest his head in the valley of your breasts. "Y' didn't cum," he mumbles, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the fat of your tits.

Your fingers brush through his hair to keep him close, and when your nails scrape at his scalp he feels gooseflesh rise along his arms. 

"'S fine," you whisper gently, and he's struck by the earnestness in your tone. But then you quip, "I'll have ya on your knees tomorrow."

And he scoffs. "Makin' it sound like a punishment."

You purse your lips and land a kiss on the crown of his head. "Then stop complaining."

He grunts something he himself can't even discern. 

“Y’need to piss first.” He grumbles mindlessly, as if the thought of you standing up annoys him but he knows a UTI is even more aggravating.

You snort. “Charming."

And he responds in kind. "Chivalry's dead anyway."

There's a few seconds of silence only broken by your quiet chuckle. "I’ll wait for you to fall asleep, then ‘m off to the loo. Deal?”

He grunts in agreement, liking the compromise you’re offering. “Deal.” 

And his head stays quiet. Sleazy hands and raging voices cease, silenced under the thunder of your heartbeat.

“I missed you.” He thinks he hears you whisper, your voice thick and wet. He closes his eyes with his head on your chest. “’M so happy you’re home.”

────────────

Simon wakes up with shy sunbeams peeking through the blinds and brushing his brow. You must’ve closed them when you woke up, to shield him from the sun.

He blinks idly, momentarily lost in that phase between sleep and waking life, still unsure of where he is. His mouth is pasty, and his eyes struggle against sunlight. The duvet is up to his chin, and it smells of grapefruit-scented softener, and of you. The pillow is a little wet, and he embarrassingly notices that it’s because he’s drooled on it – he smacks his lips once, twice, but his tongue might as well be a dried-up cinderblock.

It has been a long time since he’s slept like this. Since his mind has shut down and left him alone. Since his night has gone smoothly, sleep comatose and dreamless – nightmare-less.

And you’re not there, but that’s okay.

Because he hears your music from the kitchen, kept at a low volume so you won’t wake him up. The clanking of utensils frames the beat, pans and pots being moved around as you hum to yourself following the melody. The smell of eggs, sausages, potatoes, and fresh veggies – a full English. Wafts of that disgusting coffee you drink in the morning intertwined with the softer notes of the tea you’re brewing for him.

You were right: he is home.

And he can’t see your eyes, but that’s okay too.

He guesses he’ll never remember their exact shade, Simon’s fine with it. No better thing than to discover you once more, each time he gets to come home.

They change with you, following the flow of whatever you allow to show, and of what he’s learned to read. They’re the color of that life he’s unwittingly always looked for. That life promising a pocket of peace for himself. Chock full of love and nice things he’s always been deprived of.

A balm to both his ancient and newest wounds.

He has never shared a single story about his past, never told you why his body is like a tattered book whose tale is as horrific as it looks. But you don’t mind, and he doesn’t know why because he’s firmly set on the idea that you must know someone inside out to be sure you care.

And it’s then that it hits him, that you do know him – better than anyone. You know the man he is. You want the man he is now, the man he will be one day – as mental as it sounds to him. His present, and his future. And sure, his past might have made this man you know, but he’s not the same Simon under his father's thumb or the one felled by Roba’s tortures.

Although he’s not sure he can reopen certain sutures without the wounds bleeding all over the floor, he'll try. He’ll clean up, if he must, knowing that you’ll help him have each injury scab over again. 

What baffles him is that you’re not saying he has to. You’re saying he can. And this choice you’re giving him is a privilege he’s never had the chance to bear.

He can tell you everything, and you’ll listen. He can keep it to himself, and you’ll stay, accepting that there will be places of him you’ll never venture – and to you, that is fine.

As long as he stays, too.

There are no words he can use to express his gratitude. He can only love you – and it might take him a while to acknowledge that he’s capable, but he already does love you.

You appear at the door as he’s lost in his own head, still tucked under the duvet. Strips of sunlight cross your form, curving around the beautiful shape of you.

“Good morning, you.” You say, with a smile that reminds him of the sun.

Lazily, he offers one of his own to you. It’s lopsided and he thinks not quite as beautiful. 

He hopes you forgive him for it: takes practice to be happy, and he’s still learning.

And so, he smiles, and looks at you like you're the most tangible form of joy he's ever witnessed. 

His voice is raspy from sleep, and soft from you.

“Mornin’, love.”

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.