#well there's still the body ache from my sleep deprivation but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

Text

THE GRAVE OF LUST

a/n: this is a very random idea i had of logan not necessarily being able to go at it as he used to. which like yes i love the thought of getting my back snapped by a more energetic logan. this version of him has my heart in ways i'll never be able to explain. it's short but enjoy! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: when his body doesn't work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well.

OR giving old man logan sloppy head that he'll think about in the grave and after.

word count: 2k

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, weary old man logan, domestic vibes, oral (m receiving), spit kink, cumplay, dirty talk, he may be older but he's filthier, unedited + not betad but we live and die by the fucking pen.

He doesn't touch you quickly anymore. His hands don't shove clothes off your curves and grasp your flesh with a growl of impatience. No, he no longer holds the stamina of a younger him who could spend hours between your thighs. His bones are weary, old phantom wounds ache where they shouldn't, and he feels himself step closer to his grave with each day that passes.

His hands move at a steady pace, tugging the fabric of your nightgown up inch by inch. Sleep lingers at the edge of his mind. The knowledge that he'll have to get up early with the sun still hidden from the sky. Yet you'll be here asleep—dreaming of his calloused palms on your soft skin. How he burned himself into your ribs with a kiss.

"C'mere," he mumbled, eyes narrowed and lips parted with a deep withered breath. "Let me touch you."

Denial would be a false tale on your tongue. Depriving yourself of him wasn't an option anymore. When times like this were found few and far between and his touch became a lingering memory in the back of your mind.

You couldn't remember the last time you tasted him. The last time he sunk into your wet heat with a solid groan—the muscles of his back screaming as he held his body above yours.

Age was cruel to a man who used to be so virile. He could recall the hours he took to worship your body—mold you beneath the warmth of his palms. But doing that more often wasn't something he was capable of. He still longed for you. The sounds you made, the way your face twisted in pleasure as you came on his cock, fingers, face. He craved it some nights. He felt it eat him alive.

Tonight was no different.

"How?" you breathed, eyes wide and pleading.

You were so fucking sweet he didn't even have to convince you of this. So ready to let him bring you to that peak of bliss. He could smell the heady scent of your pussy—the way it called to him with shouts of need. And if he was a younger man...he'd have you pinned beneath him. He'd hammer his hips into yours until bruises formed beneath the skin—down into the very muscles of your legs.

His graying hair and weathered face did nothing to stop the lust that poured into your face. Your eyes still drooped, mouth open and chest heaving. And Logan was a fortunate fucking man that you were still here.

So unlike his younger self, he let you take the lead.

"Can I touch you?" you asked so nicely. He groaned at the sound of it, jutting his chin down in a nod as you grasped the button of his jeans.

Any other night you'd let him take you. Give into his languid touches until you came wherever he wanted you to come. This was a rarity the longer you spent bound together by the strings of fate.

Logan fucking loved it. He ached for it on days spent away from you—time he'd never get back. But when he'd find his way home and curl his body around yours, he found that sleep was a better option. You'd heartily agree. If it wasn't for the pounding ache between your thighs each time you caught his eye. Each chance you got to see the thick arms and sun kissed skin that lay beneath his white button downs.

"Been dreamin' about this." His voice echoed with a rasp you'd grown to love. One that screamed exhaustion, yet licked a line of heat up your spine. "Such pretty fuckin' lips."

His thumb dug into the curve of your bottom lip, pulling at it until your mouth popped open. Allowing his finger to press against your tongue—saliva building at the thought of getting him in your mouth. Of him using your throat to get himself off.

You didn't even care if you finished. You just wanted to feel him.

"You're my good girl right?" A moan spilled past your spread lips, eyes fluttering when his pants slipped down and cock came free. "Yeah you are."

"Logan," you sighed. He dragged your spit across your cheek; thumb and forefinger gripped your chin to tilt your head close enough to kiss him. Only to hold you there.

"Keep 'em open baby."

The feel of his length throbbing so close to your chest—precum dotting the tip—drove you mad. You wanted him closer. Wanted to feel the bruising ache at the back of your throat as he pushed too far. Your fingers wrapped around him gently, causing him to hiss at your cold touch. The reminder to take it slow, savor him, rang in your ears. Yet the way he looked at you with a feral hunger you felt in your heart shoved those thoughts to the side.

Within his life there's only been a handful of moments he wished he could go back to. Nearly all of them were with you on nights such as this. When the moon hung low in the sky and dawn felt eons away. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to wake up tomorrow, he'd get to wake up naked by your side and bury himself in your pretty cunt.

Logan was rarely lucky.

His spit landed on your tongue, splattering against the corner of your mouth. He led your mouth down with a firm grip until you hovered directly over his cock. The dark red at the tip made you clench around nothing—the ache spreading to the base of your stomach. Screaming for you to take it. Put your mouth on him and make him finish down your throat.

"There we go," he murmured, watching his spit and yours fall from your mouth—landing directly on his twitching cock. "Pretty ain't it."

"Yeah," you gasped, nails digging into the v of his hips. "Can I taste you? Please."

The deep echo of his laugh shot through your body like a bullet. You could feel it burrow deep within, spreading across each nerve ending and vein. Being so close to what you wanted felt like torture, but with Logan you knew it would be worth it in the end. He never left you wanting.

"'Course honey." His hand cupped the back of your neck, leading you with a soft touch. "It's yours."

Yours. Yours. Yours.

With a moan, you wrapped your lips around the head of him—tongue sliding through the slit. A ragged groan tore from his chest, his eyes boring a hole into the side of your face. The knowledge that he was so far gone for you left a pleasant thrill of warmth to grow in your stomach. This strong, capable man would bend at his knees simply to see you smile.

He was your devotee and you'd become his goddess.

"Fuckin' perfect." His words were a spit of need, fingers digging down into your skin with each flick of your tongue.

You merely held him there. In your mouth with spit coating the hand wrapped around the base of him. His taste flooded your mouth, each drop a nectar you would never have enough of. And he let you have your fill. He lay still on the bed, his breaths coupled with moans as you took your time.

Slipping him a bit deeper, you felt his thighs shift beneath you—a shuddered sigh echoing the small bedroom. You'd barely begun and yet he felt the high of dizziness begin to pull at his mind. Effectively killing whatever sleep called out to him.

"Take a little more for me." He sounded gone. Your lips spread into a smile, bobbing your head and swallowing a bit more with each small thrust. "Fuck yeah. Just like that."

He pushed at the back of your throat, your jaw strained under the width of him. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And he caught them with his thumb, mixing the salt with what spit of his still remained along your skin. Tilting your head slightly, you felt him slip down your throat—your nose finding the graying curls at his base.

The loud growl that ripped through his body was all the reward you needed. He was on the fucking edge. Barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. And he knew you could tell. His thighs jolted—stomach tensing—and when your hand slipped down to tug at his balls, thumb finding the spot between, he lost it.

Snarling your name, he thrust his hips up into your mouth and felt you choke on him. Your throat constricted perfectly with each cant of his hips down into you. He gave you the opportunity to push him off—get some air down your lungs. You let him keep going—eyes fixed on the way his face screwed up in pleasure. His teeth bared and throat extended.

Another push of your thumb sent him flying over the edge with a shout. The salty tang of him filled your mouth, spilling down your throat with rope after rope of cum. And you swallowed it all despite the searing burn that spread along your esophagus. You took every fucking drop of him and allowed some to remain on your tongue.

To prove that you could take whatever he wanted to give.

"I fuckin' love you," he breathed, cupping your jaw and grinning when you stuck out your tongue—a pool of his spend dripping down your chin.

His fingers scooped it out of your mouth before you could swallow. "Up." He slapped your ass, moving you up and into his lap. "Your turn."

"I’m okay."

The glare he gave you burned its way to your lungs. "Good girls get rewarded." His fingers dipped down beneath your nightgown—pleased to find you bare—and spread his cum along the lips of your pussy. "Don't you want your reward bub?"

"Yes," you whimpered, gripping at his hair. "I do."

"Then take it."

Refusing was no longer an option when the bliss you'd been searching for finally flared to life in your body. His fingers plunged into you, curling and seeking the spot he always found with ease. And with a sharp gasp—your hand yanking at his hair—he knew he'd found it. He smiled at the sight of you. Head back and eyes shut as you fucked yourself on his hand.

"Tell me," he said. Gripping your chin, his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. He could taste himself in your mouth. His chest rumbled with a soft sigh.

"I love you." The base of his hand ground into your clit, fingers pounding up quicker—faster. And your words pitched high with each thrust.

"I know you do." He kissed your throat, the heat of your body rubbing against his made his cock twitch in interest again. "Love you too baby."

"Fuck!" The coil in your stomach began to unravel rapidly, your body shattering into pieces you'd never find again. And he clutched you tightly to his chest. He watched in rapture at the sight of you shaking, hips bucking against his hand in quick thrusts. "Logan."

Pride bloomed in his chest. "You're perfect."

You collapsed onto his bare chest, spent and exhausted. The final tendrils of pleasure began to ebb out of your body, suddenly replaced by the comfort of him there. You pressed your lips to the center of his chest, teeth dragging along the scarred skin. And he basked in your attention—his hand trailing down your spine to knead the flesh of your ass.

"We should do that more often," you teased, lips finding his in a soft kiss.

He huffed, his eyes falling shut. "I'm too old for that."

"Believe it or not, but you're sexier older."

"Yeah?" He stirred against your stomach. "You like me old and gray?"

"Absolutely."

He smirked, pushing you up his body with slow movements. "Prove it."

#I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM #i wrote it so fast and pretty sure i blacked out #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #my writing

2K notes · View notes

vampiricgf · 5 months ago

Text

— v. lycaon | stay soft, get eaten

·₊̣̇. ⊱ warnings: fem reader, dubcon, aphrodisiac, yandere, oral fem receiving, clit sucking, cervix fucking, knotting, creampie, extremely unrealistic depiction of sex, he calls you master n is a lil obsessed with you, not edited/proofread

wc: 2k+

the grip he has on me is insane now if only he'd be gripping up this [REDACTED] sobs

You were so lucky to have an attendant as well prepared as Lycaon. After spending the evening unable to sleep, angrily listening to birdsong as the light peeking in from the window grew less and less subdued, he had suggested you take a simple supplement and attempt a nap upon seeing you still laying in bed at his arrival. After all getting rest was the most important thing and if something would come up he could easily handle it for you without letting you rest excessively.

Just enough to be able to get through the day yet still feel appropriately tired come night, that was what he promised after handing a small tablet to you which you gratefully accepted. Lycaon had been sweet and thoughtful from the moment he started at your estate with the Victoria Housekeeping contract, and was always so adamant about remaining at your side.

When the room begins to soften at the edges you don't question it, it may be a mild effect from the pill or your own deprived brain. Focusing on the beat of your heart was easier, keeping your eyes closed as you remained tucked into bed. A heaviness spread through your limbs, delicious and reminiscent of a sleepy cat in the honeyed afternoon sun as you roll onto your back to stretch against the warm sheets.

The brush of them against your skin sends an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading beneath the surface of your body, an odd feeling of wishing it was replaced with physical touch, yearning suddenly for a certain thiren that you knew wouldn't be far from your bedroom.

You try ignoring the growing ache between your thighs, uncomfortably turning over and over from side to side as the temperature rises. Before long you have to thrash the covers off to rest barely covering your legs, nearly panting with the volatile mixture of desire and no sleep.

Thinking of calling for him you bite your bottom lip, a small whimper coming from low in your throat. As you struggle with the inappropriateness of the urge little do you know he's just opposite the bedroom door, listening intently to you with barely contained self satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

It's hardly appropriate for an attendant to be pining after their master, but say you were feeling struck by some overpowering need, what kind of attendant would he be to refuse if you begged for his help? Truly he'd done it on a whim, it just so happened that today was the perfect opportunity to act and perhaps it was simply fate.

"Master?"

His voice jolts you out of the thick fog of lust as he steps through the doorway, unable to bear the sounds of you whimpering for him any longer. With quick steps he's beside you, a hand coming to rest delicately against your forehead which nearly makes you moan from the contact. Your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the scent of your arousal was heady in the balmy air, if he were less composed it would've made him drool instantly.

"Are you ill?" Faux concern laces the words as his eyes trail from your face to your heaving chest, your top having bunched up just beneath your breasts was a tantalizing challenge to his self control.

"I can't sleep- feels like I'm on fire," you whine, your eyes fluttering closed and he's grateful for the chance to ogle you openly.

"Do you require my help?" The tone of the question leaves little room for interpretation, the almost breathy way he asks betraying how clear your neediness is to him.

It should make you embarrassed, you should wave him away with a demure no I'll be fine but you can't bring yourself to speak the words aloud, nearly choking on how much you ache for him to touch you again. In a distant corner of your disconnected mind you wonder if thirens can smell things like arousal and perhaps that's why he offered. It makes your thighs clench together hard, the muscles flexing beneath the skin. How lucky you were to have someone so dedicated to attending to your needs that he'd even offer.

"Wouldn't be- appropriate-" you force the words out between deep breaths, desperately trying to regain some self control as your eyes find his.

He looked so handsome knelt by your bed, his singular visible eye shining with concern. You want to smooth the worry from his face with a hundred deep, frantic kisses, so powerful is the urge it's more like being gripped by madness.

"You don't need to worry, as my master I can't let you remain in this state without intervention." The words are so syrupy sweet to your ears, his voice low and sending delightful shivers down your spine.

If he's saying it's okay then why worry about impropriety? Once again you can't help the surge of thankfulness at his presence and his loyalty to you.

Gingerly he grasps your hand in his much larger one, bringing your arm up before placing the softest kiss to your inner wrist. The sensation of his lips against your skin is enough to make you squirm, back arching slightly just from the barest contact.

"Mm, don't know what's wrong with me," you breathe harshly as his mouth maps a trail from your wrist up your arm, your shoulder, and before you register it he's above you and those clawed hands are roaming the overheated skin of your stomach and it feels like every sense you have is being overcrowded by him.

If you had the wherewithall you would have perhaps been ashamed to be so openly writhing and moaning beneath him with your hands fisting in the material of his shirt but given the way he makes you feel like you'll crack apart in the next millisecond there was simply no room for things like humiliation or shame.

"Will you let me help you, my master?"

The request is accompanied by the feeling of him sucking on the side of your neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over the delicate flesh he could easily rip. Why does everything feel so much more sensitive than usual? If you could think straight it would be a more pertinent question, but against the feeling of his hands cupping your breasts and urging you to help him remove your shirt the concern washes away like sugar in hot water.

In a way Lycaon is glad for your habit of wearing little to nothing in bed, because it feels like this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Each evening it was like the single greatest test of his resolve to not immediately give in to the urge that screamed to rip those skimpy clothes off you and fuck you until your pretty eyes were full of tears and that tongue of yours was only good for sounding out his name.

And he hadn't lied earlier, not fully. That pill would help you with your sleeping troubles eventually but the less than mild aphrodisiac effects would kick in first. It's no concern though, because that's what he's here for, to service you as his master. And so what if it happens to be a shockingly convenient avenue for satisfying his own desires? Who could blame a devoted attendant for loving their master so greatly?

As you shift your hips impatiently he's all too eager to indulge you, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and pushing one leg up in order to slot himself better between your legs and feel the tantalizing heat radiating from the apex of your thighs.

You can feel the way his bulge throbs against you through your clothes and it's exciting, like his body is begging for just the same release as yours and his movements have taken on a more predatory tinge- caging your body with his forearms on either side of your head now, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip in between sloppy kisses and the rhythmless, frantic grinding of his hips against yours.

"Want you, please," it leaves your lips as a pathetically desperate whine as you roll your hips to meet his in a pantomime of unclothed thrusts. Feeling his erection strain against layers of clothing has only served to make you feel even more delirious, like you're on fire and he's all that could hope to put it out.

