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brokenbarnes · 1 month ago

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Echos

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky's worst nightmare comes true. You come back to him after taking a turn in Hydra's electric chair.

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence. Memory loss.

A/N: Probably the longest fic I've posted to date. Send me ideas!!

Read part two here: Convergent

There are very few things in his life that Bucky holds near and dear to his heart. His backpack of possessions, including a notebook of scattered memories and pamphlets from the Smithsonian, his dog tags that were returned to him after his pardon, Steve; his best friend in the universe, and you.

The word girlfriend doesn’t even begin to describe what you mean to him. What started out as shy romantic intentions has blossomed into what one would not dare to call codependency; but an unyielding show of love that has kept you both out of the madhouse.

You’re his partner in everything, sparring, ping pong tournaments, missions and most importantly in life. It is rare to find one of you without the other.

So when he watched in horror as you, gagged, handcuffed and unconscious, were stuffed into the trunk of a car and all he could was watch. His body was temporarily paralyzed by electrical cattle prods, the enemy left him laying in the wet gravel and took you instead.

He tried to yell, to call out but all that could come out of his mouth was a weak moan. He watched in horror as the car peeled out of the parking lot, spraying gravel and taking his heart with them.

It wasn’t until Steve found him a few minutes later and through awful gasps in his voice, that he explained what happened. Steve had him sit, pushed his head between his knees until he was breathing evenly again. He promised his best friend that he would find you.

It took a month to even figure out a possible location of where the car could have taken you. A month of sleepless nights, intense meetings and trying to keep his hopes up as search and rescue missions turned up empty. Bucky could barely step foot in the bedroom you shared with him without feeling like he got sucker punched in the gut, doubling over with yearning and guilt.

It didn’t help his hopes that he insisted on going on every search and rescue operation. Clearing warehouses, abandoned Hydra facilities only to go home to an empty bed where the nightmares of his past found him.

The day that he found you will forever be seared in his scarred memory. A Hydra base, his head pounding with what he thought was déjà vu but was probably former memories trying to find the correct keyhole in his mind.

Together, him and Natasha cleared rooms in effective silence. They’ve done this countless times over the course of the month. Both of your best friends wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Barnes, we got a heat signature in the next room,” she murmured, pressing the small earpiece. Most likely getting the information from Sam and Redwing. “There’s no way to tell who it is.”

He nodded, staring at the heavy duty door in front of him. His mind was already calculating the best way to access whoever was inside. Should he hit it with the arm? Shoot a few bullets into the lock?

Natasha reached over and tried the handle, finding it unlocked with only a shrug of her shoulders; she forged ahead.

Bucky blinked, regaining his senses. He followed Nat into the room only to stop suddenly in his steps.

He had been in this room before, many times in fact. He knew that because of the chair, the electrodes attached, the metal tables and equipment scattered around the room. This is where they wiped his memories.

So when he saw you slumped in the chair, his heart stopped.

“No,” he whispered, surging forward. He dropped his weapon, sinking to his knees in front of you. “Y/N?”

You looked asleep, knees pulled up to your chest, too thin arms wrapped around your shins, head pressed towards your lap.

“Y/N, Doll,” he whispered, reaching out to lay a hand on your arm. As soon as you felt his touch, you jolted as if he was the one who had been administering the electricity. You raised your head quickly, scooting back as far as you could in the chair, arms gripping the arm rest. Fear had blown your eyes wide, staring into the face of your long-term boyfriend.

Bucky’s stomach twisted, from your reaction, from the blood drying in splotches on your face, from the burn marks pressed into your temples.

“Hey, you’re okay,” he tried reaching out again, but you shifted farther away. “It’s okay.”

He turned to look back at Nat, who was radioing to the team that you had been located and to send in a medical team.

“Y/N,” he whispered, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “We’re going to get you home.”

You were shaking, fear still in your eyes as you continued to blanch at him. Bucky watched your whole body tremble violently, a question he didn’t want to ask on the tip of his tongue.

“Y/N, do you know who I am?” His voice was soft, understanding.

You shook your head, pressing yourself as far back in the leather chair as you could. Nat approached slowly, making your eyes flicker over to her, Bucky could see your pulse beating wildly in your neck.

“Nat, let’s give her some space,” Bucky whispered, rising on shaky legs. He turned away from you, pressing his flesh hand over his eyes to hide the tears prickling in his tear ducts.

Nat took a step back, pressing her hand into Bucky’s shoulder but keeping an eye on you. You had shrunk into yourself again, curled up into a ball and shivering against the dark leather.

“This isn’t your fault, Barnes,” Nat murmured to him as he struggled to keep his composure. “She’s going to be alright.”

He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened his shoulders. Nat looked over at him once more before stepping into the hallway to lead the medical team in.

Bucky turned to look at you, you were watching him with wide, careful eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he shook his head. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Your eyes were skeptical, body language extremely closed off. You had never once looked at him like this in your life and it felt like someone had punched through his chest and ripped out his heart.

You screamed when the medical team got close to you, a horrible, blood curdling scream that Bucky had only heard one other time in his life. Sam and Nat had to hold Bucky back as they pressed a needle to your arm full of enough sedatives to knock out a super soldier. You slumped in the chair soon after, eyes closed, lashes brushing against bruised skin.

“Let me carry her,” Bucky said firmly as the medical team prepped to transfer you to a gurney. “Please.”

Reluctantly, they let Bucky scoop you up in his arms and led the way back to the sunlight. He cradled you close to his chest, concern ripping through his chest at how light you felt, bones and joints instead of plush flesh he usually felt.

In the Quinjet, he laid you down on the gurney and took a step back to let the medics work. He didn’t stray very far, hovering over shoulders, trying to stay out of the way as they assessed you for injuries.

Nat eventually grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to a seat, handing him a bottle of water. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to focus on taking deep breaths.

You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anyone. Hydra wiped your memory like they did his.

When the landing gear touched the tarmac, Nat held him back as the medical team rushed you to the infirmary. Sam squeezed his shoulder before brushing past him, following you into the building.

“Barnes, you gotta listen to me,” Nat spoke in a firm voice. “She’s going to be confused when she wakes up. She’s not going to remember a whole lot. You gotta get her to trust you.”

“Nat, they… they…” he trailed off, eyes faraway.

“I know,” she nodded. “We’re going to get her back, it’s just going to take some time.”

He nodded, bending his head to wipe his eyes. The redhead pulled him in for a hug, patting his back over the layers of Kevlar he wore. She pulled away, he schooled his features into a little emotion as possible before heading down the ramp to find you.

It was some hours later before you finally woke. You had been cleared of any major physical injuries, just some minor cuts and bruises; everyone’s main concern was the mental damage that Hydra had done.

Bucky hadn’t left your side since you had been admitted, still in his tac suit, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair that had been shoved next to your bed. Your hand looked so small in his, knuckles carrying fading bruises that made him smile knowing you didn’t go easily.

Despite the sedation, you weren’t sleeping easily. Shifting and mumbling in your sleep, expression pinched into an unpleasant expression Bucky has only seen once in a blue moon.

He watched your eyes flutter open, hazy and confused; most likely from the amount of drugs being filtered through your IV.

“Hey Doll,” he murmured, setting your hand gently on the sheets covering your legs. “Welcome back.”

Your eyes attempted to concentrate on him, blinking and shaking your head to try and getting the lens of your eye to focus. When they did, panic pumped through your veins and you jerked away from him.

“It’s okay,” he said in a gentle voice. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Your eyes scanned the room in a hazy sweep, taking in the medical equipment and the different environment. You scrambled away, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and pressing yourself into the corner; tripping over the legs of medical equipment and various cords.

“S-stay away,” you stammered, holding out your hands in front of me. “I can’t do it anymore.”

Bucky didn’t move from his spot in the car, despite his heart pounding in his chest. “Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Please,” the whimper broke his heart. “Please, I want to go home.”

“Where’s home, Honey?” He asked, tilting his head at you, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

You faltered, confused by his question. The wheels started spinning in your mind when you realized what you had said; the uncertainty on how to answer sent your head spinning.

The door opened, a team of medical professionals entered which sent you sideways again. Bucky locked eyes with Dr. Cho as she held a syringe loaded with sedative.

“No,” you sobbed. “No, please!”

“Y/N, this will just help you sleep,” Cho moved forward with the needle, cap still on.

Bucky stood as you started to scream, the same as when you were found. An ear splitting shriek that turned his stomach.

You were extremely combative, taking the entire staff to restrain you as Cho administered another fast acting sedative. They tucked your limp form back into bed, fixed your IV and other external monitors before leaving.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, he turned to find Sam standing behind him. He gave the soldier a sympathetic smile before handing him a backpack full of fresh clothes and toiletries.

“Get changed, she’s not going to remember you smelling like that,” Sam tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

When you slept, Bucky let himself hold your hand. He��d press your knuckles to his lips, fighting back tears as he remembers the confusion and panic that comes with memory loss.

You wake a few more times, less confused each time as your surroundings stay consistent. Including the big bulky man sitting in the chair beside your bed.

“Who are you?” You whispered, staring up at the ceiling.

Bucky blinked his tired eyes open, setting your hand back down on the bed from where he had it pressed against his cheek.

“My name is Bucky.”

“Why do you stay?” Your voice was weak.

He bit his lip, holding back a response that might confuse or overwhelm you. “Because I understand.”

“What do you mean?” You swiped a hand across your damp eyes, trying to focus on his face.

“What they did to you, they did to me too,” he whispered. Without thinking, he reached out to the bandages on your temples, where the electrodes had zapped you without enough voltage to burn your skin; and wipe your memories.

As he leaned close to you, you were able to focus on his face. A headache formed behind your eyes, making you squeeze your eyes shut and press your hand to the bridge of your nose.

“What is it?” He pulled his hand back, cursing internally for forgetting himself.

“My head,” you gasp, sitting up. “It hurts.”

“I know,” the soldier nodded sadly. He still gets that same headache sometimes, when he can feel the memory rattling around inside his brain but it doesn’t know how to file it. “It will pass.”

You let him rub your back as you sit with your head between your knees. He allows himself to enjoy pressing his palm between your shoulder blades, pretending that this is any other day and you remember all the love he has given.

Eventually, you raise your head and look sideways at him, cheek resting on your forearms. “They’ve done this to you?”

He nodded, placing his hand back in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes water again.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago.” He murmured, then after a breath twists his fingers together. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You lay back down, covering yourself up with the thin blankets. “’s not your fault, Bucky.”

He blinks back tears as you drift off to sleep.

Eventually Nat strong-armed Bucky into taking his place for a while, she sat in his chair while he went upstairs with instructions to shower and eat before coming back down.

After throwing together a quick sandwich to eat and downing a bottle of water, he finds himself in the bedroom you share.

It hasn’t looked the same in the month you’ve been gone. He’s tried to keep it neat, but it’s losing it’s touch. The way you fold a knit blanket over the end of the bed, the multiple drink cups that clutter the bedside table, the messy bookcase you continuously arrange and rearrange based on an order inside your mind.

The shower is too hot, but it keeps his mind off you. His skin is bright red and raw by the time he turns the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist.

The closet brings a tidal wave of emotions he wasn’t expecting. He realizes that you might want some clothes of your own, that might help you feel home in the echo that is your mind.

After getting dressed, he picks out a few pairs of clothes for you. Some of your favorite comfortable clothes, a worn t-shirt, a stretchy pair of leggings, slipper socks in case your feet get cold. He packed them up in a tote bag with some local bookstore’s logo printed across the front and slung it over his metal shoulder.

When he returns, Nat is talking to you in a soft voice that trails off when he steps through the door. He tries to smile at you, but you turn to hide your face in the hospital pillow. He feels as if someone has reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice grip.

“I brought you some clothes,” he set the tote down on the end of your bed.

You waited until he backed away before reaching into the bag. He watched as you tentatively reached into the bag and pulled out the t-shirt out. With a start, he realized that it was once his. A SHIELD-issue grey t-shirt, he had somehow ripped a hole in the sleeve and had retired it to the back of the closet. You picked it up out of the laundry and claimed it as your own.

You closed your eyes, pressing the fabric of the shirt to your sheet, turning your nose into the collar to breathe in the scent. His heart stuttered.

“This is mine,” you murmured, making him crack a smile.

“It is, Sweetheart,” he breathed.

Nat squeezed his shoulder before making her exit. He moved without noise to sit in the chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

You moved carefully off the bed toward the small en-suite bathroom with the bag in your arms. Fearful eyes caught Bucky’s, making him sit up straight.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

“Can… can you keep watch?” Your voice trembled and his heart broke.

He nodded, standing up to follow you in the direction of the bathroom. You slid the door shut, but kept it open just a crack. Bucky put his back to the door, remembering the feeling all too well.

The vulnerability Hydra forces out of you is something he is still working to break. You never want to turn your back, to undress, to be unguarded in case they made their next move.

When the door opens next, you seem a little less on edge. Dressed in the grey t-shirt and a pair of dark leggings, you almost look like who he once knew.

You tuck yourself back into bed, pulling your knees up to your chest. Bucky settled back into the chair, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

“Bucky?” You ask so softly, he’s not sure he heard you at first.

He lifted his head, smiling at you. “Yeah, Honey?”

“I told you I wanted to go home,” your voice shook, picking at the seam of the fuzzy socks.

He nodded.

“And… and I didn’t know where home is,” your voice cracked and his heart splinter even further.

He nodded, trying his hardest not to speak in order for you to continue.

“Can you show me where home is?” Tears were in your eyes now, chin wobbling with the effort to contain it.

“Of course, Honey,” he nodded. “You wanna go right now?”

You nodded.

He stood up and held out his hand to you, you took it to help you off the bed. You had been unhooked from all your monitors earlier in the day so there was nothing to worry about with the nurses.

Physically you were fine, but he was still holding out hope that your memory would return. You never lost hope with his recovery, he could only offer you the same curtesy.

He felt already better with your hand in his, leading you out of the infirmary and into the elevator. You don’t let go of his hand in the enclosed space, in fact stepping closer as the floor rises.

Bucky fights the urge to hook his arm over your shoulder, tug you in close against his chest. You’re standing in his space, leaning on his ability to protect you from whatever comes through the door.

You’re quiet as the doors open, eyes quickly taking in your new surroundings. Bucky tugs on your hand, leading you out into the space you’ve shared with him for quite some time now.

“I live here?” You whisper, taking in the foyer and kitchen area. Too many shoes scattered by the door, umbrella leaning against the linen closet door. A whiteboard calendar holding onto the drywall for dear life with two command strips and a thumbtack.

“You do,” Bucky confirms, toeing off his shoes and leaving them by the door. “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

You shake your head, which concerns him because you haven’t exactly eaten since you returned. You go into the kitchen anyway, leaving Bucky behind in the foyer; he mourns the loss of your hand.

He finds you staring at the mug left by the coffee maker. You had left it there that morning you disappeared, drank half before running out the door. He looked around the messy kitchen and feels a hint of shame that he should have cleaned up before bringing you in.

You press your hand to your eyes, the way you do when your brain is lost. You grip the edge of the counter, he moves quickly to your side.

“It’s all familiar,” you grit your teeth through the pain. “But I can’t… I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” he sooths a hand over your shoulder blades. “Don’t push it. It will come back.”

From the kitchen, you wander into the living room like an echo of your former self. Bucky watches from the doorway, letting you take your time.

A paper back novel placed face down on the coffee table. Slippers, half jammed under the couch from where he had carried you to bed per your pleading request. A half-drunk mug of tea, the contents separated and half evaporated that makes you wrinkle your nose as you peer inside.

Your fingers dance over the knitted throw that is draped over the back of the sofa. Countless hours you’ve spent with it thrown over your lap, pulled up to your chin or pressed under your cheek.

Bucky follows you in silence, never wanting to overstep, to allow you to remember the comfort of your own home at your own pace.

Your eye catches the framed picture beside the tv. You shuffle forward, maneuvering around the furniture with ease despite your eyes being focused ahead.

The picture is one of your favorites. A beach trip sometime last year, the two of you huddled around the bonfire Sam built, a blanket draped over your shoulders. Bucky’s first big smile he allowed others to see, rather than just you. The smile could be contributed to the burnt marshmallow on the end of the roasting stick, how he warned you to just keep it by the coals.

You reached out and rested your fingers on the glass of the thrifted frame, he remembers when you found it in a hidden thrift shop somewhere in the city. He dutifully carried all the bags for you, loaded with hidden treasures.

“You and I…?” You murmured, wrapping your arms around yourself. When he didn’t respond, you glanced over your shoulder at him.

He nodded slowly, avoiding your eye contact by hovering his gaze over your shoulder.

Your expression wavered; taking a hesitant step toward him. “I’m sorry, Bucky. This must be so hard for you.”

He didn’t speak, just swallowed hard and watched your socked feet approach. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Another slow step forward, keeping your arms wrapped around yourself. Chipped nails digging into the bare skin of your under arm.

“Anything look familiar?” He asked, mirroring your posture.

You press your palm between your eyes, unsure if it hurts or maybe thinking it will help you remember. “A little, maybe.”

“C’mere, let’s try this,” he tried to smile, but you watched the sadness return to his eyes. It set an uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you felt like you needed to do something to change that.

You reached out and slipped your hand into his, he stopped in surprise before smiling down at you. Better.

He led you down the hallway, past the spare bedroom, the half bath that you spent Memorial Day weekend completely redecorating.

Pushing open the bedroom door, you’re hit with a tidal wave of emotions. The rumpled duvet cover, squashed pillows, Bucky’s pillow always has half the pillow case on no matter how many times you fix it.

Your soldier pauses in the doorway as you walk the perimeter of the room. Pausing at each framed picture, art you purchased from the little gallery in Brooklyn that you fell in love with, the tiffany lamp you begged Bucky to come with you to pick up that was found on Facebook marketplace.

You picked up a tube of Carmex chapstick that lay on the crowded bedside table, smiling. “I love it in here.”

Bucky smiled sadly, from this angle he couldn’t see the awful healing burn wounds on your head and he could pretend this is any other day.

“You put a lot of time into making this place a home,” he offered, voice gentle.

Your fingertips traced the duvet, moving as you sat down, head hurting again. You winced, squeezing your eyes shut.

Bucky was quick, kneeling in front of you, his hands went to your hips before he could stop himself.

Twisted over in pain, you pressed your forehead to Bucky’s, eyes still shut. “Bucky I want to remember… I… I.”

He shushed you softly, curling his hands around your waist, bringing you closer. “It’s okay, Doll. They’ll come back, I promise.”

You straightened up and wiped your eyes. Bucky took his hands away which brought a feeling to you that you couldn’t categorize. “Can we do something normal? Something I would usually do?”

He smiled, scooting back with a nod. “Sure, Honey. We can do that.”

Bucky told you to get comfortable under the covers while he disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes. You pulled back the duvet and settled back against the pillows, looking around the room while you waited. Although you were alone for a few moments, you still felt at ease in this environment.

He returned with two mugs, both filled to the brim with steaming tea of your favorite brew. Handing one to you, he squatted down in front of the bookshelf and found your favorite book. It took him a moment to locate it, you had some down time the week before you disappeared and rearranged it again.

Climbing into bed next to you, he watched as you flipped open the cover and smiled at your handwriting in the corner of the title page. He took a cautious sip from his mug and set it his bedside table.

He hadn’t pick up his own book since you disappeared from his life for a month. So it took him a moment to reorient himself in the chapter and what was happening.

He watched you start to get absorbed into the book, eventually you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder; curling your knees in toward him. Just how you always do.

He blinked tears out of his eyes, watching the words on the page grow blurry. Despite the missing memories, you were mirroring your own self unconsciously. Every once in a while, he would see echos, proof that you were still there and would come back to him.

