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veephoenix · 3 days ago

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years of sleep — n.s. one shot

"She has always chalked up his teasing and looks to his naturally charming nature. Noah has always been boyfriend material—but never her boyfriend."

Noah and Reader have been drawn to each other for years, but have never dared to act on it—until a wedding and a one-night stand, in which their buried feelings are brought to the surface, along with some misunderstandings.

one shot ✨ noah sebastian x fem. reader words: 11.6k (it's a mini fic, let's be honest) reading time: about an hour it's divided in 2 parts so you can "bookmark it" at part 2 if you don't have time to read the whole thing in one go.

tags & trigger warnings: pure self-indulgence. two attractive idiots in love that don't know how to break the ice—until they do. misunderstandings. Noah has almost shoulder-length hair in this one. manbun!noah. angsty fluff, dirty talk, sexual content (implied masturbation, oral sex with both receiving, p in v protected). mentions of reader having a scar but no further explanation (implied past abuse but no more references to it). fluff, beach setting, noah applying sunscreen on reader, reader having a kink for noah's hair. let me know if sth else needs to be added. - Work inspired by this post by @defuckingthrone-dot-com - Honorable mention to @somebodyels3 for letting me use her butterflyclip-thoughts on this one 🦋

years of sleep — part 1 ☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It’s not the first time they’ve seen each other, but it’s the first time they’ve looked at one another from opposite ends of the room as if nothing else exists.

They have known each other for two, maybe three years. Her friends are Noah’s friends, and by extension, they have become part of the same circle. Yet, despite the shared acquaintances, despite the countless gatherings and parties and concerts, they have never really spoken—never dared to exchange more than a handful of pleasantries, a few polite questions, and the passing comment about how great the show’d been before drifting away.

But there’s obviously something there. Something that’s always been.

And tonight, they can’t escape what it’s meant to be.

The wedding takes place at a seaside resort, where lush gardens stretch toward the shore, with palm trees everywhere swaying in the breeze, and a stone path that leads to an extensive beach.

She first sees Noah in the hotel lobby. The space is crowded, buzzing with conversation and laughter. The moment their eyes meet, the world shrinks. A pull—subtle but magnetic—draws them in. And then, as if fate conspires to close the distance, Nicholas the groom, appears beside her and steers her toward Noah.

Their greeting is brief, restrained. A formal hug. Fleeting contact. Her hello stays in his mind. Her voice is soft and sweet. Confident, too. And that smile? That pretty smile has him struggling for words.

He wants to tell her she looks beautiful. He doubts he’ll have eyes for anyone else that night, not even for the two getting married.

She wears a slate-gray dress, short and form-fitting, adorned with delicate rhinestones that catch the light. The thin straps expose her shoulders, her collarbone. There’s a necklace around her neck that could easily pass for a choker. The thought makes something in Noah twitch. Her earrings match the glimmer of it beneath the cascading waves of her hair. Her perfume, her scent… It unsettles him in a way he doesn’t fully understand. But, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to.

He could say all of this to her, or he could keep it simple: You look beautiful. But he says nothing. Instead, he pretends to be interested in whatever Nicholas is saying to Matt, though he’s acutely aware of her gaze on him.

She’s just as aware of him—because, for all his efforts, he’s terrible at being subtle.

Noah looks devastatingly handsome today. A black double-breasted suit accentuates his lean frame, and for the first time, his brunette hair is pulled back into a low bun. It’s the first time she’s seen him with his hair up and there’s something about it that’s very attractive. So attractive that she has to turn around to avoid Noah seeing her nibble on her lower lip.

As she looks away, so does he, letting Matt claim his attention. Alana claims hers, arriving in a stunning purple gown, effervescent with excitement. Her joy is infectious, so much so that, for a moment, she can pretend she hasn’t just spent the last few seconds lost in thoughts of Noah.

The venue is bathed in soft, ivory hues. Rows of elegantly arranged chairs line the aisle, their white cushions pristine beneath the glow of the sun. Sheer white drapery frames the altar, where tall glass vases filled with delicate baby’s breath and white orchids stand on either side.

Noah stands on one side of the venue, positioned between Matt and Jolly. She is on the opposite side of the main path, nestled among the bride’s family and friends. She’s never thought much about marriage, but for the first time, the idea doesn’t seem so distant. She wouldn’t mind standing where the bride is now, as long as the man beside her is N—

She doesn’t have time to shake herself from the absurdity of that thought because, at that moment, the bride and groom seal their promises with a kiss. The room erupts in applause and cheers.

She dares to glance to her right. And as if drawn by an invisible thread, Noah looks her way, catching her eyes.

He’s clapping, like everyone else, but he stands out. He’s taller than most, impossible to miss. And then, he winks at her—a wink accompanied by a smile so effortlessly confident, so devastatingly attractive, that her knees nearly give way beneath her.

She’s in deep trouble.

God, she just hopes the makeup conceals the flush creeping up her cheeks.

The celebration continues. The air is filled with laughter and clinking glasses. Music swells through the venue. The food is exquisite, the drinks abundant, and the guests are entertained.

Despite the social nature of his job, Noah isn’t someone particularly outgoing and social. Rather, he prefers to keep to himself.

But tonight is different. Tonight, he’s at ease, caught in the warmth of celebration, happy for his best friend. The air hums with good vibes, and for once, he isn’t the center of attention. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Not just because his friend is getting married, but because this day has given him something he’d never had before—an entire day and night in her presence.

The hours slip by, and frustration coils inside him. She’s right there, close enough to touch, yet he can’t seem to break the fucking ice. It’s maddening. He’s trapped in a dance of restraint. He knows it must be obvious, the way he looks at her, the way his body betrays every thought he tries to suppress. She’s the girl he’s barely spoken to, the one he’s only seen in fleeting occasions—yet he’s consumed by her. He’s been thinking of her for weeks, months. Even years, for fuck’s sake. She’s in his dreams.

He’s dying to know her, to be near her, to hear the cadence of her voice as she talks about the things she loves and the ones she hates. He wants to learn her—her flaws, her habits, the little things.

But more than anything, he wants to know the taste of her lips, the sounds she makes when she’s touched in the right places, the way she will moan when his hands and lips press on her skin and when his cock is buried deep inside her.

He has to do something about it, and even though it’s been almost the whole day already, he’s willing to do it tonight.

As the others drink and the minutes slip away, Noah watches her. Discreetly. Intently.

The way she moves, so gracefully and entirely unselfconscious. The way she leans into her friends when she speaks. The dimple that appears in her left cheek each time she laughs, the way her shoulders shake, the way her hair ripples with her movements. She keeps tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but it refuses to be tamed.

And he watches the way she blushes every time she catches him looking.

When the clock strikes midnight, the dance floor overflows with guests, lost in the music. Neckties have been loosened, hairpins discarded. Jolly has long since abandoned his suit jacket. Matt sits at the table with a girl on his lap, whispering something in her ear that’s making her laugh so hard that even Noah is tempted to walk over and find out what the hell he’s saying. Nicholas and his bride have disappeared, and Noah smiles at the realization, exhaling a quiet laugh as he finishes the last sip of his champagne. Then, he’s back to looking for her.

And he finds her.

This time near the exit that leads to the garden, which is so dark and only dimmed by beautifully decorated lampposts with vine and white flowers wrapping around them.

She stands at the threshold of the stone path, the soft glow from the lanterns casting a golden halo around her. The distance between them is vast—he’s at the other end of the room. But it doesn’t matter. They don’t need words to communicate.

She blinks. A glance over her shoulder.

And then she’s gone.

Noah sets down his glass without a thought as he rises from his seat. His jacket is left behind—he likely won’t see it again, much like Jolly’s.

He weaves through the throng of dancing bodies, mutters apologies, sidesteps laughter and swaying limbs, people kissing. The pulse of the music fades as he steps outside, swallowed by the stillness of the night and the back noise of waves crashing.

She’s out of sight.

But he can smell her.

Burberry. Vanilla, rich and warm, laced with something darker, something almost sinful.

He follows the scent.

The stone path leads to a fork—one trail winds toward the beach, the other into the garden.

He hesitates, pulse thrumming. Instinct takes over. He veers into the garden.

Minutes later, he moves parallel to a stretch of resort rooms, their arched balconies overlooking the grounds. Streetlamps line the pathway. A sea breeze stirs the palm fronds, the leaves whispering secrets into the night.

And somewhere ahead, she waits.

It has been almost five minutes since she slipped out of the wedding hall. She leans against the wall of one of the buildings closest to the beach, the stoney surface pressing against her bare shoulders. Noah still hasn’t appeared.

Maybe she misread everything—his looks, his winks, the tenderness of his smiles. Maybe she wasn’t obvious enough. Maybe the pull between them was only in her head, a trick of longing and circumstance. Or maybe it’s just the wedding, the romance in the air making her see things that aren’t really there.

Exhaling, she pushes off the wall and steps into the garden, rounding the corner of the small building.

And collides with a solid chest.

The impact is sudden, stealing her breath. Instinctively, her hands fly to the masculine chest for balance, fingers splaying over the firm muscle beneath the black shirt. His hands find her waist, steadying her, holding her in place.

For a moment, neither of them moves.

She looks up, and Noah’s almond-shaped eyes pierce trough her, dark but soft. The scent of his cologne—woodsy, expensive—wraps around her, muddling her thoughts.

Under her palms, she feels the taut ridges of his abdomen.

Under his hands, he feels the softness of her curves, the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress.

It takes everything in him not to let his hands drift lower—to her ass.

Then, as if the absurdity of the moment catches up with them, they grin—two idiots completely and utterly lost in each other.

A second later, Noah lifts a hand to her cheek, fingers featherlight as he tilts her face up to his.

And he kisses her.

His lips capture hers, slow at first, testing, savoring. She melts instantly, arms winding around his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair. Even in heels, she must rise onto her toes to reach him properly. And this mouth—warm and insistent— tastes of champagne, a sweetness that only makes her hungrier for more.

She barely notices when he presses her against the wall, steading himself with a palm on the wall next to her head.

By the time she comes to, she’s breathless, her lips are swollen, and Noah’s body is caging hers, his hands cradling her face now, his thumb stroking her skin. He watches her for a moment before his mouth trails from her jawline to the sensitive column of her neck, and when his lips graze that one spot—that spot—heat coils deep in her belly.

She would have collapsed if not for the hand he slides to her waist, anchoring her, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

“Let me take you to my room,” he murmurs against her skin. His voice is husky and his breath hot.

He pauses just long enough, searching her eyes, making sure she knows that this is entirely up to her. Whatever she wants. Whatever she desires.

It’s the quiet patience in his expression, the almost tender way he waits, that has her putty in his hands. She knows she’ll always be safe with him. It doesn’t matter that they haven’t spent more than five minutes alone together. She feels it in her bones, in the space between them, in the way he looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters.

Her answer is effortless.

“Lead the way,” she says with a smile.

Noah’s grin widens. He steals another kiss—because he can’t help himself—before lacing his long, tattooed fingers through hers.

Without another word, he leads her away. Away from the music, away from the voices, from prying eyes.

The walk to the room is hurried. Adrenaline and hunger run through their veins. Noah grips her hand, glancing over his shoulder every few moments, his smile impossibly wide, as if he already knows that there’s nothing that’ll change how the night will end.

He barely makes it to the door without stopping midway to press her against the nearest wall, to claim her lips again, to let his hands roam freely over the curves he has only imagined.

By the time they reach the secluded corridor where their rooms are, they are almost running.

A strap of her dress has fallen, slipping down the smooth expanse of her shoulder, and just as Noah swipes his keycard against the door reader, he notices.

“Wait.”

Two fingers graze skin as he lifts the strap, restoring it to its place.

The mere brush of his fingers on her skin gives him such a sensation that goosebumps rise on his skin. Noah holds her gaze for a moment. As he gets ready to open the door, her hands curl into the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to her. Her mouth meets his in a kiss so deep, so hungry, that Noah nearly forgets himself, nearly forgets where they are, forgets that anyone could walk by and see him stripping her bare against the cool marble hallway floor and making love to her.

Somehow, through sheer willpower, he manages to open the door and push her inside, barely breaking contact with her lips.

Inside, he fumbles for the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a light cozy glow.

She’s already pulling the hairband from his hair, letting the strands fall loose around his face. She threads her fingers through them. She doesn’t know what shampoo he uses but his hair smells like paradise.

Everything is messy. Desperate. A little awkward.

And yet, within seconds, they are standing at the center of the room, facing the untouched bed.

She pauses, chest rising and falling, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other resting lightly on his chest.

She looks around. His belongings are neatly arranged, each item in its proper place. The small details confirm everything she already suspected about him—Noah is meticulous. Even in chaos, he is composed. He’s perfect, and the hand on his hip, delicate and supportive, adoring but never crossing the line, confirms it too.

He’s waiting for her to say something, so his heart almost skips a beat when she slides to her knees on the floor. Heels still on. Her hands on his belt.

Noah lets her unbuckle it. Fingers move with precision, making quick work of the button and zipper of his slacks. His shirt is next—he unbuttons it, but leaves it open, exposing tattooed skin, muscle, inked lines she clearly wasn’t prepared for.

She inhales sharply.

A near-moan escapes her lips at the sight of him, and Noah smirks.

He would have teased her for it—would have taken his time letting her explore—but then she tugs down his pants.

Her breath catches.

The outline straining against his black Calvin Klein boxers is… larger than she expected.

He watches the moment she processes it, sees the way her pupils dilate, the way her tongue peeks out to wet her lips.

She flicks her gaze up at him, seeking confirmation, blinking once—twice—before curling her fingers around the waistband of his boxers.

And when she pulls them down, Noah is the one exhaling sharply.

She doesn’t break eye contact.

And when she finally moves forward, Noah knows—he’s done for.

She licks him from the base to the tip. She takes her time, savoring him and entertaining herself just enough to make him shudder. She revels in his reaction before enveloping him in the warm, wet heat of her mouth and taking him on the ride of his life.

For the first few moments, Noah doesn’t know what to do with himself. He throws his head back and lets out a guttural sound as she takes him deeper, the suction sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. His muscles tense, his hands flex at his sides, his breath starts coming in in ragged gasps.

His fingers twitch before finding their way into her hair, threading through the silky strands as he cradles her head and looks down at her. Such a good girl.

She looks so focused. He strokes her scalp gently, then guides her back and forth, his control unraveling with every flick of her tongue, every hollow of her cheeks. That’s it. Keep going. A vein bulges at his neck as he struggles to keep himself in check.

“That’s... Yes. God, sweetheart.”

The sight of her, those lips stretched around him, eyes flickering up to watch his reaction…

With a sharp breath, he forces himself to pull away, already mourning the loss of her warmth. He runs a thumb over her lower lip, and she catches it between her teeth, nibbling at it. The action makes him laugh—a deep, throaty sound.

He offers his hand, and she takes it, rising to her feet. Without hesitation, she slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders, letting the fabric slip past her curves and pool at her feet.

She’s not wearing a bra, and the thong she wears is nothing more than a whisper of lace, a mere suggestion of modesty.

Noah eats her up with his eyes.

Before he can reach for her, she turns, climbing onto the bed, moving like a kitten. She pauses on all fours to look at him over her shoulder with a coy smile that makes his stomach clench.

Noah swallows hard. He’s about to lose it.

When she shifts to sit back, reaching for her heels, he stops her with a touch.

“Let me.”

He pulls his underwear and pants back up before kneeling at the edge of the bed. His grip tender as he slides her shoes off, pressing a kiss to the skin of her ankle. The care in his touch makes her pulse race. It’s so gentlemanly. She’s never felt so cherished. So lucky.

Her underwear comes off next. The weight of Noah’s eyes on her feels heavy, but it makes her feel safe anyway. She wants him.

She reclines against the pillows, stretching out languidly. She parts her legs. Noah stands there for a breath, taking her in. Her confidence only deepens his hunger.

He sheds his clothing and shoes and joins her, covering her body with his without yet touching. His fingers trail up her cheeks, his eyes searching hers.

“Where do you want me?” he murmurs.

“Anywhere you wish to be.”

He laughs and she trembles under him, loving the sound.

That’s easy, he thinks. I’m already in bed, with you.

Still, he takes his time, kissing his way down her body, savoring every inch. Loving how the necklace wraps around her neck. He spends needed time on her breasts, playing with her nipples, his tongue circling, lapping. He looks up to see her lips parted and her eyes intently on him. She still not making any sound. Not yet.

When his hand slides down her ribcage, he notices an old, ugly scar, just beneath her left breast. He also notices the way she stills. He takes one look at her, then kisses the scar without saying anything else and moves on.

He worships her belly, dips his tongue into her navel, nibbles at her hip bones.

He leaves the bed only to sit back on his heels on the carpeted floor. He searches for his hairband discarded earlier. When he finds it, he ties his hair up again, the sight alone enough to make wetness pool between her legs.

Without warning, he pulls her toward him by the ankles.

A gasp escapes her as he buries himself between her thighs.

There it is.

His tongue parts her, teasing. He tastes her like a man starved, and it’s the truth—he’s been starving for her for years. His hands grip her hips, holding her in place as she starts to writhe beneath him.

She makes another sound. A soft, breathy moan. Then another. And another.

It’s the sweetest, most erotic music he’s ever heard, and it only makes him more relentless. He keeps on sucking. He doesn’t stop, not until she’s trembling under him, clutching the sheets, her thighs quivering around his head.

“Beautiful,” he says.

She’s still catching her breath when she peeks up at him from beneath heavy lids, her cheeks flushed and lips dry and slightly parted. The sight makes him chuckle, the sound so laced with affection that it envelops her as if the sound of it alone was a comforting blanket.

“Condom?” she asks when she regains some stability in her breathing.

Noah blinks, nodding as he starts looking around and rummaging through his things.

“I’ve got one… just give me a—” He curses under his breath, shoving aside his clothes. She watches him move around the room naked, cock hard. “Fuck. I know I have one… somewhere.”

She laughs, watching his frantic search with amusement. She has no idea that, at this very moment, Noah is contemplating death if he doesn’t find it. But then he spots it. He tears open the packet and rolls it onto him. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his still tied hair but pushing a lose strand back. “Sorted,” he mutters, positioning himself over her on the bed.

She slides a hand behind his neck, drawing him closer.

“Come here,” she demands softly.

And God help him, he does.

She unties his hair, again, freeing the brunette strands to cascade over his forehead. Her fingers slide through the locks, and at the same moment, he pushes into her, slow and deep.

A gasp catches in her throat as she stretches around him, heat and wetness engulfing every inch of him.

He feels fuzzy. It’s unbearable, exquisite. His eyes are locked onto hers, and for a breathless second, they simply exist. A moan spills from his lips at the exact moment one escapes her, their voices melding in perfect synchrony.

It’s better than he ever imagined.

It’s better than she ever imagined.

He waits, letting her adjust. When she shifts, just the smallest tilt of her hips, it’s all the encouragement he needs. He moves, achingly slow, each stroke a deliberate act of worship, so careful it almost makes her go mad. A tight, desperate sensation builds in her chest, and for a moment, she thinks she might cry.

She has imagined herself under his body many times. Too many to admit. She has touched herself in the quiet of night, fingers slipping between her thighs, wondering what it would feel like to take him this way, to feel his hardness inside her, the delicious weight of him pressing her into the mattress. To experience the solid heat of his body, his pubic bone against hers, the muscles of his stomach flexing against her own, his breath coming in broken gasps against her lips as he steals kisses whenever he can.

Reality is nothing like she imagined.

It’s a thousand times better.

Noah is heavy and much bigger than she is, but instead of feeling smothered by his weight, she feels enveloped in a delicious embrace that promises to take her all the way to paradise, if she’s not already in it.

His pace is controlled. The way he moves over her, the way he looks at her, with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows that says he’s being a victim of this delicious torture too, the way his hands touch her body, cling to her...

His thrusts grow harder, faster. Her thighs cling to his hips. Her feet hoover just above the mattress. Her nails sink into the inked skin of his back as the pressure builds, and he hisses through his teeth. His reaction is instant. He catches her wrists, gathers them in one of his large hands, and pins them to the pillow above her head.

Her breath stutters.

Then, without warning, he thrusts deep.

Take me.

A strangled cry tears from her throat.

Noah’s rhythm shifts, urgency overtaking restraint. His movements become frantic, driven by something raw and insatiable, and she matches him, meeting every thrust, begging for more. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. She can feel the heat of him everywhere—his sweaty skin against hers, his breath hot and labored against her lips, his body relentless in its pursuit of ecstasy.

If she thought he was handsome before, it’s clear she hadn’t seen him fucking her, covered in sweat and lost in the decadent dance his body is dancing with hers.

“I’m going to come,” he warns when he knows his release is imminent, voice rough and desperate.

She feels a rush of satisfaction so intense it nearly tips her over the edge. She wants to prolong this, stretch it into eternity, but she also wants to see him break. She wants to watch him fall apart. See his expression when it happens.

Noah is holding on by a thread. He thinks about how once he comes, he’s going to get her to follow him, and then he wants to hold her and have her fall asleep in his arms. In the morning, he wants to see her wake up, blink up at him through sleepy eyes, wants to see her make up-free, in the first light of dawn.

Fuck, he’s in so deep. And not just physically.

As he teeters at the edge, he refuses to go alone. He slides a hand between them, finding the swollen bundle of nerves that will send her spiraling with him. His fingers work, and within seconds, she is there, climbing, soaring, shattering. The orgasm is scorching. Noah practically roars against her shoulder, biting her without intending to, but she seems to like it, because the moment his teeth sink into her shoulder, she tenses around him. He is still spasming, releasing himself into the condom, when she trembles, arches, and suddenly moans loudly and prolonged.

She is coming and squeezing him, every last drop.

His arms hold her against him, crushing her to him as they both tremble through the aftershocks. She can feel the erratic thump of his heart against her chest. He can feel the sweat of her skin clinging to his.

They feel...at home.

Noah tilts his head to look at her, catching on the red marks he’s left on her skin. On her shoulder. Clavicle. Breasts. Suddenly, there’s uncertainty flickering behind his eyes.

He’s never done this—whatever this is. He knows it’s not just sex. It’s something more. Something that’s been brewing, growing beneath the surface for some time.

She opens her eyes, lips parted, still catching her breath. The sight of her like this, so flushed and disheveled, so swollen from his kisses, hair tangled in wild waves around her face… She could easily fall for a nymph, ethereal and untamed, as if she belongs to the wild.

“Are you okay?”

Noah is surprised, for it is not him asking the question, but her. He almost laughs.

“I’m fine,” he assures her.

Without thinking twice, he lifts a hand and brushes his fingers along the curve of her cheek, soft and reverent in his touch. This moment—the after—, this touch, it feels like a greater intimacy than anything they have just done.

Her lips touch the line of his jaw, nuzzling against the faint stubble that has already begun to shadow his skin. He shaved that morning, but the roughness is there, and she loves it.

His kisses are different now—ghostly, soft and quiet. They make her heart grow wings and flutter.

Noah pulls away with obvious reluctance, murmuring something about taking care of them. She watches as he slips from the bed, and the moment he is gone, she feels the loss of him like a physical ache. Still, she gathers herself enough to ask him to open the sliding doors to the ground-floor balcony. Noah obliges, and when he does, the distant murmur of laughter and music drifts from the garden, a reminder that the rest of the world still exists beyond this room.

When he returns, he is utterly, shamelessly naked. He moves with the confidence of someone at home, still just as devastating and delicious as he was that morning, when he was wrapped in a tux and his hair was pulled into a perfect man bun.

She wants to keep Noah for herself. Forever.

He holds a damp hand towel, hesitating only a moment as he approaches the mattress and murmurs, “May I?”

She nods.

The first touch of warm cloth against her oversensitive skin makes her shudder. He is careful, tender in a way nobody has ever been with her. She holds her breath. She’s never been cared for like this.

Minutes later, he stands beside the bed, still naked, hesitating.

She watches him, her knees drawn up, an arm draped loosely over her chest. A cool breeze filters through the open door, rustling the curtains. Salt and water.

“Stay,” Noah says, his voice almost tentative. “Please? I promise I don’t snore.”

She has to laugh. He’s so adorable. She nods.

Relief floods his face as he climbs in beside her, tugging the sheets over them. She curls against him instinctively, pressing her face into the warm space between his shoulder and neck.