"Like this?" The question is needy, nakedly desperate and it makes your fingers claw against his soft fur, pulling him down to kiss you again in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

You give an airy mhm and his head dips down to your chest with a particularly sinful groan, teeth ghosting over the swell of your breast before his hands are on you again, nearly ripping the flimsy pajama bottoms off of you in his haste to get you undressed and knowing you're so impossibly close to finding relief for the all consuming ache in your body makes you sigh contentedly for the first time as the air brushes against your clammy skin.

His movements are quick, snaking down on his belly and brushing his nose against the skin of your inner thighs. You can hear the deep inhale he takes, feel the way your body flushes hot in response. His hands run up and down your feverish skin, riling you up and when his tongue licks a fat stripe all the way up your flesh until his face is pressed against your pussy you can't help the way you moan his name so brokenly, a sound more akin to cracking porcelain.

And it's then that his self restraint seems to snap cleanly in two, his claws nearly digging into your thighs, nose bumping against your achingly puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your soaked entrance. It was impossible, feeling him as deeply as you were and he wasn't even using his fingers. Your own twisted into the bedsheets so hard they should have torn, your mouth open as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Soon enough he held one arm across your hips to pin you down and lessen your squirming, alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, his sharp canines occasionally brushing dangerously against the sensitive bundle of nerves. With every drag of his tongue it felt like a coil winding back tighter and tighter inside your gut, hands fumbling to touch any part of him you could grasp as he retained his unrelenting pace never wavering in the attention he lavished your pussy with.

And all too soon he's pulling away from you, leaving you to keen high and pathetic at the loss of him, panicked eyes frantically locked on his figure as he drags himself back up to face you. Before you can whine too much he's shushing you with a deep, languid kiss and giving you the secondhand aftertaste of yourself on his tongue. For a brief moment you wonder if you've died and this is the afterlife: one long satisfaction of desire.

"I don't mean to tease, but I need you in another manner master." And you don't need to to ask what he means, feeling what must be his painfully hard erection rubbing against your bare, soaked cunt. Thrilled eagerness skips like electricity through your bloodstream, already rolling your hips to beg for it before your mouth even opens.

And like the wonderful attendant he is Lycaon obliges before you have to say a word. His hands deftly shed his clothes, now rumpled and twisted, before discarding them on the floor in a heap. Your bottom lip catches so hard between your teeth at the sight of him it's a miracle you don't draw blood.

Even in your most vivid fantasies there's simply no way you could capture just how gorgeous he was, and you can feel your eyes widen as they settle on the sight of his now freed cock. The tapered tip, flushed red and needy, glistening with precum, the girth of him enough to make your eyes water, and the length promising that he can easily kiss that spot inside you that turns your vision to static.

You could start drooling from how badly you need him inside you, a fresh wave of overzealous longing battering against your mind like waves against a rocky coastline. As he leans down, supporting himself on one forearm beside your head you meet his eyes again, seeing an amused look on his face that made you squirm in embarrassment at being caught so openly admiring him.

The scent of arousal and sweat is so thick in the air even you can catch it, it must be driving him insane. The thought nearly makes you giggle but the press of him against your entrance cuts off any sound you could hope to make, mouth left hanging open as he starts the slow press inside. Tears instantly push against your waterline, threatening to spill both from the painful adjustment to his size and because nobody has ever made you feel so full before.

He's barely midway inside and you're already panting, chest heaving as you mewl out his name and grab onto his shoulders like he's the only stable thing in the world. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, snowy fur and as his swollen, fat knot settles against your entrance you feel a rush of the most perfect bliss. Like you two were made for each other.

The delirious thought takes root as he kisses his way from your lips to your jaw, down your throat before giving you a few gentle nips with his teeth just to make you gasp and tighten your grip on him before he begins moving.

His pace is slow, almost loving, as you feel every vein as he pulls out only to inch back inside you with ease now thanks to your excess of arousal mingling with his saliva. You can't help the way your toes curl against nothing but the air as you move to grab onto your own thighs, desperate already to feel him deeper and once again, Lycaon follows your whims dutifully.

You can't help but cry out incoherently as he presses into you again and again, the head of his cock hitting so far inside you it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

But it's still not enough, and you feel that coil resume it's firm windback into position, almost ready to spring.

"Please, feels so good," you gasp out, "need more- harder -" you squeal with a particularly deep thrust against your cervix and ever the gentleman he doesn't make you ask again.

Groaning low and gravelly he cages you fully with his forearms, burying his snout into the side of your neck as the obscene sounds of skin slapping and the squelching of your greedy cunt drown out anything else. Distantly you hear his claws ripping through the sheets but you can't be bothered to care, not when he's got tears running down your cheeks and your pussy clamping down on his so hard, desperate to keep him inside.

You can feel him throbbing as you curl your fingers deeper into his fur, crying out his name as the tension inside your belly reaches a head, making your eyes screw shut and your head press back against the pillows.

His own ragged breathing doesn't register to you, so lost in the throughs of your own orgasm, but his teeth are gritted, bared in a silent snarl feeling the way you clamp down, the way your walls rhythmically try milking him for all he's worth and in an instinct driven haze his hips move in an even more brutal pace, sure to leave bruises against your tender flesh as the maddening need to cum inside you overwhelms him.

There's no way he could stop himself now and he muffles your cries with sloppy, apologetic kisses, tasting the tang of saltwater as his knot finally pushes it's way in, sitting securely against the ring of muscle at your entrance and he can't stop himself from saying your name against your lips, again and again like a mantra as thick, warm spurts of cum drown your womb.

You remain locked together, you a mess of hiccuping moans and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm and him grinding against you as if he could still fuck more of his cum even further inside you.

Your ankles shakily lock around his hips and one of his arms slides under your back, hand finding it's way down to grope and squeeze your ass as he whispers to you, words of thanks for indulging him and for allowing him to be of service that swirl dreamily around in your head as your fingers start gingerly stroking against his silky fur, soothing the spots you had twisted and tugged.

In a far away corner of your mind you recognize that this is the first time he's ever used your name to address you. It makes you smile, small and twinged with sleep. You know once he's no longer inside you he'll adamantly clean you up, move you to a different space and ensure you can sleep comfortably while h tidies your wrecked bed.

But another part of you wonders if you could convince him to forgo it all and just stay like this, warm and tangled together.

Maybe if you ask sweetly.

#txt ☆ˎˊ˗#von lycaon smut #von lycaon x reader #zzz smut #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero smut #zenless zone zero x reader

1K notes · View notes

sungbeam · 8 months ago

Text

nonidol!jung sungchan x f!reader

at some point beneath the glittering summer sun and along evening tides, you and sungchan tripped over the line drawn in the sand.

▷ genre, warnings. brother's best friend!au, friends-ish 2 lovers, family vacay + sungchan lol, swearing, kissing, fluff, humor, sungchan does go shirtless (it's a beach), mentions of food, mentions of alcohol; lee jeno, sohee, and anton r ur brothers! (so u have the lee last name but u "look more like ur mom"); barely proofread, also im sorry if this is boring my head has not been in the game for Months

▷ word count. 10.0k

DISCLAIMER: i DO NOT actively write for or stan riize; this is literally just a birthday present T-T so if dynamics/personalities aren't right, i literally don't know these guys 💀

a/n: happiest birthday to my beloved soulmate and wife @justalildumpling :')) i hope u like it <3

OFTEN when you came back home from work, your joints and muscles ached to the point you could barely stand, your hair felt gross on your head, and your eyes stung from dehydration and sleep deprivation. That was the toll of working closing shift at the restaurant you worked at, and had been working at, for the past several years.

It wasn't out of the ordinary to see the lights in the house still warm and bright when you got home either. Your family was a handful of night owls, not discounting yourself. They had witnessed you in this particular rat-nest dump of a state time and time again, which was why you didn't worry about looking like Death Incarnate.

“Hey.”

Your soul left your body.

Sitting on your living room couch was not a family member. Though, he might as well have been a part of it from how much you had been seeing him lately. Jung Sungchan was your older brother Jeno's best friend, but Sungchan was in your year rather than Jeno's. The two met via the high school soccer team and had been good friends since.

Years later, he was sitting on the living room couch, nearing one in the morning, his hair damp from a recent shower, T-shirt sleeves rolled up his shoulders, and his phone paused from the game he was playing. Your brain was too tired to even register the amount of muscle packed onto his arms (what the fuck—).

“Sorry, did I scare you?” He chuckled sheepishly, reaching up to ruffle his dark hair, grown out slightly.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted instead. Exhaustion meant that conventional politeness was completely defenestrated. It was one in the morning on a summer night… usually your older brother was out clubbing or drinking (not that you were any different, but you worked quite a bit more nights lately).

Sungchan's eyes danced up and down your form. “Jeno and I decided we're gonna pull an all-nighter for the road trip in—” He glanced over at his phone, “—seven hours and just knock out in the car. How was work?”

Road trip? Car ride? If you could just make it to the shower… “It was fine. Tiring,” you said with a sigh. You trudged over to the far side of the room, behind Sungchan, into the kitchen. You grabbed a cup to fill with water, then drained it down your throat just as fast as it had been filled.

With water in your body, your systems were finally coming back online. Road trip. Car ride. Your eyes widened. “Oh my god. I have to pack.”

“You haven't packed yet?” He queried, tone light and teasing as he watched the progression of your panic with amusement. “Even Jeno's packed.”

You sputtered back at him, “Quiet, you!”

Sungchan's warm laugh followed you out into the hallway and all the way to your room. You couldn't understand why your face felt so hot; you should have been too preoccupied to be embarrassed, after all.

You slammed your bedroom door shut, dragging a hand down your face. You couldn't believe Sungchan just saw your I-just-worked-for-eight-hours-in-customer-service face. Not even some of your closest friends had seen the aftermath of your night shifts at work yet.

Crazy.

It wasn't every family vacation where a plus-one was invited. Your family tried to set aside time for these trips just for the six of you, but this time was an exception. Somehow—you weren't a part of the delegations—Sungchan was invited on this summer's trip to the coast. Your mom mentioned offhandedly it was because Sungchan “was a nice boy,” or something to that effect. Your family rented out a cabin right along the beach for a week, and the lot of you were going to be stuck in the family minivan for a good eight hours together.

And if Sungchan was tagging along, that meant you were going to have to fight for the middle row seat or—

“Yn—you’re in the back with Sohee and Anton.”

You came to a screeching halt on your way out of the house, a bucket hat shielding your puffy eyes from the waking world, your duffle strapped over your shoulder. It was seven hours later—an ungodly eight in the morning. “What? Nuh-uh; I don't think so.”

Jeno stood only a few meters ahead of you by the door of the minivan, his hands primed on either side of his hips as if he was the self-proclaimed guardian of the car seating chart. “Well, I said so. Sungchan has longer legs than you—”

“Why don't you sit in the back then?” You shot back with a saccharine sweet smile. You were too tired for this shit.

Sungchan scratched the side of his head as he walked out of the house to stand by you and join the argument, his flip flops thwacking against the ground. “Uhh, I can sit in the back middle seat. It's cool, dude.”

“Sungchan's too tall for the middle seat,” your dad interjected. He took yours and Sungchan's bags to add to the trunk. “Yn's in the back. Sorry, hon.”

“Dad,” you groaned.

“You can switch with Jeno half way.”

“Dad!” Jeno squawked this time.

Your father gave a tired sigh, saying more than he would ever say aloud. “Everyone in the car. Can't you two be like Sohee and Anton? At least they're knocked out.”

“They know they'll be sent to the back without question,” you pointed out as you made your way to the minivan. As you passed by your brother, you sent him a very potent stink eye, then clambered into the back row.

Like your father had said, your younger brothers, Sohee and Anton, were already dead asleep. Their mouths hung open wide enough to catch any wayward fly with their heads angled back against their neck pillows. You snorted and snapped a photo of them to add to your collection of brotherly blackmail.

Your mom was settled into the front passenger seat already queuing up driving directions to get to the coast. From your perch in the middle, you had a clear view of her phone screen—seven hours and two minutes. Yay.

You supposed there wasn't anything too terrible about the middle seat; you were out like a light as soon as the car pulled out of the driveway.

When you woke up, it was about four hours later, and your parents were having a hushed discussion amongst themselves and Sungchan. A baseball cap had materialized on top of Sungchan's head at some point when you were asleep, and the sleeves of his T-shirt were once again rolled up to expose his muscled shoulders. Did this guy not have a tank top?

“...I like it, at least—well, I don't mind all the extra requirements, and I know it'll help me reach my ultimate end goal, so.”

Your mom let out a hum of approval. “Ah, that's good that you like it. You'll be busy as a nurse.”

Right, Sungchan was in the nursing program. Your brother wasa kinesiology major, and you were going into law. It made for quite the diverse pool in the car.

You opened your mouth in a yawn and fumbled your hand around your lap for where your earbud had fallen out of your ear, carefully so that you didn't shake off Anton's head on your shoulder. (Oh no, was he drooling?)

“Yn-ah, good morning,” your mother teased quietly.

You glanced up, eyes going wide when you realized both your mom and Sungchan were now peering back at you. “Morning,” you murmured. Your fingers enclosed around your fallen earbud to tuck it into the case left in the bag at your feet.

“Sleep well?” Sungchan piped up. There was that twinkle in his eyes, the same one from last night. It made your stomach twist in a way that was more pleasant than not.

You cleared your throat, unconsciously reaching up to adjust the placement of your bucket hat and praying you didn't look like a sewer rat. “For the most part,” you replied. “How about you?”

He shrugged. “I had a decent power nap. Your mom says you're going into law. That's really cool.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Thanks. And you're in nursing, right? That's cool, too—super admirable.”

Sungchan's mouth widened into a small grin. “Thanks. It's only our first year, but it feels like so much work already.”

“Right? Tell me about it…”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the family van pulled into the parking lot of a diner off the interstate, exactly halfway through your journey. The seven of you, weary and hungry, filed out of the vehicle and into the establishment. You and your parents slid into one booth, while your brothers and Sungchan occupied the one behind you.

There was a low-spun fan swirling above your heads, an 80s song you vaguely recognized wafting through the air at a dull decibel. Your phone was stashed away in the bag tucked into your end of the booth seat while you idly sipped on your glass of iced water.

You jolted at the feeling of something light hitting the back of your head.

A gasp from behind you.

You rolled your eyes, twisting around in your seat while picking the wadded up straw wrapper from your hair. “Who did it?” You deadpanned.

The boys table was filled with sheepish expressions, to their credit. Your younger brothers, who were sitting on the far side facing you, thrusted their fingers in each other's faces in a torrent of blame and accusation.

“Aish, never mind. I don't care who did it,” you dismissed. Your eyes caught onto Sungchan's. He sat just diagonally to your left and for some reason, his eyes on you made you feel warm.

You flicked the wrapper back; it hit Anton square in the forehead. Jeno barked out a laugh.

“Nice shot,” Sungchan nodded, extending his fist to you.

You couldn't suppress the smile from coming onto your face as you bumped his fist with yours.

Food arrived swiftly afterward, and it was demolished as quickly as it came. In the sway of a palm tree frond, the seven of you were back in the confines of the family minivan.

The remainder of the car ride carried over quickly. Though Jeno unhappily sat his ass down in your previous spot with you claiming his from before, he and your other brothers snored away five minutes in. You didn't go back to sleep despite having a full belly and less than five hours of sleep under your belt; you watched the world pass by outside the window in a blur.

Urban skylines melted into rolling emerald mountains and pastures, sank into palm trees and sandy shores that met a blue horizon as far as the eye could see.

The beach house your family rented this year was a two story cottage-type. It was small, with only one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, a bathroom downstairs, and a living room and kitchen. The rest was all beach. It was determined that you and your mom would be given the honors of the upstairs bedroom and bathroom, while all the boys piled into the living room.

Once everyone was settled in, there was little else to do but go make use of your new backyard for the next week.

“Yn! Come on, slowpoke!” Sohee shouted at you from the shoreline with cupped hands. You saw his bare back as he splashed into the waves after Anton, who was already only a speck in your vision.