Hydra thought they could wipe you away completely, erase the person you once were. They had failed once again, you would come back to him just as the two of you always do.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky imagine #captain america

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yukioos · 2 months ago

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catching katsuki flexing in the mirror

katsuki held his arm up and flexed, smirking at his defined muscles everywhere, especially apparent on his bare torso. he had to have a top-notch build for his hero work and to impress you, his lady. you always managed to make his hard heart soften, whether it was by giving him a little compliment or clinging to his arm, it always worked.

meanwhile, you were walking up to the fourth floor of the dorm building, where your handsome boyfriend would be. it was the weekend, and although your teacher assigned homework and for you to train, you wanted to spend time with katsuki. training had tired you out, so you were exhausted and yearned to feel the blonde’s touch again.

so once you reached his familiar, plain door, you let yourself in by twisting the knob with ease. the room was quiet, which was unusual for your boyfriend’s explosive behavior. when you peeked your head in and whispered his name, you never would have expected to see him flexing in the mirror, checking himself out.

your eyes widened at the sight. maybe he didn’t notice your voice because of his hearing? he had been complaining about not hearing things as clearly because of how often he used his quirk.

but your mind was brought back to the situation, and you snorted, and tried to cover your mouth so he wouldn’t hear you. when you first met katsuki’s mom, she told you about catching him flexing in the mirror so often. he would always be embarrassed and shove her out of the room, lock it, then would most likely go back to flexing his muscles.

this time, he paused and turned his head to see your shy and flushed face, then grinned. he mumbled, “don’t just stand here, get over here.” once you did as he ordered, and shut the door, he went back to flexing in front of the mirror.

you sat on his bed and crossed your leg over another, tilting your head and looking at his beautiful, defined muscles. his large back faced your front, and you teased, “you know you look great, right?”

he glanced back at you then quickly back a the glass, and mumbled, “‘course i know i look good,” a smile formed on your face, and you stood up from your comfortable spot on his bed.

you walked over to him and rubbed his back, just to kiss his bicep. once you tried walking back to the bed, assuming he would go back to looking at himself, he tackled you onto the bed. you giggled once his body hit yours, and your weight almost crushed under his. you playfully shrieked, but he silenced your whines with a kiss on the lips.

“go to bed, baby. it’s too late for you to be up.” he mumbled into your neck after swarming you with kisses.

you replied, “love you, katsuki.” then drifted off into sleep, holding him securely in your arms.

katsuki squeezed you tighter, then mumbled back, “love you too.”

hope u guys like this one! tysm so much for more than a thousand likes on my other katsuki post! also im taking requests for him and eijiro now!

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shotmrmiller · 11 months ago

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dacryphilia baby!

simon's never really liked tears. people cry ugly, in his opinion. they get puffy-eyed, sclera bloodshot. their features twist ungracefully in their anguish, cheeks damp and ruddy. snot drips down their nose; clear, viscous. their mouths gape mid-sob, their shoulders tremble violently as they snort and gasp between fragmented words.

(never mind that the only time he's ever around a crying someone is when he stands in an interrogation room with a broken man who has crumbled under the pain he's inflicted, begging for mercy, coughing up anything and everything he needs to know.)

until he met you, with your bright eyes, soft lips, and gentle spirit.

tears suddenly make his cock throb. the first time he'd seen them, you'd been straddling his lap, wet heat struggling to stretch and accommodate to his size. your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you sank onto him, keening at feeling so full and he's barely halfway in. brave, little pet. sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. you'd looked a dream when your cunt finally swallowed him whole, thighs flush against his, looking up at him triumphantly with beads of moisture on your clumped lashes.

the second time, you'd been stressed from work, nerves raw and frayed, and patience nonexistent. nothing he couldn't fix with his head between your thighs. he plopped you on the kitchen counter, ignoring your snarling protests, and lapped up your slick with the thirst of a man lost in a desert. you came in minutes, hiccupping his name through sharp gasps of breath. you'd been spent after, body slumping with fatigue post torrent of cathartic release. he'd held your face in one hand, fingers dimpling your cheeks as he fucked your thighs, covering your cunt with his spend when a singular tear spilled from the corner of your eye.

and now. he clings to the idea of making you cry from overstimulation. he wants to see tears track down your dampened cheeks, yearns to taste salt on his tongue, aches to see your eyes glimmering under the warm glow of the bedroom lamp in the bedroom. the mere thought of your tears flowing down your face in rivulets leaves him momentarily unbalanced. he could burst in his pants untouched.

you're always so pliable beneath him, so giving when he wants to take. simon slides a finger through your wet folds, gently prodding your entrance, teasing. he knows exactly what to do to get you to the brink and keep you there— teetering that knife's sharpened edge of biting discomfort and searing ecstasy. "so close, m'so close," you garble as you try to buck your hips (he pins them down to the bed firmly, you will receive what he gives and nothing more) and he keeps at it until your throbbing pussy hurts from being held back from the edge. until you beg him with shimmering eyes to please, please, let you come. you'll be good, so good, just— please.

he gives it to you, satisfied with how delicious you look— all glossy-lipped and luminous eyes— swirling your swollen pearl under his thumb until you climax, pushing two fingers into your cunt so you can have something to clench around. your soul is barely coming back down from the heavens when he's pressing your thighs against your chest, knees almost to shoulders, feeling the air in your lungs being punched out of you when he bottoms out in one long stroke. the angle is on the verge of too much, feeling that deep pinch in your stomach you'd felt the very first time he rut his cock into you.

simon can see your eyes well with fresh tears, his throat drying at the sight. he starts to put his weight behind each thrust, hearing the squeaks that fall past your lips. you take what he gives you so well, pride prickling in the base of his skull. it tightens the coil that's spooling oh so ever tighter beneath his navel but it's not enough. he wants what he wants.

he weaves a hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles on it until he feels your walls fluttering and squeeze him like a vicious vise. it rips the breath out of him, almost has him fucking his cum into you but he sharpens his focus— gritting his teeth to keep from ending the fun. his iron will has never been so useful. you're wriggling beneath him now as if trying to get away from him (as if you could) because he keeps touching your clit. your legs are shaking, your mewls are loud enough to cause a ringing in his ears but he quickly gets you to another orgasm. you're a sobbing mess now; hiccups, gasps, high-pitched squeals.

and tears. full-blown tears spill, roll down your pretty face, sticking strands of your hair to cheeks. he wants to see this forever. wants it etched behind his eyelids, wants it inked on his skin (what a thought. he just might, no one has to know.)

he relents, abandoning your over-sensitized clit to grab at your fleshy hips to piston into you until he comes with a groan (and salt on his lips)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

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strwbrychffoncke · 4 months ago

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"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy

for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.

what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.

and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.

even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.

your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.

you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.

how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!

you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.

the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.

you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.

but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.

you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.

but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?

you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.

huh?

you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.

you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.

you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.

your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.

"morning, sleepyhead."

you tilted your head.

"caleb?" you whispered.

"surprised?"

you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.

"what are you-"

"hey."

his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.

"pipsqueak, are you sick?"

you jolt, looking off to the side.

"not really, its just—"

you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.

"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"

"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.

"that's—"

"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.

"just the past two days.."

"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"

"it was just a sore throat at first!"

"and you're telling me this is still just that?"

before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.

you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.

"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.

"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."

"that's okay, i wanted to—"

"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."

he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.

you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.

he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.

luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.

which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.

just like he used to.

"that's way too many, caleb!"

"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."

"is this really necessary??"

"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"

"no.."

"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"

"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"

"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"

"caleb!"

you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.

"fine, fine, here."

one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.

"how about now?"

you deadpan.

"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.

"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."

you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.

"do i really—"

"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."

you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.

caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.

"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.

you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.

"bless you."

you pout at him.

he points to your plate with his chopsticks.

"eat."

"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.

the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.

in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.

you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.

once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.

"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"

you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.

he grins.

always so cute...

"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"

you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.

"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"

"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.

"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.

you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.

no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.

his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.

"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"

"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.

"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"

you sniffle. he did have a point...

"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"

"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."

you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.

you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.

"caleb! i could've—"

"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."

you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.

"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."

"maybe cause you missed me so much?

"yeah, maybe."

his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.

"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"

"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."

he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.

"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"

"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."

you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.

"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.

"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.

"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"

"c-caleb!"

he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.

"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.

"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.

"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.

he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.

he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.

"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"

"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.

"and comfy. smells like you..."

even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.

"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.

in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.

he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.

"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."

even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.

so long as you were under caleb's care, you would be okay; that was something he would always make sure of.

extra:

half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.

it was a message from a friend of his.

wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.

grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.

can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~

aw, next time, then!

he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.

"can't i rest near you?"

you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.

his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.

silly girl...

there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—

whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.

always.

and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.

a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds caleb #lads caleb #l&ds caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x you #xia yizhou #love and deepspace caleb x reader #lnds caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader #love and deepspace fluff #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #lads fanfic

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sagatale · 1 year ago

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Dreams Of You

Hello everyone! So, I thought I would give posting fanfics a shot, starting with this small "blurb?" of Jacob Black. Obviously, aged up! I have been wondering quite a lot recently how imprinting would feel and be perceived since it's described as more intense than normal love. I really hope you like it, and if you have any other ideas for a longer fanfic you would like me to write next, let me know, and I might write it!<3 sexual content 18+ minors dni

“I dream of you all the time.” His voice was low, his breath brushing against your collarbones as he found a place in the crook of your neck. Warmth surrounded you, scorching skin burning through the layers of clothing, heating you until all left were cold fingertips and even colder lips. “Even when I’m awake, I still dream of you.”

The words were almost unrecognizable as his mouth pressed against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. His words never failed to make your heart flutter at his blatant affection for you. Never did it cease to overwhelm you, for he told you that there were truly no words that could describe how he yearned for you every minute—every second of his long, exhausting days.

Indeed, you couldn’t imagine what that was like, for if you harbored feelings in that vast amount, there could be no other way for you to deal with them than simply exploding.

Sometimes, when Jacob was perched over you, arms wound tight under your back as he hugged you close to him, strong legs helping him push into you, you could almost be sure your thoughts weren’t too far off the mark. The way his hands always seemed to handle you softly now strained against his strength, pulling you so tight against him as if having you close was the only way to keep him from eating you alive.

His pronounced brows permanently furrowed something so terribly, eyes tightly shut as sweat dripped down his skin, the salty substance dripping down your chest as his lips distracted themselves by dragging his tongue over your pulse, breathing in your scent til it consumed him whole. Strained breaths could be heard, grunts mingling with your quiet whimpers as your hands trailed over his shoulders, feeling his body tremble beneath them, shaking something so terrible.

You’d ask him if he needed a break, worry consuming you when his strong arms gave up, pressing into you more urgently as the bed rocked against the wall. Yet it turned out there wasn’t anything the matter with his stamina as he growled in protest when you tried to sit up, his heavyweight over you making your attempts futile, desperate lips finding yours as he slowed slightly, grinding into you as you moaned at the tortuous rhythm he set.

“You’re shaking, Jacob.” You’d say quietly, fingers threading through his damp hair as his hazy, warm, brown eyes found yours, once more planting his lips against yours. “I’ll be okay.” He’d mumble through the kiss, tongue caressing yours as his hand softly placed itself on your cheek, threading over your skin as if it were porcelain.

It didn’t take long for him to move inside you again, eyes glazed over as he stared into yours through lidded eyes, mouth open over your gasping one as your fingers ran through his black hair. Bringing him down to you once more, you felt the ridges and bumps of his upper body against you, muscles clenching with every thrust as if it took every willpower of his to control himself.

“God.” He panted out, releasing you to slap his hands against the mattress, gripping the sheets tightly in one hand as you heard them rip under his harsh treatment, the other hand taking hold of the headboard. The wood complained under his hard hold, crumbling as his hold tightened. Your hand found his cheek amidst the pleasure coursing through you, thumb carefully stroking the skin as you whispered his name.

It felt like every sense of reality was swept away from Jacob as his unfocused eyes fell on you, heart thumping so hard against his chest it felt like it would punch through both skin and bones. Shaking his head, he looked at you again, still finding your lidded eyes staring back at him like he had created the world you walked on.

“You’re gonna kill me,” He grunted, reveling in the feeling of your cold fingertips against his hot cheek as his stomach coiled something so terribly, making him believe he was going to go insane with desire.

In a way, he always feared being this close to you, for only being in your presence was overwhelming for him, never mind feeling your soft skin against his and hearing your pleasure-filled whimpers as he took you. Oh, how he had longed for you, how much he longed for you now, even though he was the closest to you he could ever be.

He didn’t lie when he told you he always dreamed of you. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you, like you were carved into his eyelids. He never could get close enough, and while that was a curse in itself, it was a curse he wouldn’t trade for any other.

#jacob black smut #jacob black x reader #jacob black imagine #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight smut #jacob black #twilight fanfiction

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bruisedfig · 6 months ago

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sleepy motel mornings with dean winchester .ᐟ

warnings: none! fluff, soft dean, silly reader, est. relationship (bf!dean x gf!reader)

*ೃ༄

you began to stir as you heard the soft rustling of the bedsheets behind you. a tired hum escaped your lips as you felt dean untangle his body from yours, a stark coldness replacing the warmth of his touch on your skin as he pulled away. your eyes fluttered open.

“hey, where’re you going so fast?” you pouted, your eyes still puffy from sleep as you rolled over, watching dean begin to hop out of the bed. you wrapped your hand around his arm and pulled him back down next to you.

dean laid his head back on the pillow with a slight grunt and turned to you, a warm smile spreading across his sleepy face, “gonna make you some coffee, baby.”

a smile grew on your lips at his deep gravelly morning voice and you blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness of the motel room. after a moment of looking at his sweet sleepy face, you shook your head and pulled him closer, “later.”

dean sighed and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent show of his love. he draped an arm over your side and you closed your eyes, soaking in his comforting and familiar scent; motel soap mixed with his cheap sandalwood and whiskey cologne. a strange combination, but one you've come to love and yearn for on nights when you're apart.

you smiled a little dopily under his touch as he pulled his face back to look at you. you found his eyes and flashed a playful, but pleading look at him, “stay with me. you’re warm.”

“oh, is that it?” he laughed softly, “you want me to stay just because i’m warm?”

you gently shook your head and looked at him with love and sincerity in your expression, “no, you’re warm and i love you.”

dean grinned, his green eyes lighting up at your words, “sap,” he teased and poked your side, “i love you too, baby.”

you couldn’t suppress the soft chuckle from escaping your lips. you sat up and lazily threw a leg over his waist, relaxing down on his lap. your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping them gently as you held his head to meet your tender gaze.

dean’s hands sat on your thighs, rubbing the soft skin under your pyjama shorts. his eyes fluttered shut and he hummed as you leaned down and began leaving small kisses all over his face.

dean couldn’t help but laugh while you peppered soft little kisses on him; along his forehead, down his nose, over his cheeks and quick cheeky pecks on his lips. you held his face in your hands as your lips worked over his soft skin, each kiss a little mark of your love for the sleepy green-eyed hunter in front of you.

you hummed absent-mindedly, smiling to yourself as you kissed over his freckled cheeks. dean let out a quiet huff and you pulled away to look at him. his cheeks turned blush pink as you met his gaze and you could tell he was trying to keep his smile from growing any bigger.

“what was that for?” he asked, his gentle green eyes searching yours, his fingers mindlessly tapping on your thighs.

“cause i love you, deanie. a thousand more and you’re free to make our coffees,” you grinned and began leaving more tiny kisses on him as he sighed defeatedly with a smile.

A/N: soft dean! soft dean! soft dean! my favourite dean tbh i don’t think i’ve posted any fluff on here so here’s a short little something lol enjoy! <3

requests and feedback are welcome! reblogs support me and my writing! ty!

#༢ུ࿓ fig writes.ᐟ #in a soft dean mood atm #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #soft dean winchester #dean winchester x gf!reader #dean x reader #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester drabble #dean

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mysumeow · 19 days ago

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︵ ☆ Malleus NSFW Alphabet (S-Z) Pt. 3

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: AFAB body reader. Brief cervix stuff mention. ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: i know cervix stuff irl is not that pleasurable to most, but in smut, i like it :D | ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ . . . TWST MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You could try outlasting him if you’d like to, although it’s more likely that you’ll tire out before he does.

He’ll last as long as you want it to last; energy’s not a limitation. If you’re in the mood for more than one round, he’s up for it.

That’s under normal circumstances. When he enters his rut, however, it’s another story. Just once isn’t enough. If you’re giving him a hand (or more than that), be prepared for a long night. For several days.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

In terms of technology, Malleus is not what you would think of as careful, considering how often he breaks his phone and Tamagotchi. If he owned a toy, it would meet the same fate as those.

Besides, he doesn’t deem toys necessary. His hand gets the job done.

This reasoning goes in hand regarding the use of a toy on you: unnecessary. Why would he use that when his fingers, his mouth, and his dick can provide you with pleasure. His cock is big enough to give you the stretch you crave, the warmth you seek that a measly toy won’t provide.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Most of the time, he’s pleasing. Giving you what you need.

When he’s not, he’s cruel. You aren’t sure whether he uses that excuse of wanting to wallow in you to prolong your suffering, or he means it. When you need him to go faster, to ravage you… Instead, his pace is unhurried, gripping your hips with decided strength to keep you in place, not letting you buck your hips to reach that orgasm that’s just there but not quite…

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

For someone that’s not experienced, he controls his volume well. Even when he speaks, his voice is collected. During sex, he’s not loud, but each groan is like a reward. They’re so pleasant to listen to. His words might stutter a bit when he’s exerting himself, but he keeps it low.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sometimes he gets an urge to bind your hands. For you to grant your pleasure to his mercy. To see how far he can push before you start begging him to let you orgasm. Or, on the contrary, if you're bratty, he wants to see for how long you can keep it up.

If he can be a menace when in bed under normal conditions...if you willingly let him tie your hands to the bed post, be prepared for a long night.

X = X-ray

Even if you’re dripping wet, it can be a bit of a challenge to take it all. It stretches you in a way unlike anything else you’ve tried before, and you could soon find yourself unsatisfied if you try to find that same feeling with a toy or your hand. Even by fae standards, he’s above average in size. Once you get used to his length, you’ll feel the tip stimulate your cervix.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since his feelings for you grew to the point of no return, he finds himself thinking about you a lot more often. Those thoughts arise with more mild intentions, such as taking a stroll across campus with you to take in the true majesty of gargoyles, see how you take care of his pet Tamagotchi…the ideas spiral into something less idle and more salacious. He itches to have you underneath him again, to clutch your legs open while he seizes everything you have to offer, to worship you with kisses—suddenly, there’s a strain under his pants.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Malleus catches his breath faster than you do, and if he notices you’re drowsy, he’ll hold you and wait for you to fall asleep first. He’s still got energy left, so he stays awake a little longer than you do. He can’t fight back against somnolence when you look that placid in dreams, and after a moment, he falls asleep too.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #malleus draconia x reader

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heartmaddie · 8 months ago

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cuddling with the haikyuu boys ! ushijima , suna , sakusa , hinata , oikawa

ushijima wakatoshi °˖➴જ⁀➴‎‎‎‎ ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎chronic big spoon

⋆ he loves big spooning so much ; especially after finding looking at you face to face a little bit awkward when cuddling

⋆ in the early relationship stage he didn’t touch you often, so cuddling sort of opened that gateway for him

⋆ even then, he loves feeling your head against his chest while it beats embarrassingly fast against your ears

⋆ he’s not opposed to being the little spoon, but once he’s back from practice you’d likely be asleep by then, so it’s easiest to just slide into bed from the back like so.

⋆ before he realises that you like the feeling of being squished he’s probably a bit concerned that he’s holding you too tight

⋆ post time skip he doesn’t care as much and just squeezes you tightly until you tell him to stop

⋆ he’s the sweetest, he only started cuddling for you but then continued because he fell in love with the way he could bury his nose against you while palming at your soft skin.

⋆ if you do decide to have babies then he likes running his hands against your pregnant stomach and feeling the baby kick and squirm against his large, rough hands.

⋆˙⟡ —

ushijima doesn’t necessarily convey his affection through physical touch, he’d much rather tell you how he adored you straight to your face with no miscommunication, that was just how he functioned. but while your relationship developed overtime, he would start to notice how often you’d cling onto his arm, or during movie nights at his dorm you’d tuck yourself under his bicep, so he started to worry that he wasn’t providing for you enough in a physically affectionate manner.

the first night you stayed at his dorm was when tendou was at his family home for the weekend, so he decided to invite you over for the night. your laptop’s perched on his lap and you’re laying against his hard chest, the both of you eagerly watching your favourite movie. around the halfway point, ushijima takes note of the intimacy between the two characters, how their bodies would intertwine on the soft mattress, and he yearned to embrace you like that too.

his olive eyes flicker down to your figure, how through your blue light glasses, you’d watch the film with fascination in your eyes, you’ve watched this film hundreds of times so to ushijima this long-standing attachment was quite strange. he raked his thick fingers through your hair, gently running them through each strand before catching your attention, looking up at him curiously you ask him what’s up.

“oh, nothing,” the vibrations of his thick voice ripples through the air as he pulls you a bit closer, “i’ve never held someone like that before.” he gestures to the screen.

you smile up at him, gently closing the laptop and carefully laying it on the ground,

“okay, we can try now!” you say happily, sliding your arms around him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, which he’d happily return.

soon enough, ushijima found his head nestled against your ear with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, your back pressed up against his chest as he held you tight.