Noah smells of sex and that masculine stench that is every man’s own. If only she knew that he is inhaling her too... And that, deep inside, he wants to wake up with his nose in her hair and her naked body clinging to him all the mornings he has left.

They talk for a while in hushed voices, the adrenaline still pulsing through them. He asks about her favorite food and her favorite flowers. She asks about his hobbies. About his job—what’s the best and worst of it. He mentions martial arts, and she hums, intrigued, and not-so-subtly lets her hands explore his biceps, his thighs, all tattooed, confirming what she already knew. He is strong, but beneath all that muscle, there is softness too.

She falls asleep half on top of him.

Noah falls asleep with a hand resting on the small of her back, fingers curled over the curve of her ass, the other cradling the back of her neck, keeping her close as if afraid to let go, and his nose buried in her hair, just like he’s dreamed so many times.

When she wakes up, her cheek is pressed against something firm yet solid and comfortable. It takes a few seconds for reality to settle around her, her mind still tangled in the haze of sleep. The first thing she registers is the faint soreness between her legs. For a moment, her heart leaps in her chest in surprise, but then she becomes aware of the calm that envelops her, of the warmth and security she feels. Of the arm around her, pressing her tenderly against the male body lying on the bed.

She lifts her head, and there he is. Noah fast asleep. His breathing slow and steady, lips slightly parted revealing just a hint of his teeth. A stray lock of hair has fallen over his cheek, and before she can think better of it, she reaches out and brushes it aside.

Noah is a handsome man, but like this, with his guard down, his face relaxed, his body molded against her—he’s breathtakingly beautiful.

Surrendering to temptation again, she’s about to kiss him and wake him up, steal the first drowsy moments of his morning, when a vibration hums from the nightstand on his side.

The screen of his phone lights up, and her eyes are instinctively drawn to it. Half draped over his chest, she reaches out just to check the time, but the moment she picks it up, a notification banner flashes across the screen.

LILIPUTH 👶🏼 "Hey! Mom wants to know if you can pick me up Friday instead of Saturday. She’s busy Saturday morning, so she’d rather drop me at the airport Friday. She says to hurry up because we’re already late, and flights are super expensive! Also, she kinda thinks you should pay for them... but don’t tell her I said that! See you soon!

She frowns. She processes the message. What it means, or what it could mean.

“Mom says”?

Liliputh and a baby emoticon?

“Pick me up”?

He should’ve paid for flight tickets?

Her stomach twists.

The phone nearly slips from her grasp as the words sink in.

Fuck.

Is Noah married?

Divorced?

Does he have...a child? Because that sure as hell sounds like a whole lot of parental responsibilities.

She’s holding her breath. Her mind scrambles to piece together a puzzle she wasn’t expecting, one she wasn’t even aware existed.

And it’s not that he’s done anything wrong. It’s not that he’s lied.

But she hadn’t thought about Noah having a life before her. A life this big.

Panic swells in her throat. She realizes she’s laying on top of him sideways, her breasts pressing against his tatted chest. She’s panicking. She no longer feels comfortable or safe in his arms. The sheets feel more like a trap rather than a cocoon of safety. She needs air. She needs space. She needs to get out.

It takes her less than two minutes to slip out from his arms, gather her clothes, and make it to the door in last night’s dress, barefoot, heels in hand. She doesn’t look back. Her bare feet move silently against the floor. Once she reaches the hallway, she presses her back against the door, heart slamming wildly against her ribs.

She doesn’t want to leave.

She wants to stay.

To crawl back into bed, to wake up tangled in his limbs, to feel the weight of his body over hers, his scent. She wants to hear his voice in the morning—sleep-rough and drowsy, whispering the same sinful things he murmured to her in the dead of night when she had been sleeping with her head on his bicep and he’d made love to her again, slow and deep, from behind her. He had first teased her with the tip, kissing her shoulders and neck. A minute later, they were slowly making love, his hand entwining her fingers over her breasts, his hot breath on the back of her neck.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you—of this.”

He’d been so attentive and hot the entire night, guiding her as he told her to fuck him, to rock herself against him, to use him… so tuned in with her as he talked her through her orgasm, encouraging her to make a mess on his cock…

She feels... confused and disoriented. In her head, she’s spent years with this perfect idea of Noah, of who he is, of how wonderful it would be to be with him... and suddenly, a simple message destroys all of that.

It’s not a message.

It’s reality.

The rest was her fantasy. Her fault.

The things he had said to her during the night echo in her head. The perfect Noah and the perfect life she had created around him was nothing but an illusion, and now it had shattered, and with it her heart.

years of sleep — part 2 ☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Three hours later, late summer morning, the resort is buzzing with life. Most of the guests, primarily wedding attendees, have slept in, recovering from a celebration that lasted into the early hours. Others have been up since dawn, making the most of their vacation.

She sits at one of the poolside lounge tables, fingers idly tracing the rim of a half-empty glass of orange juice. Sunglasses shield her eyes, and though she’s showered and changed into a simple pastel blue sundress, she still feels the weight of the night lingering in her bones.

Nicholas and his new wife must already be enroute to their honeymoon destination. Meanwhile, she’s stranded at this oceanside resort, three hours from Los Angeles, until tomorrow.

And she has no idea how she’s going to spend the next twenty-four hours.

In her mind, last night should have led to something different—a different chain of events, a different morning, a different future. She had pictured waking up in Noah’s arms, spending the day tangled up in him, stealing kisses between lazy moments and sunlit swims, and ending the night with slow walks along the beach under the stars…

But now, it’s painfully clear that none of that is going to happen.

“And that long face on such a sunny morning?”

Davis’s voice cuts through her thoughts, drawing her attention to the walkway leading toward the parasol-covered tables.

She forces a smile, slouching slightly in her chair in an attempt to appear more relaxed. She doesn’t want to bring anyone else down. This is supposed to be a happy day. Everyone else is happy. She refuses to ruin that.

“Hungover?” Davis tilts his head, eyeing her.

The way he asks makes her laugh, though the sound feels hollow. He’s swapped last night’s suit for white Bermuda shorts and a floral short-sleeve button-up. He’s really embracing the beach resort vibes.

“Something like that,” she replies. Though the truth is that, despite sleeping late and being woken up at 4am for another round of sex, she slept soundly.

“That makes two of us,” another voice chimes in.

Folio drops into the chair beside her, a beer already in hand. She refrains from commenting on it. He’s dressed similarly to Davis, a backward cap covering his messy hair.

“Well, you don’t look like it,” Davis notes.

“That’s because I never hit the bed in the first place,” Folio grins.

“You didn’t sleep?” Davis guesses.

“Nope. Figured I’d just keep the party going. Took a swim at sunrise. Man, that’s an experience.”

The two launch into a conversation about his early-morning adventures and order some fruit and pancakes to be brought to the table. Eventually, they notice how quiet she is.

“What’s with you?” Davis asks through a mouthful of blueberries. “Haven’t slept either?”

Folio smirks. “Or did someone keep you up all night?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his gaze dropping pointedly to the red blotches on her skin. Noah’s lovebites.

She barely reacts. She simply lowers her sunglasses and shoots Folio a pointed look. His grin falters immediately.

“Oh, it’s definitely that. Who—?”

Before Folio can finish the question, Davis has already put the pieces together.

“You slept with Noah.”

Hearing someone say it aloud makes it even more real. Her mind floods with images—Noah’s touch, the sweet and filthy things he said to her, the way he held her, the way he felt. Honeyed and intense.

She wraps both hands around the glass, lips pressing together.

“Really?” Folio leans forward, elbows resting on the chair armrests. “And why do you look like that? Don’t tell me Noah isn’t well-equipped down there.”

She clicks her tongue, annoyed. “It’s not that.”

“So, he is. Is his performance not up to—”

“Nick,” Davis sighs.

“Okay, okay…” he puts his hands up. “Do we need to kick his ass?”

She hesitates, her fingers twitching, before finally voicing the question that has been gnawing at her insides since dawn.

“Noah has a daughter?”

Folio’s grin vanishes. His brows furrow in confusion, then lift in something close to horror.

“What?”

She looks between them. “Is he married? Divorced?”

Davis just stares at her, as if trying to understand where this is coming from.

“You know Noah is single.”

“No. Actually, I don’t. I don’t know anything about Noah. Not really,” she snaps. “I only know what everyone else knows—what you guys tell me. He’s always the quiet one. I don’t know more than what I’ve put together from—from the way he behaves around me and with you guys. And none of you ever mentioned a wife. Or a daughter. Or—”

“Because he’s not married. And he doesn’t have a daughter,” Folios interrupts with a laugh. “At least not that I know of. Can you even imagine Noah married and with a baby?” He looks over at Davis, but Davis just shoots him a warning glance.

Davis turns back to her with a soft expression. “Come on. You know exactly who Noah is. I know everyone acts like he’s this mysterious, unreadable guy just because he’s private, but the truth is, he’s exactly what you see. He’s quiet, yeah, but he doesn’t need to say much to show you who he is. He writes, he makes music, he lets go on stage… He’s the deep, poetic guy who likes to meditate in the morning and never really raises his voice. He’s thoughtful, maybe too much, and he appreciates life in that annoyingly profound way.” Davis huffs a small laugh. “Even if you haven’t spent much time with him, you know he’s single. The real question is how you two went so long without saying a word to each other when it’s obvious you’ve been pining for one another for years.”

Her heart stutters. “Years? What are you talking about?”

Folio rolls his eyes.

“What are you talking about? Everyone knows you and Noah have been into each other for ages, but because you’re both equally clueless or shy or whatever, you waited until Ruffilo’s wedding to finally do something about it. And now you’re coming in here all ‘Noah is a dad?!’ What the hell did you drink last night? Or more like, what did Noah do to you in bed?”

She groans. Before they can derail the conversation any further, she drops her eyes and mutters, “I saw a message on his phone.”

“A message?”

“From someone named Lily. Liliputh,” she specifies.

Folio and Davis exchange a glance, and she immediately realizes that yes, there are things about Noah she doesn’t know, and they do.

Folio cuts into his pancakes, spears a piece with his fork, and pops it into his mouth.

“Lily is Noah’s niece,” Davis explains. “His sister’s daughter. She’s twelve.”

She blinks.

Once.

Twice.

“Noah has a sister?”

Since when?

“Yeah. Older. She lives in New York. They only see each other a couple of times a year, that’s why he’s probably never mentioned her. He barely does to us, anyway. But they’re close, and I’m guessing Lily asked to come spend a few days in L.A. before school starts again, and Noah’s offered to take care of her.”

A wave of heat rushes to her cheeks. “Oh my God.”

Folio bursts out laughing, struggling to keep the food in his mouth. “You really thought Noah had a whole-ass daughter? And you thought he was divorced, too?”

She sinks in her seat. “It’s not funny.”

“No, but your reaction is. How many Hallmark movies have you watched?”

Davis, however, looks more thoughtful. “So… you freaked out.”

She sighs. “Yeah…”

“And Noah wasn’t awake when you saw the message, was he?”

“No.”

“So, you got up and left. Without saying a word.”

Her silence and the guilt written all over her face are answer enough.

After a beat, Folio deadpans, “You banged Noah,” he states. “And then you disappeared.”

She shoots him another glare, tempted to kick his shin under the table. “I didn’t disappear. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but not in his bed,” Davis points out. “How would you feel if the roles were reversed? If you woke up after sleeping with him, and he was gone?

A knot tightens in her chest.

Terrible. Used. Heartbroken.

Guilt crashes over her, so heavy it makes her stomach churn. Good thing she hasn’t eaten anything… She bites her lip so hard she nearly draws blood. She needs to fix this.

“Will he… be mad?”

David considers the question at the same time he savors a piece of mango. “Knowing Noah and how much he’s into you… he’ll understand. You just need to talk to him. Tell him why you freaked out. He’ll have a good laugh and later he’ll probably get you back into his bed. Problem sorted.”

How much he’s into me? The way Davis talks about Noah’s feelings is unsettling, like he knows something she doesn’t. Has it always been there, in front of her, and she hasn’t been able to see it until last night?

For years, she has lived off stolen glances and fleeting moments—content with fantasies rather than the courage to actually approach Noah like a normal person would. She always chalked up his teasing and looks to his naturally charming nature. Noah has always been boyfriend material—but never her boyfriend.

Had she known earlier that Noah was pining for her, butterflies would have erupted in her stomach sooner. She might have finally gathered the nerve to walk up to him, to flirt back in a way that was more obvious to him about her feelings. But now, after abandoning him in that hotel room, she just feels awful. If she can’t fix this, she might as well walk straight into the ocean and let the waves take her.

“Hey,” Folio squeezed her shoulder, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. His voice is suddenly surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. This is not some huge, unforgivable thing. Nothing a blowjob can’t fix. Knowing Noah…”

Davis makes a disgusted noise, pushing his plate away. “Jesus Christ, man. How well do you know Noah?”

Folio throws his hands up again. “It’s a figure of speech, for fuck’s sake. What I mean is, Noah’s not the type to hold a grudge. And if there’s someone who can sweeten him up, that’s you. Talk to him. And if talking doesn’t do the trick… well, give him the look, get down on your knees, and boom—problem solved.”

She debates whether to smack him, but the absurdity of it all makes her laugh instead. Did she really think Noah had a teenage daughter? That he was divorced? She laughs at herself and internally thanks Folio, who always has a way of dragging her out of her head, whether she wants him or not.

And much to her own frustration… she can’t stop thinking about what he said.

If talking doesn’t get Noah to forgive her, she’ll do it on her knees and blinking up at him with her big puppy eyes.

An hour later, after wandering alone by the sea for a while and going over the things she’ll say to Noah when she sees him again, she makes her way back to the hotel. Her sandals dangle from her fingers, her bare feet still damp from where the waves had lapped at her skin. She’s hungry, her body demanding a late breakfast or an early lunch.

But more than anything, it’s her heart which is demanding. Demanding Noah, to find him, talk to him and—

She sees him before he sees her.

He’s at the reception desk, leaning on the counter, dressed in black jeans—in this heat, seriously?— and a white t-shirt. His hair is pulled into the same bun as last night, and he’s wearing black sunglasses. He’s chatting with the receptionist, a woman who smiles at him as she listens intently to whatever he’s saying. Before jealousy can settle in, the receptionist nods and disappears into the back room.

That’s when Noah turns, reaching into his pocket for his phone, only to freeze the moment his eyes land on her.

She doesn’t know what to expect. A flicker of irritation? Confusion? Anger?

But not this.

Not the way his entire face lights up. Not the way his lips stretch into a slow, easy grin, like seeing her is the best thing that’s happened to him all day. All week.

“Hey,” he says.

Her stomach does that thing.

Hey?

She approaches cautiously, hyper-aware of his almond-shaped eyes sweeping over her behind those black sunglasses.

“Hi,” she greets.

Silence stretches between them. For her, it’s suffocating. But Noah? He seems completely at ease, looking at her like she’s the goddamn sun.

“Noah,” her voice betrays her a little. She fidgets with her fingers, taking a small step closer. “About this morning, I—”

The receptionist returns, holding a black tuxedo jacket.

“Here it is, sir.”

Noah turns to her.

“Oh, thank God.” He exhales, taking the jacket and shaking it out. “Thought I’d lost it for good. Or that someone walked off with it.”

“Not at all,” the female behind the counter replies with a polite smile. “Anything else I can help with?”

Her eyes flick between Noah and her before Noah tells her “no, thank you” and she heads back to her desk. Noah drapes the expensive jacket over his arm.

“Guess I shouldn’t be so careless next time,” he muses.

She frowns slightly.

“Got a little… distracted last night,” he continues, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “Saw this girl, and, well… just had to follow her. I suppose I got carried away inevitably.” His eyes darken slightly, teasing. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Can’t get her out of my head.”

She’s blushing, of course.

And that’s exactly what he wanted—to make her blush.

“Prettiest?”

“Prettiest,” he repeats. He takes his hand to his sunglasses and moves them up to his head. When his brown eyes fall on her, she feels that tingling sensation coursing through her again. “Sweetest. Couldn’t keep my hands off her,” he continues, knowing very well what he’s doing. “Guess everything else just… slipped my mind.”

Heat flares up her neck. Why isn’t he upset? Why isn’t he at least a little annoyed that she slipped out of his bed after hours of making love? Why does he have to be so charming to her when she deserves none of that?

“Do you… regret it?” she blurts.

His brows lift slightly. “Regret it?” he echoes. He glances down at the jacket draped over his arm. Then he smirks. “I’d lose ten of these if it meant spending another night like that with her.”

She bites her lip, grinning like an idiot. Like the idiot she is for assuming he was a divorced dad.Jesus Christ. She pinches the bridge of her nose, ducking her head to hide her flushed cheeks.

After a beat, he adds, “but preferably if she’s there in the morning.”

Oh.

“What about you?” he asks. “Anything you regret?”

She draws in a slow breath.

“One thing, yeah,” she admits.

“Yeah?”

By the way his face changes, she can tell he’s suddenly feeling uncertain. Does he think she regrets being with him? That she regrets letting him touch her, letting him fuck her?

“I… want to make up for it,” she says. “So that I don’t carry this regret with me any longer.”

He watches her carefully. “Sounds like one you’ve carried for quite some time.”

She scoffs. If only he knew…

“Long enough to make a fool of myself,” she says. “But I’d like to fix it.”

His lips twitch, fighting back a smile. “You would?”

She nods, pulse quickening. She gives him the sweetest, most disarming smile. “I think I could. If you let that pretty girl spend another night in your hotel bed…”

Noah exhales. With his free hand, he reaches for her, his fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, pulling her toward him. Close enough that when he lowers his head, his nose brushes against hers.

“I don’t think that’s going to be enough, sweetheart,” he murmurs. She presses a hand against his chest—not to push him away, but to steady herself, to feel the solid of him beneath her palm. And, if she’s being honest, just to touch him again. “She needs to stay till morning. Otherwise, no deal.”

She decides she’s going to seal the deal with a kiss. But just as she tilts her head and parts her lips—

“Hey, Sebastian! Say hi to your daughter!” Folio’s voice rings through the lobby.

They both freeze.

Noah blinks.

“What?”

She turns her head just in time to see Folio crossing the marble-floored lobby, a mojito in hand, looking far too pleased with himself before disappearing around the corner. Her face burns. Noah’s expression is one of utter confusion.

“Is he drunk?” he asks.

A small laugh escapes her as she drops her forehead against his chest. He still hasn’t let go of her dress. Her fingers grasp the fabric of his white t-shirt as her embarrassment melts into quiet amusement.

“I thought you were a divorced dad.”

Noah stills. Then he’s lifting her chin with the bend of his fingers. “A divorced—What are you talking about?”

“I accidentally saw a message on your phone this morning—Lily’s message,” she explains. “I was just checking the time, I swear. And when I saw the message, I immediately assumed... that you were divorced. And that you had a child.”

He stays still for another beat, just looking at her. Then, to her complete and utter relief, he throws his head back and laughs. The sound is so warm and rich that it dissolves the last of her tension.

“Thank God,” he says.

“Thank God?”

“That you left because of that and not because I snore.”

“You don’t snore,” she assures him.

He exhales through his grin, his thumb brushing her chin. “And you’re adorable.”

“Pretty sure I’m just stupid.”

“Stupidly adorable.”

“Thanks,” she rolls her eyes, only confirming what he just said.

Adorable.

Her stomach betrays her then, letting out a low rumble.

She groans. Seriously, can I catch a break?

Noah glances down at her middle with a grin, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Perfect timing.”

“Huh?”

“Now that I’ve got my jacket back, and I found the pretty girl I was looking for…” he pauses and tilts his head, “I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me?”

Like he even needs to ask.

“I’d love to.”

“It’s a date, then.”

He offers his hand. She takes it, just like last night.

They share a light lunch at the seaside restaurant of the hotel, which is located beneath a shade of swaying palm trees and cottage-like roof. The ocean stretches before them, glistening under the midday sun, waves rolling lazily onto the shore. The air is charged with salt and the aroma of grilled seafood, mingling with the faint sweetness of tropical flowers.

Their table is a feast of colors—salad with citrusy vinaigrette, golden spring rolls, focaccia glistening with olive oil, and a selection of small plates. Conversation is effortless between them as the breeze rustles through the palm fronds and plays with her hair.

They talk about everything. Food. Music. Work. He asks about her studies, and she asks about the book he’s reading. He makes her smile. She makes him laugh. She even offers him a bite of her plate and feeds him with a fork. They never mention the fact that last night she had his cock in her mouth or that he mapped out every inch of her with his tongue until she was shaking under him.

After the plates are emptied and cleared, they stay, reclining in their chairs as the slow afternoon unfolds. The occasional lull in conversation is easy. It’s a silence that doesn’t demand to be filled.

They sip iced tea later, enjoying each other’s company as the engulf in the refreshing drink.

She watches the horizon, the endless stretch of blue where the sea meets the sky, and the way the light dances on the water. Noah watches her. Her profile is beautiful, so soft. A picture of tranquility as she takes in the view, lost in the beauty of the landscape. There’s something about the way she looks right now that makes everything else fade into the background.

Noah is in love, and he knows it. He’s been for a long time. He’s not letting her leave his bed the next morning, or any other for that matter.

“Want to go for a swim?”

His question shakes her out of her momentary haze where she was imagining herself in the water, wrapped around Noah’s torso, being kissed under the sun.

“What, in jeans and Adidas?” She jokes, giving his outfit a pointed once-over.

Noah glances down at himself. “Yeah, good point… I’ll go get changed.”

She hums, pushing back her chair at the same time. “I’ll grab the sunscreen.”

They leave together, strolling through the resort’s sun-drenched pathways, holding hands. In the hallway outside their rooms, Noah keeps their arms extended and hands together before reluctantly releasing her.

He should have kissed her. The though gnaws at him as she disappears three rooms down.

It’s fine. He’ll kiss her when he has her in his arms again in a matter of minutes.

They meet ten minutes after in the lobby. Noah has swapped his jeans for black swim trunks, his sneakers for flip-flops. His white T-shirt remains. a towel is slung over his shoulder. His eyes rack down the white bikini peeking through the airy fabric of her sundress. She catches the way his jaw ticks, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

She shakes the sunscreen bottle in front of him. “Got it.”

Noah takes the tote bag from her with a quiet smile, ever the gentleman.

When they step onto the beach, they walk a little farther from the resort’s main area, the sand cool beneath their feet as they seek out a quiet spot all to themselves. The beach is tranquil, mostly deserted, with only a few scattered sunbathers, the low season keeping it peaceful. They lay out their towels side by side.

Of course, Noah suggests applying sunscreen on her. To her surprise, he’s again very gentlemanlike about it, asking for permission before he spreads the lotion across the curve of her ass. When she turns around and offers her chest to him, her nipples are visible through the fabric of her bikini top. He notices, obviously. But doesn’t say a word. When his fingers lightly access under the fabric and caress the curve of her breasts, she holds her breath. Then Noah pokes her nose, leaving a streak of cream on the tip and laughs, a boyish sound.

“Charming,” she says.

“I know,” he replies.

But even when he says that, it seems that his usual cocky grin is subdued. He seems more serious now, his gaze more intense and darker than it was the night before, like something in him has shifted. There’s a depth to his look, a quiet mindfulness that wasn’t exactly there before, the previous night when they were finally all brave and playful.

She tries to see what’s there, in his eyes, but before she can, he hands her the sunscreen bottle. “Your turn,” he says.

An hour under the sun and Noah’s freckles begin to appear more prominently across the bridge of his nose, like a constellation made of stars. He seems unaware of how they dot his face, of the beauty he carries with himself, as natural and unassuming as the rest of him.

Eventually, she pulls herself away from staring at him and buries her attention in a book, propped on her forearms, body stretched out on the towel. Noah takes a nap before shifting to lie on his side and starts kissing her shoulder. He inquiries about the book she’s reading. The Remains of the Day. Noah mentions he’s read something from Ishiguro before—Never Let Me Go, perhaps? He pretends to read the chapter she’s focused on, but his lips and fingers have other plans, distracting her with light touches, making her laugh and squirm when he starts tickling her.

The book eventually ends in Noah’s hands. He starts reading the novel, for real, and lets her explore the tattoos on his chest, stomach and arms, answering distractedly every question she has about them.