Your bare feet sank into the sand, and you wiggled your toes between the warm grains. Sunshine, glorious and concentrated above the distant horizon, soaked into your skin. Ah, this was the life.

Just as you reached for the hem of your shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Jeno and Sungchan were coming onto the beach from the front of the house, a disassembled volleyball net hanging between them.

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head at the sight of Sungchan's back—

Before Jeno or any of your other brothers or Sungchan could catch you ogling, you gave yourself a nice, mental slap to the face. No more. You needed to stop this. When did you ever look at Sungchan like this?

(You could still remember when he was the gangly kid with the growth spurt trying out for the high school soccer team. He was paired with Jeno to test his potential, and the rest was history.)

Sungchan was the first to spot you as he and Jeno determined a place to set up the net. He beamed boyishly, his chin inclining toward you. “Hey, wanna play?”

Your eyes flickered to the corded necklace hanging from his collar and between his—Yn, shut the fuck up. “Sure,” you said simply, feigning nonchalance.

If he noticed your wandering eyes, he didn't comment. Instead, he nodded back at you. “Sick.”

You both turned back to your original tasks. Your hands went back to the bottom hem of your shirt to tug it up and off your body. (Maybe you weren't the only one with wandering eyes, though.)

You draped your clothes over the back porch railing and began making your way down to the shoreline. “I'm gonna take a dip and then come back up!” You said to Jeno and Sungchan.

“Oh, okay—ow!”

You didn't see nor hear what happened, but when you glanced back, Sungchan had his back turned to you as he furiously rubbed the back of his head, while Jeno smiled innocently.

Your older brother waved you along. “Carry on!” He said.

Walking backward for a couple steps, you shot him an incredulous look, then turned around to meet your little brothers in the ocean. Whatever.

You had been staring at the wooden ceiling above your head for the past forty-five minutes. Your mom's even breathing and the ocean waves rolling outside the window failed to rock you into unconsciousness. You'd figured the sunlight from this afternoon would have made you tired, or perhaps all the food you ate for dinner, but your eyes continued to stay wide open.

A quiet sigh fell from your mouth as you rolled over onto your side and gently peeled the covers off. With near silent footsteps across the oak floors, you slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

The cacophony of combined snoring from all the men in the living room was comparable to the volume of the waves just outside.

You barely contained your snort of amusement. You didn't worry about waking any of them up as you crossed the living room, full of a smorgasbord of limbs and bodies draped across the large couch sectional and blankets on the floor.

The back door was left unlatched when you reached its threshold. Outside, moonlight dappled across the calm sea like a sprinkling of diamonds. You slowly pried the door open, freezing.

You and Sungchan made eye contact from across the back porch. He was perched on the top step, nursing a bottle of beer in his hand. A loose breeze wafted through the strands of his hair.

“Sorry,” you whispered, moving to retreat back into the house.

“Oh, no—please.” He patted the empty space next to him on the porch step.

You blinked, at odds. He was clearly out here for a reason and you'd figured he wanted some space, but if he was inviting you, then…

You closed the back door behind you and settled beside him, with a comfortable amount of negative space between your bodies. You folded your arms over the tops of your knees and stared out at the midnight horizon. It smelled of salt and sea spray, and the light wind was a refreshing crispiness against the humid evening air.

“Couldn't sleep?” He murmured, glancing over at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He hummed in response.

“I'm not surprised,” you said. The corners of your lips curled upward. “I wouldn't be able to sleep amongst my brothers either. Their snoring could wake a bear.”

Sungchan sputtered out a laugh as his eyes crinkled upward and he pressed the back of his knuckles against his mouth. “I wasn't gonna say it, but…”

You shared a grin with him. “I will happily say it for you, dude.”

His eyes were stunning in this lighting. The moonlight hit his irises at an angle that made them shimmer like a shade of molten copper. He licked his lips, and you saw his eyes dart from your eyes, down a few inches, then further down to the beer bottle in his hands.

“Oh, uh,” he stammered, tipping the bottle nose in your direction, “want some? I thought the alcohol would help me sleep, but it's not looking awfully promising.”

For a split second, your heart leapt at the thought—your mouth pressed against the place his mouth had been, tasting the place he'd drunk from.

You dashed the thought from your mind. It couldn't have been so significant as your brain was making it out to be. You were probably just sleep deprived.

“Thanks,” you said while reaching across the gap to accept it from him. Judging by the weight, it was just about half full, and you took a light swig.

A drop of liquid dribbled out of the corner of your lips, and you swiped it with the pad of your thumb, sticking the finger into your mouth to suck it off. You passed the bottle back over to him, catching his eyes not looking at yours.

(The organ in your chest was no longer in your chest. Was it normal for your heart to make a home in your throat instead? Why did he look at you like that?)

“Any reason for not being able to sleep?” You asked him to break the silence. “I mean, besides the symphony my brothers and dad are conducting, of course.”

His eyes shuddered, as if breaking out of a trance. “Oh, uhm—nothing in particular, I guess. Maybe it's just from all the excitement. I think it's usually hard for me to sleep in new places.”

You bobbed your head in understanding. “No, I get that. It takes me a little to get used to new environments, too. I don't know how I would have survived if I was living in the dorms at uni and not at home.” The university you attended was a decent commute from your house, so living on campus was never something you gave much thought to. The idea of living independently appealed to you sometimes, but in general, you didn't have a ton of qualms against your circumstances now.

“For sure,” Sungchan whistled lowly. He contemplated the opening of his beer bottle, then took a gentle sip of its contents. “Have you made a lot of friends? I feel like it's a lot harder than people make it seem.”

You passed him a curious glance this time. “Some, but it's definitely not as easy as high school. You haven't made a lot of friends?”

“The soccer team, mainly,” he chuckled. “The occasional ally in my classes.”

You let out a bright laugh that made his smile widen. “'Ally?’” You parroted. “What a fun word to call classmates.”

“It's true!” He insisted, chuckling. “Some of these professors are evil, man. Competitive grades? Not a chance,” He scoffed. “We're all in this together, even if the curve is against us.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud, but the rolling waves likely covered your noise plenty. Your family were deep sleepers.

“I just figured that you meet lots of people,” you offered when your mirth died down to a giggle. You toed a pile of sand sitting on the last step of the porch. “Your socials are pretty active,” you said, “but I guess I shouldn't judge a book by its cover.”

“I could say the same about you, Miss Party Girl,” he smirked. “When are you gonna drag me to a rave?”

Heat raced up to your cheeks. “I've only been to one,” you said, rolling your eyes. He'd seen that post? First, the post-work daze, and now, the turnt raver? “I haven't gone to a party in a few weeks 'cause of finals anyway.”

Now that you thought about it, you'd been so busy as of late, you couldn't even count the amount of outings you'd declined on your two hands.

“Trust me, I get it.” He raised his hands in an act of surrender, his knees angling toward you. The negative space was suddenly a lot less negative.

Another tip of his beer bottle; it swapped hands once, twice more. The liquid dribbled smooth down your throat just as Sungchan knocked the rest back. The empty glass made a dull thunk sound as it hit the wooden porch to Sungchan's right.

“So what I'm getting,” you drawled, mimicking his position by angling your knees toward his. You felt your legs brush—the stimulus sent a jolt down your nerves that warned of addiction and tasted like the forbidden. “Is that you've never been to a rave before?”

Sungchan gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe I have.”

You mocked his shrug. “Maybe you have.”

“Or maybe it's just that I haven't gone with you yet.”

Even the waves seemed to quiet for a second. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, and you tied down the nervous laugh ready to bubble out of your mouth. You bit your lip and found yourself nodding. “We'd paint the town red, Jung Sungchan,” you murmured.

There it was again—that flicker of his gaze to some place you both knew crossed a line. It was the beer, was what you were telling yourself. It was the beer.

Seagulls surfed the ever-blue sky. Eternal summer could be thought of as a filter of golden, glittery gauze across one's already rose-colored glasses. But summer, truly, was the shade of Jung Sungchan's tank top peeling off his body as he sprinted down the sandbank after your brother, Anton.

You watched the fabric whip around in the salt breeze before settling into a heap where his footprint melted into the mineral grains. You were giving Sohee the sunscreen spritz-down up on the covered porch, while Jeno barreled down the bank after his friend and brother.

From behind you came the scratch of the back door sliding open. You and Sohee peered back to where your mom poked her head out.

She just barely caught her sunglasses in time as they slipped off her head. “Hey, your dad and I are heading out. Watch each other, okay?”

“Got it!” You and Sohee chirped.

One more nod from your mom, and then she was gone. Your parents were going to take a date into town, just the two of them. That left you and the boys here with the surf and sand—definitely not a terrible compromise. If you wanted, you could probably have the whole house to yourself, anyway. These guys could entertain themselves.

“Yn! Sohee!”

Jeno arced one arm up into the sky to beckon you down to the sea, only to get dragged underwater by his two comrades. You and Sohee harked out twin laughs as you watched Jeno fight for his life with limbs flailing and foam flying into the sky.

You patted Sohee's shoulder as you set the can of sunscreen onto the porch step. “Alrighty, you're good to go, bro.”

“Thanks—race you down!”

“Hey!” Your laughter echoed as you bolted down the sand after him to join the fun.

As your feet dug into the wet embankment, your palms made purchase against Sohee's shoulders to shove him into the water. A yelp leapt into the air, and you turned away to avoid getting hit in the face with the consequence of your prank.

“I'm so gonna get you for that!” Sohee spat water out of his mouth, a wicked grin pulling onto his lips.

“No, you're not, actually!”

You bolted—well, stomped, your way through the knee-deep water, furiously trying to get away from karma. Water yanked down on your limbs in a forceful coax to give into your punishment, but you were determined.

You could hear your brothers’ hollers of encouragement: “Get her, Sohee!” and “RUN, YN, RUN!”

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you pushed your legs harder.

“I got her!” Wait, was that Sungchan?—

You suddenly felt a pair of hands on either side of your waist—you swore as your legs came out of the water and your world twisted.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You squawked, squirming wildly in Sungchan's arms as he scooped you into his hold like a bride. (NO. NOT LIKE A BRIDE. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A BRIDE?—) One arm cradled your back and the other under your knees, and he laughed—he chuckled—as you attempted to flip yourself out of his grasp.

“You're not getting out of this, party girl,” he said close to your ear.

For a heartbeat, you lost your breath at the rasp behind his words and the grin on his face. But a heartbeat was all he needed.

There was free fall, and then all sound muffled as cold water engulfed your body. You plugged your nose and screwed your eyes shut. You felt your ass hit the sand at the bottom in slow motion, before the air in your lungs began to lift you back up to the surface of the water.

You broke out with a gasp, hair flipping back as you furiously swiped your hands down your face to get the water out of your eyes. They stung like a bitch, but you could feel the rush of blood in your ears; it was thrilling.

A hand in your vision enclosed around yours.

“You asshole!” You scowled up at Sungchan from where you knelt, though it was half-hearted.

He beamed back at you boyishly with damp hair hanging in his eyes and water running down the crevices of his stomach like a goddamn system of canals. “You're a good sport, Yn.”

“I'm really not.”

You had the distinct pleasure of seeing the smile slip off his face before you used his grip on you to yank him into the water. You swallowed a good half pint of saltwater, but the revenge couldn't have been sweeter.

When Sungchan's head broke the surface, it was followed by a dog-like shake of his head. You laughed to turn away from the spray of water; Sungchan delighted at the sound.

Amusement still lingered on your lips as your eyes snagged on the piece of seaweed that made its home on his head. You didn't think twice about it before leaning closer to reach it.

You stepped forward, and—oh boy, was that a mistake.

You had a front row seat view of a droplet of water slipping down the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the cliff of his chin. You wrestled down a swallow, and pulled the seaweed off his head, flinging it into the water.

“You had, uhm, a little…”

“Right, thanks—”

You both flinched apart as a man-made wave of water crashed into your sides. “AMBUSH!” Your three brothers declared, springing up out of the water and parading a full-blown attack with all weapons firing.

You and Sungchan were swift to launch your own counterattack.

Merriment filled the summer air as much as saltwater embedded into your skin and eyes and mouth. You almost made the mistake of thinking your racing heart was just from the determination to beat your brothers, and not from the guy on your side of the war. The heat was getting to you and the sun was getting to him.

It was about an hour later that you found yourself lazing upon the slick and smooth plane of a surfboard. The ocean rocked you gently from beneath the board; it had been surprisingly calm all of today.

At some point, you and the boys established a truce in the Great Water War, mainly because your brothers were hungry and there was a big, juicy watermelon just begging to be cut open and devoured in the house.

Suffice to say, you let your brothers figure it out.

Your consciousness faded into the foreground of your mind as a distant sound of splashing neared. You peaked one eye open, lifting the rim of the hat up to see who dared to encroach upon your isle.

You could recognize Sungchan's mop of hair from a mile away, at this point. You couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing, but why did it have to be either?

He cropped up right beside you, pushing back his hair to keep the water out of his eyes. “Hi.”

A smile curled onto your lips, teasing. “Hi. Good swim?”

“Good nap?”

“As good as one can be on the open ocean,” you said, shifting the hat up so you could see him better, but keeping your face shaded. “I don't know how dolphins sleep with half their brain on.”

Sungchan's brows rocketed toward his hairline. “They sleep with half their brain on? Crazy.”

“I know. I can't even stay awake with half my brain on.”

You and he shared a laugh, and he set a palm on the board next to your body. “Aw, no,” he assured. “If you've got less than half a brain on at all times, then I've got one brain cell.”

“Joke's on you, half my brain is half a brain cell.”

He wrinkled his nose at you. Cute. “Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but that's not how brain cells work.”

You nearly fell off the board. “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, do tell.”

“I'm not about to talk about neurons on my vacation.”

You challenged him with a look. “Overruled, counselor. Answer the question.”

His mouth fell open in a stunned daze, and his reaction made you break face for a moment to laugh. He blinked. “I have to be really honest with you…” Sungchan carded a hand through his hair, then pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “That was really hot.”

Was it suddenly five degrees warmer out here?

If blood rushing in your ears was akin to the sound of waves crashing, there must have been one hell of a tsunami in your veins right now.

You sputtered a laugh. “You need to get out of the sun—”

“I'm sorry I said that aloud,” he grimaced sheepishly.

“Nurse? Nurse!—” You feigned raising your head up to look around for an imaginary nurse in the middle of the ocean. “Oh, right. You are the nurse.”

He groaned, tilting his head back and playfully punching your shoulder. “You're so—”

“Hot?”

You howled at the sight of his cheekbones blooming the color of ripe watermelon. “I'm kidding; I'm teasing!”

He sighed, smiling despite the pain etched onto his gorgeous features. “Never living that down, am I?”

You shifted your position to laying on your stomach now, your arms folded beneath your chin. Sungchan carefully turned the surfboard so the tip faced him, and you were trapped in his gaze, head-on. “It was cute,” you consoled.

“So you think I'm cute?” He cocked a brow.

“And you think I'm hot.”

He flicked water at you. “Aaand, there it is!”

You laughed again, delighted at the red lingering on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

A beat passed for a second. Something settled between the two of you, a thing you couldn't yet put a name on, but it had been there since last night. Or maybe it had been there longer, festering in the negative space between you until said space could become something of a memory.

You weren't sure why he was here—why he'd swum out here to meet you when his best friend was back at the beach house, gorging on watermelon and getting his ass handed to him in Mario Kart by his siblings; why he all of a sudden occupied a part of your mind like the tide creeping up the embankment at four in the afternoon. At first, he was far enough for you to settle into a false sense of security; until all of a sudden, there he was, the foamy waves lapping at your feet and his smile the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes.

His tongue swiped over his lips and he cleared his throat. “So, uh, watermelon?” That was his original reason for coming out here. (He did volunteer, after all.)

You perked up. “Right, sure. Watermelon.”

“Great.” He broke into a smile, but the corners of it were softer, fonder. You could get used to the look of it.

There was this saying—the elephant in the room—but here in the cabin living room, it was definitely more of a blue whale. Just completely out of the water, weighing about thirteen tons, the size of twelve school buses… yeah, that sounded about right.