“i’m quite fond of this.” he murmurs in your ear, pressing his thin lips against the skin of your neck.

he shut his eyes tight, inhaling your sweet scent while he felt himself slowly drift off to sleep, finding it a little bit easier with you curled up in his arms.

suna rintaro °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤbear hugger

⋆ even in a non-cuddling sense, suna loves wrapping his arms around you and making you feel small in his embrace

⋆ even in the early relationship stage, he’d be pulling you into his arms and pressing kisses against your neck while you giggle

⋆ and he does it everywhere, he’s a big fan of pda.

⋆ when you’re cuddling, he likes laying right on top of you with his arms wrapped around your waist, your head buried in his neck while he rubs your neck

⋆ he’s so touchy its insatiable, he’d always have his arm around your waist ready to pull you into his arms

⋆ after a long day of work all he needs is to be wrapped up in your arms, squishing against your shoulders and breathing in the accords of his favourite perfume before he’s easily knocked out for hours.

⋆ sometimes it gets so bad that you literally can’t breathe so you have to roll him off your body and he’d pout about it for a couple of days

⋆ he likes laying his head on your chest too, so he can listen to your heartbeat as it lulls him to sleep

⋆˙⟡ —

suna felt all the stress upon his shoulders, head slouched down as he attempted to type the password into the apartment door before it opens gently before him and he perks up immediately at the sight of you in your pink flannel pajamas. you’re embraced by his sweaty body, and he’s pressing kisses against your neck as he uses his foot to kick the door shut, lifting you into his toned arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

“missed you so, so much.” he murmured between pecks, his voice muffled by the warm skin of your nape.

“go have a shower rinnie, you smell like sweat.” you huff, sitting up on the bed as you tried to push him off you, he pouts before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek, standing up to strip his shirt and walk into the bathroom. in your moments of solitude, you reach for the book on your nightstand and work through it, encapsulated in each page, not even realising when rintarou exits the bathroom.

he gently takes the book out of your hands, placing the bookmark between the pages fold and leaving it on the nightstand, pressing another kiss to your lips as he slides into the bed.

“i missed you soo much.” rintarou mutters as he lays next to you, pulling you into his warm arms as he snuggles into your neck, “lemme lie on you, pleasee.” he begs, and you look at him with a sidelong glance.

“just wait a bit, we can cuddle like that right before we go to sleep.” you hum, looking over at him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, making him melt into the soft mattress with a dorky smile.

“i love you.” he’d murmur, pulling you tight against his chest and capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

“i love you too.” your voice is muffled against his lips, but he still smiles against you, nuzzling his head against your cheek while your arms move to wrap around him tight.

suna takes this as initiative to lay right on top of you, your head nestled against his chest as his arms snake around your upper torso, squeezing you tight as he knocks the wind out of your chest. he lets a deep sigh of relief escape him, holding you close as he falls into deep tranquil.

sakusa kiyoomi °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤaddicted to your warmth

⋆ he hated the idea of sleeping in the same bed as you during your early relationship stage

⋆ but a couple months into your relationship he starts getting used to your warm body wrapped up in his sheets

⋆ soon enough he’s addicted to your warmth, always recaching out for you in bed so at least one part of your bodies are touching

⋆ at first it’s more that you’d sleep back to back, so he could still soak up your warmth without being entirely in your warms

⋆ but as your relationship progresses he starts getting used to the idea of placing his hand on your face while you sleep

⋆ he faces you while you sleep so he can watch you during the late hours of the night

⋆ sakusa values his sleep, but he definitely used to be an insomniac before you started dating

⋆ having your warmth next to him helped, it lulled him to sleep with ease.

⋆ he likes draping an arm over you in the winter, on good nights he’ll pull you into his arms and lean against your neck

⋆ in the summer he’ll stay away from you though, you overheat frequently and he prefers staying cold in bed.

⋆˙⟡ —

it’s so cold.

sakusa’s shivering on his side of the bed, the thick covers of this hotel bed not keeping him warm like the ones at home do. he pulls the sleeves of his flannel shirt down, trying to cover him whole as he looks outside, the snow gracefully falling to the ground as he contemplates his misery. he looks over at your sleeping body, dressed merely in his sweatshirt and pants as you slept soundly, clutching onto your pillow tight. he’s jealous, he wants to be able to sleep so calmly like that as well, but of course the cold weather had to bar him from that.

sakusa hesitantly shifts closer to your side of the bed, and he’s temporarily shocked by the warmth which radiated off your soft body, but he shouldn’t be surprised, you were always warm to the touch. a hint of guilt hits him when he notices you stirring awake, rubbing your eyes before they flicker open to look at him.

“is something wrong, kiyoomi?” you ask, the tiredness evident in your voice as you look up at him with soft, sleepy eyes. he shook his head, gently placing his hand on your cheek and gently caressing the smooth skin, smiling softly.

“can’t sleep, it’s cold.” he explains, shifting closer to you.

“wanna try this?” you sit up and wrap your arms around his waist, letting him have the time to pull out, but instead he melts into your embrace, holding you tight as you fall onto the bed from his weight.

“thank you.” he whispers against your neck, seemingly addicted at the way your soft body would wrap around his. sakusa would lay his ear against your pulsating heart, the steady rhythm calming himself as he soaked up all the warmth you’d offer him, occasionally pawing against your soft skin as he watched you fall asleep once again.

sakusa inhales your soft scent, and he realises that he’s never held you so intimately before. he wondered if you noticed that too, but it was likely naught. his dry fingers rubbed up and down your skin, feeling every bump and crevice before he himself fell into the deepest sleep he’s ever experienced.

hinata shoyo °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤlittle spoon :p

⋆ he likes being the little spoon because it makes him feel safe in your arms

⋆ he’s a very physically affectionate boy, so when you started dating he’d always want you clinging onto his arm

⋆ he thinks you smell really nice, so when you spoon him it always rubs off on him

⋆ it’s really grounding for him when you hold him

⋆ when you were in brazil together and he started growing a bit more, it was difficult for you to hold him as such, which how you shifted into him laying on your chest with your arms draped around his neck

⋆ he thinks you’re heaven when you run your fingers through his hair.

⋆ sometimes if you’re sitting on the couch together hinata will casually lean against your lap as you scratch his head

⋆ when you’re not laying with him, he’ll clutch his pillows really tight and pretend that it’s you

⋆ he loves sleeping in your bed because it’s a lot softer than his futon

⋆ he’s such a loverboy - always wanting to cuddle and hold you in his arms

⋆ brazil hinata likes when you squish on his biceps………..

⋆ ok but when shoyo and natsu were a bit younger natsu would curl up near him and he felt like a very proud big brother

⋆˙⟡ —

hinata shoyo smells like the sunshine.

it didn’t matter how much bergamot scented soap he’d lather onto his skin twice a day, the smell of sea salt and sand were deeply engraved into his natural musk, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. you gently run your fingers down his arm, frowning of the remnants of the sand which would scrape at him during his time at the beach.

“sho, what did i tell you about sunscreen?” you scold, voice quiet as you rub aloe vera gel on his tanned skin which glowed pink, dead skin rolling into little balls under your fingers and you groan in mild disgust.

“i always put it on at the start of the day, i swear!” he looks back at you, obviously in pain as his eyebrows knit together, “be gentle!” he whines, wincing as the soothing cream would sting his sensitive skin.

“this is the consequences of your actions.” you mutter in response, continuing to spread the cold gel across his shoulders and back, but you comply against your words, slowing your movements and massaging the aloe vera into his skin with care.

he groans and whines, but his hand reaches yours when you finish, and he’s gently pressing his lips against yours, gel from his nose rubbing off onto yours.

“i’m so tired.” he huffs, pulling an old shirt over his head, the fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably. “hold onto me for a bit.” you nod, shifting behind him and letting him curl his back into your chest, you take his hands and rub small circles on his palm.

“you’re so good to me baby.” he hums, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing soft kisses against the skin. you smile against his nape, inhaling his spicy salty musk with your eyes closed, relaxed against the boys skin as you held him tight.

oikawa tooru °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤeager for your consolement

⋆ he’s also a very affectionate boy, even when you weren’t dating he’d ‘platonically’ pull you into his arms tight

⋆ so when you do confirm that you’re officially a couple, he’s more intimate in the ways that he’d hold you

⋆ his lips are glued onto your cheeks, he thinks those kisses are sweeter than the ones on your lips

⋆ when you cuddle, he’ll lay his head on your chest with his body off the side of yours

⋆ he likes feeling smaller in your embrace, even if he’s much larger

⋆ tooru likes looking up at you and telling you all about your day, letting you run your fingers through his thin strands of hair

⋆ he loves pda, because to him, you’re so gorgeous and he’s scared that someone will take you away

⋆ when you’re asleep and he’s on your chest, he likes reaching up and gently stringing your hair between his fingers

⋆ sometimes when he’s sad he likes curling up against your side as you console him

⋆ his love languages are a mix of everything, so when you’re the one being held, he’ll pull you close to his mouth so he can whisper how much you mean to him straight into your ear.

⋆ he also loves listening to music with you, so he’ll cuddle against your warmth while your record player spins in the background.

⋆ also films, he’s a big fan of watching all the films you love.

⋆˙⟡ —

he lets out sobs against the warmth of your chest, letting your arms gently cradle his head as you whisper affirmations into his ears.

“i’m so sorry.” he’d mutter repeatedly against your chest, “i’m so sorry i lost.” his tears wet the fabric of your shirt, you gently patted the expanse of his back, offering your physical affection as a means to calm him down.

"oh baby, you don't need to apologise" you hum, pressing your lips against his forehead and your nose brushes against his hair, temporarily stunning your senses with his sweet scent. but tooru felt weak, although, finding your words somewhat comforting as he’d look up at you, his eyes rimmed red and snot falling from his nose. you gently rub his cheek, pressing your lips against his scalp.

“but i lost? and i promised that i’d take everyone to nationals - and i didn’t.” his words were choked, spaced by sobs as he’d lay against your chest, your heart swelled with sorrow, chest tightening up as you witnessed tooru’s expression. even with his tear stained eyes and splotchy red face, he was more beautiful than you could’ve imagined.

“oh tooru,” you whisper against his skin, “everyone’s so proud of you regardless, if it wasn’t for your support, no one would’ve gotten here anyways.” you pull him closer to your upper body, burying your face into his hair as your fingers traced up and down his arm. “you’re a good player, and an even better captain. the sport is more than just winning, it’s like the relationships that blossom from it.” you try to explain, gently stroking his hair.

“you really think?” he asks hesitantly, letting himself be pulled closer as he shivers within your embrace.

“i know, baby, i know.”

against his red face and snotty nose, he lets out a small smile when he looks up at you, sitting up to wipe his nose with his sleeve.

“i really love you, yn.” he mutters, letting you embrace him as he cries, “i really think you’re the best thing thats ever happened to me.”

contradicting the situation, you let out a soft laugh, making him smile against the nape of your neck.

“i love you too, tooru.”

and with your arms wrapped around him tight, tooru knew that everything would be okay.

#🎐maddie writes #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #suna rintaro x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader fluff #suna rintarou x reader fluff #hinata shoyo x reader fluff #oikawa tooru x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff

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wildsaltair · 20 days ago

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day 82171862568: do I still love Maximus? yes. yes, I do

#now and always #the love of my life the beat of my heart the joy of my day #time passes the sun careens overhead but my love for him remains #i have quite a bit of time to obsess over him this week and i just. can’t stop Thinking Of Things #like him whispering his wedding vows to me in bed whether we’re actually married yet or not because that’s how deep his love is already #or celebrating a holiday with him and preparing food and explaining traditions to each other and just being so happy together #or just. all the cheesy domestic stuff #snuggling up on the porch to watch a rainstorm #having a splashing fight while swimming in the stream #playing games and making each other laugh and comforting each other after nightmares #dancing to imaginary music and working in the fields together and falling asleep in a random place together #and having kids together and being so happy watching them grow and become like us and just. having a happy little family together #it’s springtime and i am YEARNING for all the soft sweet domestic things #oh what i wouldn’t give #oh what i wouldn’t do for a chance to live a quiet simple joyful life with the man i love #every day would simply be another opportunity to be with him #I LOVE HIM I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE #gladiator #maximus #maximus decimus meridius #gladiator 2000 #russell crowe #text posts

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hyprfixate · 16 days ago

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magnum opus :: [H.H] x reader

read on AO3

summary: you get a call at 3AM from a number you should've blocked ages ago. you subsequently make three mistakes.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

tropes: exes to lovers, artist!hyunjin, artist x muse, grapheme-color and emotional synesthesia, angst-to-smut, post breakup yearning, hurt-comfort kinda

smut warning: semi drunk sex, dry humping, desperate hyunjin (like, very desperate), begging, biting, pussy eating, slow, needy sex, unprotected sex (use condoms ppl), slightly dubious consent at first, vaginal fingering

content warning: hyunjin has a drinking problem, mentions of past arguments and previous toxic behaviors

word count: 10.9k

author's note: this was supposed to be another plotless smut but I couldn't help myself lol. also i did not edit this. if you see typos no you didn't. enjoy!

A sound penetrates your subconscious, worming its way into your dream until you blink awake, eyes dry and not yet used to the darkness of your room. It takes a second to orient yourself, to recognize that the sound is real and coming from your phone. The digital clock by your charger reads 3:24 AM.

Had you been more awake, you would recognize the ringtone, or would have seen the caller ID. This is mistake number one of the night.

You swipe accept on the call, eyes still blurry and thick with sleep. You clear your throat, which proves useless when your words still come out croaky and garbled.

“Hello?”

“Hi, pretty girl.”

It feels like ice has been doused down your spine. You shoot straight up in bed, the hairs at the nape of your neck standing fully at attention.

You know this voice.

It's an entirely unique voice. A voice splattered with colors and textures you can't begin to comprehend. But even if it weren't, you know it would still be etched in your brain forever. Your hand shakes as you pull the phone from your ear to glance at the contact name.

‼️DO NOT ANSWER (Hyunjin)‼️

Oh fuck.

This has to be a dream.

You hear his voice crackle through the speakers one more time, his words unclear with the distance you created. Hyunjin shouldn't be calling you, and you certainly shouldn't have answered. It would be wise to hang up, to block his number like you thought about doing so many times. Instead, when you hear more crackling as he continues speaking, you hold your breath as you put the phone back to your ear.

This is mistake number two.

“-- you there, love?”

You swallow thickly, willing your mind to wake up faster so you can fully comprehend what is happening. You feel like you're floating. Or drowning.

"I didn't expect you to pick up."

Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Are you okay?" You ask after a few beats of silence. It's the only thing you can think to ask.

You hear a deep hum of contentment. “Yeah. Better now.”

The air in the room suddenly feels too cold. You should hang up. You need to hang up. But your fingers refuse to uncurl from the death grip you have on your phone. “Why… why are you calling me?”

You hear the distant sounds of the city on his end of the line, padded by his breathing. It sounds labored. Manual, like he's reminding himself every so often to inhale and exhale, too busy chasing a fading feeling. You could recognize that specific pattern of his breath anywhere. You close your eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

"Are you drunk?"

"No," he murmurs. "Maybe. I don't know."

That translates to a yes.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. This is why you don't answer his calls. This is why you should've blocked him months ago. You feel the tension of the moment fizzle into nothing but annoyance. "It's four in the morning. Why did you call me?"

Hyunjin lets out a soft whine, his breath picking up.

"I miss you."

His words land like a punch to your chest, knocking the wind out of you. A simple string of words in that pitiful, whining tone of his, and you already feel like putty in his hands.

You hate this. You hate him.

You want to scream at him. Tell him that this is bullshit. He's bullshit. That you've been trying so hard to stay away from him. But your heart is pounding so hard that you can feel it in your throat.

"No you don't,” you decide to be civil. “You're just drunk."

"But I know what I'm saying."

The civility only lasts so long. “Oh, fuck off," you breathe. There is no real power behind it, but it's better than nothing. "Don't say stuff like that."

He starts to speak, but a nearby train cuts him off. You think about taking the opportunity to hang up, but as much as you don't want to hear what he says next, you're powerless to stop yourself from listening.

"I missed your voice so much, pretty girl." The laziness of his tongue makes the words sound like something entirely new. "I missed hearing you say my name. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you say my name? Please?"

His words are slurred and heavy. You shouldn't be entertaining this. He won't remember this conversation in the morning, too busy with his extravagant artist lifestyle and the swarms of other girls that want his attention. You'll be a distant memory floating around his hippocampus with nothing to tether to, like an itch he will never find.

"Why?"

He lets out a shaky breath, the undercurrent of a whine coating his tone. "Please, baby." The desperation in his voice fills your chest and makes it squeeze tight. "Say it for me?"

You are weak to his voice, but the distant, angrier part of you refuses to let it affect you. He doesn't get to just call you in the middle of the night and ask you to talk to him. Not when he's had months to do that and hasn't bothered.

"No."

You hear him swallow thickly, a slight shift in his breathing as he lets out a short, humorless laugh. You wait for him to speak again, but you're met with nothing but silence. It stretches long enough that you wonder if he hung up, but then—

"I miss you so much, angel."

Six words.

It's only six words, but they hurt worse than anything else he could've said to you. You don't know if it's because you think he doesn't mean them, or because you hope that he does.

Regardless, emotion swells so quickly in your chest, you feel like you're going to be sick. You can't do this. You can't keep letting him do this to you.

"I have to go," you say finally, voice trembling.

"Don't hang up." He sounds panicked. "Please don't hang up. I need to hear your voice."

Your face feels hot, the back of your nose beginning to burn. You will not let him hear you cry. "No, Hy–” You stop yourself. “I can't do this with you anymore."

"Please, baby. Please. I need you. I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you."

That damned phrase again. Your breath stutters in your chest, words coming out softer than you intend. "You don't mean that."

"I do, pretty girl. I promise."

You shake your head as if he could see you. You wish he could see you through the phone— to see what exactly he's done to you, how he destroyed you. You know he doesn't mean any of this, that they're just the chosen lies from tonight's bottle of vodka.

There's shuffling on the line for a second. Then—

"Can I see you. Please?"

You close your eyes, the tears you tried so hard to fight spilling over and sliding down your face until they make fat plopping noises on your sheets. No. He can't see you. You can't do this with him anymore. You need to hang up. This has to stop.

"Okay."

And this is your final, biggest mistake.

—

You're not sure why, but you don't believe he'll actually show up.

You've played this game with him before, right after the two of you broke up. You remember the anxious anticipation whirling in your stomach while you waited for him one night, and how the first rays of the sunrise curdled it in your stomach. You suppose his way with words was what made him a good artist anyway—there is no surprise there.

So when you hear two raps at your front door, there is some surprise there.

You wipe the tears from your face quickly, running a hand through your hair and praying it isn't as wild as it feels. You glance in the mirror by your front door, giving yourself a once-over to make sure you're presentable enough, but you shake your head and stop yourself. It's not like he hasn't seen you at your worst before.

When you open the door, Hyunjin is standing in front of you, illuminated only by the soft glow of the street lamps on your block. He looks exhausted.

"Hi, angel."

You blink slowly, suddenly regretting every decision that brought you to this moment.

"You're here."

He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You look tired. Did I wake you up?"

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his question, stepping aside to let him in. "Yes. It's four in the morning. Obviously you did."

He has the decency to at least look sheepish as he stumbles past you, looking around your apartment with a faraway expression on his face. You can smell the alcohol on him. It makes you incredibly dizzy.

He toes his shoes off and you watch him quietly, something stirring in your chest. He remembers. You didn't have to remind him about the no-shoe rule.

The realization sends a course of emotion through you that you cannot parse, so instead, you choose to focus on shutting and locking the door behind you.

It's been a full six months since Hyunjin has been in your apartment. It may not be that long in the grand scheme of things, but the two of you used to spend almost every waking moment together, especially when you were dating. You had grown accustomed to having him around so much, his absence left an aching hole in your life, your home, your bed.

When you gain the courage to turn around, you see that he's standing at the threshold of your living room. Hyunjin looks like he belongs here, yet somehow he also doesn't. This isn't the same Hyunjin from your final weeks together—the one that you screamed at until you couldn't breathe. This isn't the same Hyunjin that, in the middle of your last fight, pressed himself against the front door, caging you in your own apartment while you cried and begged him to let you leave.

That Hyunjin was different. He had meticulously styled hair and sunglasses that cost more than your rent. He was swimming in his quick rise to success, riding the wave and content to let you drown under him.

You look at present-Hyunjin, who's now peeling off the hood of his oversized sweater. There are no sunglasses. no neatly styled hair. They are replaced by a blonde buzzcut, and watery, red eyes that cannot stay focused.

It would be easy to see him as a stranger, an intrusion, but you can't. It just feels like he's come home.

You're staring for so long, you don't realize until he looks over at you from his awkward stance by the couch.

"Are you gonna come over here?"

You take a few steps toward him, but not too close. You are a flame and he is a gas leak. You will both explode on contact.

You choose, instead, to play offense. "What are you doing here?"