She rests for a while on the towel, gazing at the sky with her hands flat on her stomach. After a while, she gets up and walks toward the water.

The sun is beginning its slow descent, melting into the horizon, bleeding orange and pink across the sky. The beach is nearly empty except for the two of them and some tourists in the distance.

The waves lap gently at the shore as she steps into the cool, damp sand. The wind carries the scent of salt and something floral. The beauty of the moments feels surreal, and she wonders if she’s dreaming again.

Time slips away as she stands in the sand, waves crashing around her, her hair tousled by the wind. She’s unaware of the male gaze observing her from the towel. But an instant or two later, male arms are wrapped around her middle, and Noah’s cheek presses against hers.

She nuzzles into him, placing her hands over his and letting his movements guide her, swaying. She’s never felt so… at ease.

“It’s hard to believe in anything that’s not this moment, right now,” he murmurs into her hair.

She cradles his cheek and turns to face him. Their eyes meet, and there’s no pretense, no walls.

“Is this what I’ve been missing?” She asks, searching the depths of his brown eyes.

Yes, it is, but instead of answering her question, he says, “I should have said something earlier.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she replies, a tender hand cupping his sun-kissed cheek face. “I should’ve understood earlier. The way you used to look at me… It was too dreamy to be real.”

He presses a kiss to the palm of her hand, his voice low. “I wish I could tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

“Everything. What this means to me. How I feel. How I’ve felt for years and how awful I feel for not having had the guts to—”

She places a finger on his lips.

“We’re here,” she presses her body against his for emphasis. “Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. What this means to you… it means the same to me, Noah. I dreamt of you. You were my every fantasy. For years.”

“Tell me your dreams,” he demands. “I’ll make them come true. Each and every single one.”

“You’re already doing that.”

Noah’s fingers brush against the damp skin of her back. The world around them hums with distant laughter and soft music, but here, in their little pocket of space, time feels suspended. His touch wanders. He shifts closer because he needs her.

Unintentionally, right before he’s about to kiss her, his fingers catch on one of the strings of her bikini top. A simple tug. The tension in the knot gives way too easily. He is barely aware of what he’s done before the fabric slackens.

A breath. A pause.

She stiffens, just slightly. Her shoulders tense, her body alert in the way someone instinctively braces for exposure. Noah realizes what he’s done in the same instant she glances around, eyes darting to the people farther up the shore. They’re too far to see, too lost in their own moments to notice. But still, she hesitates.

However, she doesn’t reach to fix it.

She doesn’t step away.

Instead, she turns her gaze back to him, eyes gleaming.

He understands.

His breath catches as he lifts his hands again, this time deliberate. His fingers find the second tie at the nape of her neck. The knot comes undone easily beneath his touch, the damp fabric slipping free. The bikini top flutters down, catching the breeze before landing softly at their feet in the sand.

Before she can move, Noah closes the space between them. His arms come around her, hands on her waist, pulling her against him, their bodies flush. His warmth envelops her, shielding her. Protecting her.

His thumb traces over the faint scar just beneath her breast. He lingers there, reverent, as if trying to read her past through it.

“That’s a story for another day,” she whispers.

His fingers flex against her skin. “I’ll take care of you.”

A soft exhale leaves her lips before she rises onto her toes, hands threading around his neck. Their mouths meet—slow at first, tasting the promise. Then deeper. Needier.

He doesn’t think before his arms tighten around her waist. He lifts her and he carries her forward, her legs around his hips, his feet greeted by water. Waves curl around them, rising to their waists as he holds her close.

She frees his hair from the bun.

“I’m not sure you love the bun or hate it,” Noah muses.

She grins against his wet lips. “I love how ridiculously hot it makes you look,” she admits, “but the urge to run my fingers through your hair is impossible to resist.”

He hums in satisfaction and kisses her with an open mouth, hungrier and greedier.

There’s only the press of their bodies, the rhythm of the tide, the quiet gasp of her breath against his mouth.

And the night, vast and endless, coming to swallow them whole.

Steam curls into the air as water cascades down their bodies. The salt is long gone from their skin, for they’ve been in the shower longer than they can track.

They move around each other in the small space, washing and rinsing, touching slowly, learning.

He washes her hair, fingers massaging her scalp, nails scratching lightly in a way that makes her eyes flutter shut. She does the same for him, but when she stands in front of him, on her tiptoes to reach, he nibbles at her wrist, making her giggle—so much that he has to catch her before she slips.

She’s happy, thinking about how her hair will smell like his now.

They stand under the stream of water for a while, hugging, saying nothing.

When she shivers, Noah shuts off the water and hands her a towel before grabbing one for himself.

Later, after they’ve brushed their hair and dried off, still wrapped in towels, she catches sight of him at the sink, securing a pink butterfly clip into his damp hair, pinning a few strands back from his forehead.

From where she’s perched on the bed, with a foot propped up to apply moisturizes, she bites her lip to keep from grinning.

“That’s adorable.”

Noah glances at her in the mirror, then snorts when he realizes what she’s talking about. “Lily gave it to me when she was eight. Said it made me look cooler.” His mouth quirks. “She lied, obviously.”

“No,” she says, setting her foot back down on the carpet and flipping her hair over one shoulder. “It’s very fashionable. You should wear it all the time.”

“Instead of the bun? I don’t believe you,” he teases back.

She sticks her tongue out and walks toward her suitcase, which she’d brought over from her room after they got back from the beach. He watches her, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. Water still beads along her collarbones.

She grabs her underwear, then pauses, letting it dangle from her fingers. When she turns back, the fact that Noah was watching her makes her heart jump.

The way he stands there, with only a towel slung around his waist and damp hair messy except for that ridiculous pink clip doesn’t help the heat curling low in her stomach.

She considers the fabric between her fingers, then tilts her head.

“Do you want to get dirty again?”

His eyes darken, a slow, lazy smirk playing at his lips. “Do I want to get dirty again?” he repeats. “I think you know the answer to that, love.”

Her smile could stop wars.

She drops the underwear back into the suitcase and walks up to him, fingers grasping the hem of his towel, brushing against the skin just below his navel.

“The clip stays on,” she says.

Noah exhales a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow as he lets her guide him toward the bed.

“On one condition,” he says, catching her wrist just before she can tug the towel away and reveal his growing erection.

She lifts a brow.

“The clip stays on,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower, “as long as you do.”

They hold each other’s gaze. The space between them disappears, years of hesitation dissolving into certainty.

Her smile widens, so big it makes her cheeks ache.

He just sealed a deal that will have him wearing that hair clip forever.

He knows.

She tugs the towel from his waist and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

And then, there is no space left between them and no more years of sleep.

💕 Happy Valentine's Day to all of you, my loves:

@rumoured-whispers | @iconic-taurus | @bloody-spades | @bluestdai | @theanarchymuse95

@somebodyels3 | @blade-dressed-in-red | @todressabladeupinred | @turn-your-life-into-folklore | @thecoyotescry

@iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @tosoundlessdarkistare | @missduffsblog | @flowery-mess | @chey-h

@tf-is-aesthetic | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare | @fadingangelwisp | @respectfulrebel | @amelia-acero

@theasowle | @xxkatsatwatwafflexx | @lunabuna991 | @ferduttini | @lacy1986

@bad-idea2021 | @death-ofpeace-ofmind | @n0ahsebastian

I'm sorry if I forgot someone!

#noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens one shot #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction

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curatedcurios1ty · 2 days ago

Text

(18+, fingering. reader has a pussy)

It had been a long week, and honestly, it had been even longer since you’ve masturbated.

It’s not that you dislike devildom or anything..it’s just a little frustrating not having any time to really take care of yourself.

So when the perfect night rolls around, with most brothers out of the house (lucifer meeting with diavolo, mammon doing god knows what, asmo clubbing, levi at a convention with beel tagging along, and satan at book club). You take full advantage.

And so, that’s how your night begins, you’re under your blanket with your knees up, underwear hanging off of one ankle, your hand makes its way between your legs and you sigh, finally.

And yeah maybe you’re kinda excited to be able to cum, too excited in fact. To the point where you almost (almost) miss the click of your door opening.

Dammit!

God Dammit. That’s it, you decide, the entire universe must be against you. Shouldn’t he be sleeping? Fuck! You drop your knees back down onto the bed. Belphegor makes his way over to the bed, he’s just about to get under your covers when you reach out a hand to stop him.

“Hold on, not tonight.” Thankfully he pauses, fist wrapped around the blanket.

“Why not?” His voice is soft, he’s almost pouting.

“It’s just…because, i’m busy right now.” You don’t have the heart to tell him what you were actually doing. Yet, after a moment of silence he’s already pressing forward again.

His expression shifts into something quizzical, like he’s trying to figure something out. You see him sniff the air around you and look back at you.

“You’re turned on. Were you masturbating?”

God fucking dammit. This is embarrassing. Is it a demon thing? You knew Asmodeus could sense lust, but can Belphie really smell your arousal? Well if he knows, he should be giving you space now. You hope.

“Uh, yeah actually,” That was still mortifying to admit, your body feels hot in more ways than one. “That was my plan for tonight, so maybe you should nap someplace else?” Even after all of this you still want to cum.

Instead of listening to you, Belphie fully slides under the covers. His eyes hold this intensity you’ve never seen before, and it’s all directed towards you.

“Let me help you, turn around.” He sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard. You don’t know what compels you to but you obey, turning so he’s pressed up against your back.

He wedges his head into the crook of your neck and inhales. “Let me take care of you.”

One of his hands traces along your side until it reaches the swell of your ass. He gives it a light squeeze before gripping your cheek and using it to push it to the side, giving him access to your pussy.

He uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and fuck, you’re glad he can’t see how soaked you are..it’s just been so long.

As soon as that thought passes through you, feel his other hand reach under you. He drags his middle finger over your throbbing clit down to your sopping, wet hole before pulling back completely. You can’t help but moan, his touch is delicate yet deliberate. You want more.

You’re about to ask him why he stopped when his hand comes out from under the covers and into view. He holds it out in front of the two of you.

“Wow, you’re really wet, huh?” You can’t help but to be in awe as well. The digit is shining in slick juices, only made worse when he spreads it over to his pointer finger with his thumb.

“Belphie, keep going,” You don’t think you can take this teasing, not when he’s still holding you open. “please.”

“Okay.” The fingers disappear from view, a moment later you feel them on your clit rubbing in small circles. You move to grind on them but the hand on your ass holds you in place.

This continues for a while, you’re getting more turned on by the second. It’s good, but you need more.

“Put a finger inside.” You expect the ones on your clit to fulfill that task, but instead he stops holding you open to wriggle his other middle finger inside you. Fuck, it’s almost too much it’s-

“So good.”

He’s mouthing along your neck as he stretches you with his finger. He’s slow with it, but it feels like you’re on fire. Soon, you feel him slip out completely and trace over your hole with two fingers.

“Can I add another?” You nod, not sure if your voice would come out whole. Slowly, his fingers push in, and you gasp. He reaches so much deeper than you could on your own.

Slow thrust turn into slight stretching, which then turns into him curling his fingers. Hitting that gummy spot that makes your mind go blank.

“Do you think you could come, just like this?” His breath is hot against your neck, hell, everything is hot right now.

“Yeah, I could. Keep going, please.” And you mean it. Fuck, your orgasm is so close you can taste it. Like he can read your mind, his hands speed up. You’re moaning louder than before. And just like that something snaps.

You feel yourself clench around his fingers during your orgasm. Your sure belphie can feel it too, from the breathless way he says your name as his hands slow back down.

You’re still blinking hard from the aftershock when he finally pulls away. You turn your body to see him wipe his fingers on the corner of the blanket. Too out of it to say anything, you try to remember to wash it later.

He turns back to you and looks you in the eyes. Even if his face is flushed you can tell that he’s utterly exhausted. Your point is proven by how he cuddles up to you and completely deflates.

“Can we sleep now?” Any reply you would have giving would be useless. His eyes closed, and breathing already slowing down. You decide that you could save a real conversation for later.

For now you’ll just lie down with him.

#happy valentine’s day?#obey me belphegor #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #belphegor x reader #belphegor x mc #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #k writes #obey me swd #obey me smut

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nakylvr · 12 hours ago

Text

— BACK TO ME

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ after an argument breaks out and hurtful things are thrown, you leave for a few days, and daniela realizes just how much she needs you

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ angst with happy ending, language, established relationship, dealer!dani au, arguments

now playing જ⁀➴ back to me by the rose

things had been straining recently. with tax season coming up you spent most of your days after work trying to figure out how to not get completely fucked over and get a ton of money taken out. you also got promoted at your job, which was both a blessing and a curse. more money was always a good thing, but your patience was already wearing thin when the argument started.

you had just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to relax when you realized daniela wasn't in the apartment. too tired, you shrug it off and lay down on the couch, still in your work clothes, not bothering to change. you ended up falling asleep faster than you anticipated.

when the front door opened, it was dark outside. you could hear it, but you couldn't find it in you to get up.

"yn?" daniela's voice is heard quietly. "what are you doing on the couch?"

you hum, opening your eyes groggily and looking up at her. "where were you?" you mumble.

"had to run out real quick," she answers. "come on, let's go to bed."

"for hours?" you say before you can think.

daniela's expression changes at your words, but you don't notice past the dark in the room. "i needed to do some stuff," she responds. "i'm sorry." she doesn't know why she's saying it. most likely out of fear that this conversation will spiral out of control after all the bullshit that happened earlier in the year. she doesn't want a fight right now, and she's trying to keep it from happening.

"who were you with?" you ask, slowly sitting up.

"minji," daniela answers truthfully. "she needed some help getting a gift for hanni, then she came with me for a deal that i had to do on the way back."

your eyebrows furrowed together, looking back at her. "you let her go along with you?" you inquired.

"yeah?" dani replies, but it comes out unsure. "i knew you were getting off work late and i didn't want to bother you."

"but you let minji go with you?" you press. "you told me i was the only one."

"well, yes. but minji's my close friend, i–"

"didn't see anything wrong with it?" you cut her off. "cause it looks a little weird when all your clients know me and then you show up with some other girl that's not me? let me guess, you saw keeho?"

"how did you–" daniela gets cut off again by you talking over her.

"he texted me," you tell her. "asking, and i quote 'who this random chick' is with you instead of me. so it's not just me thinking i'm crazy."

"i didn't say you were crazy," daniela quickly says, shaking her head. "baby, please, this isn't that serious. you know minji."

"but other people don't," you respond. "what if it wasn't keeho?"

"i-" daniela stops herself, taking a breath. "this is the only time i've brought someone other than you."

"but why?" you stand up from the couch, making daniela take a few steps backwards. "you're the one who tells me that you don't let anyone go because you don't want them to see, but minji is just a different story or something?"

"it's one time!" daniela says, her voice raising slightly. "why does it matter?"

"why does it matter?" you repeat. "you tell me, daniela. you tell me." you cross your arms over your chest.

daniela is quiet for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say to not upset you more. "i know what you're thinking, but this isn't a big deal. i let her come along because it was keeho. nothing else, no other reason," she tells you. "i promise."

"not a big deal, you keep saying that," your voice turns sharp. "what's not a big deal? that i'm reasonably concerned when you're out hours past when i got back and tell me you were doing some stuff, helping minji get a gift for hanni, and do a deal? because those are multiple different answers."

"oh my god," daniela mumbles, looking around before back at you. "yn, seriously, it's nothing."

"give me your phone," you demand.

"what?" she looks at you confused.

"consider this a phone check. give it to me." you hold your hand out.

"you're serious?" daniela asks. when you don't answer, just stare at her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you. "jesus christ," she grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

looking through the recent messages, your fingers hover over one specifically, and when you glance up from the phone to look at daniela, she feels her heart drop to her stomach at the expression on your face.

"so what? you have clients wanting to get you shit for valentines day? is that the excuse you're going to give?" you say seriously, tilting your head to the side.

"what?" daniela lets out. "no one has–"

"what's this about then?" you hold the phone towards her, showing a thread of messages.

"that's jaehyun!" daniela exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "he's my friend!"

"and you know i don't like how close he is with you!" you retort, your voice raising. "every time we go to his place it's like i don't even exist! he's obviously hitting on you!"

"he literally isn't! he's gay!" daniela scoffs, shaking her head. "plus, he literally has a boyfriend!"

"well that didn't stop you the first time, did it?" the words come out faster than you could think.

"right," daniela scoffs again, nodding her head. "right, because it's always my fault, isn't it? i'm always the one fucking up, right?"

"yeah!" you nod. "you're the one who says you can pull anyone, and then you act like i'm fucking crazy when people are all over you and i don't like it! like it's not right for me to feel upset even though i'm your girlfriend!"

"i've never called you crazy! when have i once said that?!" daniela's voice starts getting louder, nearing the edge of yelling.

"but you look at me like it!" you end up yelling first. "like-like it's a problem that i get jealous! you're allowed to have your hands all over me when i'm with my friends when you're jealous but when you have three different girls who give you thousands of dollars each month all over you it's weird when i get defensive and jealous!? that's not fair, daniela!"

"so what? i'm supposed to just sit there while girls eye-fuck you or try to get all close?!" daniela retorts. "you don't even know! you're so fuckin' naive that you think everyone just wants to be friends!"

"naive? i'm naive?" you let out a laugh, shaking your head. "right, sorry for being nice enough to make friends who don't just want to fuck me for some shit!"

"they still want to fuck you!" daniela yells. "look at sophia! you ran to her when shit got hard and look what happened! who's telling me that you won't go run off to some other 'friend' of yours only for them to fuck you while you were still mine!"

you stop once sophia's name is spoken. daniela knew better than to bring her up after the events that happened, knowing how much you regretted your stupid decision and how bad you felt about it afterwards. but in the heat of the argument, the second the words leave daniela's mouth you're standing there in silence.

"you know what," you eventually speak up. "maybe i will."

"will what?" daniela asks, seemingly not realizing what she said and how you took it.

you shake your head, letting out a scoff. you toss her phone on the couch and walk into the bedroom, not saying another word.

"yn?" daniela sighs. "yn! what are you doing?"

a few minutes later you walk back out with a bag in your hands, making daniela's eyes go wide.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

"i'm going to jungwon's for the night," you answer simply. "or, the rest of the night, i guess."

"what?" daniela looks at you confused. "why?"

you stare at her with a deadpan expression, waiting to see if she'll notice what she said. when she clearly doesn't, you shake your head again. "because he's a friend who won't fuck me while i'm still yours. those are your words," you tell her before starting to walk to the front door.

your words make daniela realize what she said, and she immediately starts following after you to the door. "yn? yn, baby, don't be like this! i didn't mean to bring her up!"

"but you did." you swiftly turn around, causing her to abruptly stop. "you did even though we talked about it and you knew how fucked up i felt afterwards. but if this is what comes out of your mouth when we argue, then i know you're still pissed about it. so, i'm leaving for the night, or maybe a few days, i don't know." you shrug. "i know i fucked up with what i did. i regret it. but you told me it was okay. when apparently it isn't if you're bringing it up. so while i'm gone, you think about what you want, daniela. because you are on thin ice, and it's cracking. so figure it the fuck out."

you leave the apartment before daniela can get a word out, the door slamming behind you echoing through the place. she stands there for a few minutes, waiting to hear you come back, but you never do.

"god damnit," she sighs, dragging her hands over her face.

the whole remainder of the night daniela kept texting you, telling you to come back, that she was sorry and didn't mean it. but, that's how she always was whenever you two fought. and you were tired of everything right now.

when you got to jungwon's, he was surprised to see you, but when you explained the situation he immediately brought you inside and talked with you about the whole thing. he was always good with comforting others and advice. plus, he could tell you were straining yourself recently.

while daniela sat inside the apartment, moping around waiting for you to come back, still texting you as the day passed and you didn't return or respond. she knew you were upset with what she said, that was obvious. and she couldn't lie and say that the event didn't gnaw at her every fiber since she found out, even if sophia got what she deserved in the end, because it did. she knew it shouldn't. that it was a moment of vulnerability for you, that you had no one else to go to. it all spirals back to her regretting what she did in the first place to start it all.

for the whole day daniela thought of what to do, how to fix this. she sat on the couch for hours thinking of what will make you not mad at her anymore. when she got an idea.

it was day three and you still weren't responding, so daniela took matters into her own hands and texting jungwon asking if you were there. he answered truthfully, saying that he wanted her to figure it out with you so he was trying to help the most he could. so she drove over to his place.

standing in front of the door, daniela shifts her weight from one foot to the other anxiously, biting her lip in hopes that this would work. the door opens and jungwon is revealed, who smiles at her.

"hey, dani," he says. "she's in the guest room."

"thanks," daniela replies, walking past him when he opens the door wider for her.

approaching the guest room, daniela knocks on the door a few times, hearing you hum on the other end. she slowly opens the door, making you turn and see it was her. your expression hardens, and dani notices, knowing she's still in deep shit.

"hey," she says awkwardly, pulling the flowers from behind her back. "i got you these." she holds them out, looking at the ground.

you can't help the way your eyes soften at the tone in her voice, quiet and hesitant compared to the confident loudness you were used to. she looks like a kicked puppy staring at the ground, and you let out a short sigh before getting off the bed, walking over to her and taking the bouquet from her.

"i'm sorry for what i said," daniela mumbles. "i didn't mean to say it i just...i still think about it sometimes and i don't know why. i know you didn't do it to hurt me on purpose but sometimes i...i worry that you're going to leave once you realize i'm not the best for you."

her words shock you as she still stares at the ground, finally speaking the thoughts that had been eating her up inside. "dani..."

"i-i know i'm not the best," she quickly adds. "i know you can find someone who will treat you better like it's nothing. but i don't– i can't lose you. i love you so much, so fucking much, and it scares me so much when we fight because i know every time it's another tick gone and that eventually you'll get tired of me and leave. i don't want you to leave. we fight, we have our ups and downs, but you always stay. you always stay and i know one day y-you won't." daniela's voice cracks at the end, tears filling her eyes the longer she talks. "i'm sorry." a few tears fall.

carefully setting the flowers on the bed, you take another step towards her and cup her face in your hands, making her look at you finally. "it's okay," you tell her softly. "you're right, i always stay. i always stay because i love you. i wouldn't if i didn't. dani, i don't think you know that you are the best relationship i've had. all of the other ones ended like shit. you prove to me time and time again that even if you fuck up, you own up to it and you don't run away. i won't ever get tired of you, i promise." you wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. "i love you, and i love the flowers. you always know what to get me."

"i try," daniela responds quietly, nodding slightly.

"i know." you nod. "and i love that about you." you lean in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

parting from the kiss, daniela's arms snake around your waist and pull you close to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck. "i love you," she murmurs against your skin.

"i love you too," you reply, petting her head gently.

#katseye thoughts 💭#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #daniela avanzini thoughts 💭#daniela avanzini x reader #daniela imagine

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darinawrites · 2 days ago

Text

♧|Aib characters protecting you in lights out|♧

Characters: Kuina, Arisu, Chishiya, Ann, Niragi

A/n: Since the Aib fandom on tt is only talking about how they would be in squid game, I thought this would be interesting. Also, I lost the longer version of this and cried at the loss of the 1.7k words I wrote 💔 I'm too sleep deprived for all of this, I just want my sleep man I also can't tag Ann without my post glitching out for some reason. Had to sit here 40 minutes trying to decipher what I did wrong with the tags.

┆彡Chishiya

He would be prepared, immediately figuring out what the game is trying to provoke and would make a plan

He knows physical strength is something he lacks in, so he'll try and make weapons out of everything. Give him toilet paper and he'll somehow make it explosive. Don't test this mans concerning knowledge of weapons.

While telling you his plan, he'd try and convince himself it's for his own greed. That you fight well and could even be a potential sacrifice, but he knows it isn't true. He knows there's a sincere affection beneath his actions. He's confident in his plans, he doesn't need you as backup. Especially since it would hold him back, your scrupulous personality picking fights with ever other person, making you a target. Yet the words still flew out of his mouth

Oh, love. How much he loathed how it made him act against what he believes. How your wellbeing is in his thoughts much more than he'd like

But he won't ever tell you his worry, not at all. He'd hide it behind the apathetic personality he built up.