“GO FISH!” Anton flung his finger across the circle at Jeno with the glee of a kid on Christmas morning. “Suck it!”

Your mom sent an express glare his way. “Anton.”

Your youngest shrunk down sheepishly. “Sorry, eomma.”

The seven of you were settled in the living space this fine evening with a deck of cards. Your parents were on the couches watching the movie on screen and the game before them, while you, your brothers, and Sungchan huddled around the coffee table playing said game. Sunsoaked and weary, it only took one hearty and filling dinner to perk the lot of you right back up like a field of sunflowers.

“This is a stupid game,” Jeno sulked as he examined his hand of cards.

“You only say that because you're losing,” you pointed out. “Anyways, Jeno, can I have that three?”

Jeno cut you a glare as the rest of the table rolled into fits of laughter. Your smile was cheeky, reaching out to snatch the three Jeno revealed he had during his turn.

“That's cold,” Sohee snorted.

Your eyes darted over to Sungchan opposite you. His eyes were glimmering. “Yeah, I didn't know you had so much ruthlessness in you, Yn.”

“Why do you think she's going into law?” Jeno grunted. Though one card less, it meant that he had one less pair in his finished pile. At this rate, you might win and end up with the most pairs.

“Guys, it's literally just how you play the game.” You nodded over at Sohee. “Sohee, do you have a jack?”

Your younger brother handed it over without ceremony. “Unfortunately.”

“Anton, do you have an ace?”

He shook his head. “Go fish, noona.”

“See?” You said to the rest of the table, but your eyes went to Sungchan's. “The nature of the game.”

They let you off the hook because you didn't plunder everyone of their cards this round. It continued on with Sohee, then Anton, before landing on Sungchan.

He made a show of considering his cards, a furrow between his brows. He glanced up at you over the rim of his hand and gestured with a curl of his fingers. “I'd like that ace, Yn.”

“Oooh,” Anton giggled.

Jeno grinned as you extended the ace across the table to Sungchan. “Karma.”

“Thank you—” his fingers grazed against yours as he plucked the card from your grasp, “—very much.”

You pressed your lips into a small smile, nose wrinkling up at him. You had a few cards left to rid yourself of.

Your dad cleared his throat as he stood up from the couch to bring his empty bowl to the sink. “By the way, are you kids still going into town tomorrow?”

The five of you exchanged brief eye contact with one another. “Yep.”

The idea had come up during dinner after your parents came back. They'd mentioned a variety of activities and little shops to visit that might be fun for you to see, including a hand churned ice cream shop and a port side arcade building. It would just be the five of you going, while your parents would walk down to the beach trails about a mile from the cabin to go hiking.

In the morning, you and everyone else in the house took your time getting up and ready for the day. Breakfast was taken together at the table before you split off into your separate parties.

Jeno took the wheel with Sungchan riding shotgun, and you sat in the middle row with Sohee, while Anton occupied the back. You rolled down your window to rest your chin on the fold of your elbow, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you watched the scenery pass by.

Right in front of you, Sungchan also had his window rolled down with his arm propped on the lowered sill. He chatted animatedly with Jeno about whatever game he and all three of your brothers were playing this morning, but you could feel his gaze go to his side view mirror more than once.

The ride was an easy, breezy one.

The main town center bustled with locals and visitors alike in the late morning. Jeno found free parking about a block away, and the five of you walked over as one big group.

“Ice cream first!” Anton declared with one arm raised toward the sky.

“I concur,” you chimed in. You lifted your sunglasses up slightly so you could read the town directory easier. “Seems like we're close by.”

Anton nodded in approval. “Onwards, then.”

You and your youngest brother led the way. The idea of ice cream made your mouth water, especially since you could already feel a bead of sweat dribble down your spine. Why was it so goddamn hot?

The shop was a cute, little building with a pink and white striped awning and a large window in the front that gave visitors a front row view into the ice cream churning experience. You snorted as Anton pressed his nose up against the glass, a wide grin splitting his face.

“You're scaring the workers, dude,” you jested, tugging your brother along.

Anton scrunched his nose up at you. “You scare me every morning.”

“Just because you're a wimp when I put toner pads on—hey! Do you want ice cream or not?” You cackled as he attempted to flick you square in the forehead.

Jeno groaned. “Guys, can we please act normal for once?” He asked as he swung the door open for everyone.

Sungchan beat you to the punchline, slapping his friend on the back while he ducked inside. “That's rich coming from you, man.”

“Hey!”

The squabble was swiftly swept out of your mind when you stepped foot into the shop. You were nearly knocked over from the potency of the sugary waffle cone scent that occupied the room. At the sight of tubs upon tubs of frozen treats kept within the display case, your entire face lit up, eyes going glassy with wonder. “Oh no, too many to choose from,” you gasped, cupping the lower half of your face.

Sungchan chuckled beside you as he crossed his arms and assessed the dozen options before you. “I didn't know you were such an ice cream fanatic, party girl,” he mused. He glanced over at you with a fond sort of gleam in his eye.

“Don't even get her started,” Sohee groaned. “She and Anton have a sweet tooth to rival Willy Wonka.”

Anton flagged down one of the workers, having already found his targets to try. He was in here for less than two minutes and was already rattling off the entire menu to the poor girl behind the counter.

“Tiramisu sounds really good,” you muttered. Your eyes moved slowly from tub to tub. Another gasp flew from your lips, and you clasped a hand on Sungchan's shoulder. “Wait—but strawberry shortcake—hhhhh.” You wrinkled your brows together, lips pressed into a taut line.

This was not good.

“You could always get a double scoop,” Sungchan suggested.

You bobbed your head. “That's true, but I'm just worried I won't be able to finish, y'know.”

“Well, maybe I'll get one of the flavors you want and we can split.” His shrug was all too casual.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, biting his lip through a smile.

The organ in your chest gave a hop, skip, and a leap. You weren't sure if it was at the thought of it all working out alright or if it was because of Sungchan's generous gesture. You were telling yourself it was the former, but you could be persuaded it was the latter if given a light shove in that direction.

When everyone's scoops were paid for, you fell into a loose formation to stroll around town while you finished your treats.

You and Sungchan were glued to each other's sides out of necessity since you were sharing flavors. Jeno walked on his other side, however, lapping at his cotton candy blue scoop seated upon a throne of waffle cone. The two youngest walked in front, leading you all to wherever they wished to go.

The town itself was rather quaint when you finally soaked it in. It seemed like the kind of place everyone knew everyone, and if you were new or only visiting, the locals were just as friendly and welcoming. The town center was stocked with anything a resident might need—a small grocer down the street, clothing stores and restaurants lining the boulevard, a newspaper stand at the corner, a laundromat, a hardware store, and more places you were certain you wouldn't be able to see in just one walk.

As you scooped a bite out of some of the last bits of tiramisu in Sungchan's cup, Jeno was summoned up to his brothers who were debating over which way they should turn next. You and Sungchan lingered behind to finish off the ice cream in your respective cups.

Just as you slurped up the melted shortcake ice cream at the bottom of yours, your eyes caught onto a storefront behind Sungchan. It was decked out in cliché boho-chic, with braided nets, shells, and sand dollars in the window and over the door frame. The souvenir shop seemed to embody the quintessential tourist trap, and you didn't mind falling into it.

“—guys, we're gonna go to the arcade now!” Jeno said, beckoning you and Sungchan over. They must have decided on a route then.

You made your decision. “You guys can go ahead! I'm gonna pop into this place for a second. I promised I'd get my friend Minjeong something.” Minjeong was one of the few close friends you made at university, and though you didn't promise to her face you'd get her something, you were determined to get her a little trinket as a token of your affection.

“You're gonna go alone?”

You blinked. “Yeah, I'll just meet you guys at the arcade.”

Sohee piped up, “But mom said buddy system.” Okay, you should probably honor that, but it wasn't as if the four of you always followed that rule.

“I'll go with you.”

All eyes went to Sungchan who tossed his empty cup and spoon into the nearby trash can. He gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “I wanted to get my mom something anyway.”

You tilted your head to the side curiously as Jeno narrowed his eyes at Sungchan, like they were communicating telepathically. Odd.

In fact, you didn't really know what to think about being alone with Sungchan. There was a difference between coincidentally ending up on the porch together or conversing in the ocean away from everyone else, to purposefully breaking off from the group to spend time with each other.

Then again, he said he was getting something for his mom. That gave a different implication to him volunteering to accompany you. The goal was capitalism, not something forbidden.

Maybe you were thinking about this too much.

“Okay, fine,” Jeno relented. “We'll meet you at the arcade, but don't take too long or we'll leave without you.”

“Aye-aye,” you teased, raising a hand to wave goodbye to your brothers. “C'mon, Sungchan.”

You dumped your empty ice cream cup and spoon into the trash before slipping inside the souvenir shop with Sungchan following right after you. You lifted your sunglasses up on top of your head, skin prickling with gooseflesh from the draft of air conditioning wafting overhead. A soft-toned acoustic played in the background, accompanied by the cheery greeting of a staff member from behind the register.

You and Sungchan lifted your hands in warm reply, then disappeared into the aisles to explore.

Your fingers grazed along the racks of clothes branded with the beach town's name and minimalist artwork; your eyes roamed over the ships displayed in bottles on the walls, the not-for-sale surfboard hung for decor. Like many souvenir shops, there were several turning displays that boasted rows upon rows of themed keychains with specific names engraved into them.

“I will never find my name amongst these,” Sungchan mused quietly from beside you as the two of you rifled through the surfboards and seashells and sharks. “And yet, I look for the S names all the time.”

“Valid,” you nodded. “Sometimes I can't find my name either, but it's the hope that gets you.”

“And fails you,” he pointed out.

“Touché.”

Near the keychain displays stood a tower of hats and head accessories galore. There were crocheted bonnets, straw hats, ball caps, and even headbands. Your expression glittered as you plucked up a headband with twin sunflowers on the top like a pair of antennas.

After hanging your shades on your shirt color, you donned the headpiece, twirling around to show Sungchan. “Thoughts?” You asked, failing to sweep your grin away.

Sungchan beamed back at you. “Oh, you're too cute.”

You ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck to reach for another headband—this time, one topped with red crab claws. Sungchan graciously bowed his head for you to crown him with the piece.

“Fabulous,” you declared with your hands on your hips.

He peered into the small mirror to the side of the hat rack. “You think?”

“Of course.” So much so, that you pulled out your phone to snap a picture. You tilted your head toward his to fit both of your faces and headbands in the frame.

Sungchan peered over your shoulder to take a glimpse at the photos. His tongue was jammed into his cheek, and you could feel his breath along the shell of your ear. “Send me those?”

“I'd need your number first.”

He grinned boyishly, roughing a hand through his hair before taking your phone from you. “You don't even have to ask.”

As he saved his contact information into your phone, you attempted to calm the giddy butterflies in your stomach by peering back into the mirror at the headband on your head. You squished the plush sunflower heads with your fingers, humming thoughtfully. “I low-key wanna buy this.”

He glanced up from your phone before handing it back to you. “If you buy that one, I'll buy this one,” he replied, pointing up at the crab claws on his head.

“You're such an enabler,” you jested. A beat passed. “Okay, but only if you get it with me.”

“That is what I said,” he chuckled, eyebrows arched.

The remainder of the time you and Sungchan spent in the shop was mainly to figure out what you would purchase for Minjeong and what Sungchan would buy for his mom. (Mainly, implying that there was still room for shenanigans.) It took a little more than half an hour, but you both emerged from the souvenir shop with a gift bag each, containing your headbands and the baubles bought.

The arcade was only about a ten minute's walk from your location, so you and Sungchan took your sweet time getting there. As the two of you walked—the backs of your hands grazing against one another, shoulders bumping—you nearly forgot that Sungchan was your brother's good friend. Jeno had never made it a point that you and his friends should never mix, and you knew he could care less about your love life, but this was different. (Was it?) It felt like something that shouldn't happen, and yet, why were you starting to want it so badly?

The outside of the arcade was a cream colored building, much like the others in town, but with large posters on the outside beckoning guests to come in and try their hand. Your brothers texted you to let you know they were in a game of laser tag right now, so that gave you and Sungchan a little more time to yourselves within the arcade.

“I have an idea!” Sungchan grabbed your free hand and hauled you off toward something in the distance.

The feeling of your fingers slotting with his had more than just your steps skipping. “Hey, man—you and your long legs need to chill!” You hollered at him through a laugh.

He sent you a look over his shoulder before stopping at one corner of the arcade. With jazz hands, he presented his marvelous idea. “Ta-da!”

Before you was an all-time classic: Dance Dance Revolution.

Your eyes widened just as your smile did. “It's like you read my mind,” you marveled.

The machine was just like the movies with a multicolored screen of bright blues and purples, a platform with two sets of arrows in the floor, and two arched rails at the back for each player to hold onto as they danced the night away.

Sungchan marched up onto the platform and fished a wadded up paper bill out from his wallet. “Have you played before?”

When the machine devoured his money, the screen leapt to life and blasted its opening music to announce that somebody was willing to step up to the challenge.

You set your gift bag down at the foot of the platform and climbed up to join him. “I've only seen it done before, but I've always wanted to try it.”

You and he locked eyes, and you were sure the twinkle in his was a reflection of just how excited you were.

“Well, today is your lucky day, party girl,” he chirped. “Let's see what you've got.”

It didn't take long for you to figure out that “what you've got” was a lot less than whatever Sungchan had.

You grappled onto the railing behind you tightly as you stomped your feet against the coordinating arrows that flashed on-screen. How long had it been since that fateful first round? Ten minutes? Two days? It was all mashing together.

“This is unfair; you have longer limbs,” you groaned after missing a few arrows in a row. Why were you so out of breath?

A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of Sungchan's head. It was almost comical how serious you were both taking this game. “I have practice,” he corrected cheekily.

“Same difference!”

“A master never blames his tools.”

You huffed. “Bullshit.”

At this point, your losses were becoming ridiculous. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

For a sequence you knew you were going to miss, you leaned over and pinched his side. Sungchan jolted—it did the trick, and he missed the steps. His head whipped over to you, an impish gleam in his irises.

“Oh ho ho… you wanna play that game?”

You placed your hand on your hip as the round ended. “If I'm gonna lose, might as well go out with a bang.”

His tongue swiped over his lip. “You're on.”

The next round commenced, and adrenaline spiked through you like a spear, more powerful than before. You knew to expect Sungchan's revenge, but you struck first.

A poke at his side resulted in a tickle at your waist. You returned his parry with a blind poke at his stomach.

Anticipating his response, you spotted his arm incoming out of your periphery and moved to step out of his reach. Instead of solid platform, however, your breath hitched at the feeling of half your sandal slipping off the edge.

Sungchan's eyes went wide and his arm instead curled around your waist and hauled you to him. “Shit,” he muttered, “are you okay? Sorry, that was totally my fault.”

Your palms had landed on his chest, your heart rate slowing but not fast enough. All of the excitement in your veins was likely more so from the game itself, and not from almost falling off the platform… and perhaps, another part of it was you realizing just how close you and Sungchan were now.

You nodded. “Yeah, I'm completely fine; don't even worry about it. And it wasn't your fault—I miscalculated my step and I started it anyway.”

He pressed his lips together. “Still.”

“Nice catch, by the way,” you said quietly.

You saw his eyes leave your gaze, and this time, you followed in his movements. He ducked his head, almost shyly. “I guess so,” he chuckled. “I'm glad I caught you.”

If anything, your heartbeat was gaining speed again. The hand pressed into your waist was a little more addicting than you would have liked, and his mouth was closer than you thought it had been.

In the neon glow of the Dance Dance Revolution screen, you and Sungchan leaned toward one another with one aim, and one aim only.

“Hey guys!”

You leapt off the dance platform at the same time that Sungchan zipped to his side, gripping the railing with an expression akin to a deer caught in headlights.

You pressed a hand against your palpitating heart and turned to find all three of your brothers bounding over to where you and Sungchan were.