He looks around your living room, fingers twitching like they're begging for something to hold. He won't meet your gaze. After a bit, he lets out a deep exhale.

"I don't know."

"Why did you call me?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?”

He glances at you, his already watery eyes looking dejected and tearful, and your heart stutters in your chest. You wish you could hold steady to your hate for him. Sometimes it slips through your fingers like sand, leaving you scrambling to catch the pieces. Other times it's solid as glass. You wish it was always like that. You want to shove it in his face and let him suffocate under the weight of it.

But that look. The tears, the pain. You recognize it. It's a mirror of the same look you gave him when he broke up with you: heartbreak, rejection, confusion.

You can't do this. You're going to cry. Or pass out. He shouldn't have come.

You open your mouth to say just that when he turns fully toward you, closing the gap a bit more. He's always towered over you– he's six feet tall and you're barely 5’1 on a good day– yet you find the intrusion surprising for a moment. You trail your sight all the way up to gaze into those red, unfocused eyes.

"You never say my name anymore," he says, the slur in his speech making a subtle appearance. He's wobbly on his feet. "Never on the phone, and not once since I've been here. Why?"

The question takes you by surprise. "What?"

"My name," he presses. He takes a step toward you, his presence pushing you one step back. "Why don't you say it anymore?"

You take another step back as he advances. You're not scared of him, you never could be, but the closer he gets the faster your heart beats. He's staring at you with an intensity you've never seen before, not even when you were together.

"I don't know," you echo. The lie is bitter in your mouth.

"Yes you do." He looks at you with those unfocused eyes, hurt flashing across his features. He takes another step. "You do know. You used to say it all the time, like my name was..." He trails off, his fingers twitching at his sides again, like he's trying to grasp something invisible. "Like it was yours."

You take a final step back, your spine hitting the wall. Hyunjin doesn't stop until he's a single step away from you, his chest so close to yours that you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"Don't,” you warn.

"Say it," he pleads. His hands are shaking, and you're beginning to recognize that it's not the effects of the alcohol, but a raw desperation. He's literally shaking with need. "Please. Just once."

You exhale slowly through your nose, willing your anger to come to the forefront. You feel the start of it in your bones, boiling hot and ready to lash out.“Why would I say it now? You only listened when it was convenient for you.”

His brow furrows, confusion warring with the lingering haze of alcohol. "What are you talking about?"

The words feel hot like bile in your stomach, the heat of your anger boiling everything in you. He's too close. You're getting too angry. You should stop now, kick him out and block his number.

But Hyunjin closes the gap, his shaking hand reaching to cup your face. He barely connects with your skin before you feel the explosion.

"Don't touch me," you bark, jerking away from his hand. The hurt that flashes across his face only fuels your anger more. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to-- to come here, drunk and desperate, pretending like you care about what my voice means to you–"

"I do care," he insists, his voice cracking. "I've always—"

"No, you don't," The words tear from your throat, sharp and raw. You put both hands on his chest and shove him away from you with all of your strength. He stumbles back, but he's still not far enough.

"You stopped caring the minute that painting made you famous. The minute everyone wanted to know about the hot new painter with synesthesia and raw talent.”

It’s the first time you've said the words out loud. They taste like acid on your lips, and you hate that, but not more than how much you hate the way your eyes burn with tears.

You let the weight of your words settle between the two of you like a boulder in the ocean. You watch as Hyunjin grimaces, and internal war showing on his face before he lets out a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face and turning to take several steps away from you.

You don't want to feel bad for him. He deserves this. He deserves every ounce of pain you're feeling.

You remember that conversation you had over a year ago, tangled in his messy sheets with your head on his bare chest. Your relationship was still new, still tender. The honeymoon phase seemed neverending.

As you laid there, his heartbeat was, at first, a steady pulse against your ear, but the longer you two basked in the afterglow, the faster it got.

You remember sitting up after a minute, hands cupping his face in concern. "What is it, Hyun?"

"I... I have something to tell you," he murmured.

He told you about his synesthesia, how it was his inspiration for pursuing art, but also an insecurity he struggled to coexist with. You listened to him, comforted him, encouraged him, loved him. Told him how amazing he was and how every little quirk of his just made him better.

A few months later, he was kissing you awake and saying he had a surprise for you. When you walked into his living room, you saw the most gorgeous painting you'd ever seen-- a canvas segmented into 4 sections, each section similar in their subject but distinct in composition.

"It's, uh. It's you," he explained, ears burning red at the tips. "Not a portrait of you, but this is how it looks when you say my name. When you're sleepy, when you're laughing, when you're upset with me, and when you... when we--"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. You knew.

It was you that encouraged him to submit it to a contest a couple weeks after that. It was you who picked out his outfit for his first gallery showing. It was you who said his name over and over the night after while he showed you just how he got the inspiration for that last panel.

And yet.

"You cast me aside."

You wipe at the tears that have traitorously slipped from your eyes. "I was behind you through all of that, and then you let the sounds of the attention you got become louder than me. I didn't mean anything to you anymore."

Silence stretches between you like a chasm. Hyunjin's shoulders rise and fall with each labored breath, his back still turned to you. The air in the apartment feels suffocating, thick with everything that's been said and has yet to be said.

You don't even know why you're doing this, why you're bothering to explain anything to him when he's drunk. It'll be gone from his mind in the morning, and then what will have been the point?

You close your eyes and let your head thud against the wall. “Look. You should–”

"I never meant to make you feel invisible," he says.

You take a steadying breath.

He carries on, his voice rough in the silence. "It was intoxicating. The praise, the intrigue, the attention-- I was seeing so many colors and shapes I'd never seen before. I'd never had so many people find it– find me interesting. Or worth something.

Your voice is small. “You had me.”

He turns back to you. There are tears streaked on his face, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes makes your heart twist in your chest. “I know. But I got lost in it– in the attention. I was drowning in so many colors that meant nothing because they weren't yours. But I didn't realize that until you weren't around anymore."

You want to stay angry. You want to hold onto the hurt that's kept you safe these past months. But seeing him like this— almost as broken as you'd been feeling —cracks something open inside of you.

"Do you know what the worst part is?” At his silence, you continue. “I was, and still am, so proud of you.” Your voice is quieter now, more tired than angry. "Even when it hurt, even when it felt like you used me. I was proud."

Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his lips. You watch him swallow, hard, the deliberate bob of his Adam's apple catching your gaze. In everything he does, he looks like art. It's maddening.

He clears his throat, finally finding his voice. "Can I... can I show you something?"

You narrow your eyes at him, confused. "What?"

He fidgets in his spot for a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. After a moment of scrolling, he turns the screen toward you. It's a photo of a canvas—clearly a work in progress, layers of color bleeding into each other in abstract patterns.

"I've been trying to paint again," he says softly. "Ever since we broke up. But nothing's been working. The colors are wrong. Dead."

He flicks to the next picture. It's a similarly unfinished painting. "It gets easier to ignore how wrong they look after a few shots. Sometimes they move around like before. But it never lasts, because it's not you.”

The confession hangs in the air between the two of you. Unlike the heaviness of your earlier words, Hyunjin's float above you two like a balloon, hoisting the last of your irritation away with it. You see the truth of his words in the muddy browns and grays that dominate the canvas, so different from the vibrant explosions of his earlier work. It feels, painfully, like he's lost a piece of his soul.

You can't look at it anymore. You glance up at him instead.

He looks more nervous now than he did when you opened the door. It reminds you of your first ever date, and how he tried to hide his nerves with a devastating smile and charm. The memory chips at a hardened part of your heart.

You've missed him.

You've been so, so tired of missing him.

"Why did you come here,” you breathe. The question is softer this time. More genuine.

He puts his phone back in his pocket, gaze locked on you. Beneath the haze of whatever buzz he still has, you see a glimpse of your Hyunjin, the one who made you laugh so he could paint the bright yellow rays of sunshine that exploded in his vision. The one who left you sketches of your sleeping form if he had to leave before you woke up.

The one who thought the smallest pieces of you were his magnum opus.

Perhaps that's why, when he takes a step closer, you don't move away this time.

"Because I'm selfish," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I miss you. Because I need to see it again– to feel it. Even if it's the last time."

He takes another step, the height of him caging you against the wall. His eyes search yours, desperate and hungry. "Please, angel. I am begging you. Say my name. Let me see it again."

The request vibrates through you, from the tips of your ears down to your toes. It's maddening how easily he can awaken something you've tried so hard to bury.

You know this is dangerous territory—that giving in now could shatter you all over again.

But his proximity is intoxicating, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. Your body remembers what your mind wants to forget—the way he used to worship you, the way your voice could bring him to his knees in more ways than one.

"This doesn't fix anything," you whisper, even as you feel yourself weakening.

"I know," he breathes, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell the lingering alcohol on him. "But God, I miss you. I miss the way you light up my world."

Your back presses against the wall as he crowds into your space, not touching, but close enough that the air between you crackles with tension. He puts his hands on either side of your head, caging you in so that all you can look at is him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with need and something deeper, more desperate.

"Say it, pretty girl."

You let his voice be the final push over the edge.

"Hyunjin," you breathe, and you watch as his entire body shudders in response.

His eyes flutter shut, plush lips parting slightly as a soft moan slips out. He's trembling now, hands twitching on the wall near your head as though still fighting the urge to touch you. "Again."

"Hyunjin," you repeat. Your voice is stronger now. Your heart is racing, stomach twisting with nerves and desire. It's been so long since you've said his name like this, and the effect it has on him is beyond intoxicating.

He whimpers, leaning in closer until his forehead rests against yours. "Fuck, I missed that," he murmurs. His breath is hot against your skin. You feel the brush of his low cut hair against your forehead. "I've never seen it like this before. Please, baby. Again. I need more."

The desperation in his voice makes you weak, and you find yourself sliding your hands up, up, up, until your fingers curl into his fuzz, tugging gently at the wisps of hair at the base of his skull. The reaction is immediate—Hyunjin grunts, low and guttural, his hips bucking forward against yours.

"Again," he pants. "Please. Please."

You drag your nails along his scalp, pulling another groan from deep within. You brush your noses together.

"My Hyunjin," you whisper, right against his lips.

He surges forward, crushing his mouth to yours in a hot, bruising kiss. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he licks into your mouth. It's wet, messy, and desperate-- a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves you both breathless. You can't remember the last time anyone has kissed you this hard, this passionately—like he's trying to crawl inside you and never come back out.

He tastes like vodka and cheap beer, but underneath that is something that is so innately Hyunjin that you feel yourself melting, giving in to his touch and his mouth and his greedy hands. He shifts, slotting a thigh between your legs and flexing up into you. It pulls a moan from your throat that he swallows hungrily.

"Can I touch you?" He breathes his words right into your mouth.

You don’t hesitate. "Yes. Hyun, please."

His hands drop from the wall to the curve of your waist, sliding down until he has a bruising grip on your hips. His movements aren't as clumsy as you expect, but there's a hesitancy and nervousness that makes everything more enticing.

He uses his grip on your hips to grind you against his thigh. His movements are slow, deliberate. Your bodies are pressed flush together, his mouth still on yours, kissing you like you're the only thing keeping him on this plane of existence.

He bites down on your bottom lip and you whine his name right into his mouth. He hisses out a strangled sound before he breaks away, trailing hot kisses down your jaw, the column of your throat, and sucking a bruise into the soft, sensitive skin behind your ear. You're a mess of moans and whines and incoherent, half-finished sentences.

"God, you sound so fucking good," he murmurs into your neck. "Missed that too. Missed how pretty you sound for me.” He nips at your earlobe. “C'mon. Sing for me, angel."

He presses his thigh up into you more, the friction sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. You feel the length of him, hard heavy and hot, through his sweatpants. You dig your nails into his shoulders, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"Oh. Fuck, Hyunjin."

His hips buck involuntarily, a grunt slipping from him. He kisses his way back to your mouth. "That's it, my love. That's it."��

"Hyunie." You're panting into his mouth now, words coming out in broken gasps. It's overwhelming, all the sensations– his hands, his mouth, his thigh. You try to hold back your next words, but the building pressure in your stomach disintegrates the barriers in your brain. They come pouring out before you can stop yourself.

"I missed you so much.”

The confession seems to do something to him. He curses and ruts up against your leg, chasing the contact, the friction. You're both breathing heavily, the space between you nonexistent, moving with a practiced ease that's only born from being familiar with each other. He knows your body like he knows art, like it's a medium for him to mold and shape into whatever he wants.

"Wanna paint you," he huffs out when you moan again. He drags his teeth along the length of your throat. "Want you to see the colors you make for me."

“Tell me.” You drag your nails along the nape of his neck. “What does it look like?”

He moves his thigh up, the sharp movement making you gasp and drop your head onto his shoulder.

"That," he pants, "That one is white. Soft on the edges like feathers. It feels like cotton in my ears."

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his hips rutting against you with urgency. You can't help the moan that slips past your lips, and you swear his grip tightens, his breath hitching.

"Fuck," he breathes. "And that-- that one is hot. It's like rich red. Like the sun. It tastes sweet. Tastes like you.”

You whine into his neck, the combination of his words and the movement of his thigh making the heat coil tightly in your core. You're so close, right at the edge of your orgasm. You know you should stop-- that this is a dangerous line you're crossing-- but your body aches for him in a way it never will for anyone else.

"Come on. Cum for me, angel.” His voice is ragged, raw. "I wanna see it. Let me see it, please."

And, well, you have never been able to deny him anything.

You tip over the edge, pleasure shooting through your body like a spark. Your orgasm hits you so hard that your vision goes white around the edges, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips.

Hyunjin groans and ruts against you harder, faster. "Fuck, yes, that's it. Just like that, baby."

He kisses you again, swallowing up every noise you make while he lets you grind your way through the aftershocks. His hands roam their way around your body, his nimble fingers slipping under your shirt to trace patterns on your skin.

You come down slowly, breathing hard into his mouth. When he's sure you've ridden out the last of your orgasm, he pulls back, eyes glassy and still a bit unfocused. His gaze is locked on yours as he slides his hands down your body, slipping a hand into the waistband of your shorts and moving to cup your ass in both hands.

Some of your wits return to you. You find the hairs at the nape of his neck again, dragging your nails against him gently. "Hyun," you breathe. "Hyun, you're drunk. We should stop."

"No," he whines. There's no aggression in his movements, just pure want. He tugs at your ass again, pressing his hips into yours. "Please, baby. I need to feel you."

He leans forward again, kissing down your jaw to your neck. The brush of his buzzcut against your face makes you shiver, but you don't pull away. Instead, you press a kiss to his temple, then another, and another, until you're kissing the shell of his ear.

"You'll change your mind in the morning," you murmur. The thought doesn't sting like you thought it would. It just seems like a fact. “Let's stop now.”

It takes some effort, but you manage to gently untangle yourself from him. You put a hand on his chest, not exactly pushing him but enough to signal a need for distance between you. He relents easily, stepping back and giving you space to breathe.

You take the opportunity to stare at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him: frazzled hair, blown-out pupils, kiss-swollen lips, and an erection straining painfully against his sweatpants. It's a sight that has your body singing for him all over again.

He looks lost. Desperate. Like you're the only thing keeping him together. Yesterday, you would balk at the thought of that, but now it makes your heart soften in your chest. You try to remember a time when you weren't weak for this man and come up short.

You sigh and reach out, resting your hand on his arm, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. "Come on, Hyunie," you murmur. "You obviously can't go home. Let's get you to bed."

He follows you down the hallway to your bedroom like a lost puppy, fingers loosely tangled with yours. When you flick on the bedside lamp, the soft glow illuminates the space that used to be so familiar to him. He stands there, awkward, until you turn down the comforter and sit on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to you.

"Do you want me to sleep here?" he asks, his voice small.

You nod. "I'll take the couch."

His hand tightens around yours immediately. "No." His voice is small, fragile. "Stay. Please."

You close your eyes, summoning strength from somewhere deep inside you. "Hyunjin, I don't think—"

"I won't touch you," he rushes to say, desperation creeping back into his tone. "I promise. I just... I can't be alone right now. Please don't make me be alone."

The plea strikes something painful in your chest. You've spent months trying to convince yourself that Hyunjin was fine without you—thriving, even. That he'd moved on to bigger, better things. But the man standing before you now, with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, is far from fine.

"Okay," you relent, because you're weak and tired and overwhelmed from the events of tonight.

When he slides under the blanket, there's a safe distance between you. Not as vast as it's been the past six months, but a tangible space nonetheless. You lie there on your side, staring at him, wondering if this is what it feels like to drown. He stares back at you, and you watch the redness of his eyes dissipate, his body relaxing under the weight of your gaze. You can't even find it in you to be angry, but you try. You really do.

He looks at you with those glassy eyes and a soft smile. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.

You feel the anger slip through your fingers.

"You're drunk," you whisper back.

"I know."

You're not sure who moves first, but you find yourself closing the distance between you, your head tucked under his chin and your arm slung over his torso. He's warm and solid beneath you, and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest. You close your eyes, focusing on the rhythm, letting it lull you to sleep.

"Goodnight, pretty girl," he murmurs.

You're asleep before you can respond.

—

Sunlight filters through your curtains, painting warm stripes across your face. You stir, your consciousness returning to you in fragmented pieces. The first thing you register is the coolness of the sheets next to you. The second is the ache in your chest.

You open your eyes, staring at the empty space where Hyunjin had been.

Had.

He's gone.

The pillow still bears the impression of his head, the ghost of his presence lingering in the sheets in the form of his expensive cologne. You reach out, rubbing a bit of the sheet between your fingers, finding it cold to the touch.

Of course he left. What were you expecting?

You're not sure how long you lie there, staring at the ceiling, but it's long enough for the tears to come. They slip down the sides of your face and into your hair, leaving wet stains on the pillow as everything from last night comes back to you: the desperation of his voice on the phone, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, his breath hot on your neck as he begged and pleaded for you to bathe his world in color again. It all felt real, so urgent in the midnight hour.

But morning has a wicked way of washing everything clean, the sober light revealing every mistake in detail.

You wish you could be angry. You wish you could feel anything other than the pain that's splitting your chest in two. You wish you could hate him.

You press the heels of your palms against your eyes in an attempt to stall the tears before they get worse. This is exactly why you should've blocked him, why you shouldn't have let him in or slept beside him like nothing changed between the two of you.

"Stupid," You murmur. "I'm so fucking stupid."

A familiar weight settles in your gut, the same one your carried for weeks when he first left-- a noxious mix of anger, embarrassment, and grief. You thought you'd finally shed it, but here it is again, through no fault but your own.

You drop your hands from your face and glance at the clock, which tells you it's a bit past 11am. He's back at his fancy apartment by now, already forgetting the things he whispered in your skin. You let out a humorless snort, imagining that he's painting, finally able to put colors together properly after using you for inspiration.

You're about to drag your pity party to the kitchen when you hear it-- the faint squeak of your bathroom sink turning on.

Your eyes snap in that direction instantly. For a moment, you don’t hear anything else. Then–

Splashing. Someone is washing their face.

He stayed.

You freeze, heart suddenly pounding against your chest. You can hear the water continuing to slosh around for a second, then it shuts off.

More silence, just for a second, then the unmistakable padding of feet on tile.

The en suite door swings open. Hyunjin materializes in the door frame wearing the same clothes from last night. His hair catches the morning light like a halo and his face is freshly washed. His eyes are no longer glassy, even though they're rimmed with the telltale shadows of a hangover. When he sees you sitting up in bed, he pauses, hovering in the doorway as though he's unsure if he's still allowed in.

The two of you hold eye contact for a moment. It feels like forever, but you know it can't be more than a second or two. It doesn't matter how long, really. It's still too long. Long enough to make the ache inside you bloom until your entire chest is suffocating under its weight. Long enough to realize how much you still want him and need to keep him in this space that was once yours and his. Long enough to want to reach out across time and space and mold his edges into something that belongs solely to you—that only you can recognize. Something different and yet exactly the same.

"Hi," he says.

The breath is knocked out of you all at once.

"You're still here," you breathe. You feel a new wave of tears behind your eyes. You think it might be from relief.

Something flashes across his face quickly-- hurt, maybe, or understanding. "Yeah." His voice is soft. "I told you I wouldn't leave again."

Did he say that? You don't remember. You can't exactly think over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

The words hang in the air anyway, a fragile bridge stretching across the space between you. It feels precarious, like one wrong move will send all of it crashing down. You scan his face for any hint of deception, for a flicker of the old Hyunjin that prioritized his rising fame over you. But all you find is a raw sincerity that mirrors the ache in your own chest.

He takes a hesitant step into the room, then another, like he's waiting for you to change your mind and kick him out. You don't. You just sit there, heart thrumming against your ribs, watching as he drifts closer until he's standing at edge of the bed. There's barely any space separating you two, yet everything still feels so far away.