Overall, he would protect you in a way you wouldn't notice, but put his thoughts at peace

"Chishiya, how the fuck..." you were astonished at what he could make with such little resources. A makeshift knife shining on his hand.

"For what do you need that anyways? I thought your confident in your plans, not the genius you thought you were?" you teased, earning yourself a small, barely noticeable grin on his face.

"It's good to have a weapon, regardless of the fight happening today. Besides, with all the enemies you have it wouldn't be so bad to have a little help." his words made you gasp loudly and dramatically. Staring at him with an over exaggerated shock on your face.

"You really think I can't beat their asses, Chishiya? You think so low of me." clutching your heart as if its broken, your words flowing out with fake emotion.

"Oh, I would never." he said with as much emotion he could muster to imitate your disappointed voice. Quickly hiding his weapon as he saw the guards come with breakfast.

"You better! Or else I'll kick your ass too." you giggled, standing up to get food that will only last for a few hours before hunger rumbles in your stomach again. But you'll take everything you can.

┆彡Kuina

While she wouldn't notice immediately what the game is trying to do, she surely will notice what the O players plan to do. She isn't stupid and it wouldn't surprise her once she realizes. Noticing how petulant people around her are.

She wouldn't worry lots though and not put much thought in what she'd do when it happens. She can easily beat all the inexperienced players around her, she's strong and has nothing to worry about.

Kuina wouldn't be an outstanding target either. She's amiable, but also reckless. Earning respect of some and being looked down by others. But you? You aren't a target, you're a victim. Your closed in personality earning yourself to be pushed around by others. Kuina is always there to protect you though, whether that be with words or her fist.

And did I mention what an absolute sweetheart she is? She would always want you to be near her, near enough to protect you. You can count on her to make you feel safe

The flashing of the lights made you panic, losing sight of Kuina as screams emerged around you. You remember her warning you of this, of the bloodlust. The sight around making you want to throw up.

You know you were weak, a target to many. Your breaths were irregular as you frantically looked around for Kuina, her presence seemingly nowhere to be seen around you.

Yet as you tried to call out for her, your weight was suddenly dropped as you made a thud sound. Looking up, you noticed the person who pushed you. A brute who also partook in 'bullying' you.

The smirk he gave you made you nauseous, a smirk that held power over you. You didn't even fight back, no, you gave up. Knowing what as about to come, you closed your eyes and simply waited for the impact.

But instead of pain ringing trough your body, a loud smack and groan could be heard. As you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see Kuina skillfully beat up the man before pulling you up and to a corner.

It happened so fast, your brain barely processing what was going on as you were pulled away from the fight. It's only once you had a moment to take a breath did you speak.

"Wow, I didn't know you could fight so well." you said. She didn't fight just to fight like the others, her moves were thought out. It was impressive and you were immensely grateful for her.

"Well, I'm not just all looks. Even if I am hot." she replied sarcastically, a trait you've always admired and loved about her. The screams in the background nearly forgotten as you laughed together.

┆彡Niragi

Niragi would know a fight will be starting because he's the one to initiate it. Planning to do so with his side, not to win the vote tomorrow but simply for fun. It gives him a sense of pride and superiority when hurting others, he loves it.

What he wouldn't love though is people hurting you. He'll make sure to make it clear to anyone what will happen if they dare to do so. And they definitely did see it. His tracksuit all bloodied up after starting a fight in the bathroom with a guy who got closs to you.

Safe to say no one will be near you

Niragi is also the type to worry, but hide it. He couldn't let anyone see such a side of him, who knows what they'll think. He will be denial, trust me. Denying his care for you

Well, sure. Maybe he'll beat up any guy that comes near you. Maybe he told you to hide tonight, even if he knows no one will come near you. Maybe he'd give you weapons, but that definitely doesn't mean he cares. Not at all.

The delicious flavours of kimbap filled your mouth, a small yet filling meal. Something proper to eat after they basically starved you for days.

The satiating of your stomach, the rumbling quieting down. It felt so good, enjoying yourself in the little blissful moment you had.

That was until a familiar voice called out for you, bringing your focus away from the food. You silently groaned at the voice. The figure now entering the corner of your eyesight.

"What do you want now, Niragi" you asked him, now standing in front of you. Does the universe really hate you that much to ruin every small nice thing you have?

He gave you a small smirk at your frustration before handing you a fork. "Take this and keep it with you" he said with no explanation.

"The hell, you don't need a fork to eat kimbap. Where did you even get this??"

"It's to attack others, dumbass." he rolled his eyes. And it pleasantly surprised you that he cared over something like that.

"Gee, since when did you care about something like safety?" you giggled as you teased, but instead of a smirk or a returning choice of words he was reacted unusual.

"Don't push it and don't fuck with me. Just keep it with you." he said much too loud for your liking, a few heads turning to look at you both.

"Alright, goodness." you murmured more of so to yourself, but a tinge of happiness rang trough your body at his gesture. And when he finally left you alone, you let a smile slip. If only you could see him more often like this.

┆彡Ann

She immediately noticed the games intent. It's simply in her nature, she's observant and watches everything with meticulous care to the details. It's stupid to think he wouldn't notice. She'd tell you her observations and set out a plan together

And it is the most detailed yet somehow simplest plan.

Ann wouldn't be an outstanding target. She only surrounds herself with people who are trustworthy, not letting other players have a chance to know her much. She sees everything, she watches everytime she can so she knows a lot about other people and who to trust.

In that area she protects you, from bad influence. Your bubbly personality loves to socialize, so she'll always keep eyes on who you're being friendly with.

It felt like an eternity before the flickering of the lights stopped and the guards came back to shoot the ceiling. You flinched just as much as your body allowed you to before the pain came back in.

You should have paid more attention. You should have taken the warnings of Ann seriously. Maybe then you wouldn't be leaning against a wall with a big gash on your arm, a mark of betrayal. You felt so stupid to have trusted them, resulting in you loosing Ann and being attacked.

The thoughts clouding your mind got stopped for a moment as you heard your name being called, looking up to meet her gaze. Hand clutching your other arm as it bleed trough.

She didn't let a word out, calmly grabbing her green jacket to properly care for your wounds, her limited medical experience being able to do so.

"It'll hurt, be ready." she hummed, tying the tracksuit around the wound securely, staying very calm while doing so as you groaned out at the sharp tug of the pain.

"I'm sorry, Ann.." you hushed out once she was finished, a guilty look plastered on your face.

"Mhh. Don't be so reckless next time, alright?" she answered, making you nod in agreement as you gave her a small smile. Clinging onto her as the wound still stung, and she allowed you to. Even with not being fond of affection so publicly, she simply stayed silent with a small tug of a smile on her face.

How glad you were to have her in such a place.

┆彡Arisu

Arisu is smart and can see trough the hearts of others, of course he'd notice the voting splitting the people. He's quick witted and would come up with a sensible plan immediately

But you'd have to constantly tell him to not worry so much. He can only suppress his anxiety when it tense situations, but knowing that the fight will break out days before it actually did simply gives him time to overthink. He wouldn't dare to think what would happen if he did something wrong and the cause would be your death. You're practically his will to live, he can't continue without him.

So, he'll try to keep you close to him. He'd be awkward about it and, of course, tries to know you're comfortable with. But he'd prefer for you to stay close

He'd protect you with his greatest strength, his intelligence. That man is lanky and wouldn't be the best fighter to protect you physical, but if he had to he would.

"Can you believe she said that. You just had to be there, it was such a cool fight." you rambled on and on about something you saw today, ranting to skip the time in this boring and ruthless place. It always felt nice to use your voice heavily, and you were grateful that Arisu always let you.

But as you looked up, you saw him paying you almost no attention. His eyes staring into the abyss, his thoughts occupying every sense in his body. And you immediately knew what was going on.

"Hey, Arisu. Is everything alright, something worrying you?" you asked, shifting his attention over to you as his face morphs into an apologetic one.

He ignored your question and started to incessantly apologize for not hearing you out, frustration pulling on your furrowed eyebrows as you tried to stop him.

"Arisu!" you managed stop him "Let me reword my sentence. Stop worrying so much about the plan." the words lingered in the air as you let it sink in, Arisu softening his features as he looked at you. Worry still there, but not as immense before your words.

"10 minutes until the lights go off!" the familiar yet mysterious voice rang again trough the speaker.

You smiled, softly locking your hands together as you held his tightly. Red slightly tainted his cheeks, something so small that you missed it as you simply enjoyed it while Arisu was nervous with this much contact.

"It's almost time, come on, let's go. We'll be fine" you tugged on his hand. You couldn't even deny your own anxiety now bubbling inside, standing upt to get ready. But as you saw Arisu beside you, alive and well, you knew everything will be alright. You trust him, even if he doesn't trust himself.

#aib chishiya #arisu ryohei #chishiya shuntaro #kuina hikari #kuina alice in borderland #kuina x reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x you #aib #shuntaro chishiya #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #aib niragi #arisu x reader

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leviathansmistress · 3 days ago

Text

Oceans & Engines

Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Tags/warnings: Angst w/ comfort, break ups, r ghosting Natasha, cheating (?) everything is for you to find out ;)

A/N: Trash writing, I am guilty about rushing this one. Yes, the title is inspired with Niki's song, is the plot inspired with the song too? It's for you to find out ;) hAppy vday *monstrous evil laughs*

You didn't just wrong her, you also neglected her, insulted her, abandoned her and cheated on her. What happens when she tried to tempt you, seduce you and make you regret after everything she thought you had done to her?

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Natasha was on the run from the government but even before that she had already plan to run away in with you. But then, she had a hard time going to the place you and her talked about meeting and living in due to the government's executive order of strict policies going in and out of the country.

She called you, drunk, crying. She was so ready to go, all her stuff was packed already.

"Baby, w-wait for me alright? Wait for me, I'll be there. I'll find a way. Please." She begged, hand on her phone and a bottle of beer on the other. "Please, please, please Y/N. I'll come over, you wait for me there. Please."

She begged, over and over.

"Natasha...just please can you stop?" That was the last time she heard your voice, you telling her to stop—you telling her you met someone else in Belgium.

But she was going to propose to you.

She spiraled when Steve came to pick her up. She almost killed him when he said to let you go, that it won't be good for you if she was with you, a hard real talk he gave his friend that she needed the most.

Now, the blip happened. They're no longer fugitives, no longer on the run. Tony had summoned you to come back for good to the compound, he said he needs some help about something. At first, you didn't agree but you said you'll just help him with whatever he needs helping for but it needs to be done for 8 days, and you'll leave.

"Y/N didn't just wrong me, she neglected me, insulted me, abandoned me and cheated on me." She almost barks at Thor and Rhodey as they listen to her rant.

"I say revenge on her..." Rhodey nodded eagerly.

"I uhh, Banner and I were in a team called the Revenger before." Thor said between bites of his burger.

And that's how her plan started.

You are one of the geneticists together with Dr. Cho. You were called to assist the Avengers with the research and technology in war against HYDRA, and even after HYDRA you continued working for them. That's how you met Natasha.

You were waiting outside the compound when a big bike ran past you, if you weren't able to take a step back on that millisecond you will for sure be dead by now. You frowned and watched as the person behind the helmet revealed itself. There, you saw Natasha again. Her hair was cut short, she's blonde now. The frown turned into a smile. You were happy to see her—happy for her.

"Y/N? Hi."

"Hey..." You greeted back with a warm smile. You didn't see how her jaw clenched and how she gripped her helmet fighting the urge to lash out and throw it away, but she quickly concealed it with a smile which is something she's good at.

"Hey…long time?" There is a bit of sadness and bitterness in her tone but you were too jetlagged to even notice it, besides you were really still in shock to see her after all.

"Long time." You said with a solemn smile.

"If you're going to apologize, it won't matter anymore." Your heart dropped to your stomach with her words, now you wish she just ran you over. "Because I forgave you already." Now, your heart started to float back in place. Natasha let out a few laughs and you let out a nervous chuckle.

You shake your head side by side, biting your lip, "I'm sorry, Natasha. But…but I'm happy for you, seeing you now, wow. You're glowing." You looked at her with a smile and you missed how her jaw slightly tensed. But she masked it with yet another charming smile of hers, she just couldn't wait for what she's planned for you.

"How long have you been waiting here? Let's get inside."

The team welcomed you dearly. You told Tony you don't want a party since he joked about it, but in respect to those who were blipped, you declined. And actually, as much as possible you don't want others to see or even know you're going to visit. After what you did to Natasha you didn't expect others to be welcoming towards you especially Natasha herself. But she seemed to be mature—she has grown so much, well, that's what you thought.

The first night went well, there's a little reunion even though it can't really be called one since not everyone is here. A lot of stories were told here and there and Natasha did nothing but stare at you throughout the night. Your hair is much longer now and you were blooming as ever compared to the version of you when you were still with her and she hated that fact.

"She cheated on you, right?" Steve asked Natasha, who was preparing something in the kitchen. "What are you gonna do? Poison her?"

Natasha let out a dry chuckle at the fossil's accusation, "I won't poison her. I'll just…make her drool, tempt her. Make her remember." After focusing on plating the food, Natasha looked at Steve, "Then, I'll make her regret." She winked at him before walking her way out of the kitchen. "Anyone who's up for a bomb contest?" Natasha shouted to all of you, it is a little segment the team do whenever they all plan to have a night out Thor told you.

But you are sensitive to spicy foods.

"Y/N, you don't have a reason not to join." Natasha smirked despite knowing you don't like any food that has spiciness in it, no matter if it's just 0.01% spicy. You forced a smile nervously but you nodded defeatedly when the whole team cheered for you, eager to please them as well as Natasha.

Now, it's the final battle, it's just you, Thor, and Natasha that lasted long. You didn't even know how you got in here when you didn't even like spicy foods in the first place. Thor gave up winking at the red head, she gave him a knowing smirk before drinking her cup of milk.

"Gosh...sorry guys, I give up too. Natasha's the winner." You almost choked, fanning your sticking out tongue with your hand.

"Oh c'mon, you're better than that Y/N!" Rhodey shouted.

"There is no loser in this house. My bet is on you." Tony whispered behind you.

You can only giggle and wipe the hot tears forming in your eyes due to the spiciness. Despite your whole face burning now, you accepted the challenge. Natasha can only smirk before Steve placed the new set of chili's in front of you. After Tony counted, you and Natasha started devouring a mouthful of green pepper wrapped in an egg crepe. You stopped, chuckling about how the team is making you laugh when you were taking a break from eating, drinking your milk to break down the spice. The white liquid dribbled down your neck to your chest.

"Oh my god, oh my god. It's so spicy!" You moaned, making Natasha gulp as she watched you remove your cardigan, the milk trailed down to your cleavage. She almost drools when you tie your hair back, eyes shut close, chest moving up and down as you breathe through your mouth. Tony has been wiping your forehead and Rhodey has been cheering Natasha who was like a deer in a headlights.

"Natasha, you win, I really give up." You breathe, chuckling when Tony whines. Meanwhile, Natasha was still staring at the sight of you.

"Who's drooling now?" Steve whispered teasingly behind her.

"I won though." She fired back before taking a big gulp of water.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

"Stark this isn't some court hearing, you gotta do better than that." You laughed, head shot back it almost broke while Tony kneels in front of you. The man made you stop doing the help he asked you to just to practice on you on how she will propose to Pepper, but then the assassin ruined his momentum.

"That's what I told him, Natasha." You giggled, wiping the mirth of tears on your eye.

"Relax, Stark. I know your egotistical ass won't take advice about love. But take your time while you look deep into her eyes. Think of all the memories you've made together." The redhead was now deep in thought, she was not looking at you but you were looking intently at her.

"From all those missions I have been and sent through, you are my rest, my love I always go home to." Your chest tightened at her words, some memories hitting you bullseye. But Natasha still continued, she seemed lost in her own world and words, reciting a piece of vow not sure if it was still an advice to Tony or…

"Not all the things we went through were happy and easy. We hurt each other. But there's a reason why we're here together now. No matter the pain and hardships, I will always choose to love you and be with you."

There was silence, then an air of memories that filled the entire room.

"Will you marry me?" Natasha laughed awkwardly, breaking the thick silence that she can almost touch.

Tony immediately stood, his knees shaking. Natasha's litany almost made him forget that he has been kneeling for almost an hour now. "Romanoff, that's a masterpiece. I didn't know you had it in you. I'll probably copy that vow."

"I swear, Tony. I will file a lawsuit about plagiarism if you did." Natasha smirks playfully, but her face turned serious when she saw you already walking back to Tony's lab hoping that the place wasn't contaminated with the air of memories too.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Days had passed and you did nothing but catch up with the team. You also continued helping Tony about something, that is kept away from the others.

Natasha was looking at you, laughing on a phone call. The day of your departure is nearing and her mission seems to be not working just yet and she wonders why. Maybe she isn't trying hard? So something came up in her mind.

"Wanna spar?" She asked you, she watched you end the phone call you were having and slipped your phone back to the pocket of your jeans. Meanwhile, Steve, Thor and Bruce shot their heads towards you as they heard Natasha's invitation.

"Oh for the love of Odin…" Thor whispered.

"Doomed, that's what's going to happen. We're gonna be doomed." Banner said before exiting to go to his lab, not wanting to witness whatever might happen.

Natasha then looked up at the two, but they immediately pretended to be doing something. "Guys, who's up for sparring?" but then Natasha focused back on you, waiting for your answer.

Her gaze seemed to indicate she's taking no for an answer. "Well, I…I uhh I'll meet you in the gym in 20." You scrambled out before nodding slowly at the blonde.

"Perfect."

And in 20 minutes she just had you under her, and now it's already 6 times in a row. You held your breath, staring at her straight and tapped her arm in defeat. "Come on." She instigates, her voice coming out a bit raspier.

You breathe hard, standing before throwing another lame punch her way again that she easily dodges. She smirked before she grabbed your waist, turning your body 180° towards her then slammed you hard on the boxing floor. Her body was pressed against you harder this time, so much tension as if she put all her anger on that body slam. Her knee dug deep on your left thigh and her hand pushed ribs just right at your bare skin making you let out a loud cry in pain, her other hand trapped you beside your head.

"Romanoff." Steve forewarned, Natasha looked at him before turning her gaze back on you whose face was creasing.

She can still remember the last time she had you in this same position and God knows how she wanted to have you like this again, but hopefully in a different situation. You tapped her arm weakly in yet another defeat but it took her five seconds before she moved to stand, as if she's taunting you for it. You palmed your chest as you slowly sat up and caught your breath, eyes dragging up to Natasha who was removing her shirt, her muscled back facing you. You blinked and immediately shot your eyes somewhere else and that didn't go unnoticed to the redhead seeing you on her peripheral—because she purposely did it, to undress in front of you.

"You okay, Y/N?" Steve asked worriedly behind you and you nodded before standing, limping as you tried to walk.

"I'll retire early tonight." That's the last thing you say before walking out, not daring to look back at the gym afraid you'll only see the redhead burning holes in you.

When Steve was sure you were gone, he asked Natasha, "What are you doing?"

"Sparing?" She simply said, she knows what Steve was trying to point out but she avoided the elephant in the room.

"You know what you're doing."

Natasha walked towards him, her face inches to Steve. "Oh I do, Steve. So get out of my way." Before nudging her shoulders on him as she walks towards the shower.

"This will not do you any good." He said out loud before turning to look at her.

"It will, Steve. But her? No. And that's what I am doing."

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The shower of your room was not working and you did not bother to tell Tony about it, you're gonna leave two nights from now anyway so you decided to just go to the gym shower. Upon entering you saw Natasha, she just got out of the shower, she was wearing a muscle tee and a sports bra underneath with a matching jogger pants. Same ones she wore when she almost killed you in the boxing ring.

"The shower was broken." You broke the silence when the redhead looked at you shockingly, then, she hesitantly nodded.

There was a long silence that seemed to suffocate Natasha so she spoke, her voice almost cracking. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"It's fine. We all know who's going to win anyway." You smiled, but she was not able to see it since you were back to back on each other.

"Your flight is on Wednesday, right?" She asked, she turned to look at you. You hummed and didn't notice the pair of eyes watching as you started to remove your oversized shirt out of your body. "Still got some plans?" She asked again. Eyes dragging at the bare skin of your back. Now, you noticed how her tone changed to much softer this time—longing.

"Well, to spend time with you guys?" You let out a nervous chuckle toying with the strap of your sports bra.

You were about to walk inside the shower to drown the tension starting to form in your burning body, but rough hands on your bare waist stopped you. Natasha's breathing was hot against your shoulder, then, she turned your body so you're facing her. Your hands instinctively went on her chest. One of her hands cupped your cheek, her thumb caressing just the skin of your lower lip. She pushed you towards the cold tile of the bathroom and you let her—you leaned into her touch.

Faces inches between each other, noses brushing together. And her agape mouth ghosting onto yours exchanging hot breaths to each other's senses.

The first one to lean, loses.

"I…" you blinked as if you're realizing what situation you are in now and what actions might happen next in this very moment between you and your ex. "I'm getting married." Your lips shake, voice barely above a whisper. You ducked your head to the side to finally avoid her caspering lips, then slowly pushed her pressing body away from you.

She watched as you scramble to get your things and left the bathroom. She did not move there, alone, processing the words you just said.

You're getting married.

Oh.

Who loses now?

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The last night in the compound came and Tony told you to have a simple gathering before you go. He called it a simple gathering instead of a party since you don't want any celebrations if the team is not complete.

Dinner quickly passed and Tony in fact did a wine testing right after, for his wedding with Pepper. Everyone was getting tipsy and drunk now, especially Thor who was slumped against his chair.

"Y/N, you know how good Natasha is at bartending, right?" Tony asked since Natasha has been the one making and experimenting the drinks.

There is an awkward silence after the question. Of course, that's when you officially met Natasha, at that very party conducted by Tony. She was the one making drinks at the bar and from there, your love story started.

"Yeah." You smiled solemnly at the memory. The team could only shift on their seats, mentally killing Tony for unconsciously bringing things about your relationship with Natasha.

"Of course she will." Natasha huffed, head tilting as she looked straight at you. "In fact my next drink is called, Y/N." She started, holding the wine glass up in the air. "It is fucking delicious. But deadly."

Everyone who was already stirring on their chair was on the edge of their seats now, including Thor who physically flinched and immediately sat up straight.

"It will hit you unaware. Because this drink is a fucking traitor."

You bit your lip and did not dare to look straight at Natasha. Noticing it, she let out an emotionless chuckle, "Oh c'mon Y/N don't take it seriously. I was just joking."

Tony stood from his seat and firmly held Natasha's hand. Taking the glass away from her. "What about coffee, Natasha? I think we're all getting drunk now."

"Drunk?" The redhead laughed and pushed Tony away from her, "Tony we're just brainstorming for the drinks on your wedding c'mon. So for the next drink, I propose the name: I met someone in Belgium." Her tongue laced with venom, getting a new drink she made from the table.

You started to tear up, but no tears dared to escape your eyes that it started to sting.

"What, Y/N? No comment? What's your opinion about this drink?" Natasha asked apathetically, Tony was still trying to keep her from nearing you. "Tony, do you know you're not the only one who's gonna get married?" She looked around the confused and pale faces of the entire team, "Everybody knows that?" She mused.

You ignored her and slowly stood, "G-guys, I'll go now. My flight's early tomorrow." You faked a smile to cover the hurt and humiliation you're feeling.

"There, you'll leave again. You're really good at that Y/N. Fine, I'll give you that."

"Romanoff, enough." It's now Steve who called her out.

"Wait, Steve. I still have one last drink. Guys, wait. Please, please let me," She turned to the cart where the drink was originally placed before transferring it to the table. "This one is named Eumie. Is that her name? The one after me…" she posed as if she was in a deep thought before continuing, "or during, Y/N? C'mon, tell me. Tell us."

Tears now started running down your skin, you looked at the team one by one before looking straight at Natasha.

"I never cheated on you. Not with Eumie, not with anyone." You held back a sob. "I lied. I lied to make you stop begging." You croaked, wiping the tears that the dam wasn't able to suppress. "I'll go now guys. I'm sorry."

You rushed to your room not realizing the shouts of Natasha's name just right behind you. When you were about to close the door of your room, a boot made its way between the doorway preventing it from closing. You jumped and before you could even react Natasha was already slamming the door shut behind.