“Oh my god,” Anton gasped, “is that DDR?”

It seemed that Anton and Sohee were more focused on the game than yours and Sungchan's compromising position. But Jeno… you noted the suspicious narrowing of his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest…

You swore you and Sungchan swallowed at the same time.

“Did we interrupt something?” Jeno drawled.

“Nope!”

You and Sungchan looked at each other at your simultaneous answer. Great. That definitely wasn't even more conspicuous or anything.

Jeno pressed his lips together. “Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, Mom and Dad texted and asked for us to meet them at the house, so we've gotta go.” He lifted the screen of his phone up for you to see. Dear god, you hadn't even realized they'd texted the group chat.

You cleared your throat. “Right.”

You picked up your gift bag, and your younger brothers immediately flanked you on either side to gush about the game of laser tag they had just partaken in. Though you nodded and engaged in their conversation, your mind was elsewhere.

Plus, it was hard not to be hyper aware of the fact that Sungchan was now alone to face Jeno somewhere behind you. You were not looking forward to the car ride back.

There were always some, unspoken fine lines that should not be crossed—at least, purposefully. In retrospect, you knew Jeno didn't care about who you chose to spend your time with, as long as they treated you right. In the same vein, you didn't care much about what he thought when it came to your own decisions, and yet, you found yourself caring a little more because this was one of his friends. Not yours.

But feelings were feelings… and you were slowly coming to terms with yours.

It was like déjà vu when you crept down the stairs in the dead of night for the second time this vacation. You simply could not bear staring at that wooden ceiling any longer with your mind reeling from this afternoon's events.

The living room was yet again a cacophony of light snoring, and you crossed the room toward the back door once more.

You paused again, the sight of Sungchan's back a familiar one. Instead of sitting on the porch steps, though, he leaned against the railing, gazing out at the dark waves. It was yet another calm night out on the embankment, but the moon tonight was hidden away behind a few wisps of cirrus clouds.

He glanced over his shoulder at you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greeted softly, gently closing the door behind you so you could join him at the railing. It was funny how you both were on the same wavelength. Fate had a funny way of encouraging you.

You and he hadn't properly spoken since the arcade, and Jeno hadn't said a word about it to you either. Dinner had gone on normally enough, so you were unsure of where this all stood.

“I wanted,” Sungchan began, “to talk to you about something.”

You glanced over at him and found his eyes already on you. “Sure, of course.”

He straightened, gesturing to the sandy beach beyond. “Walk with me?”

You nodded and followed him down the porch steps. Your feet met the cool grains of sand, and a sense of calm seeped into your bones from the bottom up.

A hand outstretched in your vision, uncertain. You clasped your hand in his palm, and the pair of you began to walk. You couldn't recall whether you began to adore the feeling of your hand wrapped up in his earlier or just now.

“So…” you trailed off.

“So,” he picked up. “About earlier today. I wanted to, uhm, make sure we were on the same page about something.”

He stopped you both when you were a good distance from the house, where the waves slipped along the sand louder than the snores.

“I had a really fun time with you today,” he said.

You nodded your head in earnest. “I had a great time with you, too.”

He smiled then, hand letting go of yours to drag over his face. “I'm—I’m happy to hear that,” he replied, and you were sure he was trying to hide his growing giddiness.

You reached over and gently pried his hands away from his face. “Did Jeno talk to you about today? Did he say anything?” Before he could reply, you added, “Because I know he means well, but who I choose to spend my time with is my decision. If he can't handle us together, then he'll have to learn to suck it up.”

“He did say something to me about it,” Sungchan admitted, “but it was just to make sure I wasn't playing around.” With his hands locked in yours, he gave your palms a reassuring squeeze. “And Yn, I'd like to take you out sometime—properly. No playing around.”

No more toeing the line in the sand.

Your heart rattled violently in your chest. “I'd really like that.”

His expression melted into something tender, like the dark swirls of molten chocolate in the scoop of tiramisu ice cream. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. “Okay,” he murmured, barely audible over the soft laps of the waves, “good.”

He considered you for a moment longer, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I also—I did intend on kissing you earlier today, and I probably should have prefaced it, but—mmmh!”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled his mouth over to yours. He sank into your hold with a content hum, his hands slipping around your waist to tug you closer to him. You'd never really thought about what kissing Jung Sungchan would be like, but you knew that your imagination couldn't have been better than this.

When you broke apart with your foreheads pressed against each other and sharing breathing air, you let out a small laugh. The sound coaxed a warm chuckle out of your counterpart.

“Sorry,” you breathed against his lips, “I probably should have asked first.”

He smiled against you. “You can apologize by kissing me again.”

He most certainly didn't have to tell you twice.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! (idek if that was good, im off my Game and off my Rocker dkfnrj)

m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @meosjinn @fluorescentloves @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @kflixnet

#kflixnet #riize x reader #jung sungchan x reader #riize oneshots #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #sungchan oneshot #sungchan fluff #sungchan drabbles #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios

554 notes · View notes

ghoulphile · 8 months ago

Text

janey's dad | part two teaser

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 482 ➥ overall warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, squirting, choking, riding, dirty talk, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | ok i don't know if it's the sleep deprivation or if i'm getting too in my head/have stared at this too long but i am begging y'all to help me 😭are we fuckin with this or?? 🫠 send helppp. i'm still working on this rn but i'm going crazy atm

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Then broad palms slip beneath the hem.

Blunt nails snag on nylon, and calloused fingers dance along the silky skin of your thighs. At the whisper soft rasp of fabric as Cooper’s wrist rucks up your dress, your nerves tremble with white static.

And when he traces the strap of your garter, his thumb tucking beneath the elastic to stroke over an angry indent, you tremble.

“Think it’s about time you take these off, pretty girl,” a teasing forefinger brushes over the front of your panties, “don’t you?”

You comply without a thought, pulse thudding and mind foggy with desire.

Soaked cotton dangles from your ankle only to be yanked free by Cooper. With a cheeky wink and a husky, “For later,” he deposits them into his shirt pocket for safe keeping.

Oh fuck.

You almost swallow your tongue at the thought of him using them when you’re gone. Stroking along his fat cock with a fistful of panties, cumming onto the fabric as he fantasizes about pumping you full.

“You’re evil, you know that?” you croak, swallowing hard. “Nothing but a perverted old man.” It’s a punch to the gut when he flashes a roguish smirk.

“That may be, but you still want to fuck me. What’s that say about you, sweetheart? Now --” The skirt of your sundress flutters behind you, draping down over your ass to cover his legs. “-- Show me what you want.”

Smug asshole.

Who knew he was such a goddamn tease (you should’ve)?

You sigh, looking at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. “Please.”

“Well, go on. I’m sure as shit not gonna stop you.”

With a hummingbird heart, you shift until your bare pussy hovers over the bulge of his cock. There’s no doubt you’ll stain the dark fabric of his slacks as soon as you claim your spot on his lap.

You clench at the thought of leaving a mark, using him as you please.

Something you’ve wanted for so long, and now it’s so close you can taste it. It’s hard not to get greedy. To explore all those forbidden thoughts, enact your darkest fantasies now that he’s before you, so goddamn handsome and willing to indulge.

Your hips dip.

Everything flashes, white lightning; molten heat pumping through your body with every rabbit fast thump of your heart. The line of his shaft spreads your folds, hot and hard as the rough material of his slacks sparks delicious friction against your aching clit.

Your arms anchor around his neck, your fingers burrowing into the meat of his wide shoulders as you groan in unison at the silken contact.

“I can feel how wet you are, sweetheart.” He exhales through his nose in a heavy rush, his brow crinkling as hands tighten around your waist in a bruising vice. “You’re so soft and warm. Fuck - I wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fic: janey’s dad

436 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 10 months ago

Text

dinner party

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

an: what is going on in the house of commons (I do not know) MAJOR CRINGE ALERT but it's part of the lore idgaf this was a long time coming

it’s four thirty in the morning when sukuna decides to pry you from your computer.

he’s almost positive that he’s going to get pushed back, cued on by the combination of your sleep deprivation and the concerning amount of energy drinks he knows you must have consumed within the hour.

but the tangled mess of your hair and your deep, dark eye bags, have bothered him long enough – and if anything – he’s given you tons of grace for letting it go on for four days.

sukuna gets working hard. he just can’t stand by working yourself to the bone.

he finds you hunched over on the kitchen island, head down on the counter as you scribble away on your notebook – a sizable amount of ink smeared on your hands, a few empty wrappers of protein bars at your side, and your eyes barely open.

sukuna leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter, before reaching forward to push your computer shut. the sound that follows jolts you out of your concentration, to find an…almost irritated sukuna sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“hey. did i wake you up? i dropped the glass earlier by accident.” you mumble.

“you broke a glass?” sukuna asks.

“yeah. most of it is in the corner over there, i’ll swear i’ll clean it up as soon as i’m done.”

sukuna opens his eyes fully this time, to find the stacked pile of glass sitting in the little corner, sparing you a glare before reaching for the little bin. the guilt flares up in you as you watch him drag his tired body over to the side, carefully shuffling all of the little shards away into the bag,

“sukuna. you don’t have to do that. i was going to clean it up.”

“well, fuck off now. more time for you to sleep if i do it for you.” he mumbles.

you’re positive he meant to make that more domineering then it ended up being.

and it’s horrible. it’s been days since you’ve slept next to him, always climbing in as he’s climbing out to go to work – pressing a consolation kiss to his cheek before you pass out into the sheets. and now he’s up in the middle of the night, cleaning your mess just to ensure you a few more minutes of rest.

“i’m almost done with my personal statement, i just want to make sure it’s done before i send it out to-”

“your personal shit will still be there tomorrow.”

you sigh. the pulsating in your head throbs quietly, eyelids heavy and aching from the light of the screen, tiredness sagging in your bones – dragging your limbs down as you lean on one of your arms.

you still have three paragraphs left to write. your activities section could be better. you need to upload your transcripts and make sure that the letters were uploaded to the portal properly. and-

“i’m almost done, really. i was just going to come to bed and-”

“perfect! come now.”

sukuna switches sides, walking up behind you and replacing his fingers with yours on your head. he can feel the pulsating under his fingertips, noting the way you lean your head against his chest and lean back the second he starts massaging into your skin.

“you’re starting to fucking piss me off.” sukuna mutters.

that’s what he says. it sounds more like you’re starting to concern me.

“i’m coming, sukuna. just give me a few more minutes, okay?”

sukuna pulls the stool at your side, before looping both of his hands around your thighs and pulling you up into his lap. his hands are steady – holding you firmly at your sides – as he looks up at you and you dig your hands into the hardness of his collarbone.

you loop your fingers through the silver chain around sukuna’s neck, tugging on the little dog tag charm at the end to pull him closer to you. it’s a chaste kiss that you press to his lips and you you can feel him staring after – big, brown eyes peering into yours – as he kneads his hands into your skin.

you scoff.

“are you poking my butt?” you ask.

“maybe a little.” sukuna responds.

“you’re such a dog.”

“you cop a feel almost everyday. god forbid i touch my girlfriend’s butt.”

sukuna reaches forward, tucking one of the loose strands behind your ear.

“we used to be a real country, y’know? people used to touch butts all the time.”

you smile and sukuna reaches up to run his fingers over your lips, the softness mirrored on his face too. and you know that a lecture is going to follow, so you bury your hands into his messy bedhead.

“you have to fucking stop this shit.” sukuna states.

you sigh.

“i know. it’s just that once i start, i find it hard to stop. i just want to finish it all in one go.”

“you want to clean up animal shit that badly?”

you groan.

“you’re so mean, sukuna. it’s not cleaning up animal shit…”

“yeah, yeah…i’ve heard your whole healing and love for the earth and animals shit before, i know.”

you dig your hands into his scalp.

“i…i just want to make sure that i only have to apply to veterinary school once.”

“you’re being stubborn. so what if you have to try again? it’s not a big deal.” sukuna states.

“s’not about that. i just can’t afford to do it again, sukuna. it costs thousands of dollars and i’ve been saving up for so long. i’d hate to see the overtime i worked go to waste when i don’t even get in.” you murmur.

sukuna doesn’t think it through when he says it. he’s almost certain that if he had thought through it properly though, it would have been the same conclusion.

“i’ll pay for it.” sukuna states.

it’s a horrible sensation – like pins and needles in your chest.

you knew that sukuna was rich. that his family was rich.

and that in earnest, sukuna probably would pay for it without even batting an eye. it wouldn’t even be the first time that you would have taken a handout from his family – for rent, car loans, when you applied to college.

mrs. itadori was too generous. it seeped into sukuna too.

but you refuse to take handouts from your boyfriend. not when the debt you have to pay them back is already so high.

“are you crazy? you can’t just offer to pay for my vet school applications if i don’t get in anywhere this time around.”

“you know i have a job right?” sukuna responds.

“i know you have a job. but you can’t just offer it up like that! you’re acting like it’s just a five dollar iced coffee or something. it costs thousands of dollars, sukuna.”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“it’s like an investment. you can pay me back.” sukuna states.

the same line mrs. itadori uses. it never feels that way when they’re the one quietly shuffling you money in envelopes when you have eviction notices on your door that you never pay back.

“you would never take my money.” you state.

sukuna grins, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your collarbone.

“you know me so well, princess.”

you frown.

“and you expect me to take yours.” you mumble.

sukuna runs his hands through the front of your hair, before angling your down up so that you’re looking at him.

“you know i only have a stable income because of my parents, right? that’s…i had a leg up, sweetheart. didn’t have to worry about working during school – hell, i went fucking abroad just because i could.”

you glare at him.

“that’s…that’s such a copout. i can’t just take a handout from you because things are harder for me. i know that you may have had some things considerably easier but that doesn’t mean i can just…start taking your money.”

he glares back.

“considerably easier is the understatement of the year. and i have every intent to let you pay me back when you’re a cushy doctor. you’re going to buy me a new motorcycle with that money.”

sukuna watches the thought rattle around in your head.

“we’re in it for the long haul. not a big deal if i have to help you pay for vet school applications, which i won’t have to because you’ll get in, but what’s mine is yours. s’gonna be our future student loan.” he murmurs.

there’s the ghost of a smile on your face. sukuna’s fingers continue to meld softly into the hardness of your hip bones, the sensation so soothing it almost makes you keel your head back.

and you’re sure that’s part of it – the soft touch, the overexertion, the crippling fear that you’re about to graduate and not even sure what you’ll be doing next year, that you could fail and have to rely on him – that makes you start bursting into tears and stand up to wrap your arms around him.

you delude yourself for a second into thinking that’s how it could be. that maybe for once you wouldn’t have to worry about this type of thing, because he would be there to help you. that he would let you pay him back, that it would be your money.

“i can’t take your money, sukuna.” you whisper.

sukuna smiles.

“you would do it for me.”

“i wouldn’t be able to do it for you. i-i would want to but…”

sukuna frowns.

“you know money doesn’t mean shit to me right?”

you sigh.

“but it does to me. we already owe you so much and…and this can’t be another thing on the list of stuff i have to pay back.” you state.

sukuna hooks his hands under your knees, before tilting you over his back and marching his way back to the room. there’s angry grumbling under his breath, that’s fully intelligible to you and makes your breath hitch.

“why are we having this stupid fucking conversation at four in the morning? i’m not about to get into the whole logistics of marriage and shared bank accounts when you can’t even stop giggling after i touch your thighs sometimes. just chill the fuck out.”

you feel bad. but you can’t help but laugh at how stupid he sounds as he flops you flat onto the sheets – that he haphazardly mentioned marrying you – as he rummages through the closet for your pajamas. you can tell that he’s tabled it for now and you’re more than grateful as your eyelids start to heavy with sleep.

“arms up.”

you oblige as he reaches for your shirt – and lightly push him as he tangles it over your head for far too long – before pulling it straight off. there’s a wide smile on his face and you reach for his wrist to stop him.

“what’s wrong?”

not the time.