"Last night," he starts. He clears his throat, fighting against the tremble in his voice and hands. "It was a mess. I was a mess, I know."

You wait, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

"But even in the middle of all of that... I need you to know I meant it. Every word, angel. I still do."

Something swells inside of you, the pain making way for something soft and tender. It's overwhelming, but the good kind. The kind that makes you feel light and free.

"Do you?" Your voice is so quiet, you're not sure if he hears you. But he does, because his gaze softens, eyes never leaving yours.

Hyunjin lowers himself to the ground, situating himself on his knees so the two of you are eye level. He reaches a hand out, his long, slender fingers making their way across the space, gently cupping the curve of your jaw. You close your eyes, holding your breath while you bask in the way his skin makes contact with yours. The air around you feels like it might come alive. As you lean into the warmth of his palm, the ache in your chest begins to fade bit by bit.

"Yeah. I do," he whispers. His voice is thick.

There are a million things you want to say, yet the only thing you can force out is: "Why?"

He brushes his thumb along the rise of your cheekbone, the gesture tender and familiar. It's almost like he never left, like no time has passed between the two of you. He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it, like the words are getting stuck in his throat.

"Can I show you?"

The question sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow and nod.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the hunger evident in his gaze. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing you in. His breath tickles your nose, the scent of your toothpaste mixing with the smell of his sweater.

"Are you sure?" he whispers.

You answer him by closing the gap.

Unlike the kiss from last night, this one is slow, measured. You pour everything you've wanted to say since he left into it, and he returns it tenfold. He kisses you with a passion that threatens to consume, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly, tongue sweeping out to lick at your bottom lip. You part for him immediately, the taste of him igniting the dormant fire inside you.

Hyunjin kisses you like a starving man. You give him everything he needs, letting him map your mouth with his tongue, moaning into the heat of his kiss. You feel it everywhere, the heat coiling low in your belly and spreading throughout your limbs. It feels like a revelation, and the way his grip tightens tells you that he feels it too.

"Say it, please baby," he breathes. The desperation from last night is creeping back in. His hand leaves your cheek, trailing down the length of your neck to your collarbone. He curls his hand into the neck of your shirt and tugs it down to expose your skin, dipping down to wash his tongue across your collarbones. You're already shaking before he even nips at your skin.

"Hyunjin," you moan. The sound makes him grunt against you, low and needy.

His mouth is on yours again, bruising, like he wants to drown in the taste of you. You sink your fingers into his hair, pulling gently and feeling his body shudder in response. He adjusts his positions on his knees, tugging you closer to him so your hips are flush against his chest. The heat of his feverish skin burns you through the thin fabric of your night clothes.

"Again, angel," he pleads, mouthing his way over your shirt, down to your breasts, hands trailing up your bare thighs and gripping hard. You let out a little whimper, head falling back as you thread your fingers in the wisps of his hair, holding on for dear life. He doesn't stop. The mixture of his mouth and his hands has your mind hazy and unfocused.

"Hyunjin. Hyun, please." You feel him shudder at that, his mouth kissing lower, lower, lower. When he reaches the hem of your shit, he grips it in his teeth and pulls it up, tongue darting out to run a stripe across your belly button. You pant and squirm, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin through his sweatshirt.

He nips at your stomach and you cry out his name, the sound breaking through the space like a firecracker. Hyunjin's hips buck up against the bed as his mouth finds your hip bone, sinking his teeth into the tender skin. Your back arches, legs clamping around his torso. His grip is bruising and you really hope he leaves a mark, that there are traces of him on you long after you're finished. You want him to burn himself into your skin so you never forget this again.

He's pressing sloppy kisses over the skin he's just bitten, murmuring a mixture of words you can't decipher. The sound is muffled against your skin, but you don't miss the way he says "angel" over and over again, the way his lips form your name against your body like it's a prayer, and he is the sole saint who has come to worship at your altar.

He shifts his mouth back to the waistband of your shorts, his big, blown out eyes fluttering open to stare at you in question. The look you give him is all he needs to peel off the fabric, slowly, teasingly, tossing them away and letting his fingers trail the newly exposed skin. His touch is hot on your legs, trailing up and down until you're panting for him.

"So perfect for me, pretty girl," he praises, his lips ghosting over your hips. Your brain feels like mush, like his praise is the only thing that exists anymore. You watch his long, perfect fingers slide up the expanse of your thigh until he reaches your heat, pushing your lips apart to reveal your aching cunt to him. His touch is so featherlight that it has your hips bucking up, trying to get more.

"Be still, love." He presses a kiss to your clit. "Be still for me. Let me worship you, yeah? Can you do that?"

You whine, desperately trying to remain still, to let him explore every inch of your body with his perfect hands, to let him touch and tease you like he needs to.

"That's it, baby," he breathes. His fingers run along the wetness of your cunt. "Look at you. So fucking wet for me, my angel."

He slips his middle finger in with ease, sliding all the way to his knuckle. You barely have a second to adjust to the feeling before he dives down, plump lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard. It sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine so sharp, you can't help the half scream that falls from your lips, your hand shooting out to grab onto his head. He moans in response, letting you grind yourself up into his face. He laps at you like a man possessed, fingers curling deep inside you to press against that one spot he's found countless times before.

The room fills with the wet sounds of your cunt against his eager tongue. His hair is soft under your hand, a contrast to how hard he's fucking his fingers into you. They move with urgency and precision. Each thrust has you panting his name, and in response his moans vibrate through your cunt.

He moves his free hand to grab the one that's gripping his hair and squeezes, fingers curling between yours in a silent show of gratitude for letting him touch you, letting him drown himself in you.

The combination of his touch and the sounds he's making has your stomach coiling, tight like a spring, and your release comes quick and sharp. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, and you call out his name, louder than anything he's ever heard from you before, so loud your voice bounces off the walls. He works you through it, licking up all the wetness that's pouring from you, groaning and growling like a starving man. He slips in a third finger to fuck you through the last of your high and the stretch is so good, so perfect.

His grip on your hand is the only thing that keeps you grounded as the last of the pleasure courses through you, leaving you shaking and trembling against his face. Hyunjin keeps his eyes on you the entire time, watching you like a predator watches prey, pupils blown so wide only a sliver of dark brown peeks out at you. He only pulls away once you stop shuddering, dragging his fingers out of you with a loud, wet noise, slipping them straight into his mouth.

The sight of his plush, pink lips wrapped around those perfect fingers makes you whine and squirm with want, even though you've just been thoroughly fucked out. Hyunjin crawls his way back up your body and kisses you deeply. His lips are wet with you, and he fucks his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You find yourself gripping at the soft hairs on the back of his neck again in an attempt to press him closer. He pulls away slightly to trail sloppy, open mouthed kisses down your jaw, teeth dragging across the hot skin.

"You drive me crazy, pretty girl," he pants. He sucks a bruise into the junction where your throat meets your shoulder. "Every noise you make, it sizzles in my eyes like fire. I see you everywhere."

You drag your nails down his neck and he groans into you. You can feel the impossibly hard length of him pressing against your thigh through his sweatpants. He ruts against your body lazily, his movements sluggish. The post orgasm haze still hangs over your body like a heavy fog, slowing everything down to a sluggish, sensual pace. It's hypnotic and delicious, the feeling of his hardness dragging along your thigh while he peppers kisses along your skin. You know this dance, your bodies know the steps so well it feels like your back at the very beginning again, like no time has passed at all between the two of you.

"Let me have you, please." His voice is tight. His desperation is bleeding into everything, tinging the air between you like an intoxicating drug. It makes your head spin and your skin tingle. He shifts his position so his hips are rutting into yours now, slow, deliberate, and grinding right down into you. You're so wet for him still that there's no resistance in his movements. With your eyes fluttering from the sensation, you drag your fingers across the expanse of his broad shoulders and then down to the dip in his spine, trailing your fingertips up under his sweatshirt to drag across his hot skin. It pulls a shaky whine out of him.

"God, please angel." His cock throbs against you. "I'll make it good for you, so fucking good. Just please let me have you, please."

You tug at his sweater until he relents, breaking away to yank it up over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room. You take the opportunity to look at his chest, which is flushed with color and heaving with want. His lips are parted as he tries to catch his breath, lust-blown eyes staring down at you like you hold all of the secrets to his universe. He's still getting harder in his pants, the fabric stretching taut over his cock, the shape of his length visible beneath it. The sight alone makes you dizzy, and the wetness that has been slowly building inside you reaches a crescendo, your cunt pulsing at the sight before you.

Your hand drifts down between your legs. Your fingers slide easily over the wetness that's gathered there from the pleasure Hyunjin has been so dutifully dishing out to you, and you don't even think about what you're doing. Hyunjin watches, eyes glassy as you dip two fingers in the wet mess he's made of your cunt. You slide them back up to your clit and moan, hips twitching into your own touch. His lips part a fraction, a breathy gasp spilling from him. He looks so painfully hungry that the thought of denying him crosses your mind for the briefest of moments. The thought disappears the second he opens his mouth.

"Baby, please, I need it." He shifts on his knees, squirming and aching for you. You almost don't recognize his voice— it's so raspy and tight with need, words stumbling out of him with no hesitation, no thought. It makes your skin hot all over again. You circle your fingers around your clit as you watch him watch you, his chest heaving in tandem with the movements of your fingers.

Then he makes the prettiest little whine you've ever heard in your entire life.

The sound alone is enough to make you remove your hand and offer your wet fingers to him, his mouth falling open obediently to welcome them in. He swirls his tongue around your fingertips, lapping up any of the wetness he's left on you. He groans and shudders, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks and licks and hums around your fingers. Your brain feels like static and your thighs squeeze together to try and ease the ache inside you.

"Fuck, Hyunjin," you moan out, watching him suck your fingers clean. You try desperately to focus on keeping your hips still, the friction from your bodies moving together making you want to chase your pleasure again.

He moans around your fingers before pulling back, catching the hand you had been using to play with your clit and pulling it up to place a gentle kiss on your palm. He keeps eye contact the entire time, looking at you from under those thick lashes and his hooded eyes. His lips part just enough for the tip of his tongue to lick at your skin, his fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. It makes your stomach drop. He has you under a spell and he doesn't even need to try.

He nips at your fingertips once more before speaking again, his voice low. "You make it so impossible to see anything other than you," he says, breathless. "Everywhere I turn, everything I see, there you are."

He shifts again, his body moving downwards and slotting itself between your thighs. He uses his free hand to wrestle himself out of his sweatpants and boxers, leaving them to hang low on his hips, cock finally free from their confines and bobbing heavily in the cool air. A shudder runs through him and you can tell it's both from the chill and the feeling of relief that comes from the sudden freedom. Your eyes linger on the head, leaking so prettily for you that it has your cunt squeezing around nothing again.

The hand holding your wrist pushes gently until it has you pinned above your head on the bed, the grip loose enough to not hurt you but strong enough to hold you in place. He reaches down to finally wrap his free hand around himself, stroking the length of his cock as he lets his eyes wander all over your body. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and you're transfixed by the way he lets it run along the swell of his mouth. He's such a pretty, pretty picture like this.

You think he might say something again, but the only sound that fills the space is his soft pants and moans. His strokes on himself once, the slick, wet noises making your brain go fuzzy all over again. Then he stops, leaning forward so he's hovering above you, the tip of his nose mere centimeters from yours. His lips brush against your mouth and his fingers twitch around your wrist, like he wants to let go but can't bear to.

You tilt your chin up to catch his lips, a soft whine bubbling in your throat. Want simmers under your skin so badly that you're a shaking, trembling mess under him. He coos at you in the kiss, and you feel him shift over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He rubs the head of his cock against your slit, gathering the wetness that has dripped out of your pulsing cunt and onto the sheets, using it as lubrication for the tip of his cock to catch on your entrance. Your hips twitch upwards involuntarily, making him break the kiss with a gasp, and you both look down to watch as pushes the head of his cock into you.

"Shit," he whines. It comes out like a hiss, his eyes slipping closed. The feeling of your body welcoming him home has a shudder running up his spine. He releases your hand and uses his elbows to hold himself up over you, fingers burying themselves in the sheets surrounding your head. The tips of his ears are dusted pink, and his mouth is slack as he lets himself be enveloped by the heat of your body. He rests his head in the crook of your neck.

He feels impossibly large inside of you. It has been so long since you've had him this close, it's almost like you forgot how good he can fill you. He shifts and pushes himself a bit further in and you can't help the whimper that tumbles from your mouth. The stretch is so deliciously good that your hips twitch again, body instinctively trying to grind itself onto his length to get him right where you need him. He curses above you again and his grip in the sheets tighten as he nips at your throat.

"Angel," he chokes out. His breath feels boiling hot against your skin. "Please don't move. Not yet, baby. You feel too fucking good."

His voice is strained, tight in his chest like he's barely holding himself back from pounding into you like his body so obviously wants to. The feeling of being stretched by him has you quivering, cunt pulsing around the intrusion. It feels like it takes him forever, but he finally manages to fully slide into you, letting his hips press against yours so you can take the time to adjust to the fullness. His name is a mantra on your lips, the only coherent word your brain is able to conjure right now. He kisses your neck to calm you down, nuzzles his nose against you, licks at the tender skin that has a pulse beating rapidly underneath it.

"So tight, angel," he grunts. His teeth dig into the skin of your neck, sucking another bruise into your skin. "So fucking tight for me."

Your nails are digging into his back now, scratching angry red lines down his shoulder blades as you struggle to breathe beneath him. It feels so good, the way his weight pushes into you and lets you feel every twitch and pulse of his body, lets you feel him shake and quiver. He slides back a bit before pushing into you again, his entire body shaking with the effort it's taking for him to maintain this languid pace. His forehead is pressed against your skin still and his breath comes out hot and shaky as he fucks himself into you again and again, slow and shallow.

The drag of his cock has your toes curling. Your hands slide from his back to his shoulder, down to his biceps, fingers digging into the skin to leave crescents that you can't bring yourself to feel bad about. The heat is pooling in your stomach again, making the feeling in your toes and fingertips start to fizzle away. All that's left is you and Hyunjin. The artist and his muse.

"Hyunie," you breathe. "Hyun."

"I know baby," he grunts. You can feel the drag of his lips on you, leaving kisses against your feverishly hot skin. "I know. I'm here, I'm here."

He picks up the pace then, hips snapping against you to get his cock as deep as it'll go. Your brain has become static, aware of nothing more than the sound of skin slapping against skin, of the wet noises coming from where Hyunjin has returned to his home inside you. You arch your body into his hold and he slips his hand into the curve of your back, pressing you close so that every thrust brings him as close to your heart as he can get.

When he pounds into you particularly hard and you flutter around him, he grunts, sitting up and on his heels to gain leverage to piston into you deep.

"So fucking perfect," he groans. He reaches down to thumb at your clit, circling it and grinding it down in time with his thrusts. You whine his name and buck against his hand as his thrusts get harder and faster in response. It has the coil in your belly winding tighter, so tight your body feels rigid against the bed. "Gonna show me that rainbow, right baby? Be good and come for me, yeah?"

You're already nodding frantically, words completely failing you. The sound of your skin meeting is loud, and your own moans are a chorus that's getting lost in his groans, in his pretty little whimpers of your name. It's all too much— you can barely catch your breath.

His hand that isn't playing with your clit finds one of yours and brings it to your stomach, pushing your palm into the skin below your belly button. When you feel it—the subtle bump from the tip of his cock, pressing against his fingers and into the flat of your stomach—you moan and dig your nails into the back of his hand.

"Fuck," he grits. "You like that angel? You like feeling full of me?"

A distant pulsing of your clit is the only warning you get before your orgasm hits you hard. You scream Hyunjin's name, nails digging into his skin for something to tether to. Your orgasm washes over you like an electric current, shooting up your spine and down to your toes. It whites your vision out, each pulse of Hyunjin's thrust translating into faded bursts of colors behind your eyes. The force of it makes your cunt squeeze down hard, so hard that you feel him stutter in his rhythm above you. You feel him drop forward to grip onto the pillow behind your head and bury his face into your chest, fingers digging in tight, hips bucking up into you. His eyes are squeezed shut and he's biting hard down on the fabric of your shirt, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. You don't need to look to know he's coming inside of you, filling you up and painting you white.

It feels like the two of you ride through the aftershocks for years before he comes back down enough to gently slip his cock out of you, hissing from the sensitivity. You barely even feel him roll off of you, the world still tilted on it's axis significantly. Your vision takes a second to focus as your chest heaves. It takes even longer to realize that Hyunjin is staring at you from where he's lying on his side, head propped up on his elbow and an expression on his face you haven't seen in months. The thought that he could still look at you with a mixture of reverence and wonder after all this time is overwhelming.

But exhaustion is the prevailing emotion, and you only manage a small, sleepy smile before you pass out, lulled to sleep by the soft kiss he presses to your shoulder.

—

When you wake up a few hours later, you’re not panicked to find that you’re by yourself. The sheets are still warm, the shower is running, and there is still a dull, pleasant ache between your legs. You stretch, muscles nicely liquid and pliant, before patting around for your phone on your nightstand.

You do not find your phone. You find, instead, a piece of paper.

It takes a moment of sleepy shuffling, but once you get the lamp on, you see that it’s a pencil sketch of your sleeping form. There’s a cloud of colors surrounding you, beautifully rich blues and pinks that overlap to create equally vibrant purples. The colors feather out around the paper, swirling into soft, delicate hearts.

There is a single word on the bottom of the drawing:

Reconciliation.

#stray kids #hyprfics #skz x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz hyunjin #skz hyunjin x reader #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader

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seraphdreams · 1 year ago

Text

SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA. | YUUTA OKKOTSU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. when taking care of your university finances proves troublesome, the universe grants you your very own savior. but it’s gonna cost you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, college au!yuuta / bimbo reader (obvi), filming, lots of porn references… a lot, virginity loss, praise, oral n fingering, slight obsession, pussydrunk yuuta, unprotected love making, yuuta’s rich and unsettling. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 5.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! omg, yuuta? i meant to have this out a few weeks ago but got caught in a little writing slump :( nevertheless, here’s to a new year and a new fic! yuuta’s been slowly creeping his way up my favs list , tehe !! as always, please reblog / comment if you enjoyed this , it’ll fill me with joy. thank u ♡

you’re a pornstar.

albeit, an amateur one with heaps to learn regarding the ruthless industry, but the weight still stands.

the details in which you came to the jarring conclusion were muddled with the convoluted steps that it took for you to get there, murky in your bubblegum-filled mind. all you knew was that yuuta okkotsu was a force, a gentle one, to be reckoned with.

it must’ve played out once you returned to your campus dorm beyond the dusk of midnight, under an unmitigating fatigue from the twelve hour waitressing shift just prior. through abhorrent patrons and the lack of a spendable paycheck, the excruciatingly long night barely made you enough money to even think about buying those dollish pumps you’ve been yearning for. how cruel.

in between working and haphazardly handing your earnings over to university fees and textbooks, you just couldn’t seem to make ends meet.

you would curse the day you took it upon yourself to branch away financially from your parents under the guise of growing up, since now it’d be a blessing to have even a cellphone bill paid off. whatever the issue seemed to be, lady luck was truly never bothered enough to be on your side.

fortunately for you, though, it was that same arduous night, you had been huddled against your stuffed animals in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various social media apps on your phone; switching from sites like instagram and twitter to youtube then right back to instagram all over again, only to be met with an offer dusted in pink glitter that caught your eye as if it were made for you.