"You fooled me and up until now you're fooling me!" She shouted. You sat on the couch and put your elbows on your knees together. Fingers touching your forehead. You knew this would happen—her confronting you about what you did.

"For four years I believed that there was someone else and now you'll say that it was all a lie? Every night in those four years I carried it with me, thinking why, Y/N. How can you replace me that easily? Like I'm just a fucking trash!" She pointed her finger on you as she spat. "What does she have that I don't? Huh?! Much richer? Beautiful? Does she fuck you better than I do? I doubted myself for four years. I wanted to hurt you, go to Belgium and ruin your life that I can easily fucking do! And now, you want me to believe that all those things were just lies? So what's the truth now?! Because I don't know now why I am hurting." Her voice now broke from all the angry shouting.

You stood, walking past her, wiping the tears you don't want her to see. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't want you to make you feel that way."

She trailed behind you, "Your apology won't matter now, I need the truth! After all I have done to you, that's it?"

After all I have done to you, that's it? The words triggered an alarm in your head, you breathe hard, grabbing your suitcase and striding to the bathroom to get your dirty clothes. Your jaw hurt from keeping the suppressed sobs, Natasha saw you tear up now.

"Don't fucking cry, tell me the truth. Both of us was in that relationship. I deserve the truth, Y/N!"

"I got tired!" You cry out. Natasha's jaw clench, she is now the one taking a step back away from you. Only three words, but it hit Natasha like a physical blow—the words puncturing her heart.

"When you are drowning I don't want to drown with you. Natasha, believe me I tried. God knows I tried! But I can only do so much." You closed your eyes, and your dam of tears finally shattered. Your cheeks stung as salty droplets cascaded down your skin. "God, I hated loving you so much." You sobbed. "I needed you to grow up. I needed my girlfriend, I needed my partner back. You want us to get married but both of us were miserable. You're always on missions, when you get back home there will be celebrations, then the next day you're gone for missions again, leaving me alone not knowing when you will come back to me. That night you left to go for the accords and you knew our plans, Nat. We're going to run away together and never look back, but you ran away first. I promise to never use this against you, but you left me first Nat, you neglected me, you abandoned me. For all those years we've been together, I gave up my life just to be with you, always choosing you and I got tired, Natasha…" You saw that she was silently crying but was trying to stop herself from doing so.

"If you hated me, I hated myself as well. When you were hurting, I was hurting too. You wanted to punish me, I was punishing myself every single day. Because how did I give up on the person I loved the most? Why did I let go? But someone had to do it, someone had to end it. And I know you won't do it—you couldn't do it because you're right, there are two of us in the relationship and both of us will drown if no one will end it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry Natasha I hurt you."

"I'm sorry..." She rushed out in a sob. "God, I'm sorry, Y/N."

You just let out a weak smile, nodding off her apologies. It's okay now.

"Don't you not love me anymore?" She asked like she has been waiting for this very moment to finally say the words. Your brows creased together while you walked towards her, you cupped her race, thumb wiping the tears racing down her cheek.

"I can never unlove you, Natasha. I just love you in a different way now."

"I don't know how to let you go, Y/N. I don't know how to live without you…" She sobbed. You pressed your bodies together, letting her head fall down to your shoulders while you caressed the back of her neck as she continued to cry.

God knows how much you wanted to take away the anguish, the grief that had settled in her heart.

But you can only do so much.

After a long silence filled with your cries together. Natasha, even though she doesn't want to pull away from you just yet, she stepped back. "If we're going to go back on that night I left for that mission knowing that…this would happen to us, are you going to avoid me?" She asked, sniffling away the tears that had left in her. She finally looked at you, but much different now. More understanding, more care—more love.

And much importantly, acceptance.

You closed the distance between the two of you. You gave her a soft smile causing the redhead to break a smile as well. You reached for her face again, cupping and caressing it with both of your hands before answering her question.

"No. Even though I know that we wouldn't end up together, that we'll hurt each other…I think that's better than not having a Natasha Romanoff coming into my life."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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godmadeaterribleerror · 1 day ago

Text

Setting In A Honeymoon

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Oh to be loved. (back on my using gifs because they fit the vibes not the plot shit)

Chapter Title from I'm Like A Lawyer by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?), smut (breeding kink, oral, fingering, p in v)

“Sunshine-“

You hold a hand up—your attention still on the suitcases—and Ben falls silent, but you can still feel his glower. “Did you pack a toothbrush?”

“Of course I packed a fucking toothbrush-“

“And shampoo?”

“They’re going to have shampoo there-“

You shake your head, turning around and moving past Ben to the bathroom. “They won’t have the right shampoo-“

“It’s fucking shampoo.” He mutters, trailing after you to stand in the doorframe, watching you rifle through the cabinets with a frown. “It’s just goddamn hair soap-“

“And you have very nice hair, my love.” You walk up to him—bottle of shampoo in hand—and press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Let me take care of it.”

Ben’s frown deepens, even as his arm wraps around your waist. “That’s not your damn job, Sunshine-“

“Yes, it is.” You give him a wide smile, and feel all his love flare in your chest. “This is a two-way street, Pretty Boy. You refuse to let me fly on a plane, I refuse to let you neglect your hair.”

“Fine.” He grunts, leaning down to pull you into a long, easy kiss, going until you’re melted into his touch and clinging to his arm. But this is the last fucking thing, we need to go-

We have time. You pull away, reaching your free hand up to hold his cheek, your grin unrestrained and a little ditzy. All the time in the world.

Ben sighs, pulls your hand to his mouth, and kisses your knuckles with a deep glare you know is fake. If it’s not in the rough affection and devotion in his chest, it’s in the way he’s holding you so carefully against his body, like he can’t bear the idea of you even stepping away. “Be quick.” He grumbles, and you nod.

“I always am.” You drag yourself away from him, crossing back to the bed. Grumpy.

Shut the fuck up. He moves behind you, almost hanging off your body as you sort through the bags for anything else missing. Tell me how to make this shit go faster.

Patience-

No. Ben lowers his mouth to your neck, and you have to take a long breath as he starts to nip and suck at your skin. I want to take my wife on our fucking honeymoon.

Your wife wants to go on that honeymoon as well, but she also wants to make sure we have everything-

I have you, Sunshine. Ben’s hand grabs your chin, tipping your head back to capture your lips with his. That’s all I fucking need.

You let out a soft, blissful sigh. Romantic, Benjamin-

Only for you, darling. Let’s fucking go.

No, I need to feed Bowser-

I already fucking fed him-

What about the car-

Filled up the gas last night-

Okay, let me just-

Your silent words are cut off with a yelp as Ben scoops you up into his arms and marches you out of the bedroom, his whole body alight with a concrete determination.

“Benjamin-“

“We’re going now,” he grunts your name, shooting you a stern glare. “Everything is fucking fine, we’ve got all we need, and you’re going to fucking hurt yourself if you keep worrying.”

You pout up at him. “I am not going to hurt myself-“

“Yes, you are.” Ben half kicks open the front door of your house. “We’re going to leave, and you’re going to enjoy your goddamn honeymoon without losing that pretty mind about what could go wrong, got it?”

“But-“

“No.” He lowers you into the driver’s seat of the car, kneeling at your side on the pavement and blocking your path back out. “Look at me, beautiful.”

You glare at him, and he reaches up to trace a careful line over your cheekbone, dragging his thumb over your lip in a way that makes it very hard to act genuinely pissed at him.

“We’re good, Sunshine.” He mutters. “Ryan’s with Butcher, Annie and Kimiko have us covered at work, and if any shit goes wrong, which it fucking won’t, we’ll deal with it together.”

You swallow, nodding slowly. “And I get to drive?”

Ben chuckles. “You get to drive, you fucking brat.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, curling into the seat. “You love it.”

“I love you.” Ben rises up to press a kiss to your brow, hunger and his raw, focused love slamming into you like a train when you grab his face between your hands and pull him down into a full, devouring kiss. Fucking Christ, Sunshine, I love you.

I love you too, Benjamin. You pull back to give him a wide, easy smile. Am I allowed to go get the bags?

No. Ben smirks against your lips. Stay in your fucking seat, darling, or you’re not getting fucked for the whole week.

You snort, because that’s the worst lie he’s ever told you. You don’t think Ben would survive not fucking you for the whole week. He’s been looking forward to this more than you’ve ever seen him be excited for everything. The closer you had gotten to your honeymoon, the more he looked less like a massive, grumpy, amazing man-child and more like a little boy who was about to be set loose in a candy shop and told to go crazy. It’s why worrying about this was, admittedly, a little dumb. Ben wouldn’t let anything go wrong. He’d refused Rome as a destination because he’d never let you fly if he could fucking help it. He’d chosen this resort because they had a very good insurance policy that would allow you to burst into flames and Ben to break a lot of things. He’d even hounded after Singer for a special permission to drive into Mexico, so that the border patrol wouldn’t get all angry about the whole supe thing.

And you never doubt him. Not for a second. Ben never does anything but what he says he’ll do, and he’s sworn that this was going to be fucking perfect, Sunshine, and he was going make you forget your goddamn name, so it would be good.

Ben was good, so this would be fucking good.

The drive is long. Almost three days, both of you determined to utilize the advantage of being supes and make it the full drive with only a few stops for gas and one night spent at a hotel near the border. The gas is easy—Ben always stomping out of the station with a prideful glow in his chest as he presents his snack assortments to you like a dog offering its owner a rabbit—and you only leave a slightly charred indent on the wall of the hotel after Ben slams you into it and fucks you until you’re wrapped in flame, but your amazing, impossible husband is not helpful on the actual drive at all. He’s still incredibly anti-GPS, and when he’s not glowering at the map on your phone—grumbling that he’d be able to get you there just fine by his goddamn self—he’s being distracting. Rubbing patterns on your thigh and tracing his hand up to just rest over your pussy, only smirking whenever you shoot him a glare.

“Ben,” your voice is a little strained, because the asshole has started to rub. “You’re going to make me crash the car-“

“We’d live.” He shrugs, pinching your clit in over your panties and drawing a loud moan from your lips. “Need you fucking ready for me, Sunshine, I’m about to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked before-“

“You know you’ve fucked me the most, right?” You give him an amused look, trying not to giggle as he pauses, an almost adorable frown crossing his face. “At this point you’re making up about 85% of all sex I’ve had, ever. You’re only competing with yourself.”

Something hot and bright flares in Ben’s chest, his hunger settling right in your core, and you realize your mistake a second too late.

“Am I the best you’ve ever fucking had,” he drawls your name, his hand resuming with long, lazy movements. “The only one who’s ever fucked you properly, like the perfect fucking problem you are, fucking ruined you-“

“Shut up.” You mumble, small lights starting to dance through the car as your face heats up. “Of course you’re the best I’ve had, you asshole, you’re my husband-“

Second mistake. That only spurs him on.

“That’s fucking right, beautiful.” Ben leans over to growl right into your ear, spanking your pussy once and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “You’re fucking mine, and this cock his yours-“

You moan, grinding into his hand and thanking the universe that this highway is mostly empty. “Ben-“

“I’m about to fuck this pretty pussy full of me when we get to the resort,” he grunts, shoving a finger under your panties, right into your cunt. “Already so fucking wet for me, darling, ready to be pumped full of my cum-“

That’s enough. You flip on your turn signal, pull off to the side of the road, and almost leap out of your seat onto Ben’s lap.

The sex is quick, feral, and brutal. You half burn through his pants as you fumble with his belt, sinking yourself onto his cock in half a second, and squeaking as Ben wraps his arm around your waist, pinning you to his chest as he hammers up into you. You’re not quite burning, but you’re lost in the sheer power of the hunger and adoration in Ben’s body, and the sound of his skin slapping on yours, the way he’s biting and sucking at your neck, how deep he’s hitting inside of you-

You find release quickly, a second orgasm rushing through your body as Ben cums up into you with a roar of your name.

He drives the rest of the way—the combination of sex and almost two days of straight driving making your eyes start to droop, so Ben flat out refuses to let you keep going—and you slump in the passenger’s seat, your head buried in his arm and your mind a little high on the smell of pine and coffee and Ben.

You get through border security fast, mostly thanks to Ben’s sheer everything. You keep your face hidden against his body as he glowers at the guards, refusing to answer any sort of question about your lives outside of you’re heading to Mexico for your honeymoon, you have permission from the fucking president himself to cross the border with weapons—you’re the weapons, plus you’re pretty sure Ben has a gun in the trunk—yes, he’s over a hundred, but if these pussies try to act like they don’t know why he’ll fucking kill them, and obviously you’re fucking married, he’s wearing a goddamn wedding ring, and it was all over the damn papers after Homelander’s death.

“Nobody reads the papers, Benjamin.” You mumble as he pulls past the border checkpoint.

“Well how the fuck do those pussies get the news-“

“TV, you old cunt.”

Ben snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and running a hand through your hair until you melt into his side. “Brat.”

You only hum, and the remainder of the drive carries out in easy silence as you drift in and out of sleep, Ben keeping you tucked into his body.

You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until you’re in Ben’s arms, and he’s carrying you up to your room.

“Ben,” you push slightly against his chest, your face still nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Bags-“

“It’s handled, Sunshine.” Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, his words low. “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head, the movement not at all convincing. “Wanna help-“

“You’re on vacation.” He grunts your name, squeezing his gentle hold on your body. “Fucking rest.”

God, you’re going to kill him. You love him more than life and every beautiful thing in the universe, but that’s the fucking problem. Ben tells you to rest, and he’s alive and attentive and devout in your body, so you can’t stop yourself from falling right back into peaceful sleep.

When you’re up, Ben’s body is heavy over yours, his face buried between your breasts and his arms wrapped around your waist. You don’t wake him. He looks so handsome and calm against you, his snores rumbling easily through your body, and his love sitting in content at the top of your chest, so you’ll stay here until he makes you move. Playing with his hair and watching him with a stupid smile, humming softly and letting the room fill with rainbow mist and light until he stirs, looks up and you, and meets your gaze with his own, wide and powerful grin.

“Hi, Sunshine.” His voice is hoarse, his eyes still slightly glazed with sleep, and you don’t think spending eternity with him is going to be enough. You need him all the time before, and now, and a little longer than forever after.

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” You lean down to kiss his nose, and he makes a low, grunting noise that goes right to your core. “Thank you.”

He frowns. “I didn’t do fucking shit-“

“You’re here.” You whisper. “You’re taking care of me.”

“That’s my goddamn job-“

“And I’m still thanking you.” You hold his face between your hands, shifting slightly up to he every angle of him impossible handsome face. “I love you-”

The sound that Ben makes is low and primal, and you cut yourself off with a gasp as he flips you over, kissing you into the mattress and rutting into you until you’re writhing under him, scraping at his arms for more.

“Ben-“

He starts to trail sloppy kisses over your whole face, smirking as you let out another strangled moan. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, fucking love you, so goddamn good-“

You whimper as he pins you to the bed with his hips, his mouth trailing down to your neck, over your collarbone, and his hand pushing between your bodies to rub fast, strong circles on your clit.

“So fucking beautiful, already fucking wrecked.” He growls against you, and you can only whimper. “Cum for me, darling, soak my fucking hand-“

You cum with a scream, and Ben groans as he jerks against you, something warm spreading over his boxers as he buries his face in your neck, his own orgasm sending a small, shivering one into your body.

“Did you just-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He grunts, nipping at your skin as he flicks your clit once, your back arching off the bed at the movement. “You’d cum like that as well, if you could see how fucking perfect you are.”

You giggle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Grumpy-“

“I said shut the fuck up.” He growls, and you just hum, still smiling like an idiot. God, you fucking love him.

It takes an hour for you to get out of bed, and then another two to leave the room. Ben will grumble something that makes you jump on him, and then you smile at him and he’ll pin you to the mattress, or the wall, or just hold you up in his arms as he fingers you in the middle of the room. He tries to get changed and you fall to your knees to take his cock into your mouth. You bend over to pick something up and he drives himself into your cunt from behind. The only reason it ever comes to an end is because your stomach growls, Ben’s head shoots up from between your thighs, and you’re suddenly being dragged down to the lobby for breakfast.

The day from there is slow and lazy. Wandering around with no destination, Ben’s hand tangled naturally in yours, acting like you can’t see the people silently watching you with whispers and wide eyes. You’d expected it, but it’s still strange, and you’re more than happy to let Ben handle it whenever someone crosses a line. Mostly it’s just the stares, but one very drunk man tells you he could give you cock better than any old Hollywood asshole, and you have to act like it doesn’t make you ache for Ben when he draws to his full height, puffs out his chest like a lion, and hisses that he’s the only fucking asshole in the world that could handle you, because you burn this pussy to fucking charcoal in a second. Then a rich finance dick tries to get Ben to invest in his crypto business, and you get to smile like a dummy as Ben snaps that his wife thinks crypto is stupid as fuck, and she’s smarter than this fucking idiot by a goddamn mile. The best one is when a very stupid woman comes up to Ben and tell him he deserves a real, truly American woman, and you get to watch him go tense and—pulling you so close you think he’s worried you’ll vanish into thin air—sneer that he’s already got the best fucking woman in the goddamn world.

But outside of these sparse moments, it’s all so fucking easy. Ben flat out refuses to wear a Hawaiian shirt because he’s not goddamn Butcher, but you get him into a loose, white linen one that makes you almost climb on top of him in the middle of a very crowded shopping center. He buys you flowers—shoving them into your hands with a low grumble of for you, beautiful and a radiant glow blooming over his ribs—and then tucks one behind your ear with a grin, looking at you like you’re holy. There are a few moments when you have to slap him for saying things that really do prove he’s a hundred years old, but you’d expected that. You know who you psychically bound yourself to for eternity, and it’s a grumpy old man who frowns as you explain why he can’t say that, then nods and never says it again. He doesn’t apologize—Ben so rarely apologizes, and it’s only ever to you and Ryan—but he learns, and he tries, and you love him even more.

It’s only when you go to the beach and you remember why you’d try to talk him out of honeymooning anywhere near the ocean, that the day comes to a crashing halt in the best way possible.

Ben shouldn’t be allowed near a beach. His skin glows golden, and his eyes look greener than the sea, and his bare chest is broad and muscular and covered in a light layer of sweat that you want to taste-

“You’re drooling, Sunshine.” He mutters in your ear, and your knees almost give out from the force of the want in his body. “You need something?”

You swallow, looking up into his lust-blown eyes, and your voice is soft and breathless. “Ben-“

“Fucking Christ,” he grunts you name, spinning your body to fully press into his, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “You’re so fucking beautiful, darling, driving me fucking insane, want to fuck you until everyone can see that you’re mine-“

And that’s enough. You grab Ben’s wrist, spin on your heels, and drag him after you as you half-run back to the hotel.

You make it about ten steps before Ben pulls you back into his arms, picks you up without breaking pace, and marches you back to the room.

You’re barely through the door when you squirm in his hold, reaching down to palm at his bulge over his shorts. Ben groans right in your ear, his grip on your body tightening, and you grin as he twitches at your touch. You manage to twist in his arms, offering yourself more access to slip your hand right into his trunks, wrapping your hand around his thick cock and start to jerk him off with slow, teasing movements

Ben growls, prying you off his body to lower you onto the mattress, standing above you with a stern glare you can feel right in your pussy.

“Jesus, beautiful,” he grunts, tangling your hair in his fingers, tracing your parted lips with his thumb. “Such a needy fucking brat, need to be damn careful-“

“Or what?”

His throat bobs, and you feel the glow over his ribs grow starved, all of it focused into you, and he says your name in a low warning. “You’re- Fuck,tell me what you want, brat.”

You run your hand up his thigh, making your eyes big and pleading, letting little bit of your sheer desire leak into Ben’s body. “Want you, my love. Want your cock filling me up.”

“Fuck.” He grunts, his jaw clenching as you pull down his shorts. “Want me to fuck your mouth, Sunshine? Want me to feed you with my cock until you’re begging for more-“

You know Ben. He’ll keep dirty talking and taunting you until you either fold into him and start begging before you even taste him, or you explicitly tell him want your big cock on my tongue, Ben, please.

And you might have said that between your minds, because Ben’s grip on your hair does tighten, but it doesn’t matter because you’re not bothering to wait. You take Ben into your mouth in one motion—until your nose is pressed to his abdomen and the head of him is bumping the back of your throat—and look up at him under hooded eyes.

He’s holy. He looks feral—his eyes almost wholly black and his full mouth parted as he stares at you—and a low growl escapes his chest as you hollow your cheeks, lick the underside of his cock, and speak in a needy, high plea into his mind. Fuck my mouth, Ben, please-

You moan as he tugs you almost fully off of him, lets you flick your tongue against the weeping slit of his cock, and shoves your back down until you’re gagging.

He pauses, his grip loosening slightly as his stone-like concern wraps over your skin, and his voice is strained from above you. “You-“

I’m good. You reach a hand to play with his balls, making your eyes soft and pleading when you look back up at him. Please, just fuck my mouth-

“Fuck.” He groans, repeating the same movement from before, once, twice, over and over until you’re drooling on him, your fingers on his balls light and uncontrolled as you grow cockdrunk. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, goddamn beautiful choking on my cock, pretty lips made to be wrapped around my fucking dick, making sounds like fucking music, sucking on me like a fucking brat, so fucking good-“

You whine around him, your thighs rolling as you try to bunch the sheet between them, and Ben chuckles, the sound raspy and hoarse and shooting through you like lightning.

“Need some help, beautiful? Got a fucking problem, so fucking wet and desperate for me, just from sucking my fucking cock like a good fucking girl-“

God, he can’t be allowed to speak during sex. You’ll never be able to stop him—it would be downright cruel to your pussy, pulsing and grinding against nothing, soaked just from the deep sound of Ben’s voice—but he’s going to make you lose your mind.

Ben, you moan between your heads, and his dick jerks, heavy on your tongue. Please, need you so bad-

He pops you off of him, angles your head up to hold his gaze, and you whine at how fucking good he looks. How his chest is heaving, and his eyes are pulling you apart under him, how he drags you up to crash into him halfway, making you moan down his throat from his demanding kiss.

“Fucking love you,” he grunts your name, biting on your lower lip and smirking as you start to try and climb up his body. “Want to fill you up, Sunshine-“

You nod franticly, squirming against him. “Fuck, yes, yes please-“

“You want my fucking cum, beautiful?” Ben growls, and when you glance down you don’t miss the way his own words are making his cock jump against nothing. “Need me to stuff that pretty pussy full of me, mark you up with me-“

“Yes,” your moan is shameless, because god, you’ll give him whatever he asks for, and take anything he offers you. “Please, Ben, fuck me, want your cock, want your cum-“

You gasp as Ben rips off your fully ruined swimsuit, tosses you back on the mattress, and shoves your thighs apart with rough hands.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, running two fingers between your folds, looking up at you with an awe and love that feels slightly out of place for how he’s plunged those two fingers inside you, crooked them in your cunt, and started to rub right against that deep, desperate spot. “Squirt on my hand, darling, need you fucking soaked for my cock-“

Your body obeys his command without thought, and cum with a choked gasp of Ben.

“There you go,” he growls, scissoring his fingers as your back arches off the bed, keeping his movements careful and measured as he drags you through your orgasm. “Good girl, so fucking good, just for me-“

Just for you, Ben, please. You grab at his wrist with a slack grip, grinding helplessly against his hand. Please, fucking please, my love-

He pulls his fingers away, flicking your clit once and smirking at your high whine before positioning himself between your legs, slowing pumping himself as he scans over your flushed body.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and it seems to be mostly to himself. “Fucking perfect, love you so fucking much, Sunshine, you don’t have a goddamn clue-“

You have sort of a clue—he does tell you that about five times a day—but your words and mind are lost in a daze of Ben, so all you do is reach pathetically up for him, spreading your legs wider with a sound of need to beg him to just take you. Just fuck you like no one else can, like no one else ever could.

“Christ.” He grunts, shaking his head slightly. “You’re- fuck-“ Ben doubles over with a groan as you raise your arms over your head, your legs splayed fully apart in a silent plea.

Benjamin. You take a long, heavy breath, rolling your hips for him with your best sweet, pleading gaze. Fuck me.

The sound that leaves Ben might be the deepest you’ve ever heard, and his voice is downright animalistic as his hand trails over your abdomen and inner thighs, sending a shiver through your spine.