“nothing! i just….nothing, sorry.”

you take the shirt from his hands before slipping it over your head and switching into the shorts. sukuna’s always quick with things like this – closing his eyes and turning around – always waiting until you were done.

besides your momentary lapse in awkwardness when you were able to take the bath with him, you hadn’t pushed anything farther. but it was pooling in the pit of your stomach – that want to be closer to him, moving in tandem with him for something…more intimate.

you’d talk to him about it on the weekend.

“are you…sitting at the kids table?”

you look up to find a blonde girl standing against the back end of the wall, nursing a little glass of wine in her hands. you shoot the group of kids an apologetic smile before you push off the floor, rubbing the red spots in your knee from the carpet, before giving a polite smile.

“ah. i kind of lost my boyfriend…and i can’t find my friends. they were also playing the entire game wrong and it was hurting my soul a little bit.”

the girl laughs, pushing her hair behind her shoulder before extending her hand out to you.

“valid. i’d do the same thing. i’m kisa.” she states.

you swear you know her from somewhere. though the likelihood of that is probably ninety percent – there wasn’t anyone in this town who didn’t know each other.

“i’m y/n.”

“wait. y/n? are you sammy’s sister?”

point proven.

“that’s right. yeah, she’s here somewhere. our mom was invited, she’s really good friends with mrs. itadori.” you.

she hums in response, as you watch people shuffle in and out of the room. there’s a highly doctored smell of perfume in the room – billowing black dresses and shiny pearls – as all of you mom’s friends amble around the foyer taking their pictures.

mrs. itadori spent a decent amount of her time planning extravagant dinner parties. and once in a while, you had to drag yourself all the way out here to show your face with yuuji. it was hardly pleasant.

yuuji’s dad would always make a shitty comment, sammy’s ass kissing would be at its peak, and the two of you would be left to fend for the wolves.

sukuna, naturally, knew this. so he decided to attend to.

you just didn’t realize he’d be so popular. neither did yuuji and it makes your skin itch that you don’t know where he is right now. or that you can’t resolve the tension that he must be feeling – especially when it’s about sukuna.

“why are you here?”

she grins.

“i have this really hot ex-boyfriend. i was figuring he might be here tonight since he’s back in town.”

“do tell.”

“oh, he’s gorgeous. like, i don’t want to objectify men, but i literally do. he’s like attractive in a ‘i want to pour battery acid into my eyes every time he looks at me’ kind of way.”

you laugh.

“the best kind of attractive.” you affirm.

“you get me, bitch! it’s like…i don’t mean to be so crude…and i’ve already had three glasses of wine so i’m going to blame it on that…but i need to get dicked down. fuck, i’d even suck his dick if he let me. and i hate sucking dick!”

you snort.

weirdly enough, this is one of your favorite things about parties like these. or going to the bar. talking to random girls in the bathroom – finding out that it’s their bachelorette party or whatever boy problems they’re having. there’s a soft solace in other people like this – that talk so openly with strangers, with a quiet trust that you can’t really seem to place.

“weird question. why do you hate it?” you ask.

“not weird at all, honey. it’s just not very fun to do. but sometimes it is, when you can tell the person really likes it. like my ex-boyfriend, i’d suck his dick all the time just because i wanted to, just because i liked to make him feel good. and he really loved it. and some people are fucking into it, i don’t know, they love to suck dick and do that type of thing. s’all about your interests.”

you nod, mulling over her answer in your head.

“do you like sucking dick?....that sounds more crude when i say it but also i’ve been talking about it for the past twenty seconds so.” she asks.

“no! no, it’s not rude. and i asked. um, i haven’t done it before. i mean, i have or…or at least tried to but i don’t count that for…other reasons and stuff. but no, i haven’t.”

“do you want to? you’re pretty, you said you have a boyfriend right?”

you smile.

“yeah. yeah, i just…get nervous about that type of thing. we haven’t done anything yet but i feel like we might soon.”

she narrows her eyes.

“he doesn’t pressure you, right?”

along with the quiet trust, there’s always a well of concern.

“no! no, the opposite really.”

“good shit. well, don’t think about it so hard. it’ll come to you naturally. plus, when you like someone a lot, that type of stuff kind of comes with it. like my ex-boyfriend? total fucking sweetie pie. he could be standing in front of me and i’d dick him down right now if he asked. just for old times sake.”

you laugh.

“i really hope you find him. and get dicked down for your own sake.”

“he was just so fucking hot! i’ve never had a guy make me feel like that. it’s like…i couldn’t have really reached my prime at my highschool prom with a guy two years younger than me…that’s embarrassing.”

you pale. and right at that moment, sukuna walks up to you, eyes wide as he glares at you.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

“sukuna.”

you pause, the awkwardness of his name falling out of your mouths at the same time confirming your suspicions.

just your luck, her aforementioned, beautiful ex-boyfriend, is sukuna.

“sukuna! i didn’t realize you were back.”

you can feel your chest simmering. because now she’s batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair in response to him. sukuna doesn’t even spare her a second glance and instead uses it to shoot bullets at you with his eyes.

“what are you doing?”

“i didn’t know! how was i supposed to know?” you whisper.

“we all went to the same school, y/n.”

“i don’t memorize what all your ex-girlfriends look like sukuna. i have a very small thread of self-confidence and i’m hell bent on keeping it for the time being.” you respond.

sukuna doesn’t find your joke funny.

“do you guys know each other or something?” kisa asks.

“kisa. this is my girlfriend, y/n. she was best friends with yuuji, remember?” sukuna states.

she pauses for a second, before jolting up.

“ah. the little one who used to take the cheerleading pictures, right? frizzy hair, big glasses?” she asks.

you pinch your lips into a straight line.

“that would be me!” you state.

“shut the fuck up.” sukuna responds, before yanking you by the elbow into the kitchen at the side.

you spare her a last glance over your shoulder – confusion spreading over her face – followed by the seclusion to the quiet of the kitchen.

sukuna leans back against the fridge, running his hands through his hair, giving tight-lipped polite smiles through the people passing through the rooms.

“what did you talk about?”

you dig your fingers into your palm. sukuna picks up on it.

“nothing. just pleasantries and stuff. it wasn’t a big deal!”

“tell me. i can tell whatever it was is making you feel like shit.”

you take a deep breath.

“i don’t feel like shit, i just-”

“are you guys fighting about something?”

your eyes widen as you turn to yuuji, leaning against the frame of the door with his arms crossed on his chest. you muster a peachy smile, shaking your head as you walk up to his side and loop your arm through his.

“of course not. we never fight!” you state.

yuuji raises his eyebrow.

“you never fight? ever?”

“no! no, of course we fight. all the time actually.” you state.

you look over at sukuna, who starts gesturing to you with his hands – with an irritated look on his face.

what the hell are you talking about?

you gesture back, shrugging as yuuji shuffles the two of you over to the drinks, filling up the glasses.

“well, that doesn’t sound very healthy.”

you take a deep breath in.

“we don’t fight an abnormal amount. we’re like normal couples. we fight and then make up. there’s nothing weird about us actually, we’re perfect! It’s-it’s like conflict resolution and-”

yuuji laughs, before leaning closer to you and wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“who are you trying to convince? me or yourself? you’re rambling so much.”

you groan, burying your palms into your eye sockets – you’re already messing this up. royally. yuuji gives you a warm smile, one that you can see from the little gaps in between your fingers, as you cross your arms and lean against the counter. yuuji gives sukuna a small nod, as sukuna takes the spot at your side, and links his arm around your shoulder.

it feels wrong to be so openly affectionate like that. for him to pull you closer to him when yuuji’s standing right there.

you lift your shoulders slightly until he drops his hand and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“so really. what happened?”

“nothing. i was talking to kisa and didn’t realize it was kisa.”

yuuji leans his head back.

“which one is she again? the neighbor?”

you can feel a wave of discomfort, of an unnecessary defense bubbling up in your chest. he wasn’t actually talking to the neighbor – she just wanted advice on whether or not she should break up with her boyfriend.

and sukuna told her not to.

“no. she’s the girl sukuna went to prom with.” you state, brushing down the pleats of your skirt.

“ahh, that’s right. his first girlfriend.”

yuuji circles the last sip of his drink in his cup before downing it and turning to both of you at his side.

“so what the hell is he so pissed about? you can’t talk to people now?”

“he wasn’t mad. we were just talking, yuuji.”

“you looked pretty mad. and you were whispering in hushed tones.” yuuji states.

sukuna clears his throat and you can tell that he’s simmering with irritation from the way his fists are clenched and curled at his side. the animosity in his eyes does little to help too.

“i just wanted to know what they talked about and clear up anything that she might have said that might not be true. i don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” sukuna states.

yuuji rolls his eyes.

“she’s a grown woman. i think she can tell right from wrong by herself. and i’m positive that if she did say anything, it’s not anything that wouldn’t be true.”

you shove yuuji in the side.

“what’s your problem? you’re being so mean.”

“i’m not being mean! it’s just a fact. you…you know how he can be. do you really think he just changed like that?”

maybe it’s a mix of things.

that sukuna’s ex-girlfriend just spent five minutes telling you about how much he apparently loves to get his dick sucked and you have yet to muster up the courage to do it. or that your hair’s been getting consecutively oily as the night goes on and sticking to your forehead or that yuuji tends to throw some hurdle into your relationship every chance he seems to get.

or that you can’t pay for vet school so it’s time to cut back on iced coffee since you’re going to be taking a loan or that your mom’s walking around in fake pearls and someone most definitely will make a comment about it that’ll have her leaving the party crying.

or that you can never seem to win. or do anything right.

“you’re such an asshole sometimes. why do you always have to talk about him like that? do you think i’m so pathetic that he’s going to leave me for some girl he literally talked to six years ago? do you think i’m so pathetic that i’d date someone like that?” you mutter, before brushing past his shoulder and leaving the room.

sukuna can feel that irritation festering up in him and makes his best efforts to swallow it down as he turns to yuuji. sukuna debates his options – following you or beating it out of yuuji.

the second one seems more productive for the time being.

he turns and can immediately clock that yuuji feels bad – his face drooping like it would whenever sukuna would beat him in a video game or leave their board game early to hang out with his friends.

“what the hell is your problem?” sukuna asks.

the drooping is replaced with anger, an irritability as yuuji scoffs before turning around.

“what’s yours?” yuuji mutters.

sukuna reaches for his collar, shaking him from filling up his glass again, before yuuji meets his eyes again.

“no, seriously. what the fuck is your problem? why can’t you just be happy for her? we were getting along just fine before this until you decided to be a little bitch about it.” sukuna asks.

yuuji rolls his eyes. he pulls back, tussling out of his grasp before leaning against the closed door of the fridge.

“i didn’t have a problem with you. but you’re doing the same shit as before – being careless. and you’re doing it with my best friend.”

sukuna wants to punch him in the face.

“are you ever going to be satisfied with what you have? you just had to have her too? she was my friend first.” yuuji states.

sukuna doesn't know why it flares up in him - that possessiveness. you don't belong to him but you certainly don't belong to yuuji either. he doesn't get to stake a claim on you just because he knew you first.

“you sound like a pathetic child. you know you don’t own her, right? you can’t fathom that she could have someone else be special to her that isn’t you? that you can’t be a spoiled little kid and have to learn how to share?”

sukuna’s hit a nerve, though he’s not entirely sure why. but now yuuji’s crying, shoving him hard into the counter, before his pounding footsteps reside as he runs up the stairs.

there’s an immediate guilt, coupled with a resounding headache.

when sukuna makes it back to the apartment – after having dozed off for a decent amount of the train ride home – he’s thrown off when you push him against the wall the second you make it back into the house. and dig your hands under his shirt, dangerously lower than you ever have before.

“jesus. what’s wrong with-”

he can barely finish because you’re cutting him off by kissing him – almost aggressively – and latching your arms around his neck and jumping up onto his thighs. he’s quick to catch you, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth, kissing every spare patch of skin you can find.

“what are you-”

he can’t even get a sentence out.

“doing, pretty girl?”

it’s almost like you don’t hear him or something. there’s something insatiable burning in your eyes, nearly twitching with a fervor with something that he’s never really seen before.

correction. something that he’s never seen in your eyes before. he’s seen it before – hundreds of times. in the shitty bathroom in the bar, from the girl he met on the dating app, and even kisa back in the day. but not with you.

he almost hates it.

sukuna pushes you back, resting your legs against the weight of the kitchen counter before letting go and trying to pull away.

but it’s almost like you’re trying to entice him. grabbing him by his necklace and pulling him back into you, letting one hand roaming through his hair and the other underneath his shirt.

there’s an insatiable fire pooling in his stomach. but it’s the wrong timing. and it’s almost too…tantalizing, too tempting that it felt wrong.

this was not how he was going to do this with you – at least not the first time.

he was no stranger to it – the intense, all consuming feeling that came with this. a part of him even wanted it. but he wanted the other side first, that aspect of it more.

the part that he never had. the romance, the yearning, and the godawful ache.

the love making.

he had every intent to worship you the second he got, to drag it out for as long as he could. like he was a man starved, like he’d never get a chance to do it again.

and there was no way he was going to bring that out, or be able to even do that, on the heels of his argument with yuuji, after whatever it was that kisa must have said that had you so worked up.

sukuna doesn’t know what else to do. so he brings his hand up and takes a fist full of your hair – and uses it to yank you off of him. you’re panting hard, eyes nearly glazed over as you look at him and reach down this time.

reaching for the buckle of his pants. sukuna reaches for your wrists and squeezes hard.

“what are you doing?” he whispers.

you pant, before shaking your head.

“you know…” you respond, gesturing with your hands.

“i don’t know. what are you doing?” he deadpans.

you glare at him.

“you know…we’ve been dating for some time now. and we love each other…it…it’s only right to do this type of thing. don’t you want to?”

it’s that same meek look – that squirrely, almost timid way of talking. when he heard that godawful comparison for the first time, that filled him with an unappeasble rage.

lipstick on a pig.

it aggravates him to his core because he hasn’t heard it in months. that awkward, shy voice. he had gotten used to the real one – filled with a comfortable confidence. that cracked jokes and poked fun at him all the time.

the part of you that saw him like a real person.

“sure i do, princess. you know you drive me crazy, right?”

you give him a grin, before reaching back for the buckle of his belt. and for a second time, he’s quick to pull on your wrists again, before leaning his forehead against yours, his breath tickling the tip of your nose.

“no, seriously. what are you doing?”

you bite into the hardness of your cheek, pinching your eyes shut.

it’s not awkward. just say it.

“i’m trying to…suck your dick.”

sukuna takes a deep breath, using his pointer finger to angle your face back up by your chin, brown eyes overwhelmingly warm and soft as he looks at you. and it aggravates you. you know what he’s going to say.

“you…you can’t stop me, you know? i’m ready to do this. i’ve..i’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

sukuna raises his eyebrows, almost like he’s disbelieving of what you’re saying, before he talks.

“okay, angel. can you just kiss me first?”

you feel your cheeks burn.

“what?”

“i’m okay with it if you want to. i just want you to kiss me first.”

you laugh, before cupping the side of his face and rubbing over the soft indent of his dimple.

“are you being serious? you’re not like…copping me out right?”

sukuna glares at you.

“i just fucking asked you to kiss me. you just pounced on me like a fucking lion out of nowhere.”

you bring your hands to his cheeks and can’t help but smile into his face.

“why are you…so cute? you just want me to kiss you?”

sukuna wrinkles his nose in disgust, before reaching forward to pinch the sensitive skin on your arm.

“you fucking ruined it. now you’re never sucking my dick.”

you snort.

“well…technically i did kiss you. just really aggressively.” you mumble.

sukuna’s laugh is soft, almost quiet as he leans forward to press a kiss to your hair.

“kiss me properly. i’m not going anywhere. i…i want to savor it.”

you swallow hard, as he takes over the open space in between your legs, and leans forward. his hair is tickling your forehead, your breaths slow as you cycle in tandem, and you loop your arms around his torso.

there’s a small amount of desperation in the way that sukuna kisses you, a burning that ignites over your skin and makes your stomach drop to your core. but it’s almost like he’s slowing you down, curbing that feeling in your chest – by ubbing circles into your back, a contentment in his demeanor – that you’re cued into by the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

that’s when you realize.