“stars needed — will pay upfront.”

it was a shoddy story post, one that could be clicked past and forgotten forever — yet, a brisk reminder of your situation in the form of borrowed, used textbooks with pages missing or vandalized, and today’s horoscope that said to take risks; you did exactly that, aiming a swipe up that would ultimately rid you of the worries of yesterday.

there were no reasons as to why you couldn’t be a star. certainly, you had the face for it, and you were told by multiple charmers that you were beyond beguiling to get anything you could ever ask for. what dismay could possibly unfold from contacting .. yuuta okkotsu .. about his offer?

hm, that’s funny. the name rang familiarity as it seeded in your mind.

must be one of yuuji’s friends.

itadori yuuji, your best friend of three years now. out of all the time you’d spent together, you came to realize that he could get along with anyone, despite their true intentions. he spoke highly of his friends as well, which earned him a sacred spot in your heart that couldn’t be replaced by anyone.

itadori had briefly mentioned in a ramen-fueled frenzy that one of his peers were “so insanely talented” and that you’d definitely get on with him. but when you asked for validity on that vague claim, all yuuji seemed to respond with was a mere “just meet him, you’ll see.”

from your recollection, the acquaintance he was boasting about, as if it was his own personal victory, was none other than your yuuta okkotsu. he was meek, stuck to a close-knit friend group consisting of maki and toge from your physics class, and the one time you ever spoke to him was to ask about yuuji’s whereabouts, to which he responded that he went back to his dorm after gojo-sensei’s lecture.

he seemed, normal. average, even. that surely had to be the case since your memory was hazy on his being otherwise.

it was true, though, yuuta was gifted. in a way that transcended words, skillful towards visual aesthetics, and careful with the craft. he would spend most of his freetime fumbling with a camera or recording the works of the mundane. overtly, he’d grown such a strong passion in the field of videography in hopes to capture the reality of humanity, the authenticity within intimacy — what could he possibly need a “star” for?

shadiness aside, you were in a tough spot, willing to do whatever to free yourself from the financial burden that was jujutsu technical university. with a swift swipe in tandem with the soft tapping of the pads of your thumbs on the keyboard, you were taking yuuta up on his offer.

within seconds, he responded back with his address and an appropriate meet-up date to start the project.

if only you were aware of how drastically your life would change from here on out.

a cluster of days had passed since you last got into contact with yuuta. he had told you to meet him at his place, claiming it would be more efficient than traveling to an unnamed destination with pounds of heavy photography equipment.

where you stood currently, was in front of the bare oak of his front door, hand wrapped in a loose fist as you knocked gently on the wood. a quick moment had passed by before you took initiative to raise your fist and knock once more. before your touch could meet the wood, a muffled “coming!” chimed beyond the door. from what you had heard on the other side; the scuttling behind the door and jingle of the lock, yuuta had opened the door soon after.

with his hand rubbing away the goosebumps that stood at the back of his neck, he beamed. cordially, warmly.

“you’re actually here. hi,”

upon first glance, yuuta had a distinct look. he stood tall, not tall enough to matter or incite intimidation, and although he wore a black button-up (a bit formal for an occasion as casual as today), his lean build shone through under the thin fabric, ripples of veins dancing up his forearms. what you couldn’t miss, however, were the grey eyebags under his emotionless navy orbs, as if he’d forgone weeks of sleep.

yuuta okkotsu was unsettling.

“hi,” your voice sounded as a sweet croon, dulcet enough that you could barely hear it yourself as it escaped in a breathy breeze. his smile grew softer in response, that monotonous gaze in his eyes fizzling away into something of serenity. “come in, please,” yuuta held the door open wider for you to tread past, caught up in observing the bunch of fabric that hugged tightly around your ass, then closed it gently behind you once you stepped completely inside. he silently cursed at himself for ogling — he truly didn’t mean to stare. you’re just a lot prettier up close. “i was just getting set up. you can have a seat if you’d like.”

as you’d expect from any guy your age, his place wasn’t much to gaze at, nor did it have much personality. in a corner to your right was a houseplant, that of the fern variety, and a few steps deeper into the abode was the living room, where yuuta resumed his fumbling with the transfiguration of his tripod.

you decided to sit on the couch across from him, taking in the bleak sight of his home. you would have almost believed it was unlived in had it not been for the scattered midterm review papers decorating his coffee table. it was obvious he had money from the endless rows of space that surrounded the two of you, although a candle or something would be nice.

he peered away from his tripod to look through the viewfinder of his camera, ensuring that the lens was functioning properly. he grew pleased to see the image of you distracted in fiddling with your thumbs reflected back at him. “are you nervous?” his gaze fell upon you through his own eyes, a concerned expression harboring his features.

you were pulled out of your muse of unfamiliarity to direct your attention to the sound of his mild voice, returning a smile to his that eased the worriment trapped behind dull, blue eyes. “n-not really, i don’t think.”

his lips curled up once more at that, in fact there wasn’t a time so far that you hadn’t noticed him without his signature smile. “here, let me help with that,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen before ultimately turning it back off and settling it back into its place in his pocket.

your phone vibrated beside you, screen lighting up with a bold alert.

[YUUTA OKKOTSU SENT $1000]

before you had a chance to even process the significance of the notification, he started back up,

“i hope i got the right information, wouldn’t want your hard work to get in the wrong hands.” the tilt of his head in tandem with a chuckle resonated sheepishly, and he returned to watch you through his camera lens.

he was right. the money did soothe your nerves.

“i’ve barely done anything yet.” a ditzy giggle followed soon after your sentence, a sound that yuuta couldn’t possibly ignore. you were already starting to pull at his heartstrings.

“and you’ve done it so perfectly,” his praise left you flustered in that moment and you bit down softly on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. “thank you, yuuta.”

you would’ve never guessed that your introverted classmate had enough experience in him to be such a flirt, or have your cheeks heating up with fervid affection, no less. but maybe yuuta was just like that; maybe this had been natural.

“no, thank you.” his thumb hovered over the record button just as his eyes met your gaze over the brim of the camera. “would you like to start now?”

he took the nod of your head as confirmation to press the record button, finally getting started with the project.

you blinked blankly at him as he tilted his head and flashed a warmhearted grin. “how old are you?” was his first question. he had asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. as he did so, you took notice of the silver ring donned around his finger.

he couldn’t have been married, no?

keeping your answer as vague as possible for the sake of matching his comforting warmth, you responded, “twenty-something.” he let out a satisfied huff of air as he nodded and moved onto his next query.

“and what’s your major?”

with the question barely having enough time to linger in the suggestively tense air, he added, “you’re very beautiful, by the way. do you mind taking your dress off for me?”

as much as it should’ve alarmed you, you were swayed by his toothachingly inviting timbre, its gentleness pulling compliancy from you in a matter of a few mere words. you only shook your head, forgoing the short piece of fabric that clung to each curve and dip of your body while your nipples hardened under the glacial, artificial breeze of his home. once the silk pooled at your hips, that, along with your panties were dropped onto the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable under the camera — and yuuta’s watchful eye.

he swallowed thickly at the sight, remaining as respectful as he could despite the monster growing in his pants; his eyes locked right back onto yours as if he’d get striked down for moving them even a millimeter south. “are you a virgin?” he queried, opting to move his hand from awkwardly at his side to fidgeting with the button at his shirt, ultimately undoing it and revealing another inch of skin at his heated chest.

from the nature of what you had signed yourself up for, you were hesitant to answer his question. of course you needed experience to be a star, and with you lacking the preconceived ability, you could kiss your $1000 goodbye..

yet he looked at you with an expectant gaze. no traces of malice in his eyes or frustration from your quick witted silence, but merely, with patience. and in that moment you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie.

“i am,” out of shame, you curled in on yourself, hoping that the sofa would engulf you, and your feelings, crossing your arms over your bare chest as if it’d create a wall of privacy behind your own humiliation. “is that okay?”

yuuta’s being only grew warmer at the response, you figured he’d be hot to the touch by now, from searing pleasure or unshakeable cordiality, you wouldn’t know. “yeah, that’s okay,” it came out breathier than he would’ve liked, a telltale sign of his aching desire. “that’s more than okay.”

truth be told, he had never met anyone as enchanting as you. you looked up at him with such trust in your eyes that it daunted him — fear that the assurance he wielded from you would shatter beneath him, and he’d be drowning. in a sea of his own wistfulness. now that he had you, he couldn’t let you go.

you were on to make a breathtaking star.

now feeling less coy than before, you relaxed your head into the palm of yuuta’s hand. you hadn’t noticed how long he’d been stroking at your cheek, or when he closed the vexing proximity between the two of you, all that mattered in that moment was the roll of his gentle vocables flowing through your ears and the thumb of his that graciously caressed your cheek.

you came to realize that he was much more handsome this way as your eyes toured his own, then down to the sliver of sweat-sheened skin peeking from underneath the black veil of his shirt, then down to his…

he’s so fucking hard.

confined against his slacks was his cock that leaked an ample amount even while it was untouched. you could make out its silhouette, something girthy, perhaps heavy, but nothing like you’d expect from yuuta. uncharacteristically huge.

“yuuta.” you whispered, mainly to yourself, as your mouth began to water at the sight, and his cheeks dusted pink once he realized what you were fixated upon.

“do you wanna,” he started up but faltered soon after when your lidded gaze flitted back up towards his. never had he felt so weak before, it was as if you’d casted a spell on him. “do you maybe want to—” he paused to avert his own gaze and embarrassment. “—put it in your mouth?”

he could’ve sworn he heard the increase of his heartbeat in his ears when you crinkled your brows, pretty face forming into an even prettier pout.

“but i’ve never—”

he stopped you before you could start, interjecting his own voice of reassurance.

“it’s okay. i’ll guide you,” taking his camera off its stand and moving the rest of the configuration elsewhere, he held it in one hand to better capture the scene unfolding before him. “just try your best for me, okay?”

“okay.” when he returned your concern with a small smile, you took it upon yourself to undo the arrangement of his pants, carefully hooking your finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling down just enough for his length to spring free.

for what felt like minutes, you marveled at his sheer size, wondering how anyone of his nature could possibly be hiding something like that. it curved upwards with a prominent vein or two running up the underside while it continued to leak, so much so, that you had to collect it all at the tip with your finger.

the tip? flushed the prettiest pink you’d ever witnessed and was as bulbous as it was mushroomed, you knew you’d have a bit of difficulty trying to fit into your mouth. it seemed to twitch under the fanning of your breath to which yuuta let out a whine of pure impatience.

“can i..?” your words trailed off when you involuntarily found yourself pressing chaste kisses along the length of his cock until they met with his sticky tip; a recreated scene from the various porn videos you’d seen. the sensation sent a jolt of palpable pleasure through his being, yuuta’s dark hair curtaining over his eyes while he made a damn good attempt at silencing his moans, with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.

your eyes kept watch at his wavering expression while you wrapped your hand at the base of his length and began to pump slowly, yet another thing you had learned through the fascinating world of porn.

“suck it,” it was clear to you that yuuta had grown desirously impatient from your teasing, looking down at you with a hint of hunger in his beautiful orbs. “please?”

you took his words as an incentive to finally give him what he’s been leaking for, wrapping gloss-sheened lips around the thick inches of his tip, accommodating for the stretch with a dulcet whine that reverberated deeply within him. had you not been caught up in building the gradual bob of your head, he would’ve kissed you, left you with smeared lips and a tongue that ached for only him upon seeing the sinful sight of innocent eyes fixated on his own. you’re beautiful. truly, to die for.

caught all on tape to be watched over and over again.

at the bliss, yuuta’s lip parted open, alotting for a slur of groans turned whimpers to tumble past. “you- you’re already doing, so good.” he praises, the words floating on his breath. his free hand finds itself back at your face, thumbing the warmth of your hallowed cheek while he captured the moment behind his lens. once you came to a comfortable rhythm, you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping your fingers between your thighs to ease the evergrowing ache in your core. in fact, you’d been like this since the moment yuuta spoke a word to you, lightheaded and malleable — what he’s beginning to love most about you.

your digits collected slick at your entrance, the immeasurable amount of essence that you’d pool providing ample leeway for you to sink three fingers inside, pumping at the same rhythm in which you’re sucking yuuta. soft fingertips curling against your gummy walls weren’t enough, though, and when he had caught notice of your weakening resolve, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” he began, with a choked moan. “just- so close, so fucking close. c-can you take me in deeper?”

the hum of assurance that sounded from you sent vibrations coursing through his cock, from tip to base. had you not been preoccupied with chasing your own high, you would’ve missed the pitchy moan he let out just after. with your palm now pressed up against your clit while you worked in tandem to pleasure the nub and your greedy hole, you attempted to swallow another stubborn inch of him.

simultaneous with the bobbing of your head, he matched your pace, abdomen flexing when the white-hot pleasure became too much and he could feel it in his ears. he wanted so badly to throw his head back, completely lose himself in bliss, but he had a job to do. he wouldn’t dare let the sight of your glassy lidded eyes and glossy lips struggling to wrap themselves around the stretch of his dick go unfilmed, unseen.

as his tip continued to prod the back of your throat and your fingers aided you in relieving the discomfort from your cunt, you found yourself just dangling off the dangerous edge of your release, strokes away from making a mess — and yuuta did too.

it wasn’t long until his head started spinning, legs got weaker, and his core coiled tighter; all the signs of a mindblowing orgasm, and blew his mind, you did. “baby- y/n, if you keep doing that- i might cum.” what he was referring to was the way you fondled his balls in the warmth of your soft hands, yet another trick you had learned from porn. “i don’t wanna cum in your mouth but if you—,”

a jumbled slew of curses flowed from his lips as he did the inevitable, shot his load deep down your throat, gently thrusting his cock in shallow strokes to jettison every last remaining drop. the taste on your tongue was nothing like you’d be warned of before. yuuta wasn’t bitter, he went down easy.

hell, you’d use his cum as a condiment for desserts if you could.

in a matter of moments, your own high had washed over you like cold water over a heated body, much needed and refreshing. once he hesitantly pulled out from the heat of your mouth, cock still hard and twitching for more, he gently pushed back strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“can i see?”

you held out your cream-slickened fingers, sopping with your juices as yuuta proceeded to catch how they dripped on camera. he then took your palm, with the cadence of a knight kissing the back of a princess’s hand, and slipped the soiled digits into his mouth. his tongue lavved around your index and middle fingers while he hummed satisfactorily at your taste. “you’re just as sweet as i imagined.” he smiled, finding amusement in your post-orgasmic, dazed state.

“do you do this with a lot of other girls, yuuta?” you queried, taking the time to scan your eyes over his face. it was as if he seemed to get more attractive as your time with him went on. he tilted his head slightly, finding your question endearing. “you’re my first, actually.” yuuta responded softly, as if his normal speaking voice would be too heavy on your delicate ears.

you jumped at the chance to tease him as he did you, placing your thumb back over the slit of his hard-on and lightly rubbing; which resonated within yuuta as a tonal mewl. a little smile pulled at your lips when you got your perfect reaction. “can you be my first?”

“i’d love to be,” he took your request with unadulterated honor as if he’d been tasked by the deities above to serve you. “just- just lay back for me. i promise i’ll take good care of you.”

and that you did; conforming to his call of request with such compliance it made his heart swell. you had positioned your body to rest languidly against the seat of the sofa, shaky legs hesitant to spread fully while your hand roamed up your sternum to find solace in kneading your tits.

he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked, laid out for him as such. how had he been so lucky to be the only one to have the opportunity to marvel at the scene? with a steady hand, he faintly trails his hand up the expanse of your inner thigh, a silent beckon for you to open your legs wider. involuntarily so, your body had accepted his presence and allowed for the spreading of your thighs.

what you’d come to notice with yuuta was that he was watchful, observant. he seemed to pick up on every detail, even the minuscule bits that were most likely to fly over anyone else’s head, had been taken into account. it’s probably why he’s immensely proficient at what he does. not once had he allowed himself to miss the labored heaving of your chest, or the sheen of sweat thinly coating your body — the twitching of your clit when he stroked featherlight touches at the nub. he couldn’t call himself a true cameraman then.

his fingers had collected remnants of your previous orgasm before they worked in tandem, both middle and ring, to prod at your sensitive hole, slowly sinking themselves in. it was almost embarrassing how quickly your greedy cunt swallowed him in, as if it’d been waiting for his touch for years now. “y-yuuta, ‘m still sensitive.” you crooned in response to his digits exploring your cavern, plush walls gripping him with such tautness that he’d found it difficult to even curl his fingers.

his own mind spun (and cock leaked) at the thought of that same warmth around his length, and when you called his name, all he could think about was how pretty you’d sound moaning it. he wouldn’t mind if you were sonorous, if the neighbors would hear, if inumaki who lived downstairs would come knocking with a mouthful of complaints, if the whole world knew his name; because in that moment, yuuta okkotsu was yours.

yuuta okkotsu was in love.

after some shallow pumping, enough to have your legs attempting to enclose around his arm, yuuta had pulled his digits out and replaced the lost sensation with the fat tip of his cock stroking your slit up and down.

“i’m gonna put it in, okay? if you want me to stop, tell me. if i'm going too fast or slow, let me know.”

he perused your face for a hint of an answer, seemingly nothing going on behind your vacant, large eyes. your initial response was curt, an ode to the simplistic nature of your mind. “mhm.”

how endearing you were to him, just a unadorned reaction weakening his being, causing his heart to figuratively crumble within its confines against his ribcage. he had searched for a heartier answer, something tangible to hold on to, because, lord knows how terrible he’d feel if he took your indication the wrong way. “can you be vocal for me, please?”

you nodded your head. “i’ll let you know, yuuta.”

with a carefulness that only came from the most benign of beings, he had sunken the first inch of himself into your awaiting heat.

he was paused when your hand dashed to his lower abdomen, futilely pressing against the skin.

“wait—” you huffed wantonly. “—‘s too big.”

his eyes wavered with concern, hidden under the veil of pure arousal. in yuuta’s case he had dreamed of a compliment as self fulfilling as yours, for his thoughts of being average were shattered upon first inch. “should i stop?”

you shook your head, reveling in the light of his attentivity towards you and your body. “no,” you moved your hand from his abdomen. “don’t stop.”

one of his arms rested beside your head, helping to prop him up over your body while he dropped his head down to watch the way your bodies connected. gradually, the sight of his length slowly sinking inside, stretching you out further and further until he was in to the hilt flooded his vision. yuuta had caught on to your labored gasps, merely growing harder from your honeyed voice like music to his ears.

he then lifted his head, strands of inky, out-of-place tresses falling over his face and partially covering the depth of lingering eyes, that lingered for a second too long, causing that shuddering sensation you had once felt when you first met him to reappear. he held his camcorder beside his face, an all too cheerful grin masked over his features. “i’m all in!”

creepy.

there was no doubt that you hadn’t felt full. he practically spilled over with how much girth he possessed and throbbed innately within your walls. the swell of your tummy from just how deep he was, was enough to tear away at his composure and drag his length back before driving his hips in at a force unrecognizable to him. the yelp you had let out from his eager thrust dwindled into a blissful moan. “sorry, so sorry.” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the faultless assortment of breathtaking features that was your face, eyebrows creased together, parted lips and eyes squeezed closed as if you’d been focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.

his next thrust stroked softer than its predecessor, having no remnants of eagerness but instead, the nuance of a man that’d been simply smitten.

the meticulousness of his ministrations coursed through your body wondrously, each push and pull lathered in lust, savored to be remembered for the rest of his time on earth. it was as if he’d known your body for years, knew every dip and fold, every swell and mast, aware of what exactly it took to leave your body hungry for his touches.

you’d grown comfortable in the pace at which he set, your mind hazing over each time the blunt tip grazed along your gspot. he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your sternum, the fanning of his warm breath against your chest doing the minimum in stiffening the peaks of your breasts. shootable footage forgotten, yuuta took your mound into his mouth, teeth gently rolling against your nipple which caused you to tighten around his cock in response, the sweetest mewl he’s ever heard from you tumbling from your throat.

“at least take me on a date first, yuuta..” the wittiness of your voice had earned a stifled smile from him, finding utmost admiration in the suggestion. he’ll be sure to take you up on your offer, just as you had done for him.

when you felt the familiar coil within you starting to build up once more, you dipped your hand down to rub at your clit in tandem with the increasing vigor of his strokes. the sensation was all too foreign to you, too pleasurable that you couldn’t keep your sounds at bay. “‘m so close, g-gonna cum!” you had warned, yuuta pulled away from your tit with a soft pop. he chose to rest his head at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, mindlessly chanting the words like a mantra.

“i love you, i love you,” his pace faltered, growing sloppier by the second. “love you, love you so much.”

intoxicated by your heat, your scent, just you being you, and being so perfect — yuuta was pussydrunk. incredibly so. never in his life had he ever felt as high as you made him. you were an angel, sent to him from heaven, to defile and mark.

quickly, your release surged through you in torrents of ecstasy, nothing that you’ve experienced before, coating yuuta’s cock in the glorious essence of you. “cumming!” you cry, to no avail particularly since yuuta wasn’t wholeheartedly aware of the situation at hand. his mind was clouded with you, just as you were full of him, wincing in the aftershocks of your fervent orgasm and convulsing around his length with need.

it wasn’t long before his own ununified thrusts came to a sudden close, signifying the warm spurts of cum painting your insides, filling you entirely to the brim and leaking down your ass from riding out his high.

“god, i love you.” he whined, pressing faint kisses to your neck, unable to peel himself away from your fervid body. coming to your senses, his words finally resonated for you. “we only just met.”

he pulled himself up, opting to look down at your flushed face with a vague hint of confusion on his face as he tilted his head. “have we?”