“Arms stay up.” He orders, and you nod, moaning as Ben crawls over you, lining himself up to shove into your needy cunt. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

You barely have a moment to hum an agreement before Ben shoves into you, and everything turns into an intoxicating haze of Ben. He’s hiked your leg over his waist to push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix, and trailed a hand up your arms to pin your hands to the bed, leaving you open and vulnerable for him to use.

And fuck, he’s using you. Ben’s thrusting his cock into you at a feral pace, his mouth biting and sucking everywhere he can reach, pulling you so high you can only moan and whimper his name as he ruins you.

“So fucking perfect, darling,” he groans against your throat, and you throw your head back with a high whimper. “Gonna fuck you full, fill your perfect fucking pussy with my cum, get you fucking round and beautiful with my baby, show the world how good I fuck my wife, how fucking desperate you are for my cock-“

You make a high, breathy noise, writhing under Ben’s touch as his free hand moves to roll your nipple between his fingers. “Fuck, Ben-“

“Say my name, Sunshine, fucking scream so everyone knows you fucks you right, tell the whole damn hotel who you belong to-“

“Ben!” You can’t remember any other words as he moves his hips in a circle, angling you a little higher to somehow hit deeper inside of you. You can’t touch him—your hands still trapped over your head—but he’s so good, and you’re so full, and fuck, you might be crying with pleasure as he bites on your shoulder, and you know whatever mark he leaves will fade in a second but god, you want it to stick-

“Fuck,” Ben hisses your name as you squeeze around him, and your eyes roll back in your head as his hand snakes between your bodies and he starts to circle around—but never on—your clit. “You’re so fucking good, beautiful, tight and warm, wrecked on my cock, you’re perfect, love you so fucking much-“

“Ben,” you trying to keep your eyes on him, his face filled with a zealous care and hunger, but fuck you need to come so bad. “Ben-“

“All goddamn stupid when I fuck you, smart fucking mouth all, fuck-“ Ben kisses you into the mattress with a brutal force, shoving his tongue down your throat as his thrusts grow sloppy. Christ, need to cum in you, darling, you’re- Fuck- Ben’s hips stutter and you squeak down his throat. Cum with me, Sunshine-

You let go with a scream right as Ben pinches your clit, and he slams home with a roar of your name. You feel his warm cum spread inside you, leaking slowly down your thighs as he pulls out, and when Ben drops his weight carefully down over you—his head resting on your chest as you move your arms to wrap around his neck—you hum in happy, fucked out, empty-minded content.

“You’re really having a lot of fun with the baby thing, my love.” You mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes.

“You fucking love it.” He pauses, something sore settling over his skin as he frowns up at you, and you can’t stop the small smile crossing your face at the stone like protection wrapping around your body, Ben’s grip on you tightening like he’s trying to protect you from ghosts that never exist when he’s at your side. “You-“

“I do love it.” You whisper, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. “I love you.”

He grunts. “You’re fucking certain-“

“Positive.” You smile against his lips. “With you, Benjamin, I’m always positive.”

His nostrils flare slightly, and everything fades back into furious, bloody, unwavering love in his body. “Then we’ve got a goddamn week to make sure it happens, Sunshine.” He growls, rolling his already semi-hard cock against your thighs. “You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when I get it to stick.”

He always avoids the words when you’re not actively fucking, and youknow why. Ben never seems to fully trust that you’re really ready for this. Not because he doesn’t trust you, not because he doesn’t want it more than you do—if the way he flares and bursts over your ribs at the very mention of it isn’t proof, the way that you’ve caught him staring at baby cribs and clothing when you walk through Costco is—but because he’s a stubborn, protective, amazing asshole who values your comfort above everything else in the world. Once a douchebag congress member accused you of illegally aborting Homelander’s baby, and Ben interrupted the hearing to hold your cold, frozen body against his chest and roar some of the most violent threats you’ve ever heard at the committee.

But Ben’s not Homelander. He’s the furthest thing from Homelander. He’s the light that’s dancing over the room as you lay in his arms, and the whole world inside your body, and the best thing that’s ever happened to you in your life. He gives you everything, and more, and the only thing that could ever be better than him is what you could offer him.

The only person in the whole world who, after everything, could ever want to offer that.

So you smile at him, playing with the hair of his beard, and crane your neck to whisper against his lips. “When you fuck me full of a baby, Benjamin? When you get me pregnant?”

Ben stiffens, his cock already hard once more and prodding against your thigh, his voice so low you almost cum on the spot. “Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, ardor and a fervorish, wrathful reverence exploding in his chest, all aimed at you. “You’re going to fucking kill me-“

“No, I won’t.” You grind up into him, and he hisses. “But I am going to let you fuck me stupid, Pretty Boy, let you fill me up with your baby-“

Your blatant bait works. Ben sits up in a sharp movement, pulling you with him, and impales you back on his cock in one, smooth movement.

“Such a fucking brat.” He grunts in your ear, his hands on your hips holding you still, forcing you to just fall into his warmth and clench desperately around him. “You want my cum, beautiful?”

You nod stupidly, and he smirks.

“Words-“

“Want it, Ben.” You moan, clinging to his body. “Want you.”

“You’ve got me, Sunshine.” He mutters, squeezing your ass with a firm hand. “Now be a good girl and take me.”

You half-scream as he starts to move, and you could be happy dying here. With a husband that loves you with such a raging strength, who fucks you so good that all you can do is grow slack in his hold and let him abuse your cunt until you’re his in every way possible.

And you already are. He’s alive inside of you, and molded into you, and wears a matching ring to yours that you think he’d sear into his skin if he could.

But God, it will never be enough. Ben is more than enough, but you’ll never be satiated of him.

You could never be satiated of him.

And that’s why, when he cums into you again, you really do hope it sticks. Because the only thing could ever be better than Ben was a bright-eyed, cared for, happy bundle of evidence that you belong to each other forever. A child that will never know the pain you and Ben have held each other through, because Ben doesn’t allow people he loves to be in pain.

And he really deserves more people to love. His own piece of proof that you trust him more than you trust yourself, that he’s repented and you’ll offer him a million smiling children for everything he’s done for you. For how well be cares for you, and how well you know he’ll care for them. For how it will be hard, but worth it, because you’ve bled for less and cried for more.

And no matter what any form of family comes, you’d never want it with anyone but Ben.

End Note: God please send me someone who's as down bad for me as Ben is for Her.

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00valentina-writes00 · 7 hours ago

Note

please please put the self harm fic back up, it was really good, and as someone who’s struggled before, it brought me some comfort. i really wish people just didn’t interact with things they don’t like, it’s appropriately tagged, and it’s not hurting anyone. i genuinely didn’t see anything wrong with it

You know what. Yeah I will. Here you go mamas <3

♡♥︎Grayson and Sevika catching you in a self harm relapse♥︎♡ (reuploaded)

Warnings: self-harm, mental health struggles, depression, angst, cutting, blood, sensitive topics

Disclaimer: This post isn’t meant to offend anyone (I already deleted it once), and I don’t recommend reading it if you’re not in a good place/can’t handle it. I wrote this because some people find comfort in reading things like this, and just because you don’t want to read it doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for everyone. Please just don’t interact/read the post if you don’t like it. For those who do read it and find comfort in it, I hope things get better for you. It sucks being in a place where you mind is your worst enemy, and my heart goes out to all of you.

♡Grayson♡

The weight of the silence in the house feels like a tangible thing—thick and suffocating. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, not really seeing anything. The quiet hum of the air purifier and the faint creaking of the old floorboards are the only sounds breaking the stillness.

It’s hard to pinpoint when the darkness started creeping back in, but it’s here, and it feels heavier than ever. There’s a weight on your chest, as if something is sitting there, pressing you down until you can’t breathe.

You feel it—how the world looks like it’s slipping through your fingers, how you can’t keep your head above water. The struggle is so exhausting. You can feel the tears building, the tightness in your throat as they fight to spill over, but you swallow them down. You can’t burden her with it.

Not now. Not when she’s already dealing with so much.

Grayson’s voice echoes in your mind, the soft yet firm way she always tells you, “If you need anything, you just ask. Don’t shut me out.” But asking for help feels impossible when it feels like you’re crumbling from the inside out. You know she means it when she says it, and you know that deep down, she’ll always be there for you. She has been.

But she’s been working late recently. You know the weight of her job—how demanding it is. How much responsibility she carries on her shoulders, always so composed, so calm. She’s always the one who carries others, the one who stays steady when everything else feels like it’s about to fall apart.

And yet, here you are, falling apart in the silence of your own mind.

You press your hand to your arm, feeling the familiar pull of that dark urge. It’s like a quiet whisper, promising you release, promising relief. You know it won’t fix anything—it never does. But for just a moment, the thought of it feels comforting. Control, a semblance of control, over a mind that is spiraling.

The sharp sting of a blade against skin is an old friend, one that promises to quiet the storm in your head, if only for a little while.

You grab the razor blade from the drawer by the bedside table, your hand shaking as you press the cool metal against your skin.

The moment it cuts into you, it’s like the world finally exhales. The pain is sharp, but it’s also grounding. It’s familiar. The blood wells up beneath the surface, the warmth of it seeping through your fingers as you press harder. The relief is fleeting but enough to keep you from drowning, at least for a little while.

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes as the tears finally come, hot and uncontrollable.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell yourself you’re better than this. It doesn’t matter how many promises you’ve made to Grayson that you’re okay. You’re not. You never are, and right now, the world is too loud, too chaotic, and all you want is for it to stop.

When you hear the door creak open, your heart skips a beat. Grayson’s home.

You panic for a moment, suddenly aware of the blood on your fingers, the rawness of your own skin. You want to hide it, to pull away from her, to bury it and pretend that everything is fine.

But it’s too late. She’s already stepped into the room.

Her gaze locks onto you immediately, and you see the shift in her expression—a flicker of concern, followed by something else, something darker. Her eyes move to your hand, still clutched around the razor, then slowly trail up to your face, where the tears are still streaming down.

“Baby…” Her voice is low, filled with a quiet kind of devastation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The words are trapped somewhere deep inside, stuck behind the lump in your throat. Grayson is across the room in an instant, her long strides making quick work of the distance.

She kneels down in front of you, gently taking your hand with the blade in it, pulling it away from your skin, and tossing it onto the bedside table. She holds you, and it feels like the weight of the world has shifted, the tension in your chest finally starting to ease. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you to her, as she presses her face into your hair, murmuring soft words of comfort that you can barely hear over the rush of blood in your ears.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into her, the warmth of her body and the scent of her cologne grounding you in a way nothing else does. Her arms tighten around you as she pulls you closer, as if trying to protect you from the storm inside your own mind.

“You don’t have to hide this from me,” Grayson says, her voice a mixture of pain and resolve. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

You can hear the underlying frustration in her tone, the helplessness that has started to creep in. She’s used to being in control, used to being the one who takes care of everyone else. But right now, she can’t fix this. She can’t make it go away. And that hurts her, you can see it in the way her brow furrows, in the way her hand gently caresses your arm as she inspects the damage.

Her fingertips brush against the cuts on your skin, and you flinch, not from pain, but from the guilt that rises in your chest. You can see it in her eyes—she’s not angry. She’s not disappointed. But she’s scared, and that’s almost worse than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I just… I didn’t want to bother you with this. You have enough on your plate.”

Grayson’s grip tightens around you, pulling you closer, her voice soft but unwavering. “You’re never a bother. You’re my wife, and I love you. You’re never a burden.”

You bury your face into her shoulder, the tears coming faster now, as everything you’ve been holding inside comes crashing to the surface. The guilt, the shame, the weight of it all—everything that you’ve kept hidden from her, from yourself, spills out in a flood of emotion that feels impossible to stop.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I can’t stop. I can’t stop it. It’s too much, Grayson.”

“I know,” she murmurs, her hands gently smoothing over your back, offering comfort in the only way she knows how. “I know, baby. I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her words are like a balm to the rawness inside you, but the emptiness lingers. You feel lost, adrift in the dark waters of your own mind, and nothing seems to anchor you. Not even Grayson, though you know she’d do anything to keep you safe.

But you don’t know how to be safe anymore. You don’t know how to feel okay when everything inside you feels broken.

Grayson doesn’t say anything for a while, just holding you tightly, letting you cry, letting the storm rage inside you until there’s nothing left to say.

You eventually feel her fingers gently tracing over your arms, inspecting the cuts more carefully now. The gentle touch sends a shiver through your body, and you can’t help but wince, both from the pain of your wounds and the fear that she’ll look at you with disgust.

But when you look up, her face is soft, her eyes filled with nothing but love and concern. There’s no judgment in her gaze, only a quiet understanding that cuts through the fog in your mind.

“You’re not broken,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re not broken. You’re just hurting. And I’m here. We’re going to get through this together.”

Her words sink in, the weight of them settling on your heart like a gentle, steadying force.

You don’t have to fix yourself. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Grayson will help you piece yourself back together, just as she always has.

♡Sevika♡

The quiet hum of the city’s underbelly surrounds you, but all you can hear is the pulse of your own heartbeat, the rhythmic rush of blood beneath your skin. Your breathing is shallow, erratic, barely keeping pace with the thoughts that whirl through your head, drowning everything in a familiar numbness. Every inch of you feels heavy—like the weight of the world is bearing down on your chest, leaving you gasping for air.

You’ve been here before. Staring down at your own hands, watching them tremble as they hold a blade. The same blade you’ve used countless times to try to carve out the pain, to silence the screams in your head. You think you’re past this—think that maybe you’ve come far enough, healed enough, but the reality is… you never really can outrun the shadows that lurk behind you.

Sevika’s voice still lingers in your mind, distant yet comforting. The low, gravelly tone that usually manages to settle your nerves is nowhere to be found. She’s been busy, off with Silco’s business. There’s always something. Something that pulls her away from you, and each time, the void in your chest grows a little larger. The silence between you two stretches thinner, and you start to wonder if you’re just another weight—something she has to carry, but doesn’t truly need. Maybe you were just a brief moment of comfort for her, something to fill the empty space in her own broken heart.

It’s pathetic, you think.

Your gaze flickers to the blade in your hand—sharp, gleaming, a perfect reflection of everything you’ve been trying to avoid. With a shaky breath, you press it to the skin of your arm, not sure what to expect, but desperate for release.

The first slice is almost too easy, like the blade already knows where to go, knows exactly how to break you. You hiss, biting back a gasp. The rush of blood that spills out is both soothing and terrifying, pooling around your wrist and dripping onto the floor. It feels like you’ve just cracked open a dam, and there’s no stopping the flood.

But you can’t stop. You need to feel it. The rush. The pain. The way it takes everything away, leaves you empty but somehow full at the same time. It’s familiar, comforting, like a twisted lover.

But this time, it’s different.

The bleeding doesn’t stop.

Your breath catches, the room beginning to spin as the crimson liquid flows freely, quicker than you can manage. Your vision blurs as the pulse of panic rushes through you. You try to hold pressure, but it doesn’t work. You try to stop it, but it’s like the blood has a mind of its own, pouring faster than you can keep up.

Why won’t it stop?

The panic sets in, clawing at your chest, a grip of cold fear tightening around your ribs. You try to move, to find something to hold against the wound, but your hands are trembling too violently, your fingers slick with blood. The room feels smaller, darker, and all at once, you feel the walls closing in. Every breath is a struggle, and every thought feels like a weight you can’t bear.

And then—footsteps.

Sevika.

Her voice, low and dangerous, cuts through the haze of panic. “What the hell is going on here?”

You don’t have time to answer before she’s in front of you, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the sight of you, the blood dripping from your arm, the panic in your eyes. You want to say something, to apologize, but the words are tangled in your throat, a mass of guilt and shame. Her presence, usually so reassuring, now feels like an inescapable force, suffocating you with its intensity.

She doesn’t need to speak, her gaze enough to make you shrink back. But she doesn’t leave. She’s here. And that alone is enough to send a wave of emotion crashing over you—relief mixed with guilt, pain, and that overwhelming, gnawing feeling of needing something you can’t quite define.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but it’s like your body betrays you, unable to form a coherent thought.

Sevika’s gaze shifts to the blade in your hand, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two. Her jaw tightens, and her lips press into a thin line. But then her hands move, strong and steady, like the storm in her eyes isn’t enough to tear her apart. She takes your wrist with a force that makes you flinch, her fingers like iron bands around your arm, yet there’s no malice in her touch. Only a quiet fury—one that’s familiar to her, but so unlike you.

She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t ask you why. Instead, she moves quickly, her voice calm but filled with that hard edge of discipline. “Give me the fucking blade.”

You hesitate, feeling the cold, sharp steel pressing against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if this is it—if she’s finally tired of you. If this is where the weight of your brokenness makes her snap.

But instead of anger, you see something different in her eyes. Something sharp and raw. Something that looks like pain.

You don’t argue as she pries the blade from your trembling fingers. Her gaze never leaves you as she takes it, her lips pressed into a hard line. You can’t tell if she’s angry or worried, but you feel like you’re drowning in her gaze. In the silence between you two, the blood that still flows from your arm, the tightness in your chest, the burning shame—you feel it all. The weight of your struggle is too much for one person to bear, even if that person is Sevika.

She’s too quiet, too still, for too long. And you can’t take it.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracked and fragile. “I didn’t mean to… to make you worry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, her face unreadable as she carefully presses a cloth against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The way her fingers move so methodically, the precision of her touch—it makes you feel like you’re falling apart even more.

“You didn’t want to make me worry?” she says, her voice quieter than usual, a soft growl of frustration in her words. “Then why the hell are you doing this to yourself?”

You shake your head, biting back the tears that threaten to spill over. You don’t have an answer. You never really did. It’s always been a struggle, hasn’t it? One that you fight alone, because nobody could possibly understand. Not her. Not anyone.

But Sevika doesn’t need answers. She doesn’t need you to explain yourself, not right now. All she needs is to fix this. To stop you from bleeding out.

When she’s sure the bleeding has slowed, Sevika pulls you close, her strong arms wrapping around you. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that she’s not pushing you away. She holds you tightly, her breath steady against your ear, and for a moment, you forget about the cuts on your skin, the mess you’ve made of yourself, the guilt that weighs you down.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Her grip tightens around you, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she speaks, her voice low and rough.

“Don’t do this again.”

You nod, feeling a sob rise in your chest. You want to tell her you’ll be okay, that you won’t fall back into the darkness. But you don’t know if you can promise that. And for the first time in a long while, you let the tears fall, not because you’re weak, but because you don’t have to hide from her anymore.

Sevika’s not going anywhere. She never has been, not really. Even if she can’t fix everything, even if she doesn’t have all the answers—she’s here.

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raycatz · 1 day ago

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Hi Ray!! Hope you're doing fine ^^

Kinda random question, but I guess Wind is your favourite Link so, do you have headcanons for him?!

And if not, who's your favourite blorbo? >:·3

(no pressure to answer this ask tho hehe!)

Hiya Perry!

My favorites go like this! >:D

(Hyrule and Wild are fighting for 4th with Hyrule at a lead lol. He's grown on me since getting to know Zola! xD )

I can share some headcanons for the top three! (I got excited getting an ask from you so I drew a couple things and wrote a lot ashgfjsdfs. The post got long so I'll thrown in a read more somewhere.)

Four

Reading buddies with Twi. They tell each other about what they're reading. Sky and Wind like to listen and ask questions.

Pegasus boots + Roc's cape = some pretty impressive jumps (eight-foot vertical leap Griffin McElroy meme.) He's only outmatched by Rulie. Four and Legend should compete to see who has the greater horizonal distance.

Four loves purple sweet potatoes! It's sweet, umami, filling, and how often do you get to eat something that's purple? It's kind of an expansion of/inspired by a hc + art by w1lmutt. (imo Four's a fan of purple food in general. Four and that one girl from Tarrey Town are the biggest fans of Wild's monster cake recipe.) Set Four up with a purple potato right off of the fire and he's doing great. (Do you think he could have a potato cooking on the side while working at the forge? in like a dutch oven? put the potato in the forge!!!)

The name of the forge is the Four Element Forge (which I first read in blueskullcandy's fics! ("Alone Together" I think?))

Four has a cat! Tongs the Benevolent has my whole heart. (Tongs is also the creation of blueskullcandy @fuckit-hero-of-trains. Hi Train! Here's a little fic of them meeting x. here's art I made of her x. here's Train's tag for her x! More!)

Four with headaches / migraines. There has to be some trope about inflicting the clever/thinker character with head hurty and I'm here for it with Four. Any pain can make it difficult to think, but having that pain be concentrated to the head is more poignant, idk xD something to impede a strength of his. I also think that Four having migraines that are worsened by light is poetic, as being hurt by light gives him something in common with Shadow.

(Four with a headache with Tongs and Twi helping <3 )

Thoughts on the Four Sword's abilities: Can the elemental magic infused into the sword be tapped into and does it still have the ability to make ghost / prism refraction copies?

(img from IGN)

cont. In Minish Cap, as you power up the White Sword with the elemental stones, you're able to summon copies of Link. However, Link can only do this over specific tiles, the prisms run on a timed meter, and if they're hit they vanish. It's like a magic meter! I headcanon that Four isn't great with magic himself. However, if the prisms are summoned by magic, then what if it's Four channeling his magic into the White Sword to get that to happen. (also, maybe he's been relying on help from the tiles or Ezlo.) At the end of Minish Cap, he put the sword back and that was that. At the start of FS/FSA however, something changed when he pulled the sword, causing him to split fully. Maybe the sword needed something different from him. Maybe he was so frantic about Zelda being kidnapped and needing to defend himself from Shadow that he poured too much magic into the sword and it changed him. Maybe the sword's power upgraded. Whatever happened, he no longer has access to the prism ability of the Four Sword and instead splits, with splitting not being a drain on his magic. Four has just assumed that the prisms is an ability the Four Sword no longer has. Put the Four Sword into the hands of someone else with magic, though, and this isn't the case! (or maybe it's a scenario with an earlier iteration of the sword.) I have a scenario in my head where Four is separated from it in battle and Wind picks it up. Wind channels some magic into it on reflex for a spin attack or something and the prism copies pop up much to EVERYONE'S SURPRISE. Wind would think it's So Cool. Why haven't you shown us this before??!! Meanwhile Four just, honestly didn't know it could do that anymore. Cue Four Sword show-and-tell because what could be the harm (Four doesn't have to tell about the splitting thing and maybe the chain can help him learn about the copies) Wind, Legend, Time, and Hyrule can pull them up with ease. Put the sword into the hands of Hyrule or Legend who are more familiar with magic, however, and I think they could tap into the elements infused into the blade. Each of the copies channel a different element: being wind, fire, ice, and stone (with the Four Sword itself being Light.) Hyrule's able to move the copies around independently of each other but it takes a lot of focus. Legend on the other hand is better with the elemental stuff but he can feel there's something more to the Four Sword. Like, "Four, the magic well in this item is pretty deep / unstable. I don't want to tell you how to use your items, but careful not to put too much into this." Four: *wtf wtf wtf.* Or Legend would try pushing the boundaries of the sword, start going weird and flickery, and would be hastily stopped by Four.

Wind

He and Aryll meow at each other! >:3c He meows during a side-quest and I want an excuse for him to do it more often. I think he and Aryll are very much the type to make weird noises in greeting.

Cartography and navigation buff! Phantom Hourglass has you marking up the map so I think it's something Wind's good at and enjoys. Celestial navigation is in there too. Beyond using the stars to navigate, I think he's into star stories. Each constellation has a story that Wind is happy to retell. He wants to collect as many and their variations between eras as possible.

Wind has to admit that Twi, Sky, and Wild's pumpkin soup is pretty good (not as good as Grandma's, but still pretty dang good.) He got a pumpkin sprout in Sky's era and it lives in one of his bottles. Its name is Soup!

Fandom headcanons I've picked up that I'm fond of: Wind can see ghosts, Wind needs new shoes and isn't super jazzed about all this walking, Wind's family shield is passed down from Four, Wind is scared of / intimidated by large birds which opens up storytelling opportunities with Sky's loftwing, (honorable mention to the WW headcanon that Link's nearsighted due to him squinting in cutscenes. I don't hc it for LU Wind but it's neat to see it picked up! (ex: Wind from Linked Maze!))