“you’re not going to let me do it, are you?” you murmur, whispering against his lips.

“perceptive.” sukuna mumbles back, before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.��

you groan, which has the smallest of laughs bubbling out of him. it’s free of any teasing – that you’re positive of as he lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss on each of your knuckles.

“i like the rings. wonder what your hands would look like around my…”

“well, now you’re just being fucking annoying.”

“i’m joking.”

you sigh, leaning your cheek against his shoulder, as you blink hard.

“why not?”

as quickly as that quiet, squirrely voice came back, it’s almost like he decimated it in his hands with a few seconds. if this were months prior, it would have taken him weeks to convince you that he still liked you.

you had stopped viewing his actions as swift rejections, as slights against you, and started taking them for what they were.

sukuna was going to kill yuuji for trying to shit on your relationship later. you were meant to be together, that much was obvious.

“yuuji and i kind of…fought. i want to be in the right mood when we do this.”

you lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“you know, he’s starting to really make me mad. he should just leave us alone if it pisses him off that much and-”

“i said more than he did. it’s my fault. i’ll apologize tomorrow.”

you shake your head. and there’s an awkward silence, before sukuna asks.

“so what did she say? i know that didn’t come out of nowhere, even if you were thinking about it before.”

you groan, digging your face into his neck.

it’s almost embarrassing now.

“she was there to see you. wanted to get dicked down by you. and mentioned that apparently you really like having your dick sucked? i don’t know…i just…had a long week. vet school and my mom and yuuji and…and you. figured i’d at least relieve some tension and give you what you wanted. like two birds in one stone type of thing.”

“please don’t refer to sex as a stone.” sukuna deadpans.

you laugh and it makes sukuna smile.

“the only thing i want is you.”

you sigh.

“ugh! i’m…i’m so annoyed because i actually know that. if you were going to get up and leave you would have done it by now because it’s been months but i just…felt so stupid or like undercooked or something because we haven’t done it yet that i just-”

“do you feel like you have something to prove?”

you bite your lip.

“i guess. it’s about you but…but it’s about other stuff too. i want to be strong enough to do it. i don’t want to let bad experiences hold me back when you’re obviously a good guy and obviously good in bed but-”

sukuna smirks.

“obviously?”

“you’re so annoying.”

sukuna wraps his hands around your cheeks, before pulling you up to look at him. and practices the way he’s worded this in his head a hundred times, hoping that it comes out right.

“angel?”

“yeah?”

“about what you said. about other stuff.”

it’s almost like you’re a kicked dog, trying to retreat after he mentioned it.

“i don’t want to push you into telling me. and you don’t have to. i can…i can piece some of it together. but i just need to know what not to do. i’ll never forgive myself if i ever hurt you, especially if it’s something regarding this.”

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice so quiet that it makes your chest ache, with overwhelming, sincere love of his consideration for you.

“i’m sorry it happened to you. you don’t even have to tell me. write me a list or send me an email. i just need to know what’s off limits, anything that could possibly…remind you of anything that happened to you.”

you angle your face back up, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips before pulling back.

“are you tired?” you ask.

he leans back, in confusion.

“no?”

“then, i’ll tell you right now.”

sukuna’s eyes widen.

“i’m not trying to pressure you.”

you smile, before linking your hands into his.

“i know. you’re not. i’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. and one of the biggest hurdles is…having to address that it happened? but if you already know…all i have to do is tell you now. and…”

you sigh.

“and it’s you. i feel safe enough to tell you about it but just…just don’t be weird about it?”

sukuna reaches forward, crossing a little x shape onto your chest. you tilt your head to the side, in confusion.

“what was that?”

“crossing your heart. like the promise?”

“you’re supposed to cross your own heart.”

sukuna glares.

“i’m not going to spell it out for you. you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

it takes a few seconds, but you reach the conclusion.

sukuna crossed your heart instead of his. he made the promise on yours, because yours was more important than his own – enough to make an oath on.

yours over his.

it’s the only reason you’re able to muster enough courage to even tell him what happened in the first place.

next part linked here

an: ladies and gentleman, we cringe. (this was a long time coming but it's for plot purposes)

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreaderthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebunss @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @gyros-cum-sock @wishmeme l @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

569 notes · View notes

reverseexorcist · 10 months ago

Text

★ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 ★

Wow just realised this entire time my asks have been off woopsie ●_● Should be fixed now.

Anyway, since y'all went feral over this dynamic (and I can't blame you), here's more of Carmilla with her adopted fallen angel child.

I know I said part 2, but I'm honestly considering making this a sort've slice-of-life series seeing as I absolutely love this dyanmic and I'm having some serious brainrot over these two.

Part 1 ↫ Right Here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,662 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, somewhat depressed reader, minor mentions of gore, sleep deprived writing, potential ooc Carmilla, mother mode Carmilla increased

Getting used to your new life required more effort than you ever thought was ever needed. Getting used to living in hell was a chore in of itself, and quite a tedious one, and getting used to the new family you now found yourself surrounded by only piled on a tad more stress.

Unlike heaven, the land below was almost always swathed in some sort've darkness - There was literally no day night cycle at all and it was fucking with your head. Your poor circadian rhythm was completely thrown all over the place when three in the morning was just as bright at two in the afternoon. Not to mention the smoke ever present in the air. You weren't sure which you hated more between the two.

(Probably the air. You actually liked it when you breathed and didn't hack up a lung.)

It was a lot, especially when you were getting used to your new wingless life.

(Which sucked, by the way. Every time your fight or flight response kicked in, you found yourself straining your back muscles trying to lift off with nothing to support you and it made you want to cry every single time it happened.)

However, all of this was way better than what could've happened had Carmilla not saved your life. Your back still ached and the phantom pain still tortured you at night, the feather-fluff nubs of your old wings only served as a painful reminder. As much as you hated to admit it, often times you'd spend the entire night longing for the newly comforting touch of your adopted mother figure…

Wow. That felt weird to admit. That and a whole lot of other repressed emotions and memories.

You groaned and sighed, clutching your head and threading your fingers through your tussled bedhair. Your back muscles flexed, the sound of rustling feathers muffled by the mattress. The sensation was weird enough to make you 'gwak', roll on to your stomach and faceplant into your pillow. It was more natural that way, anyway - When one has wings it was rather difficult to sleep on your back, afterall, at least after your first growth spurt. You never thought you would miss the feeling, but you fought to find any silver lining in your new life. And in a world that was mostly shades of red, silver was quite a luxury.

Your somewhat depressing quiet time was broken by the gentle tapping of steel carefully approaching your room.

"Mi peque?" You didn't have the energy to jump, already having heard the delicate 'tink' of Carmilla's pointed shoes against the hardword floor of your new home. Her silhouette took up most of the doorway, the faint light spilling in from the hallway making the angelic steel decorating her body glow, much like the warm lull of her crimson eyes. Your head tiltied to the side to stare at her, but otherwise you made no movement.

She blinked once and ducked her head to step into your room. If you were, well, you from about a week ago, you probably would've been shitting bricks at the sight. It was lowkey terrifying, mostly because Carmilla was so much taller than you and had the expression of a constantly pissed off commander or something. However, it didn't scare you - Mostly because your worst nightmare had already come true.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was soft, something that completely contrasted her outward exterior. It was soothing, though, and you found yourself not caring when she settled herself on the end of your bed.

(Your new bed. Your new bed that you could, for once, comfortably stretch out on.)

"Something like that," You mumbled, practically whispered. Your eyes glowed much like Carmilla's, like a mischevious cat from your spot hidden under your multiple blankets. "It's, mm, weird. Sleeping by myself."

Her eyebrow quirked, a silent invitation to continue if you wanted to. Maybe? Emotions were still hard to read for you.

"Well, because I'm used to sleeping in the barracks with the rest of my platoon. It's apparently really comforting, seeing as I haven't had a good sleep since I got here," You grappled your blankets a little tighter, as if doing so would provide you with some sort've phantom comfort that you secretly longed for.

A breath of silence hung steadily in the air, as if both your minds were churning on what to say next.

"I'm sorry."

"M'sorry."

You both said at the same time, which seemed just a little cliche. Slinking out from underneath your covers, you couldn't help by eye the demon across from you warily.

"Why're you sorry?"

"Because, I'll admit, I'm a little rusty," She reached up and untied her buns, letting her hair loosen and tumble down her back. "It's been a while since my girls were young like you-" You scoffed, which prompted an amused smirk "And it's not like I know anything about taking care of an angel."

"Well, you're doing better than what they were doing up there," You blankly motioned upwards where the pearly gates shone brightly in the sky like a constant sun. "Plus, I'd say you're dealing with me as gracefully as you can."

"Elaborate?" Carmila carded her fingers through her hair, tilting her head curiously. The mountain on your shoulders threatened to stumble, and by god you were ready to let it fall.

"Well, it's not like any heaven-born has parents. Heaven was always all about equality and shit, and every single child was raised by the community. And yeah, it was all rainbows and crap because everyone was loved mostly equally, but it sucked because I was always just another nestling that someone had to keep an eye on," You brought your knees up to your chest. "That's why, when the lieutenant gave me her offer I didn't refuse, cause I thought 'wow, someone noticed me!' and it was a feeling I chased ever since."

It felt nice to let it all out for once. Not like anyone else around you back then really cared, cause they all went through the same thing.

Beside you, the covers rustled. Carmilla opened her arms wordlessly, minutely enough that if you didn't want to, you could probably brush the motion off as stretching. But, the warmth the she radiated was sorely tempting, and your little serotonin deprived brain was severly touch-starved.

Wow, four days into your new life, and you found yourself snuggling into the arms of one of Hell's overlords. And, sullying the lord's name, by god you loved it.

Not a single word had to be uttered between the two of you, not as long as you didn't want it. That was the silent message that you both clearly understood.

It kind've made you want to cry, if you were being honest with yourself. In a place that had seemingly been perfect, you found your life lacking, and in the burning pits of eternal damnation, you'd found yourself feeling loved for the first time since you could remember. The way Carmilla's hold around you grew tighter, just ever so slightly - A comforting weight draped across your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. That, along with her mellow breathing, it felt homely and nostalgic.

Tugging your blankets a little tighter around yourself, you didn't even fight the way your eyelids drooped.

Two weeks.

It felt like a lot longer, but you'd been living in hell for fourteen days, and it already felt like you'd been living here for months.

Well, it certainly didn't help that you never really left the main house. Like, ever. And you, for one, weren't complaining. The burning pits of Hell left much to be desired, and as a little angel who hadn't even had her first adult moult yet, you didn't really fancy going galavanting off around Hell, even if Carmilla was hovering over your shoulder like a helicopter parent.

Still, after the first week where you'd discovered and explored all the places that you were allowed to (the allure of the armory was great, but the potential wrath of an angry demon was greater), there wasn't really anything to do around the house. Sure, it was probably one of the safest places in the eternal firepit, but neither Carmilla nor Clara and Odette were ever really around, and it left you bored out of your mind.

Sprawled out across a rather decadent couch, soaking up the hellfire from outside, you found yourself wishing that something would happen that would hopefully prevent your mind from rotting further. But, if the big man from upstairs was paying attention, he surely must've hated you, because literally nothing was happening.

Unless…

You sat up, straining your ears.

Nope. Absolutely nothing.

You flopped backwards dramatically, back of your hand against your forehead and all.

Maybe, if you still had your weapon, you could've spent your time training or practicing or something. There was a training room somewhere in the house, and you weren't explicitly banned from using it, and it wasn't exactly a useless way to spend your time.

(At least that way you'd be able to get some reasonable exercise in rather than just moping around all day.)

Maybe that was something you could ask Carmilla later. She wasn't the type to be against learning self defense, however you had no idea if even she deemed yourself too young to learn how to fight. She certainly was not happy when she found out about how you were sent to fight with baby feathers still warming your wings, that was for sure.

At least you had something to talk about when she got home.

…

"You want to learn how to fight?" As expected, Carmilla didn't seem entirely thrilled at your idea.

"Not necessarily. Just, how to use weapons?" It was more of a question than an answer, but it seemed to ease the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What type of weapons? Swords? Spears? Firearms?" She fixed you with a look. "If you want to get started, the first thing you could do is be a little more specific."

Which was certainly not the answer you were expecting, so you took a few moments to blue screen.

"Well, I wasn't too fond of using spears… Swords don't sound to appealing either…" Your eyes started drifting, and soon you found that your real answer was right in front of you.

"If possible," You wrung your hands nervously, "could I use shoes like you do?"

Honestly, Carmilla's unique fighitng style had piqued your interest ever since your head became clear enough to notice. Having your hands free sounded more appealing than lugging around a heavy blade.

The demoness paused for a moment, completely silent as she studied you with a stern gaze. It wasn't negative or positive, if anything it was most likely calculative. You weren't entirely stupid, even if you were young, and you weren't naive. Carmilla was weighing the pros and cons of teaching you her trade.

"Why? They aren't exactly easy to use," That wasn't a no, at least.

"I don't like melee weapons, not hand-held ones at least," There was more to your answer that Carmilla already knew. Months of cycling through weapons till you landed on one you could somewhat use you realised that you absolutely hated using hand-held weapons.

Carmilla sighed, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Okay, but it's not like I have spare angelic steel laying around. We'll have to wait till I can melt more down," She mused, almost seeming excited about crafting you your own weapon. But her words only confused you more.

"But, we do, don't we?" You furrowed your brows.

"The steel in the armory is meant for prepaid orders-"

"I was talking about my old helmet," You hoped that didn't sound too rude, interupting her. "I mean, the entire thing is is technically angelic. I don't know if it's steel exactly, but I know for a fact it's just as solid!" Now you were the one musing.

Like mother like daughter, almost.

"We could certainly try…" The two of you shared a look.

"Like… Right now?" You prodded almost mischeviously.

Tired as she was, Carmilla couldn't help but falter and smile, your enthusiasm almost contagious.

"Well, we can have a look."

After that it was only a matter of days. Carmilla was far more invested in your new project than you had expected, and even Clara and Odette had briefly joined in, if only to get a sneak peak at the workings behind an exorcists helmet. For the briefest of moments, with all four of you crowded around a table with tidy plans sprawled all over its surface, it almost felt like you were a family. Which, did prompt a stray thought in your head.

After gently pulling the threads of angelic steel from the rivets in the helmet's horns, you couldn't help but bundle them to your chest. They weren't exactly big, nothing compared to the horns of a full fledged exorcist, but they were still something.

So, while your mo-… Carmilla was busy melting down the odd, almost obsidian material of your old helmet in preparation of your new shoes, you were busy tinkering away with your own little side project. Of course, it was hard to explain the various little burns marks littered across your palms that had started appearing, but that didn't deter you one bit.

In fact, during this time, you found yourself shyly approaching the taller of Carmilla's other daughters, Odette.

One thing about her that confused you was the fact that her horns were fake, merely attatched to the band that held her hair up. But right now, that was exactly what you needed.

It was a sweet sight, honestly, at least to Carmilla.

You were huddled against Odette, listening with rapt attention as she explained something to you, finger brushing against what was most likely some sort've plan.

With a smile, Carmilla got back to work.

At the end of it all, you were left with a pair of shoes similar to the overlord's. Pointed and shiny. Sharp and deadly, yet oddly comfortable. The only key difference was the colour - Forged from the scrapped glass of your old helmet, the shoes were jet black inlaid with threads of silver, trailing all the way up the ballet ribbons.

And with your shoes, a matching set of your own horns. Odette seemed proud at the sight of you with small, obsidian horns branching from your head, unable to stand still as you clutched your new weapons to your chest gleefully.

There was a massive learning curve to your new weapons, but at least you weren't bored around the house anymore. Most of your time over the next month had been dedicated to learning how to move around in your new shoes, building both the strength and balance so you could walk, let alone run. So many bruises had been blemished into your skin, but in the end you were able to walk almost as easily as Carmilla did.