“we have.” you nodded.

to yuuta, he’s known you his whole life. you were the light of his existence, the fire in his heart. had he managed to confuse you with someone else? surely, that wasn’t the case.

once he pulled out of you, he made sure to capture the moment that you leaked his seed on film, but in that time, borrowed jealousy had filled his soul. he couldn’t share the tape as he had planned, no one else deserved to see you in the same way he did. no one.

he tucked himself back into his pants, leaving you bare and oozing for just one second to fetch a warm wet rag to clean you up with. when he came back, you noticed just how chipper he’d gotten, if that were even possible. “you were amazing,” he smiled, gently wiping your folds pristine. “i’m so grateful you came to me.” the smile you returned matched his own, “thank you, you were- really good too.”

he perked up, eyes moving from between your thighs to your face. “really?” and when you nodded to him, you could see the apparent relief flow within his being. “you know,” he started. “i’m very interested in you.”

you tilt your head, jutting your lips in a cute pout. “interested, how?”

the camcorder that now resided on his coffee table, unpresumebly documenting the scene on display was picked up by yuuta, and turned off. he grinned softly, eyes shutting from his ear to ear smile.

“may i take you on a date?”

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voxslays · 3 months ago

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NSFW ALPHABET — THE SALESMAN

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

✧ Very doting. Is calm, but not in the psychotic way he usually is when recruiting. Will go run a bath while you lay on your shared bed trying to catch your breath. After that, he will just hold you in his arms as you fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

✧ For Gong Yoo, it’s his hands. He loves the way they wrap around your neck during steamy time. On you, Gong Yoo can’t choose. He just loves all of you too much to pick. However—although he will never admit it—it’s probably your eyes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

✧ Pretty average amount wise…and he prefers to not pull out. He just likes seeing his seed spill inside you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

✧ He so desperately wants to see you pregnant and carrying his legacy (possibly the next salesman). He’s been hinting at it for months, but you just haven’t gotten it yet.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

✧ This man is VERY experienced. I just get that vibe from him. He’s attractive and he knows it, and he knows how to make his partner feel good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

✧ Doggy or any other position that lets him bend you over a surface that isn’t a bed. When he’s feeling Vannilla though, probably the breeding press or missionary.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

✧ Like in his every day life, the recruiter is pretty calm and focused, although every once in a while he will make a corny dad joke—which he will straight up deny once the morning comes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

✧ Perfectly groomed. What more must I say?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

✧ I don’t think he’d put your needs before his, per se, but he will definitely make you feel good. Will kiss you and hold your hands above your head as he pounds his length into you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

✧ This man doesn’t jerk off. He has you, so why bother? Even before he met you—he is attractive enough to basically have anyone he wants.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

✧ Breeding and bondage kink. He really wants to have a child (which he will train to be the next recruiter from a very young age) and he just loves seeing you all overstimulated and tied to the bed posts.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

✧ The bed or over his desk.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

✧ I don’t think he minds either way, but he is pretty skilled with his tongue (and long fingers).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

✧ 99% of the time, Gong Yoo is fast and rough, mercilessly pounding into you, but the other 1% (usually during weekend mornings) he isn’t opposed to going slow to wake you up.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

✧ Absolutely not.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

✧ Oh boy…he can go for literal hours. Maybe 6-7 rounds if he’s extra energized.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

✧ The salesman is such a damn tease, it’s quite unfair. He will edge you for hours, not letting you come—before he finally does anything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

✧ Not loud, but not quiet either. He will make little grunts as he plows into you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

✧ Bro could go every night if he wanted to, but usually once or twice a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

✧ He does not sleep. This man is a light sleeper and you cannot convince me otherwise.

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ssuperrnnovaa · 2 months ago

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— WHEN THEY FALL IN LOVE..

or, when there's no turning back for the first years.

a/n: first writing post.. AHH edit 1: i forgot to add things I DIDNT PROOFREAD SORRY

when ace trappola falls in love..

he's still the same guy. but almost sweet, almost kind.

but he's a master of his secrets. parts his mouth just to spew another joke about your appearance or how you did on that potionology test the other day - that same glint of hesitation in his eyes, that unsure croak of his voice just before he delivers another nasty quip about your face. like a punchline stuck in his throat - too funny to laugh at, too funny to acknowledge.

funny how he'd said he'd "rather hang out with his friends than find love", and here he is; laying in his bed. at 3 am. head filled with nothing but thoughts of you.

he'll let it simmer. wait for you to realize - wait for you to notice him, not just the facade he puts up. not the prankster he is in class, or the troublemaker you have to put up with.

wait for you to love him back.

when deuce spade falls in love..

he's trying his very best.

deuce was never much of a charmer - the guy's been a delinquent for most of his life; feared, not loved. he only sees (romantic) love in the movies - terrible rom-coms, poignant love stories.. you name it. deuce has no idea about love.

(his lack of knowledge gets worse with you.)

deuce tries - keyword, tries to keep his composure in front of you. he fails, miserably. his face? turning red. words? none. palms? sweating. and pride? absolutely crushed.

he apologizes to you later, blames it on the heat or how he forgot about another ridiculous rule. calls up his mom and his mouth is a dam - like he suddenly gained the ability to talk 10 minutes later. tells her all about you, as if she doesn't know your entire genetic code just from hearing him talk.

maybe one day.

when jack howl falls in love..

it's unyielding - unyielding, but quiet.

jack doesn't date for fun; never has, never will. he doesn't chase anyone.

wolves mate for life - you know it when jack immediately shuts down the idea of even having a crush or having an ex, saying that he's "focused on self-betterment" or "waiting for the right person". you're convinced that not even cupid could get him to fall in love.

but for you? that discipline shatters.

it happens during a study session in ramshackle when you're idly playing with his ears - making fun of that stone-cold persona when in reality he's melting under your touch. he catches himself after five minutes of bliss, thoughts of the future flooding his brain; "what if i won't be a good partner to them? what if i let them down?'

to jack, love isn't a game; love's not the way he feels embarrassingly giddy after you squeeze his hand or poke his bicep. love's permanent. forever. and it terrifies him.

when epel felmier falls in love..

it's fierce.

epel's not soft - in fact, he's everything but. he'd do anything to be seen as strong by you; even if it meant burying his own feelings.

epel was never much of a dreamer - let alone a lovey-dovey kind of guy. he despises those mushy romance stories, calling them "dumb as a box of rocks", grimacing when he watches the leads kiss.

yet.. he can't help but be entranced. by you.

he scoffs a little too loudly for vil's comfort, but in his head, he's repeating the same mantra over and over again in his head - "i'm not some silly little girl moonin' over someone. i've got better things to do with my time. besides, love is for babies."

yet, his defenses crumble when you ever do so much as breathe in his direction, and suddenly, he's back to square one.

when sebek zigvolt falls in love..

it's fervent.

sebek is passionate about a lot of things - his duty as a retainer, malleus, academics, and you.

you, a mere human that could quiet him down with just a finger to your lip. you, a mere human who keeps him awake at night and restless, overthinking. yearning.

it's foolish, he tells himself. tells himself it's just a small crush as if it's not all-consuming, as if he's not avoiding you all together just so he could have peace of mind.

is it the right thing to do? no. will it keep him unbothered? absolutely not. and will he come to terms with his feelings?... unlikely.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #twst fanfic #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twst first years #angst if you squint

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pathologicalreid · 2 months ago

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called you again | s.r.

in which you make a late night phone call to your ex-boyfriend because you're convinced he's the only thing that can lull you to sleep

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (h/c) content warnings: exes but they're still in love so... a lot of yearning, briefly mentions a bau case, inspired by a mattress and a tiktok. word count: 1.84k a/n: shout out to whichever anon from yesterday told me to post this!! you're a real one

Rolling over on your bed again, you tugged the comforter over your shoulder, hoping the fabric would form a cocoon around you. Mimicking the feeling of someone behind you, warm arms wrapped around you. You begged for the comfort that you needed in order to fall asleep, but sleep never came.

Your exhaustion had come and gone, any hint of sleepiness wiped away when you moved from your couch to your bed. Insomnia had come to find you, a face so familiar that you had begun to greet sleepless nights with open arms.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzed. Likely a social media notification or a news email telling you the end was near, but you rolled over anyway on the off chance that it was a text. Every night, you remind yourself that you should turn on do not disturb, but you’d spent years waiting for your phone to buzz at all hours, hoping for the opportunity to tell Spencer how your day was. That’s why you had to check your phone, hoping to see the contact with the heart next to it, remaining unchanged since you broke up with him two months ago.

Cringing at the blue light on your sensitive eyes, you squinted at the notification. It was an email, holding the weekly advertisement for the grocery store. You tried to resist the disappointment that roiled in your brain, but it took over anyways. Disappointment that it wasn’t Spencer and shame that you’d thought he’d reach out to you after everything that happened between you.

You clicked on your messages, looking at the short exchange from the day he came by to drop off a box of your things. He’d brought you coffee. You’d broken his heart two days before, and he brought you coffee from your favorite kiosk near his apartment. That kind of love was the epitome of Spencer Reid, and that was why it had killed you to let him go.

As if your thumb had developed a mind of its own, you tapped on his contact and initiated a phone call, quickly sitting up in bed and ending the call, tossing your phone in the depths of your down comforter and glaring at it in horror.

It must’ve been less than a minute before your phone started to buzz again, you rifled through the bedding to look at your phone, and there it was. The purple heart that you’d placed next to his name the night of your first date. It seemed cruel to take away his heart when you knew very well there was no love lost between the two of you. Swiping at the screen, you lifted the phone to your ear and took a nervous breath, “Hey.”

“Are you okay?” He asked immediately, not responding to your greeting and instantly trying to get to the root cause of why you had called.

You tried not to read into it, staring at your lap and fiddling with a loose thread on your pajama shorts. “Spence,” you said meekly, your voice hovering over a whisper as his question echoed in your head.

He was silent for a moment. You imagined he was considering hanging up on you until he spoke again, “Hang on.”

You heeded his instruction, shifting awkwardly on your mattress and listening to the shuffling on the other end. It was almost two in the morning, and he didn’t sound like you had woken him up, so he must be out on a case. Something akin to deja vu came over you then, imagining him in some city that he’d never be able to explore while you waited in your apartment for the slightest bit of contact.

“Y/N?” Spencer said your name, and every bit of embarrassment you felt related to this call faded away. You could deal with the humiliation if it meant you got to hear him say your name just one more time. “What’s wrong?”

Because it couldn’t just be that you wanted to hear his voice, the only reason you could possibly be calling him in the middle of the night was because something was wrong. You were stranded when the metro stopped running or someone had stolen your wallet. No, the pounding of your broken heart was keeping you up at night. Even now, it slammed into your ribcage, ricocheting with the reminder that this was all your fault. “Where are you?” You asked, sniffling through the question and wiping you face with your sleeve.

He sighed on the other end of the call and you told yourself it was in relief that nothing was wrong. “Bismarck,” he responded softly, matching your tone of voice in only the way he could. “We got here this morning for a family annihilator,” he explained in more detail.

You felt yourself falling into a familiar pattern, settling your body back in bed with your phone pressed to the side of your face. Family annihilators were hard on the whole team, but Spencer was someone who held family dynamics with the highest regard. It always broke him to see that destroyed. “How was the flight?”

“It was alright,” he answered, entering a similar pattern as you. “We had to fly over tornado alley. It’s storm season, you know?”

Humming, you nodded despite the fact that he can’t see you. “And I’m sure no one appreciated your facts about turbulence,” you said, a teasing lilt finding its way to your tone.

He chuckled through the phone and your heart soared, “They never do. No one ever gets them like you, lo—”

Your body stiffened as he caught himself. It would’ve been so easy for you to move past the initial comment if his instinct was to follow it up with a pet name. Lovey. He liked to call you lovey as a term of endearment. Your previously floating heart came back down to earth, “So it’s a bad case, huh? I should probably let you get back to work.”

“Between you and me, I’m supposed to be at the hotel right now, so this would count as my break,” he told you, managing to coax you into staying on the phone.

It was hard to be broken up with someone who hadn’t strictly done anything wrong, and it was hard to deny him conversation when he was wrapped up in such a dark case. “What’s the weather like?” You asked, choosing to talk about things that don’t truly matter.

He sighed, “Cold, but I’m sure you could’ve guessed that. JJ whines about it every time she steps outside. We’re inside most of the time anyway, so I’m not really bothered.”

Weather was never an issue for Spencer, you used to think he’d be miserable in the winter, seeing as he grew up in Las Vegas, but it would seem that his time in Boston had completely changed him.

“It’s finally getting warm here,” you mentioned. Though, of course he knew that already. Spencer hadn’t taken up residence in Bismarck, but sometimes it felt like he was 1,500 miles away, even when he was just across the river from you. It reminded you of all the times you’d disagreed on the temperature you should leave the thermostat at, and it brought a pit back to your chest. You used to insist that 68 degrees in the winter wasn’t the same as 68 degrees in the summer, and he’d tell you that it was the same temperature, it just felt different because of changing variables.

Laying in your bed, you wished he was there to explain how the tilt of the earth’s axis affects the temperature, but instead, you could only talk to him about the weather. The cherry blossoms would bloom soon, and you wished he was here to take you to see them. “What’s wrong?” He asked you again, his voice was so gentle that it nearly crushed you.

Looking at the other side of your bed, the side he used to sleep on, you sighed helplessly, “I can’t sleep.” It felt infantile to say it out loud, the average person would’ve taken something by now, but you could barely get yourself to stand up, let alone go to the medicine cabinet.

“Have you taken anything?” He asked, reading your mind just like old times.

You hummed, keeping your eyes on the other side of your mattress, “No. It’s too late anyway, I wouldn’t wake up for work.”

“Maybe you should take something and take the day off, you sound exhausted,” he told you, a familiar worry crawling into his voice.

The reminder of why you had left overwhelmed you. Spencer could give you all of the advice in the world, but he’d never be there to help you. Yours wasn’t the first relationship to fall victim to the BAUs hours, but it hurt nonetheless. You loved him so ardently that you’d forgotten to love yourself, and when you couldn’t take the distance anymore, you’d called the whole thing off. It was hard to love someone who wasn’t there, but it turns out distance does make the heart grow fonder. “Maybe,” you mumbled, looking at the divot on his side of the bed.

It hurt you to acknowledge that the inanimate object you slept on had its own memory of Spencer. The impression of his body across the cushion reminded you of the space left by people in Pompeii, their suffering had been immortalized for people to gawk at 2,000 years later, but in 2,000 years, your romance with Spencer wouldn’t even qualify as a blip in the universe’s timeline. There would be no lasting impression of two lovers holding hands because he wasn’t yours and you were no longer his.

“Spence?” You breathed into the receiver, looking at the memory foam imprint with tears in your eyes.

He waited for a beat to respond, “Yeah?”

Your chest ached to tell him that you loved him—that you had made a mistake, but that wasn’t fair to him. That wasn’t fair to you. “Stay safe, okay?” You whispered, hoping that one day things might be different, and if that day ever came along, you’d want him to at least consider the possibility of coming back to you.

“Okay, sleep well,” he murmured back to you before the phone clicked off.

At a sloth’s pace, you crawled onto the other side of your bed and curled yourself into a ball. When trees had objects left around their roots, they simply grew around the invasion, but your mattress was an inanimate object with no way of moving or growing or adapting to a life without him while you had no choice but to do so. Closing your eyes, silent tears streamed to the pillow that smelled faintly of his shampoo—no matter how many times you washed the pillowcase. Finally, you let your body relax into the memory of him.

You supposed you could always buy a new mattress, but that would mean fully letting him go.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot

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peachidin · 4 months ago

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Crawlin' back to you

Maybe I’m too busy being yours, to fall for someone new.

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Rated M- 5.7k

Divider by @/saradika

tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, use of nickname "Blue" for reader, strong language, physical fight (not with MMC), cheating (not by MMC or FMC), rival pilots, unprotected piv, cream pie, praise kink, yearning Poe, ass smacking, hair pulling, we love a reader in charge!

Authors Note: Hello! As I was writing this story, "We could be together, if you wanted to" has gained some traction, so thank you all for liking my work! This idea of a yearning and pining Poe hit me, so I had to make it happen. For context, in this story there are three squadrons with order importance, Black squad, Red Squadron and Blue Squadron. Black and Red squad work on high importance missions and are ranked 'higher' than Blue Squad, which leads you, dear reader, to the story! I hope you enjoy "Crawlin back to you" as it is spicier than the others, and I hope to update "On the run (with you)" soon! As usual, I haven't reread this, I just post and hope for the best. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you!

It was only meant to be a one time thing.

A one time thing a month ago.

You gasp as Poe’s lips attach to yours with fervor, his tongue sliding parting your lips as his hands roam underneath your long sleeve. Your legs wrap around his waist tightly, making it oh so easy to arch yourself against the growing hardness in his pants as presses you harder into the wall of his room.

Allegedly, Poe Dameron never spent the night more than once with a lover.

This was the third time this week you've met.

He pulls back, gasping for air before his lips attach to your neck, licking and sucking that sweet spot below your ear so harshly you almost came on the spot.

“Poe, wait-”

He pulls back immediately, his lust darkened eyes meeting yours eagerly. “What is it, baby?” He hums, rubbing his thumbs on the soft skin of your thighs as he waits for, honestly, anything you want.

You smile, shaking your head as your hands thread through the soft curls on his head. This was a dangerous game, you realized. He was someone you couldn't have, no matter how addictive he was.

“I have a flight maneuver early tomorrow, I should head back to my room.” You reply back, letting your fingers drift towards the hot skin of his neck one final team before lowering them to his chest, patting it gently. His hands gave you one last squeeze before he lowered you to the floor, taking a few seconds to pull your shirt down to where it normally sat.

He was sweet.

It was dangerous.

Poe smiles softly, almost bashfully, “Wouldn't want you to miss out on sleep.” He agrees, but his hand still lingers on your waist. One word and you could have another night of pleasure.

You nod, gently stepping away from him and gathering your pants from off the floor, quickly stepping into them as you move around his room to collect your few belongings. “I promise I didn't come here just for this, I swear I had an actual question-” You begin to ramble, suddenly feeling the need to explain yourself, why you showed up so late.

Maker, you have never acted like this before.

Poe shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed as he watches you move through his space. “It’s fine, I’m always glad to be of service to you.” He grins good naturedly, not a trace of sarcasm escaping him. You pause in front of him, mouth opening to say anything to relieve this tension between you both.

You come up empty.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You say softly, giving him a small wave, as if this man were just some regular pilot and not the man who gave you back to back orgasms just the night before. Poe chuckles softly, his head dropping forward before he begins to stand up, joining your side as you both move towards the door.

“Sure, Blue.” He responds softly, and you can feel his hand lingering on the small of your back as you step out of his room, the sensation burning into your skin as his touch so often did. You turn around to face him, to try and explain the visit again, but his eyes are already locked onto yours and stealing any words you could have formed from your mouth. The air between you was thick, electricity striking your body with every noise coming from around you in the living quarters. Poe bites his lip as he raises a hand to your face as if to cup your cheek, the motion so quick you barely had time to close your eyes before a small flick hits the end of your noise.

You let out a shocked gasp as he laughs.“Be safe tomorrow, okay? Don't do anything stupid like you usually do when you get stressed.” The bedroom door slides to a close before your eyes even open again. A huff of irritation leaves your lips at his childishness, but you can't help the smile on your face as you take the long walk back to your own quarters. Even within your living space, there was no tie to the man. His room is filled with posters and plans strewn about his floors. The thick smell of cologne that almost seemed to hover like its own atmosphere. His room was so like him, warm, well lived, and well loved. Your room was bare boned. A bed and desk. Stacks of files for missions and maps coordinating future attacks organized by dates on your dining table. Straightlaced and to the point. This was who you both were. Two entities that orbited around one another but never should have met.

This was how it should have stayed.

The admired Black Squadron leader.

The calculated Blue Squadron leader.

The Blue Squadron was only a few achievements short of being on equal par with your fellow Squadrons. Poe and the Black Squadron were the primary team for any rebellion led missions, Red following as second in command. Today was your first chance of the year to prove to the general your squad was more than capable of handling complex missions, to be given the same opportunities as the Black and Red Squadrons. Your team was ready, you had been practicing for months now, and you felt it was now or never to prove to the rebellion what an asset Blue Squadron is.

And you blew it.

It was a standard attack formation, one you had prepped for so many times before. One you could do in your sleep. Your fingers moved robotically as you adjusted your coordinates, your team flying perfectly behind you. Your hand skims over the edge of the tiller, and before you realize it, your mind is drawn back into a memory of the other night.

Poe lying beneath you, his chest heaving as he bites his knuckles, your hand squeezing at his length with nervousness as you tried to sink yourself down onto him. “You couldnt mess this up if you tried, baby.” He had said to you, his hand resting on the back of your neck as you moved hesitantly against him.

“I don't know, he didn't think I was good at this-” Your words are cut off as his lips sear into yours, his hand threading through your hair to crush your face to his. Your muffled gasp is replaced by a small moan as he sheaths himself into you, already hitting that sweet spot with ease.