Legend

I love Sister_Dear's writing (@sister-dear hi Sister 😳) and my interpretation of Legend reflects that. (here's Sister's list of Legend headcanons lol) (Keso's art is a big influence as well.)

Legend with arthritis / chronic pain in his hands/knees. It's just nice to see nods to it. Legend massaging his hands, or using a cane (louieeeee!), or grumbling about the weather. There's a headcanon that goes along with it that he has rings which lessen the symptoms.

Legend as poly and bi for Marin and Ravio. Courtesy of Wolfy (@wolfy1298) and this comic.

Genderfluid Legend. I like Sister's bullet-point, "Goes by ‘he’ but feels fairly ambivalent about the pronoun. Doesn't like to present as overly masculine. (Either a case of Legend being all ‘fuck gender roles’ or his Hyrule just having different gender norms.) Likes putting on dresses and makeup when the opportunity arises, doesn't like to do his hair." That! But I like to add that Legend will swap pronouns as well on what feels best. Hand-Me-Downs by That_G3_Obsessive (@that-g3-artist 👋) is a favorite of mine and has beautiful representation of genderfluid/queer Legend. Legend figures Wind could use some better fitting clothes, and shifting through Legend's wardrobe leads Wind to ask about the dresses there.

(has Taako from The Adventure Zone vibes going on in presentation and snark. Love me a bunny toothed GNC gay elf wizard twin who has a secret they don't want anyone to know and who's done with this shit. Please appreciate Taako thank you yippee yahoo!)

(Tried drawing Taako to mixed results but I think Legend would dig his vibe!)

I tried to throw in a number of hcs~ideas that are more personal / that I haven't had the opportunity to show through fanwork yet. To be fair, sooo many of the headcanons I have for the chain though are an amalgamation of things picked up from the fandom (I could go on with Legend and bunny mannerisms or Four with portal sickness xD ). There's a lot of really great work put together by so many people. It's wonderful to get to be a part of it!

Thank you for the ask Perry!!! >:D

#linked universe #my art #lu four #lu wind #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu wild #lu headcanons #sorry this took a while! TAT I was like EYYY MY BUDDY PERRY!!! >:D and then drew a bunch and then got over ambitious and then #wasn't able to meet those ambitions and then got nervous #but! I drew what I was able to and so. yeah. it'll do!#Thank you for the ask yippee!!!#for how long I've been in the fandom I don't often share headcanons like this asjhfgshdfs #I always want to draw something instead but that's not always possible #ah well! made something!#*spins in a circle a dozen times and then runs off and slams face first into a wall*#TAGGING A COUPLE PEOPLE HI I THINK WHAT YOU'VE MADE IS COOL #IF I HAVEN'T TOLD YOU BEFORE UHH TELLING YOU NOW!!!

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honeysorwell · 2 days ago

Text

all of it (all of you)

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti imagine #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter imagine #lisa ann walter x reader

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dreamsteddie · 23 hours ago

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Who Will Catch Me When You're Gone?

Content Tags: Platonic Sobin, major character death, grief, depression, major character undeath

Inspired by this beautiful art by @tarraing

------

When they found Steve, broken and bloody and scraped raw from the bats, all Robin could think about was that Steve's favorite sweatpants were ruined. She'd never understood those things or how someone so obsessed with fashion could wear them, but he'd always loved how comfortable they were. She razzes him about it every time he wears them.

Now they're ruined. Dirty and ripped.

She can hear Nancy ordering them to help her and Eddie freaking out but it's all just white noise to her right up until the moment everything comes flooding back in and the world has never been louder. Her breathing is deafening like she's trying to breathe for both of them.

Steve isn't breathing.

Steve isn't breathing but somehow she still is.

One moment she's stuck watching Nancy Wheeler try to patch her soulmate back together the next she's doing it for her so Nancy can start CPR. Eddie has stopped freaking out, she is dimly aware of him standing behind her, hovering because he doesn't know how to help. Doesn't know if there's any way to help.

Robin knows she's talking but it doesn't matter what she's saying. She doesn't think Steve can hear her. How could anything she says matter when her best friend isn't there to hear it? But she can't make herself stop, just in case.

But Steve never hears her. Nancy pushes on his chest and forces air into his lungs until her arms are shaking and she doesn't have enough strength to move his chest anymore. Then Robin takes over even though she has no idea what she's doing. Even though Nancy and Eddie are trying to tell her it's no use, that they need to go.

Like she could leave him here.

Then she's kicking and screaming because they're trying to pull her away. She's biting down on Eddie's ringed hand and kicking out into Nancy's ribs. She's not leaving, she's not. She can't do that to Steve, would rather lie down next to him, take his hand, and let the bats find her than leave him behind.

The last thing she sees before someone knocks her in the head is Steve's eyes, open and empty and staring right at her.

------

When Robin wakes up she's surrounded by people, but no one says a thing. She sees Dustin, red-eyed and empty standing in a corner across from the couch she's been placed on. Max won't look at her, Erica is glued to her side, Eddie looks lost, and Nancy looks like a block of steel. Steve isn't anywhere to be found.

But then again, Robin knew that. She'd know if Steve was her because their hearts beat as one, but now her chest feels empty. It's Max, brave, scared Max, who breaks the silence. Robin doesn't hear it. Doesn't listen as people start explaining plans around them. Can't channel the righteous fury she sees in Nancy, Dustin, and Max or the barely concealed fear in Eddie and Erica. All she feels is empty.

She's going to do whatever they want her to do because she knows it's what Steve would do. Knows without a shadow of a doubt that if she was the one lying dead in the Upside Down he would be on a war path in her name, so she needs to do the same.

When she launches that last fire bomb into Vecna's ugly head, it's a hallow victory.

Everyone else survives. The Byers move back to Hawkins. The town starts to rebuild. The big bad is gone for good.

But it doesn't mean anything to her. She lies in bed most days without saying a word. She lets her parents dote on her, listens passively as they try to remind her of the college acceptance letters waiting for her on the kitchen counter. Manages to sit up and smile just a little when Eddie brings Dustin and Erica by to see her. Cries with the two of them tucked under her arms, all three of them aware of how vulnerable they feel without a strong pair of arms wrapped around their other side.

Robin asks Eddie to hang back one day and makes a request. The next day he comes by with a clean needle and a pot of ink and Robin sits motionless as he engraves a sunflower inner her wrist, somewhere she'll always be able to see it. She always swore to Steve that she would never get a tattoo, too freaked out by the possibility of an infection, but those fears feel so distant now that the worst thing that could happen has come to pass. She catches Eddie with one of his own to match the next week.

------

A month goes by. She doesn't leave the house, even when Dustin comes by to beg her.

Then two. She can tell her parents are starting to really worry. They've given up trying to get to college and started trying to get her to think about therapy.

Then Five. She started going to work again. She puts on her Family Video vest and thinks about Steve. She walks through the door and imagines Steve leaning over the counter. Keith turns on Back to The Future and she goes home with a panic attack. She doesn't speak unless it's necessary, but she's trying to move forward. She knows it's what Steve would want for her, even on the days when it's not what she wants for herself.

And then Six months pass. There's a tap at her window.

She ignores it, at first. She refuses to go to a shrink, there are too many things she can't say to the ones her parents recommend, and she won't accept anything from those government goons who turned her best friend into a soldier. Into cannon fodder. Instead, she writes letters.

She sits down at her desk once a day and pours her heart out to Steve. She lets herself pretend for a few moments every day that he's just been dragged away by his parents for a few months. He's out there somewhere in the world relying on her to keep her updated on the kids and the drama at work and herself until she can go out and join him, wherever he is. Some days she writes about nothing at all, some days she rages at him for leaving her behind, sometimes she speculates about their future where she goes to college wherever he is and they get an apartment and two dogs. She seals every one in an envelope, tucks them in a drawer, and lets herself breathe in that perfect fantasy for just a moment. It's the best part of her day, and nothing can tear her away from it.

Except the tapping doesn't stop.

And Robin lives on the second floor.

And everyone she knows would just come through the front door.

She turns, so slowly, toward the window. The glare from her bedside lamp makes it impossible to see anything through it, but she doesn't need to.

There are fingers, claws, forcing their way under the sill. She sucks in a sharp breath as they curl upward, crashes to the ground as they start to pull.

She's scrambling back, getting ready to scream and make a run for the walkie she leaves on silent on her desk to call for help. To warn the others that their monsters are back before it mows her down.

But then the window gives way and she stops. Stops everything.

Because the thing in her window is wearing her best friend's face. It's wearing his hair and his moles and his stupid fucking sweatpants.

And at the end of the day it doesn't actually matter what he looks like. It doesn't matter if there are new hinges in his jaw to show off new, shark-like teeth. It doesn't matter mater if he can't say anything besides a hissed, garbled rendition of her name. It doesn't even matter when he latches onto her wrist, right above that little sunflower, and sucks, taking just enough blood to make her light-headed.

Because she can feel his heartbeat pounding along with her own, perfectly in sync.

Because she's not alone, anymore.

#in my stobbin feels again #they will be buried in the same grave #and of course #a little hint of implied steddie #because I can't resist #stobin #platonic stobin #implied steddie #NOT the focus though #strange things #fanfiction #dreamer speaks #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #cw major character death #cw grief #cw depression

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simplybakugou · 8 hours ago

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Story Mode 2 | Mystic Academia: Sero Hanta's Route

⋆ PAIRING: hacker!sero x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; slight angst ⋆ WORD COUNT: 547

A/N: back to back written story modes YUUUUPPP. this would’ve been done sooner but i’ve been thriving lately with the eagles winning the super bowl, securing tickets to see beyonce, and getting numerous snow days from classes LOL HOWEVER i am back to working on this hehe. this part is lightly based off of one of the story mode’s from seven’s route so apologies for the minor angst lol. here's to the last part of day 3!!

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the sero cap

Mystic Academia: Sero Hanta's Route Masterlist

The alarm continued to blare and pierce your ears and you winced slightly. Sero walked towards the door, pulling the electronic pin pad out and rewiring it. He reset the password and he wasn’t going to let anybody else break into the office again. While simultaneously fixing the door, Sero pulled his phone out from his pocket and with a push of a single button on his screen, the alarm ceased immediately.

Just as the alarm stopped, with its remnants still ringing in your ears, you realized how fast your heart was beating. The gravity of the situation hit you in that moment and you felt like you were going to collapse to the floor. Unknown had been targeting M.F.A. for three days straight and had finally targeted the office for who knows the reason. And it seemed as if Sero recognized him, considering the fact that Unknown referred to Sero as “Cellophane.”

A million questions began buzzing in your mind and you finally snapped out of your daze. You looked at Sero who had a blank and unreadable expression on his face. You couldn’t decipher how he was feeling but he just looked… devastated.

“Should we evacuate? You said there was a bomb that was about to go off,” you asked, your tone full of worry.

Sero snapped his head up, as if he finally broke free from the trance he was in and realized where he was. “Oh, the bomb? I lied to get S–”

Sero stopped speaking immediately, pursing his lips together as if he was about to say something he shouldn’t. “I lied to get… that guy out of here. It was just a fake alarm. There’s no bomb.”

Sero’s sentences felt short and to the point, sounding like a robot that was programmed to say these things.

Despite not being able to fully grasp the situation, you took notice of Sero's hand that was shaking from how tightly he was gripping his phone. You moved towards him. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

He immediately took a step back, causing you to stop in your tracks. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.” He turned around, looking up to the lofted second floor of the office and he began to ascend up the stairs.

“I’m going to work on fixing the security system up here. I don’t want you to get hurt so I need to make sure no one else can break into the office again.”

You nodded, watching as he sat by your desk and pulled out a computer from a backpack that you hadn’t noticed previously. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“There’s nothing you can help with,” Sero said curtly in a manner that made you flinch. “Just focus on the party.”

“O-Okay,” you stuttered due to the harshness in his voice.

Sero began working immediately, typing away at a speed that you didn’t think was humanly possible. He stopped momentarily. “Don’t tell the others what happened.”

You were taken aback. It seemed like an important and big thing that everyone in the organization should be aware of. Before you could question his decision, Sero shut you down by taking out a pair of headphones and putting them over his ears.

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nicoline1998enilocin · 2 days ago

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Best Valentine's Day ever |V-Day Special 2025

PAIRING || Boyfriend! Baker! Tony Stark x Girlfriend! Pregnant! Female! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 4.8K

SUMMARY || What started as a happy Valentine's Day for you, your boyfriend Tony, and your cat, Oliver, soon turned into one of the best days of your life. With the birth of your son, your life feels complete, and seeing Tony turn into the most loving, gentle father you've ever seen is the cherry on top.

RATING || Mature (M)

WARNINGS/TAGS || Canon divergence, everyone lives AU, bakery AU, baker! Tony Stark, age gap romance, pregnancy fic, kid fic, multiple mentions of labour and delivery (nothing graphic), Tony being the sweetest boyfriend, and most loving dad!

A/N || I wish you a happy Valentine's Day if you celebrate it, and I hope your days will be amazing! Thank you all for your support and patience, and I look forward to sharing more stories soon! I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for the endless love and support. I couldn't have done this without you! I love you so much, bestie! 🤍

EVENTS @fandombingo || Take your kid to work day @julybreakbingo Post-JBB || Bed rest @seasonaldelightsbingo Sweater Season || Coffee date @sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort || Lullaby @tonystarkbingo #8005 || Free space

GIF: @ccbsrmsf1 || All other graphics in this post are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Baker! Tony Stark

From the moment you discovered your pregnancy, your world has turned upside down in the best way. Though the first few months weren’t the easiest with how bad your morning sickness was, the rest of them were a breeze with the help and support of both Tony and your British shorthair, Oliver, and now your due date is rapidly approaching. In fact, the due date your OBGYN has given you is today - February 14th, 2025, and the nerves have definitely settled in with you both. Despite this, you still sent Tony to the bakery to help with the massive list of orders him and his team have gotten.

“Tony, I promise you that me, Oliver and our little Cupcake will be completely fine today. They really need your help at the bakery, so you should help them. And I’ll call you as soon as anything happens,” you tell your protective boyfriend as he’s in front of the door, slightly hesitant about leaving you on your due date.

“But what if you go into labour today?” he asks, his brows furrowed in worry.

“If that happens, you’ll be the first to know. Oliver will be with me the entire time so I won’t be alone, and we’re not that far away from the hospital if we need to head over there today,” you tell him, and he smiles at you before bending down and capturing your lips in a loving kiss, his hand on your large belly as he gently rubs it with his thumb.

“Okay. But I need you to call me as soon as anything happens. I love you,” he tells you before kissing you a few more times, and then kneeling in front of you to kiss your belly, too. Today, you opted to wear a dress that highlights your belly beautifully, with little hearts all over it in honor of Valentine’s Day.

“I love you too, Little Cupcake. And you better stay in there until I’m back!” he says with a smile, making you laugh as he kisses your belly, too. Talking to your baby and kissing your belly has become part of your daily routine throughout your pregnancy, and he can’t get enough of it each time, lingering a little longer than he should now that he’s going out the door and to the bakery.

“Meow,” you hear from behind you, followed by little footsteps on the wooden floor as Oliver makes his way to the hallway where you and Tony are standing.

“It looks like someone else would like a kiss, too,” you joke, and Tony happily says goodbye with a kiss to his chubby, happy-go-lucky cat Oliver before getting up and kissing you a few more times and finally heading out the door, though the thought of you possibly going into labour today isn’t leaving his brain for a single moment the entire time.

“Are you hungry, Oliver? Mommy surely is, so I’ll make you something for breakfast, too,” you tell Oliver as you walk into the kitchen, one hand on your stomach as you grab some of the foods you’re craving to make a delicious breakfast with, and the little feline happily trots behind you as he meows, making you smile. As you’re making your breakfast, you feel an odd sensation in your lower abdomen, similar to the period cramps you had before your pregnancy.

“Oh, fuck-” you curse as you try to breathe through the feeling of the cramp, your fingers clenching the kitchen counter as you try to locate your phone, and thankfully it isn’t that far away from where you’re standing. While you try to get through it, the realization of this possibly being labour settling in with every wave of cramps. Thankfully, it soon subsides and you call Tony to tell him something’s going on.

“Peach, is everything okay?” he asks after picking up on the second ring, worried as he walks out the back door of his bakery for a little privacy. Though all of his employees know you’re pregnant, he still likes to have some privacy on his phone calls, and with how busy it is in the bakery today, he doesn’t want to risk anyone overhearing anything they shouldn’t.

“I- I’m not sure, Tony. Can you- oh god!- come home, please? I think I need to- to go to the hospital,” you say between deep breaths, and he lets you know he’s on his way right now. Within seconds of hanging up he has ripped off his apron to head home, and he quickly instructs everyone who’s still working about what’s happening, before jumping in his car and going home as soon as possible.

As soon as he’s in the car he calls you back, and you gladly pick up after sitting down, the cramps now gone, though Oliver is still glued to your side as you’re on the couch waiting for Tony.

“I’m on my way, my sweet Peach. I’m in the car, so I should be home soon,” he says, and the entire time he talks to you, soothing you and reassuring you that everything will be okay. If it wasn’t for Tony, you’re not sure you would have been able to get through the agonizing minutes you’re now experiencing, but with his soothing voice in your ear, it is a lot more bearable.

The entire drive home, Tony’s nerves are growing with the knowledge that his baby is finally arriving, and he still can’t really believe it’s finally happening. Simultaneously, he’s enjoying every part of the process - from the moment your son was conceived, to doting on your every need when you were taking care of the growing human inside your belly, until now - he wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.

“I’m here, Peach. I’m going to hang up for a moment and run upstairs to grab everything I need, okay?” he asks, and you hum in response, the last contraction you had slowly subsiding. While they’re not too bad yet, you’re definitely noticing that they’re intensifying quickly, and it’s making you increasingly anxious for everything that’s still to come.

Tony quickly unlocks the front door before running in to find you on the couch where you have been waiting with Oliver since calling him, and you’ve rarely been happier to see your sweet baker’s face.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks as he kneels by your side, his hand on your belly as he looks you over. Oliver bumps his head against Tony’s large hand, and he looks over at the feline before scratching him behind the ears just like he loves.

“As good as can be expected while in early labour,” you joke with a half-smile, and your boyfriend chuckles before nodding and placing a quick kiss on your forehead. Then, he runs into the large bedroom to grab the hospital bag that has been prepared two weeks ago, waiting for this very moment.

“Let’s go have a baby!” Tony says enthusiastically as he walks back into the living room, his happy demeanor making you smile before getting up, which is easier said than done. Thankfully, you have Tony’s help, and after a last goodbye to Oliver - who will be taken care of by your best friend and coworker Wanda in your absence - you’re finally heading to the hospital.

That night, at 9:33 PM on Valentine’s Day, you’re officially meeting the little human you’ve been growing for the past nine months. From the moment he was lying in your arms, you felt complete, and it has been worth every excruciating minute of labour to see the baby you have made with the love of your life.

“So, do you two have a name for him yet?” the nurse asks, and you and Tony immediately look at each other, knowing you’re thinking the exact same thing.

“Liam,” you say at the same time, and Tony’s trying his hardest not to cry.

“We decided his name will be Liam Alexander Stark,” Tony says as he gently kisses your forehead, not caring about the hair sticking to it. He thought he had known true love before, but it isn’t until this moment that he realizes the true meaning of it. As you’re holding baby Liam, he’s overwhelmed with happiness as he lets his tears flow. He’s not a man of many tears, but he really cannot help himself.

“I love you both so much,” he whispers as he looks at Liam, and you nod in agreement.

“I love you both so much as well,” you say as you gently rub Liam’s rosy, chubby cheek with your thumb. He’s the perfect copy of his dad, and you couldn’t be prouder as you can’t stop staring at him. You’re officially a family of four, and you’re looking forward to everything life will have in store for you from this moment on.

The birth of your son has taken a big toll on you, and when you’re taking a well-deserved nap - Liam being asleep right next to you - Tony is working on a surprise. After some talking with the nurse, he has gotten permission to decorate your hospital room for Valentine’s Day, since you couldn’t have the relaxing night at home that you expected. Wanda quickly dropped off some decorations, as well as a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite coffee that you’ve been craving your entire pregnancy.

The flowers are beautifully displayed in a vase Wanda brought as well, and just as Tony is hanging up the last heart-shaped garlands you’re slowly waking up. For a moment, you’re not sure what you’re looking at as you’re looking all around you, the room being transformed completely.

“Tony, what have you done to the room?” you ask sleepily, and he turns around with a broad smile as he hears your soft, sleepy voice.

“Well, since we didn’t get the Valentine’s Day we planned, I thought I’d bring the celebration here instead. I know it’s already past midnight for us, but it’s still Valentine’s Day somewhere! I asked Wanda to bring some decorations, your favorite flowers-” gesturing towards the large bouquet on the side of your bed, “and the coffee you’ve been wanting for months now.”

“I- But- Oh my god…” is all you can say as tears cloud your vision, your hormones still in overdrive after giving birth. In an instant, Tony is by your side, pulling you against his side as he’s seated on the edge of your hospital bed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my beautiful Peach. And thank you for making it the best Valentine’s Day ever,” he says as you wipe your tears, sniffles filling the room while he presses soft kisses on top of your head.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you whisper before tipping your head to capture his lips in a soft, loving kiss. Your heart swells with love as you look into his eyes, love and adoration shining through as he looks at you.

“I want to thank you for the most beautiful gift sleeping so peacefully over there,” Tony says after you’ve basked in the closeness for a few minutes, breaking the silence with one of the most heartfelt words he’s ever said.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tony. He’s the best gift we have ever gifted each other. He’s the result of our love, and he’s going to make our lives so much richer.”

As if he knows you’re talking about him, he starts to stir awake, causing Tony to get up and give him to you, as it’s the perfect time to give him a feeding. You’ll be on bed rest for the first week, which means you can take care of his every need whenever possible, and you’re looking forward to every minute you get to spend with your son in your arms. While you breastfeed Liam, Tony is finishing the decorating of the room, and then it’s finally time for the coffee date Tony has arranged.

“I’ve missed this so much,” you say after your first sip of coffee and the first bite of the most delicious cinnamon roll you’ve had in a long time. Near the end of your pregnancy, your OBGYN advised against drinking coffee, so now that you’ve given birth, it feels like a gold medal at the end of a long race, the warm liquid filling you from the inside out. A hum of appreciation fills the air as you take another sip, your son now happily sleeping in your arms.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your coffee, Peach. You’ve earned it,” Tony says before bending towards you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek, making you chuckle as the facial hair tickles your cheek. The rest of the night is spent bringing up memories, but also FaceTiming your parents as they don’t live close to New York. While your mom burst out in happy tears at the sight of Liam, your dad couldn’t stop saying how proud he is of you, and how much he looks like Tony.

During your week of bed rest, Tony divides his time between the hospital with you and Liam, and at home to take care of Oliver as well as shower and change clothes, but each time he comes back with a small gift for you as a token of his love and appreciation. From flowers to a beautiful necklace with your son’s initials on it, and a teddy bear that has recorded his voice as he sings a lullaby, it all brings you to happy tears in the best way possible.

But now, after a week of lying in bed in the hospital, you’re finally allowed to go home and live your life as the family of four that you’ve dreamt of becoming for the past nine months.

“Welcome home,” Tony says as he opens the door for you, Liam happily sleeping in the carrier your boyfriend is holding. Though you’re still walking a bit uncomfortable, you’re happy to be home again. The house smells like Tony, and you can’t help but smile when he swats your butt playfully on your way in. Then, as soon as the door falls into the lock, you hear the meows you’ve been missing; Oliver is trotting over quickly to welcome you home, too.

“Hi, sweet baby! Have you missed your mama the past week?” you ask as he jumps against your leg to get some attention, his meows making you smile as you give him the attention he’s looking for.

“He has missed you, Peach - every time I walked in the door he went to check if you were walking through the door as well, and I swear he looked a little disappointed each time you weren’t with me,” Tony tells you as he gently puts the carrier down with Liam in it. Then, after checking if he’s still sleeping, he turns around to pick up Oliver as you’re not allowed to lift anything heavier than Liam.

“I missed you too, Bubba, it was not as fun without you there. But I’m sure you’re very excited to meet your little brother, aren’t you?” Oliver meows enthusiastically at the idea, making both you and Tony smile widely. You give the chubby feline a few kisses and extra scratches under his chin before getting comfortable on the couch, where you can hold Liam in order for Oliver to meet him.

The timing is perfect, as he just woke up again, and excitement runs through your veins as Tony grabs him from the carrier. He’s dressed in the cutest blue onesie with cats all over it, and a matching hat to finish his outfit. As soon as he’s in your arms, Oliver jumps onto the couch to inspect the little human in your arms, making you smile uncontrollably. What you don’t know is that Tony is taking plenty of pictures for you to look back on later, and to put together a photo album as well.

“This is your little brother, Liam!” you tell Oliver as he sniffs his head, being mindful to not hurt him in any way as he climbs onto your lap to get an even better look. Then, a soft meow finishes it off to let you know he approves of his little brother, his head bumping against the baby’s little fist. Then, Tony joins the three of you on the couch, gently stroking Liam’s cheek as he looks at the scene unfolding in your lap. This will be the first moment of many they’ll share together over the years, and you’re looking forward to seeing them grow up together, side by side and best friends from day one.

“Would you like for me to draw you a bath or turn on the shower? You can take as long as you need to freshen up in there and have some alone time,” Tony says as he tucks some loose hair behind your ear, making you smile and flush at the soft touch on your skin.

“I- I would love to take a shower, but-”

“But you don’t know if you can leave Liam for that long?” Tony finishes your sentence, and you nod as a feeling of shame washes over you for not wanting to be away from him. It’s not that you don’t trust Tony, because you trust him with your heart, soul and life, but it’s going to be difficult to not have him with you every second like in the hospital.

“Can you look at me, Peach?” he asks gently, and you do as he asks, meeting his dark brown, adoring eyes.

“I know it’s very difficult for you to be away from him, but I promise to take amazing care of him. If you want, I’m happy to sit in the bathroom with you as I feed him his bottle so you’re not away from him for too long, or we can postpone your shower a few more hours until you’re feeling ready. Right now, I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable with everything that’s going on, and I’m willing to do everything it takes to achieve that,” he tells you, which causes tears to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“I’ll be okay, Tony. It’s difficult, but I know he’s going to be in the best hands with you,” you tell him, and Tony answers with a small kiss on the tip of your nose. Tony then gives you one more kiss before getting up and running a shower for you, and putting out all the needed supplies and the comfiest pair of pajamas you own to change into after you’ve taken care of yourself in the shower. Tony takes Liam from you, and they both wave goodbye to you as you walk to the bathroom, making you smile widely.

“We love you, Mama! Have a good shower!” Tony says in a baby voice, as if he’s giving Liam his voice. You laugh out loud as you shake your head, your heart swelling with pride and love for the man you love. He’s the best father and most loving person you’ve ever met, and you’re constantly thankful to have given him the gift of a son. The entire time you’re in the shower, using every last product Tony has set out of your in your favorite scent - peaches - you can’t stop thinking about your boys, eager to get back to them as soon as you can.

As you step out of the shower, you hear Tony’s voice over the baby monitor, though you never would have expected to hear what you’re hearing now.

“You have an amazing mama, do you know that? She’s been very strong throughout the entire process of growing you, she’s loving, kind, sweet, and beautiful, too,” he says, an admiring tone in his words.

“And meeting her has been the best thing to have happened to me in a long time, too. Before your mama, I didn’t ever think I’d find love in this lifetime, and I had made peace with that, but she changed everything for me. She made me believe in true love, and I’ve met my soulmate in her, too. We’re all very lucky that we get to love her in our lifetime. And you, too. I’m lucky to be able to love you as well, my little Cupcake,” Tony says, making you tear up a little bit.

Your feet carry you through the hallway and to the nursery, where you find Tony - thick, broad, beefy, giant as he is - with Liam on his bare chest, doing some much-needed skin-to-skin contact. His eyes are closed as he hums a lullaby while rocking back and forth in the rocking chair, and you can tell Liam is completely in heaven as Tony’s heartbeat has calmed him down a lot. As you’re standing in the opening of the door, you decide to snap a few photos to look back on later.

Then, you can’t help but take a moment to admire your boyfriend’s amazing physique. From every ridge and muscle that’s on display, to the veins running all along his thick biceps and the small happy trail of dark hair leading into his pants, it’s a true sight for sore eyes. Suddenly, you’re snapped out of the rather dirty daydream you’re having about your boyfriend as your nickname rolls off his tongue in a sweet tone, giving you full-body goosebumps and cheeks that are on fire as you know you’ve been caught ogling.

“Would you like to stay there and stare at me holding Liam, or did you want to come in?” he asks, which intensifies the burn from your cheeks all the way down your neck, too, making him smile more and more with every step you take into the nursery where he’s sitting.

“What’s on your mind, Beautiful?” he asks as you’re seated on the windowsill, which has a few pillows on it to make it more comfortable.

“You and Liam,” you answer him honestly, and he smiles at the mention of the sleeping baby in his arms.

“I overheard you on the baby monitor that’s next to the bed, and I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being my best friend, the man I love and the best dad both Oliver and Liam could possibly have. I’m happy to have found you in this life, too, as it wouldn’t be nearly as fun without you in it. I love you, Tony,” you say before leaning in and capturing his lips in a kiss, one that has the butterflies in your stomach going wild as your heart beats faster with pure love.

It’s been nearly three weeks since the birth of your son, Liam, and Tony’s working hard on a do-over of the Valentine’s Day plans you two had. They've changed drastically when you went into labour, but now that things are finally settling into a comfortable routine, it’s finally time to make it a night to remember, though nothing will ever top the night Liam was born.

Tony has been busy in the kitchen for most of the afternoon while you’re taking care of Liam, preparing your favorite dish and dessert, as it will be all about you for the night. Oliver has been spending time wandering between the kitchen and the living room, trying to divide his attention, though he ultimately stayed with Tony as you were sure that he was feeding him little bits while cooking.

“I’m going to put Liam down for the night, so if you need me I’ll be in the nursery. He’s very sleepy and can barely keep his eyes open,” you say as you hold him close, his head lying on your chest and his eyelids falling shut constantly. Tony agrees before saying goodnight to Liam, and then you’re off, leaving Tony to finish dinner for the two of you. Seeing how tired he already is, he goes down without a struggle, sleeping nearly right away, though you still finish the singing of the lullaby you sing to him every night.

After checking if the baby monitor is on, you leave the nursery to spend some much-needed time with your boyfriend over the delicious dinner he has created. The past few weeks have been challenging as everyone has been adjusting to the new life, but the dust is finally settling and you couldn’t be happier.

“There she is, my beautiful, juicy Peach,” Tony says as he pulls you into a hug, your head lying against his chest as you let out a deep sigh. Your own arms snake around his waist as you take in the moment and the closeness, your heart settling in a slower rhythm right along Tony’s. You’re not sure how long you two stand there, but what you do know is that you missed these moments where it’s just the two of you, and you’re looking forward to a nice dinner together.

“I love you,” Tony whispers before tilting your head and capturing your lips in a kiss that’s filled with love and unspoken promises. The promise to grow old together, and to love each other through thick and thin. The promise to be by your side for the rest of your lives, and the promise to be there for one another no matter what curveball life throws at you. Then, it’s finally time for dinner, and your stomach growls with hunger as you’re sitting down, the smell of the food filling your nostrils.

During the dinner, you and Tony are reflecting on everything that’s happened the past few weeks, as well as bringing up memories from your pregnancy and the bakery. Oliver - who’s now wearing a bandana that proudly displays the words “Proud Big Brother” - meows every now and again to hopefully get some food, and you’ve never been able to say no to his cute, chubby little face and the sweet meows and purrs.

Once you’ve gotten through your starter and main course, it’s time for the dessert, which is one of Tony’s favorite recipes: brownies that have a thick, gooey caramel sauce in the middle and on top. They’re rich, decadent and extremely sweet, but extremely delicious.

“Shall we enjoy this on the couch while we watch a movie?” Tony suggests as he’s clearing the table, after telling you to stay seated so he can take care of every single thing tonight. You hum in approval before getting up and getting comfortable on the couch with a warm blanket and a cup of tea, your boyfriend soon following with the sweet dessert.

“I hope you’ll enjoy it,” he says as he hands you your piece, together with a fork to make it easier. As soon as he’s on the ouch, too, you get to pick a movie, and the dessert has never been better. While the movie continues in the background, you two have more talks about Liam when he’s grown up, and there’s one thought Tony can’t get out of his head.

“When he’s old enough, I would love to do a ‘take your kid to work day’, so he can see what we get up to all day in the bakery, as well as help with making some of the sweet treats that the bakery offers. Maybe he’ll wear a baker’s outfit, too, making him look adorable,” Tony says, and you can’t help but melt at the thought of him getting dressed as a baker together with Tony.

“I can’t wait for that day to be here-” is all you can say, but before you can finish your thought, your attention is pulled to the baby monitor on the table. Liam has woken up and is fussing a bit, so you decide to take a peek into the nursery to see if everything’s okay. Tony’s gaze is focused solely on the small monitor as you’re in there with your son, his smile not moving an inch as he sees you in your element.

“Shall we go and see how Dada’s doing, huh? Maybe get a few cuddles before sleepy time?” you ask him before walking towards the living room again, where Oliver is now happily purring away on Tony’s lap as he’s getting scratches.

“I think he wants to spend a little more time with us tonight,” you say as you walk over to the couch before settling into Tony’s side and getting ready to give Liam a breastfeeding, too. He’s all too happy to be eating again, and falls asleep during the nursing, making you smile immensely.

“He’s so precious, isn’t he?” you ask Tony, who nods in agreement.

“Just like his Mama,” Tony says, making you blush deeply again. The rest of the night is spent with many kisses, cuddles and words of love. Three weeks ago your lives changed in the best way possible, and today you’re sharing these moments with your son and cat, making you a loving family of four. One more dream can be crossed off your list, and you’re looking forward to everything life has to bring from here on out.

And one thing is for sure: you’ll be able to get through anything with Tony, Liam and Oliver by your side.

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losver07 · 5 hours ago

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GUYS WTF WE'RE AT 100 FOLLOWERS

JSJDJSJFKDNCKDKSKXKNC HELP ME WHAT DO I DO

okay okay first of all THANKS???? like omg jdbckdnckfj im kinda freaking out a little bit i wasn't really aware of how many people actually read my shit on here lmao

OKAY! i'm going to do one of those ask things because i think they're really fun and i don't know what else to do if not that! so yeah!

~ · ★ · ~

moots! (you know who you are hehehe)

you can suggest either of these:

🪐 i write something for you! you tell me what, i'll just write a short-ish thing, either fanfic or any other ideas you give me <3 (you can choose english or spanish too!)

🎨 i make you a lil doodle! digital or traditional, idc, a sketchy portrait or a drawing of a fluffy cat or whatever you wish!

🪞 i tell you what piece of art reminds me of you! and i mean paintings, novels, sonnets, films, sculptures, whateverrr

📼 song rec! pretty self-explanatory but you get a song that i am obsessed with and that reminds me of you somehow! this will probably be very unhinged and very funny AND very gay

~ · ★ · ~

literally anyone (moots included in this too, obviously!)

🗝️ i compare you to something very specific (flower types, kinds of clouds, an specific colour, a feeling, etc. literally anything) and probably give you a weird and lowkey poetic explanation for it!

🌻 i answer a question about me! nothing too personal/private of course, but all kinds of random stuff to make me yap are pretty much welcome!

🪶 i answer ANY question about my current fic BUT only with yes/no (i probably won't be able to hold myself back from saying more but technically i cant ok?)

~ · ★ · ~

friendly reminder too that gossip and rants and overall yapping are very welcome in my ask box so of course feel free to say anything to me now or whenever you might need! <3 i probably sound like im joking but i love to give advice to people lmao

okayyyyy (i feel like ive said okay a lot of times in this post) that's it!! again THANK YOU GUYS<3 i love you all really 😭 i'm tagging every one of you here btw you're not getting away with this heheheh

@clearqueensong859 @ineffably-fucked @ciorann @thatoneguyhu @nonage4life @junkiepunkie @aletharaej @samisamousa @outromoony @magicwithclass @possesedanddepressed @somanyquestions-featuringanxiety @nyx-taylors-version @chaserofstars11 @isalikescherriesandblue @ll-until-the-very-end-ll @the-moon-and-stars-4ever @andreainlove @addsalwayssick @whydousernamesevenexist @wisegirl42 @t1cyh @glitchedmoon5 @the-fandoms-onceler @burningchopshopblizzard @sparklingwatermelo @equippedtolove @bloutwo @g-doggs-blog @kikinkapipi @nonsensicalnonsense00 @wolfstarjunkie @innielvrz @ssutton74 @treefairy-28 @siriuslyreggie07 @brnwynkl @mynametheyspeakof @jesssss28 @eczl1pse @actually-dumb-blonde @rocknr0llz @huskyhaven @vintagetee13 @mayaspeaks @clementineashton @dutifullynervouscreation @hawaiianshirttaco64

(gonna reblog with the other half of you now) <333

#AAAAAA I LOVE YOU GUYS #100 followers event!#<333

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syluss-karaoke-teacher · 14 hours ago

Text

Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part IV, Sylus

And finally we complete the series with Sylus' card!! I admit, I kinda dreaded him bc alongside Raf he is my main and his card was so breathtakingly emotional, not to mention pretty much canonically their first time. Hope I was able to do it justice!

Word count: 2539 words

MDNI! Tags and main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, mentions of overstimulation, Sylus is king of consent, emotional sex, first time together, yes I make all of them eat MC out what are you going to do about it?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

*~*~*

You point the gun at his chest with a victorious smirk.

“I won. Now for my prize, Mr. Crow.”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling deep from his chest as he raises his hands in mock surrender. His crimson eyes reflect the crackling fire that illuminates the living room.

“Fair and square kitten. Ask away.”

The tension between you two is so thick you could almost grasp it with your hands. In many ways it is not unlike your first ever meeting. Back then you hated him, hated everything he represented. Then you thought you hated him, and then wished you hated him.

And now… Now you hate that you ever hated him.

You still don’t know why Sylus decided to meet you the way he did, but you aren’t naïve enough anymore to believe it’s solely because he is the boss of Onychinus. The discoveries you have made along your journey have made you painfully aware of just how incomplete your worldview was.

The man before you is a killer and a criminal, yes. But a monster he is not. After all he has shown that he is capable of changing and learning from his mistakes; if not for anything or anyone else, then at least for you.

That is why the famously impatient and easily bored man waits for you, his silver eyebrow arched in a silent question, not pushing or prompting. As he has done from the minute he heard you despised him.

Sylus has no problem embarrassing you: he enjoys seeing you squirm and blush, whether due to walking around in little more than a towel hanging precariously from his sinful hips, or due to the sudden tenderness that he slips into your everyday moments together. He doesn’t hide his gaze raking over your body as you try on a new designer dress he bought for you, and if you ask him directly he will tell you in no uncertain terms just how beautiful you are to him. Yet despite the intensity that oozed from his very being, he always stopped at just the right distance. If you so wanted, this night would end like your nights so far had always ended: in separate bedrooms, with you getting more frustrated each time.

Well, not anymore. If you wanted to play the part of a big, fearless hunter, you should be able to manage this much of an offensive.

“I’m getting tired, Sylus.” To emphasize your words, you fake a yawn and stretch.

Sylus lowers his hands and cocks his head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like a question, sweetie.”

You pointedly ignore his jab, place the gun on the table and lay your hands on his shoulders instead.

“Can you take me to bed?”

There’s a sharp flash in his eyes, and you watch as his whole being refocuses on you. His muscles tense ever so slightly, and you see his Adam’s apple bob before he answers you.

“I thought you wanted to know my destination for tomorrow.”

For an outsider that would be a perfectly normal question. But to you, the only one that Sylus has let this close, the quiet raspiness in his voice tells you everything you need to know; the great leader of Onychinus is in the palm of your hand.

You slide your fingers up the sides of his neck to cradle his face. The crackling of the fireplace isn’t quite enough to drown out the quickening of his breath as you lean in closer.

“I’d rather live in the present, so I won’t dwell on a situation beyond my control. So… will you?”

Sylus’ answer is an unsteady exhale before he tightens one broad arm around your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders as he lifts you off the couch and starts walking towards the master bedroom. His hand on your thigh almost burns through the flimsy fabric of your loungewear set, and his other hand gently turns your head towards him as he passes through the dimly lit corridors. He doesn’t break your gaze for a second, not even as he settles you on the ground between the loveseat and the bed.

“If you want to go to sleep, you need to release me,” he murmurs, making no move to pull apart. You look up at him coyly and press your body against him. Your head barely comes up to his chin, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest.

“What if I don’t want to let go of you?”

Sylus smirks, but you see that the corner of his mouth quivering. His hold on you tightens again and he turns you both around before nodding towards the loveseat.

“Then I can keep holding you until dawn,” he says and runs his hand up and down your spine. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable now, and yet he doesn’t act on it. The man who forced you to fire a bullet into his heart the first time you met would now rather rip that same heart out with his own bare hands rather than make you uncomfortable.

The sweet tenderness makes you ache, but right at this moment a feeling far more intense demands to be let loose.

You bring your hands to Sylus’ chest and push him onto the loveseat. He lets out a small, surprised huff as you climb onto his lap and cradle his head once more in your hands.

“Then hold me,” you whisper, only inches away from his lips, “until dawn and beyond.”

The small kiss is all it takes for the dam to break. Sylus moans into your mouth and winds his arm tightly behind your hips and his other hand behind your head, locking you in place as he takes the lead. Sylus’ kisses are all-consuming and feverish, with no room for hesitation. You had been confident that he would return your feelings, but the sheer intensity of his actions leaves you breathless.

When your lips are red and swollen he finally pulls away, only to press a line of kisses along your jaw and neck. His hands run along your hips and ass and pull you flush against him. You whine as you feel the outline of his hard cock against your clothed core. He rocks his hips experimentally against yours.

“Is this okay?” he asks as he kisses your earlobe, “you’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right kitten?”

You answer by kissing him deeply. For a moment he lets you grind against him, but then pulls you back and looks at you with seriousness you didn’t expect.

“I need you to say it: ‘I will tell Sylus to stop whenever I want to.’”

You study his face for a moment, and that tender aching in your chest simmers to life again.

“I will tell you to stop whenever I want to,” you echo back to him. “Now take me to bed.”

You gasp as strong hands grab your ass and lift you up as effortlessly as picking up a kitten by its scruff. Sylus’ lips latch onto your neck and the twinge of pain as he sucks on your skin sends a jolt of electricity down to your core.

Sylus sets you down on the bed. His massive frame blocks the ceiling light almost completely from view. It makes his eyes shine even brighter, and you feel your breath catching in your throat. You lift your fingers to gently trace the corner of the eye wherein his Aether core resides.

“Am I greedy if I say I want you to only look at me?”. Sylus isn’t using his power on you, but you can hear your innermost thoughts raging in your head, nonetheless. They form only one name, one target.

Sylus smiles. It isn’t teasing or arrogant as his usual smirks; your question seems to delight him.

“You have always had the right to demand it, kitten. Which means you can be even greedier now.”

He lifts up your hips and grinds your core against his. You whine as he rocks himself against your silk shorts, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the wetness that soils your panties underneath. The friction of the fabric against your clit makes your toes curl and you squeeze Sylus’ arm in response.

“Sylus…” you groan between kisses. The world around you grows hazy as your brain struggles to give orders to your body. You want everything from him, all at once, but the words die on your tongue and morph into moans and gasps instead.

Luckily there is an end to Sylus’ self-control after all. Just as you think you can’t take it anymore, he leans his forehead against yours and looks at you so reverently it forces your addled mind into focus once more.

“Do you want this?” he asks. This, meaning him, on you, inside you, tonight or for all eternity?

“Yes. All of it. All of you.”

A twinge of energy skitters along your skin as Sylus’ Evol surges from his fingertips. In seconds both of your clothes fall apart, covering the bed in black tatters. Before you can so much as squeak Sylus flips you over and settles you onto his chest. You gasp at the feeling of your bare pussy pressing against his firm chest. He spreads you wide open and strokes the skin of your thighs with his thumbs.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop once I get to taste you,” he says as his fingers slide closer to your center. “So I’m hoping your answer won’t change.”

You shake your head and let your eyes fall close as Sylus strokes your glistening folds with the calloused pads of his fingers. He stays away from your clit, making you whine from frustration. He chuckles and you slap his chest in retaliation.

“I need to hear what you need, sweetie,” he replies as he catches your hand and brings it his lips to kiss it. “Your pleasure is my pleasure. Whatever you want me to do, I will.”

He pushes your hand backwards past your hips. You blindly reach behind you and shudder as you feel his heavy cock resting against his abdomen. The slight touch makes him sigh and you watch as a beautiful flush rises on his cheeks as you gingerly stroke him.

“See how little it takes? Just the mere opportunity to be able to please you has made me this way. So believe me when I say this, kitten… You are allowed to ask anything of me.”

Your breathing struggles to flow as you take in his words. Your thighs tremble at his sides as you finally swallow your hesitation.

“Your mouth, Sylus… I want you to use your mou—”

The rest of the sentence is drowned in a pitiful wail as Sylus pulls you forward onto his face. You hastily brace yourself on the headboard as he pushes his tongue inside you. You can feel his nose bumping against your clit as he eats you out like a man starved. Instinctively you rock your hips against the divine, soft heat of his mouth. You feel him groan against you, his hands gripping you even tighter to block out any notion of pulling back from your position.

“Sylus, Sylus, oh god…” you whimper as you try to stay upright. You feel so incredibly wet it’s almost humiliating, but the relentless pressure makes you forget any rational thought as you fast approach a high you have never experienced before. You feel Sylus take his other hand from your hip and maneuver it under you, and before you can ask him if he needs a break you feel him slide his middle finger inside your pussy. He changes his position to focus more on your clit as he rubs you from the inside. The change in pace makes you howl.

“Please, please, oh god, feels so good Sylus, please, I’m—” you babble and grip the headboard with white knuckles. Stars swim into your vision as your body tenses to a breaking point. When Sylus pushes another finger in your mouth falls agape in a silent scream and you crash over the peak. The orgasm rolls over you like a tidal wave, and if it wasn’t for the strength of Sylus’ hands you would collapse entirely.

You feel like floating when Sylus lifts you up and flips you over onto your back. He wipes his glistening jaw with the back of his hand as he stares into your eyes with a hunger that hasn’t been satiated in the slightest. You let him manhandle you into spreading your legs for him, hands pressing your things apart and down, his cock dragging itself against your glistening pussy.

“More,” he whispers as he squeezes your thighs almost painfully. “Please, let me hear it. Tell me you want it too.”

You watch as his cockhead catches onto your entrance before sliding forward once more. You feel yourself clenching around nothing as you image him inside you, claiming you, filling you to the brim. You are still quivering from your high as you plead him to take you, all of you.

The moment you give him permission he takes it to heart again. He pushes inside you slowly, lets you adjust to his size, his broad chest heaving with the effort of holding back. His eyes are glazed over with both want and something soft, something you don’t dare yet name. His figure becomes unfocused as tears well up in your eyes from the almost painful fullness.

“Sylus, it’s too much,” you gasp, and he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Just breathe, almost there.”

By the time he has pressed himself in to the hilt of his cock your head is trashing against the pillows and your pussy is leaking around him in a desperate effort to ease the intrusion. Your mind grows hazy once more as he starts to rock into you, and you could swear you feel his cock nudging your goddamn throat at this point. Just as you think you can’t take much more you feel Sylus’ fingers rub tight circles on your clit.

“Let go sweetie. You can cum as many times as you want. We have the whole night after all.”

And with that he pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, his cock pushing straight against the sweet spot inside you. Your world goes white as you shatter around him.

This time he doesn’t stop. He fucks you like a man possessed, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you as you fight to stay coherent. Only your fourth one proves too much for him and he finally spills inside you with a long, shaking groan. Even then it’s merely a moment’s distraction. His cock doesn’t even soften inside you: instead, he fucks his seed deeper into you while shaking from overstimulation. You tell him with a failing voice that he too can stop if he wants to, but your only answer are blunt nails pressing crescent moon shapes into your hips as he carries you both deep into the night.

Tell me you want it.

I do, Sylus. I want it all.

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