“I dont give a fuck what he thought, youre perfect, Blue.” He had hissed, bucking his hips up harshly to draw out another whimper from you.”Say it.” Poe demands, gripping your hips as he plows into you from below, your hands holding onto his shoulders tightly as you nod.

“I’m perfect,” You whisper, trying to muffle your cries against his neck as the sound of your skin connecting reverberated through his quarters. Poe moans in encouragement and you have the desire to bottle up that sound for yourself.

“Fuck yes, y-your perfect baby, so perfect for me-” He gasps, his thrusts becoming sloppy as his breath begins to come out in shorter spurts. Poe leans forward, pressing hot kisses along your chest, biting into the soft flesh of your breasts. You cry out louder, your climax nearing at a rapid pace as he pounds into you.

“P-Poe, please-”

“Please what baby, where do you want me?”

Another thrust has your vision darkening, a buzz sounding in your ear as he fucks into you harder. It was stupid. This wasn't meant to happen again. Not after the first time. But you were always a sucker for complexities. You brush your lips against his jaw, kissing messily along his skin before whispering into his ear.

“I want you to finish in me, I want you to be the first.”

If Poe wasn't gone before, he was now. His thrusts grew harsher, his fingers bruising your hips as he slams into you, mumbling incoherently. “Fuck, you want me to cum in you so bad, my perfect girl-” He groans, moving one of his hands to your slick folds to rub hard and fast against you. A sharp scream leaves your throat and you topple against his chest, your body pulsing around him tightly as you reach your orgasm. You can feel the last few thrusts before hot spurts coat your insides, Poe whimpering as his head falls against your shoulder, his back heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You tilt your head back. Your eyes glazed over with satisfaction as you both ride out your high together. You let out a little laugh and his hand quickly smacks your ass, Poe’s muffled voice coming from below you.

“I’m sensitive, you sadist.” He growls, and now you can't help the tumble of laughter pouring out from you. Poe lifted his head to glare up at you, but in that moment, your smile was so bright he couldn't help but chuckle along with you.

You shake the memory from your head, your squadron already approaching the final bend sooner than you anticipated.

“Focus, Blue, focus.” You whisper to yourself, watching your squad carefully as you begin your turn. It was sharp, but even a rookie could get through this, and you soar through it with ease. Next was more difficult, but you had practiced, you knew the formation like the back of your hand by now. You carefully lock your X-wing in, breathing out slowly as you wait for the harsher turn. The mind was always so fickle, that's why you preferred equations and plans. You could feel yourself slipping back into that same memory, a heat pooling in your lower belly. Then you hear that maker's damned voice once more.

“One more baby, give me one more.-”

“My sweet girl, taking me so perfectly-”

“I could stay in you forever-”

A hard jolt shoved you deeper into your seat, your X-wing began losing altitude. Your squad's voices blaring through your comms, overwhelming your mind as you tried to straighten your ship.

“Squad leader-”

“You’ve been hit!”

“Land now-”

And as if your ego couldn't take enough of it, that same voice from your mind rings out, but this time unfortunately through your headset like the others.

“What the hell are you doing, Blue?!”

Your teeth grind together as you pull yourself back into place, barely registering the sound of the flight tower calling your squadron back to base. Everyone was down there. Everyone had seen.

Cold sweat began to drip down your neck as you carefully took the time to land your X-wing, mechanics quickly running over to assess the damage to the outside exterior. You huff as you climb down the ladder, shaking your hair out of your hemet and relishing in the open air as you struggle to take deep breaths. You can hear your crew clambering to get to you, and you can hear their questions already.

What happened?

“Blue, what happened?”

Your eyes snap up to meet those soft brown ones you had come to know so well. Poe was gripping your shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into you whether he noticed or not. Your relief at seeing him was short lived as you remembered just why you crashed.

“I’m fine, Dameron.” You snap, shaking his hands off of you. Poe looks at you first with worry, then agitation.

“Obviously you're not fine, Blue. You could do this course in your sleep and you crashed!” He hisses, clenching his hands at his side. You frown, and begin to respond before another set of hands grip your shoulder. You only needed one look at Poe's glowering face to know who it was. One you had done so well at avoiding until now.

Red One.

Poe's second in command.

“Hey, what happened up there? You okay?” He asks quickly, his eyes raking over your appearance.You force a smile, brushing him off with ease.

“Honest mistake, I was-” Your eyes flickered to Poes before returning to the helmet in your hand, “I was just distracted was all.”

Red One was born on a planet near yours, the commonality making you both acquaintances in flight school. You both studied vigorously, and desired high marks, yet somehow both of you were always beaten by the one named Poe Dameron. The three of you grew and eventually joined the rebellion, him and Dameron taking over the Black and Red Squadron while you were assigned Blue. Despite the large amount of rebellion members, it was easy for you to drift back to him, the reassurance of something familiar in your life. While Poe was off gallivanting with his squadron across the galaxy, you both worked together on unit tactics. It wasn't long before you both began to reach for one another, quick meaningless acts of pleasure when it was needed. It was easy for it to mean nothing to you, because you both knew this wasn't forever, but at least you had one another.

It worked then.

Until Poe came around again.

Poe was always smart, but he was also warm, and charismatic. People were drawn to him like the sun, wanting a chance to feel that splendor for themselves. Despite the fact everyone wanted to be around him, after a recent 5 month journey he had decided to follow only you around aimlessly.

“Dameron, don't you have someone else to bother?” You muttered, clutching new plans from the general tightly to your chest. Poe walked behind you with a grin, his hands carelessly tucked into his jacket pockets as he kept up with you.

“When was it a rule that I couldn't spend time with a fellow squadron leader?” He retorts, gently nudging your shoulder with his own. You let out an exhausted sigh, rounding the hallway corner into the row of living quarters right before yours. Maybe you thought you could evade him, you weren't sure, but what you didn't expect was the door nearest you to slide open with a smooth hiss, giving you a clear look into the room. You stop so abruptly Poe barely had time to avoid colliding with your back.

“What the fuck, Blue-” He complains before glancing down to your face. Your eyes stared blankly into the room, one you had become very familiar with over the years.

Red One’s, now occupied by the pilot himself and a mechanic you recognized from the Droid depot, clothes littering the floor as they cling to each other near the door. Red One's eyes widen and he curses, fumbling around to slip back into his flight suit.

Now normally, Poe would make a sly comment, or laugh off the awkwardness with ease. But he couldn't. Not when he saw the expression you were making. Despite his games and jokes, he knew you well. Poes fist tightened as he stalked into the room, shoving Red One back a step. “Now, why the fuck would you do this?” He growls darkly, his brown eyes darkening with rage. You weren't sure if you have ever seen Poe like this, not even after a failed mission. Poe never resorted to violence. Never.

You move quickly, stumbling forward to grab onto his arm, tugging him back. “It's fine Poe, it's not that serious-”

“Not that serious? He had the best damn pilot in the rebellion and it wasn't serious to him?” His words make you pause, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tighten your hand on Poe's arm, giving him one last tug.

“Blue, I can explain-”

“It's fine Red, we're going now.” You respond calmly, carefully dragging Poe out of the room until the door can slide shut. Poe tugs you along swiftly moving down hall after hall until you recognize the path to your own living space. Your hand was still on Poe’s arm, and you could feel his body shaking underneath.

“Poe, it’s fine-”

“How long were you two together?” He asks, his tone softer now than it was previously. You glanced up at him, his brown eyes soft once more as they bore down into your own. You blink quickly, thinking of just how many months it had been.

“Since our first mission to Nevarro.” You answer honestly, and you don't know what to think about the string of curses that leave his lips. “Why does it matter, Poe? It was just a fling-”

“Was it just a fling to you?” He asks suddenly, his gaze hot and piercing. You try to answer, to conjure up some response, but all you can do is shake your head. “We both got what he wanted, and I'm actually surprised he waited this long to find someone else.”

The look of anger that flashes across his face has your brows furrowing, unsure of why it bothered him so deeply. You open your mouth to speak again before Poe lets out a deep sigh, turning to face you fully as his back rests against the metal wall. His hand reaches up slowly, gently touching the soft skin of your cheek.

“Still, are you okay?” He asks in a gravelled tone, continuing to stroke your skin with small movements. His touch was far different from Reds, you quickly realized. Red touched you briskly, his hand roaming over your body as if you would disappear.

Poe touched you with reverence. He kept his movements small, keeping contact with your skin as if you were his center of gravity. “He's an idiot, Blue, you can do so much better than him. He can't even coordinate a landing path to Jakku without using a droid.” A surprised laugh tumbles past your lips, pleasing Poe as he stares down at you.

“And you can't fly a straight shot to Crait even if you tried.” You shoot back, a smile still tugging at your lips. Poe’s eyes soften as you laugh before him, your usual icy exterior melting away to that young pilot he once knew so many years ago. He takes a breath, biting his lip before he speaks in a soft whisper. “I would have made you my second, if it was my choice.”

You can't control the deep flush that rush to your cheeks as you hear him. “Red is a good second in command, I still have a lot to learn-”

“You think I don't know who drafts our tactile formations? I could practically see you solving the broken flight patterns while reading them.” His voice grows more firm, demanding you to accept his praise. “I can only be a good leader with someone like you supporting me, and I'm sorry they don't realize it yet.”

You don't cry. You don’t even cry as Poe leans in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as he coos words of praise to you in the dimly lit hallway. Red never acknowledged the work you did, smooth talking his way into putting his name on the plans alongside yours. You would shrug it off, under the impression if one Squadron succeeds surely the other would too. This never changed even when he began to take more missions farther out into the galaxy, while you and your squad stayed back, waiting for the chance to chart your own paths.

The truth now laid out so plainly in front of you.

You had been used.

What did you want? Had you wanted Red to choose you? Only you? Did you ever even think you would have options?

Your hands tighten into fists, sharp pain shooting through your hands. Poe pulls back with a lazy smile on his face, but it quickly falters as he sees the scowl etched onto your face. “Hey what's wrong Blue, did I overstep? I’m sorry-”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Poe's mouth hangs open as your words hit his ears, sending palpitations straight to his chest. “You want me to…”

“I want you to fuck me, yes.”

Poe can't help but chuckle as he shakes his head, his hand covering his face as he inhales deeply. “You don't want that, Blue, you're just mad and understandably so-”

“I am choosing this, Poe Dameron, I am choosing you to make me feel something. I know it's just a one time thing with you, I want one night”

Well, now this was an interesting statement.

This he could work with.

Poe tries to quell the smile tugging at his lips as he leans back, knocking his fingers on the cool metal wall as if it could cool down the heat racing through him. “Just one? I'm afraid you'll end up wanting more, Blue.” He murmurs, taking the chance to glance back down at you. Your eyes meet his, fiery and unwavering. Maker, you meant it. Poe tried to stifle the groan threatening to spill out of him.

“One night, I just want one night.” You promise, stepping in even closer to him. With one deep breath, your chest would rub against his, and you tried to ignore the shaky breaths emitting from the man before you.

“But I want to set some ground rules first.” You say in a soft voice, moving your hand so it begins to trail up his arm. Poe can only nod as he stared down at you, captivated by your movements.

“This happens in your room, I don't need you making a mess of my space.” Poe can't help the snort that leaves his mouth, but he nods his head anyways. “Two, I want to be in charge.” You were proud of how little your voice wavered as you spoke, “I get to decide how this goes.”

Your words make Poe's jaw twitch. How often did you get what you wanted with Red?

“I promise I will be your devoted servant.” He agrees, reaching for your hand and pulling it to his lips, placing a slow and sensual kiss on your pulse.

Maker, this was going to be harder than you thought.

“This is a one time thing, we don’t acknowledge it after, and we dont let it change our working relationship.”

Poe's throat only constricts a little before he nods, “Of course.” He drops your hand gently, waiting for you.

Now Poes stares at you with a burning look in his gaze, his jaw clenched as he stares between you and Red One.

“Distracted? Blue, you could have hurt yourself.” He hisses, running a hand through his hair in an irritated manner. You frown, noticing the crowd gathering around you all now.

“It was a mistake, a stupid one, but I’m fine-”

“Maybe if you weren't so busy sleeping with our Squad leader you wouldn't have messed up.” The insult stabs through your chest. You turn slowly to face Red One, a grim look on his face as he sighs before continuing, “I really thought you were smarter than this Blue, you really couldn't wait for me to explain what happened before you just moved on to the next available guy who would fuck you-”

You honestly aren't sure who moved first. One minute your hearing began to ring, your heart thundering in your chest, and then here you were, standing over a bleeding Red. Your fist felt like it was on fire but honestly, you didn't care. Then you feel Poe’s arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back as people begin to shout, surging in to watch the scene.

“All those years I spent underneath you were absolute shit compared to what Poe’s made me feel in one month-” You spit out, years of rage boiling over as you watch Red sit up, his hand shakily touching the blood pouring out of his nose. “And I hope you can prove you know how to draft a mission plan because I’m going first thing tomorrow to get your name removed from all of my work, my work.” You seeth, tugging against Poe's grip one last time. You can feel his face near yours, his nose gently running along your cheek as he squeezes your arms gently. “Let's get out of here, Blue.” He whispers, and you nod, giving Red one last glare before moving through the parting crowd. You swear you can almost hear cheers as you and Poe enter the flight squads quarters, shutting yourself off from the rest of the world.

You feel yourself enter a room, and you finally feel the world unblurring as you realize Poe brought you back to your own quarters. You can feel him gently pull at your clothes, removing your flight suit with great care, reaching into your drawers to find some comfortable clothes he slips onto your body without an ounce of alternative means. A sudden hiss leaves your lips as he bumps his hand against your injured one, and he quickly moves you to your bed. He curses before you, kneeling between your legs as he tentatively grabs your hand, assessing the broken skin on your knuckles.

“Shit baby, you got him good.” He smiles, taking a clean rage and gently dabbing at the bloodied wounds. You wince and he immediately pulls back, waiting for you to let him continue.

“I shouldn't have hit him,” you mumble, biting your lip as he hits another painful spot, “I’ll probably get written up.”

Poe snorts, shaking his head. “I dont it won't be any worse than what he's gonna get. Plagiarizing plans? Falsifying records? He's lucky if the general even lets him get drinks for us.” You can't help the laugh that tumbles out of your throat, nodding along to his words. He quickly wraps your hand in a simple bandage, just tight enough to keep your hand from throbbing. You meet Poe’s gaze as he looks up at you, crouched between your legs with a serene look on his face.

“What?” you ask softly, gripping your sheets with your other hand. Poe just shakes his head, “So, I've given you a better month than he could in years?”

You groan as you drop your head to his shoulder, embarrassment flooding your senses. “I didn't mean to say that in front of everyone.” Poe just laughs, letting his hands run up and along your thighs.

“It was pretty hot to see you claim me in front of everyone like that, baby.” He smiles, gently using his hands to lift your face so he can look at you. You flush brightly, your eyes unable to look anywhere else but his gaze. “Im sorry, I'm sure that was uncomfortable for you-”

Poe shakes his head, his nose brushing along yours. “You still don't get it, huh?” Before you can speak again he pushes the two of you up and back, laying you down onto your bed as he hovers over you. “I want to be yours, Blue, I think in some way I always have been.” He says softly, intertwining your hands together as he presses them beside your head. “I've slept with people, yes, but none could get you off my mind.” His lips gently trail down your neck, biting and kissing at your skin. You gasp, your body reacting so easily for him. “You were always there, since flight school, in my mind, always competing with me. Then I leave, and I come back to tell you-” He carefully slips his hand under the edge of your shirt, feeling your skin with a gentle touch.

As if he can't believe this is still happening.

“I come back and see you look at him like that, and I would have supported you baby I would have, but-” He hisses as your body arches against him, brushing together as heat begins to flood your body. “Lucky for me he was an idiot.” Is all Poe can say as you crash your lips to his, gripping his jaw tightly as you angle him in closer to deepen the kiss. “Fuck, I can only ever think about you Blue-” He gasps as your hand trails in between you, running your fingers along the seams of his length. “I only want to think about you, I want to be yours forever-” He rambles on, your hand moving rhythmically against him as you listen to him beg. His words fill your chest as he speaks, so plainly yet undoubtedly true.

“Poe?” You say softly, watching as his eyes open to find yours, dark and glazed over with lust, but his attention undivided. You smile softly, only slowing your movements ever so slightly as you take a breath to speak. “I'm yours.” You whisper softly, your smile widening as you see his eyes begin to water. You gasp as you tugged up, pressed against his chest as he buries his face into your neck, holding you impossibly tight.

“Fuck, Blue, I almost didn’t last when I heard you say that.” Poe grumbles, and you laugh loudly as your hands pull his hips to yours.

“We're just getting started, Dameron, I can't have you tapping out so early.” You grin, letting your hands snake up the bros expanse of his back to caress his head. An idea strikes you as you hold on to one another, your hands running along the carved muscles of his body.

“Poe?” You ask softly, turning your head to look at him as he pulls back slightly from your neck. “Can we try something?”

His smile is lethal.

“How do you want me, baby?”

You carefully pull back from his embrace, eyeing him playfully as you turn onto your hands and knees, movings towards the headboard with a sway to your hips, Poe’s eyes practically glow with desire, and you feel his hand run along your spine, gripping your hips dangerously before you grab onto the headboard, arching yourself against him. You can feel his chest contracting behind you, his hands moving to your hips instinctively. You loved this, feeling so crowded by his body and scent.

Poe wasted no time in shucking down your pants, tilting your head to meet his lips in a fiery kiss as the cool air of your room blows against your exposed lower body. You reach a hand behind you, finding the edge to his pants and working to pull them down, releasing his cock between the both of you.

With a practiced precision, Poe sheathes himself into you, a satisfied gasp leaving your lips. You can already feel the headboard creaking under your grasp, but you don't care.

“Shit, baby, I'm not gonna last long-” He pants, kissing your neck while giving you another small thrust. He leaves one hand on your waist as the other snakes to your slick folds, teasing you gently as you let out another moan. “I don’t care, just fuck me Poe, please-” You whine out, pushing yourself against him with need. You gasp as you feel a sharp slap to your clit, only making you infinitely wetter.

“I’m going to take my time fucking my girl.” He growls, and pulls you in for another thrust. Your face turns towards the board, hot pants of air escaping you as he thrust into you from below, perfectly hitting that spot within you that makes your toes curl with pleasure. He leans forward, wrapping a hand over yours as he fucks you into the headboard, his other hand tightening on your hip as he slams into you.

“My beautiful girl, so wet for me. Do you like making me so hungry for you? Driving me wild seeing you so lost in pleasure? Absolutely drenching my cock?” His words almost send you over the edge alone, only capable of giving him a choked sob in reply.

He fucks into you mercilessly, grinding himself against you with every thrust, his own orgasm approaching as quickly as yours. “Fuck, baby, you were made for me, never gonna let you go-” You feel him shake as he begins to unload into you, his hand rubbing tirelessly over your clit and quickly sending you over the edge into your own pleasure.

“Fuck!” You cry out, shaking as he continues to thrust into you, emptying himself entirely. The room is filled with pants as you both lean against each other, your hands trembling as you use the headboard to hold yourself up. You feel so impossibly full. You shift gently, feeling his body tense behind you as his head rests in the crook of your neck.

“Still with me, Dameron?” You smile, turning your head to gently press a kiss to his temple. You can feel him smile against your skin, placing his own soft kiss on your shoulder. “Always, baby.” He whispers back softly, lifting his head to gaze at you with pure adoration. You eventually separate, slinking down into your bed wrapped in each other's embrace. Any other clothes were shed, the need for urgency long behind you both as you tak in these moments of being utterly at peace.

You rest your head on his chest, your eyes drifting close as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. “Poe?” you ask softly, running your hand along his sternum. You can feel him shift, knowing he was looking down at you.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He asks gently, running a hand through your hair and you swear you are in heaven.

“When did you realize you liked me? You…we, we’ve just been together for so long and I never realized.” You ask, turning your head up to look at him easier. Poe smiles, so easy and carefree, and just shrugs.

“Maybe always?”

You swat at his chest, a chuckle rumbling in him as he grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your pulse. “Be serious!” You scold, but the smile on your face tells him all he needs to know.

“I am serious. It was always you.”

Your smile only grows softer as you listen to him, your hand continuing to rub small circles onto his skin. “I’m sorry I took so long to realize it.” You whisper to him, reaching up to rub his jaw. Poe grins and moves over you, flipping you both until he rests on top of you. He surges forward, kissing you as if you had all the time in this world. You both stay close, his nose brushing against yours as you gaze into each other's eyes. Poe speaks, whispering into your ear, and you know he means it.

“I would have waited forever for you”

#star wars #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #poe dameron

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