(Of course, the demoness had way more experience under her belt, but you were still doing pretty damn well.)

And during that time, the bond between you, Clara and Odette had only grown. Sure, they were only around as much as their mother, but after donning your horns, it seemed whatever barrier that had been built between you and the sisters had been torn down. Seeing as the two could also walk en pointe like their mother, many a helpful tip had been shared from them which served to get you walking faster.

It was endearing as it was funny to watch.

But, being couped up inside all day everyday was starting to wear you down, which was certainly starting to show with the way your pep had slowed down significantly.

With a heavy heart, Carmilla finally unleashed you on the world outside, accompanied by Clara and Odette.

In reality, you were just tailing behind the sisters on one of their usual deliveries. This way you could stretch your legs and practice on terrain other than the smooth floors of your home, which, while it was more difficult, was learnt within no time.

As dreary as the place looked, there were certainly sights to see around ever different corner. You'd found yourself tempted to wander off every five minutes or so, especially when you passed by a rather bright looking… hotel? The entire vibe seemed friendly and inviting, unlike the rest of Hell, but you really didn't fancy getting lost, so sticking close by Clara and Odette was the most sane option in the moment.

Or, at least that was the plan.

Really, with your head on a swivel trying to grasp every sight and sound (which you regretted not a moment later) you'd lost sight of the sisters and found yourself completely by your lonesome.

Which… Fuck.

That wasn't the most ideal position, especially when you really couldn't do more than walk in your new shoes, but they couldn't have gotten far, right?

You were wrong. Turning either corners of the street yielded no Clara or Odette, which only made your heart sink further into your stomach because you really didn't fancy getting cornered in an alley.

Backtracking, you tried your hardest to think. Perhaps, if you could find your way back to the hotel, someone there could help you? It was wishful thinking, because this was Hell after all, but the aura was so different compared to the rest of the ring of wrath that maybe, just this once, luck would be on your side.

But of course, since this was you, luck was mercilessly right out of your reach. Not a moment later, a rambunctious howl pierced the air and a group - a pack? Of hellhounds started approaching you. Which, y'know, wasn't good, especially with the way their ears were pinned back and grins plastered across their faces.

Oh shit.

You started speed walking away, or your best attempt at it, in what you hoped was the direction of the hotel. Down in the streets without either of your guides, it all seemed like one continuous labarynth of red, LEDs and very questionable stores. And, as it turned out, lots of dead ends that you could easily get cornered in.

With the blood thrumming in your ears, heart pumping in your chest loud enough that it shook your head and just the general sense of 'oh shit I am so fucked', you really didn't pay attention to whatever the hounds were spouting off about. Lots of snapping of teeth and snarls, some crude gestures that made your gut twist anxiously and your feathers rustle nervously.

(You were seriously considering using a shoe as a knife. It wasn't like it was impossible with how sharp they were.)

At least, that was your train of thought. Until a resounding bang pretty much deafended you, echoing a chorus of ringing in your ears as the middlemost hound collapsed, head exploding with the force of the bullet that lodged itself firmly within the back of his disintegrated skull.

With dramatic timing, the others peered over their shoulders, only to be met with the towering, thoroughly pissed off form of Carmilla Carmine.

The barrel of her rifle was tinted with holy silver, but she seemed perfectly happy and prepared to behead them with a well placed kick. Whichever worked, you knew Carmilla prioritised your safety over the method of execution in the end. And in the end, the alley was scattered with various corpses in various states of limb loss, and you were carefully toted away in the arms of Carmilla.

She was furious. Probably. Maybe. You couldn't really tell. her face was completely stoney, and you were still awful when it came to identifying emotions. You assumed most of the anger had been taken out on the unsuspecting assholes that had cornered you. And for some reason, that only made you more anxious.

Not being able to tell what she was thinking was off. Back in Heaven, you could tell when Lute was pissed off, or proud, or indifferent, or whatever other emotion she was feeling at the time because she didn't really give two shits about what the recruits thought of her. And at least that way you could prepare on how to react. If she was angry, you knew to stay out of her way. If she looked indifferent, you knew you had to work harder in training. If she was proud, well, also best to stay out of her way so you didn't ruin her mood.

You whimpered and huddled a little closer. Carmilla clutched you a little tighter.

"Are you alright?" She finally asked once you were close enough to home that is was mostly just her employees around the two of you.

"Please don't be mad at Clara or Odette. It was my fault for getting lost," Was what you went with anyway. Carmilla shushed you gently.

"I'm not mad, I just want to know if you're okay."

Which completely threw you off. But you just went with it.

"M'fine. You got there before they could do anything," Those words seem to put her mind at ease, her shoulders visibly untensing as she exhaled a long sigh.

She hugged you, closer and tighter to her chest as if scared you were about to disappear from her hold. And you could only return the gesture, sinking into her comforting warmth. It made you feel small, almost like a little nestling on her first trip out of the nursery, but you found that you didn't really give two shits in the moment because you felt completely, wholly safe right where you were.

"Mi peque, mi querida, mi corazón," She uttered softly, "never wander from your siblings again."

Despite the firm tone, you could feel the care dripping from her words. You sighed and relaxed.

"Of course, mother."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

#carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla x reader #platonic #hazbin #hazbin carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

395 notes · View notes

fandomonetwo · 1 year ago

Text

puppy love and flowers — remus lupin

▸summary: he's absolutely sure he loves you. he's absolutely sure you love him. flowers aren't given to just anybody.

▸characters: remus lupin x f! reader, lil snippets of james and sirius and peter

▸tw: hay fever, small sadness moment

▸a/n: consider this my apology for the previous angst post. also, look at the guy. he's a smol bean

REMUS LUPIN WAS a sucker for a good bouquet. He'd always want to give them to you, yet he could never find the moment. There'd always be something that would stop him.

Today was one of the days where his plans were smudged.

It was a Hogsmeade day, so naturally, he with his posse decided to head into the town to scope out bouquets. There was one he'd seen little bit ago that he was fidgeting to buy. It was a beautiful set of red and white roses with baby's breath surrounding them. They were your favourite flowers.

Sirius Black had never felt so depressed than when he had watched his friends realise that the 'sold out' sign was for the bouquet he wanted to get for you. He felt so out of place when Remus looked like he had just been deprived of his natural resource of chocolate.

"Why not just get her different flowers?" the Black boy asked, awkwardness coating his very body in a tense feeling.

Remus sighed. "But those were for her. They were like, specifically crafted just so that she could have them. And now they're gone. And I still haven't gotten her flowers!"

James sympathised more with Remus that Sirius could. James often got flower for Lily from this very shop. Albeit, she always threw them out when she got them, but it was the thought that counted. Peter didn't say anything. He was too busy drawing stars in the snow.

The bespectacled boy put his hand on Remus' shoulder, noticing his friend's eyes welling with tears. "It's alright, mate. There's always tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day."

"But I wanted to get her those today."

There was something so frustrating about not getting something done on the day you planned. You'd feel so incomplete in your tasks, and he'd never get to sleep tonight. Well, he might drift off if he cried long enough.

The walk back to the dorms was long and awkward and tense and depressing. There were so many emotions. Remus has just been thwarted yet again in his attempts to woo you. Peter was plucking the snow off of his mittens one by one.

"Damn, mate, you are so in deep," Sirius teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, I've heard of puppy love, but this just takes the cake."

"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Remus muttered. It was kinda funny.

"I suppose so."

They had only gotten to the dorm when they heard the girls. They were laughing. No, hang on. They were shrieking. And... sneezing?

The four boys entered the common room to find Lily and Marlene holding onto furniture for dear life, their faces as red as their ties. Marlene tried to heave in a breath and little was wiping her face.

And then you sneezed. They erupted into laughter again.

"What on earth is going on?" James asked, confusion filling his bloodstream. The girls couldn't find the words, too busy giggling, so you decided to speak.

"I bought flowers for Remus," you started, your nose stuffed, "and I have just found out that I am, in fact, deathly allergic to flowers."

You sneezed again. The girls didn't completely fall apart, but they still chuckled.

Remus looked at you with those big eyes of his. "You got me flowers?"

"Yeah," you said sheepishly. "I though it'd be a nice surprise, but now I'm covered in snot, my nose and throat hurts, my head kinda aches, and my eyes are red."

You sneezed, and Remus started laughing. He rested his head on your shoulder, despite your protests.

"How did you never realise you had a tendency to get hay fever?" Sirius asked, trying to stifle his own chuckles.

"I don't know. It doesn't get this bad at home. The flowers there are small, and here, I don't go out much in the spring. It's too warm. Plus, it's not like I get up close and personal with flowers now, do I?"

"Yeah, but still. It's hay fever, it's a pretty common thing."

"Like I said," you sneezed again, away from Remus' face, "there just wasn't enough for me to notice." You paused for a second. "I always wondered why I got the sniffles in the springtime. I thought it was just spring colds."

James grinned. "Well, now you know."

You sneezed twice more, Remus brushing the hair out of your sweaty face.

"I think we need to rescue you from your natural foe." He guided you by the hand outside of the common room, and he stole a glance back at the flowers you had bought for him, his heart swelling.

Red and white roses surrounded with baby's breath.

#harry potter #remus lupin #rems lupin x reader #f! reader #fem! reader #remus lupin x fem! reader #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #peter pettigrew #sirius black #x reader #fluff #springtime #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff

503 notes · View notes

muzansfangs · 1 year ago

Text

Sweater weather.

Starring: Renji Abarai x f!reader; Aizen Sosuke, Gin Ichimaru, mention to Byakuya Kuchiki;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: angst, slight nsfw, mention to fingering, fluff, minor injuries, mention to reader being chained, abusive language, bruises, psychological manipulation, threats, sleep deprived reader, recovering, mention to reader being kidnapped, friends to lovers, struggling with feelings;

Plot: the moment he found you chained to the wall, hooded eyes puffy for the tears you had shedded for days, he realized how badly he loved you. He would have never forgiven Aizen and Gin for what they had done to you. Back to your flat in the human world, you still had some trouble moving on. The post traumatic stress disorder you were experiencing was making it hard to even rest properly. He dropped his duties as a Liutenant for visiting you, for holding you in his arms. He would have made sure to warm up your broken heart once again.

Track: Sweater Weather — The Neighbourhood: “ 'Cause it's too cold for you here and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater".

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The shackles restraining your wrists for days had left some visible marks over your skin. Along with those, there were some other bruises sprinkled in various parts of your body. They had mostly healed, by now.

Wounds and ecchymosis, at some point, all fade away.

There are some other injuries, though, hard to wash away. Your soul was still shaken, your heart ached, whenever you laid down and tried to rest. You had returned home safe and sound, but your mind was still stuck in Las Noches.

Every single time you closed your eyes, memories of what had happened pestered your mind.

Their voices, Gin's laughter in particular, still echoed into your mind. In your dreams, the horror you had experienced repeated itself. It was always the same: you stared at him like a small, helpless deer waiting for the hunter to shoot it to death, as he mocked you with his cool and mocking tone of voice. Struggling, wriggling away was useless. After attempting to do it the first time, Aizen had seraphically reminded you of how stupid that decision was and how detrimental to your health it could be as well.

"If I were you, I would not do it. You see, the metal cuffs might cut onto your skin. You do not want to shed any more blood to feed Gin's sadistic side, do you?" Aizen had whispered in your ear, before gently tapping with a tissue on your left wrist.

You were too busy trembling and staring at him in fear, your throat burning for the insults you had shouted at their faces at the top of your lungs, for noticing that you had indeed injured yourself. When Aizen showed you the once immaculate tissue, you saw some crimson stains on it.

You saw your blood.

Pulling on the chains had only caused you a physical damage. From that day on, you stopped tossing and turning. Your only weapon was your tongue. Slaps and kicks were what you received in return of the despicable words you reserved to them. But you were not going to give up on your voice because you were scared of some pain.

"Where's your Prince Charming? I thought he would have sealed the Oceans to free you. Maybe he forgot about you... Or a shark has swallowed him whole! Oh, you poor thing, don't sob like that! I can always try to cheer you up, though. You are so pretty, when you drown in your sorrow. So messed up and cute!" Gin taunted you, gripping your jaw roughly and forcing you to lock eyes with him.

You were glad your vision was blurry, as your tastebuds were met with the metallic and dreadful taste of your own blood. Your lips had cracked, your head aching, as you were still trying to recover from the harsh smack you he had just delivered to you.

But your agony did not last for too long. You never lost your hope and you were so upset you had fainted in his arms, as he ran down the corridors of that palace that resembled a maze just to save you. His familiar scent, his deep and hoarse voice lowered to reassure you that no one would have hurt you anymore. Looking back at it, perhaps, you had not fainted. Your body had probably just relaxed, comfortable in the strong and tattoed arms of someone who would have never hurt you.

Renji Abarai had gone mad, when you had vanished, kidnapped by the infamous Sexta Espada right before his eyes.

The anguish of not having you around to mess with him, the weird feeling of glancing at the desk of your empty bedroom, where you spent the majority of your time, and seeing your chair pushed against wooden edge, your silhouette not occupying the seat, were enough to shatter his heart. He had to find you, he had to have you back.

Weeks of pain. The days had passed by torturously, with every dusk the list of things he missed about you had expanded notably. You were always on his mind. He did not just missed your face, laughter, or jokes. He missed your soul, the way you drove him crazy with your stupid remarks and how you scolded him for being too reckless. He missed the cute, little things no one even noticed. You were not just his friend.

He loved you. He loved you so much he had broken into your cell alone, quick to bring you back to Urahara in search for help. As you were laying down on that futon, he had been by your side all the while. You were friends, though, right?

No, no, you were not friends. You had never been friends. A friend should have not felt that away about his partner in crime. Missing a friend could bring saddness and nostalgia and he knew that feeling.

When it came to you, though, it was not just that. Missing you felt like dying of starvation, breathing in air, but not oxygen. You were his whole damn world.

When he had heard you had physically recovered, but you were reduced to your shadow self, he had not even bothered making up an excuse to his stolid Captain. He dropped out of the Soul Society, his only goal seeing your face again and holding you close to his chest for real this time. He wanted you to feel loved, he needed you to look into his eyes, when he held you close to him.

You were sprawled over your sofa, only an oversized sweater covering your body. Another sleepless night, another day tormented by Gin's grin and Aizen's brown eyes. To anyone that asked you how you were doing, you always returned vague answers on how you were gradually recovering. It was true, indeed, but not the entire truth. Struggling to sleep because you kept on seeing your abusers's faces over and over again was draining.

When the door bell rang, you furrowed your brows. Who could it be now?

Aizen Sosuke. Gin Ichimaru. Panic.

You sat up straight, eyes rounded for a split second, before you squeezed them shut and took your head between your hands to calm down. They were not there, right? They were far away from you, they were in Hueco Mundo. Or so you thought. No, they had to be there. You were overthinking, it was not good. You were about to explode, when a deep and familiar voice pierced your ears and swept the ghosts haunting you away from your tormented mind.

"Y/N it's me. It's Renji".

A small and tired smile graced your lips, as you walked up to the front door, your eyes locking with the warm brown chocolate ones of your best friend, when you opened the door. He was there, he had come to visit you. You had no idea of how deeply you had missed him, until you broke down in tears and buried your face into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around your waist made the ice sheet enveloping your heart melt away.

Stumbling inside, Renji closed the door behind you two with a foot and rested his chin on top of your head.

"Stay. Please, stay" you feebly asked him, sniffing pathetically while you tried to wipe the tears off of your face with the back of your hand.

"You absolute idiot, of course I'm staying" he softly said, his calloused hands sliding down your back, to your waist and hooking underneath your thighs to pick you up. Thus prompted you to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, allowing the red-haired shinigami to have a firm grip on you.

The short-tempered Liutenant walked down the corridor and entered your bedroom, climbing onto the bed and gently laying you down on your back. You were so fragile in his arms, so small compared to him that you wished you could just vanish into his strong arms.

"How are you?" Renji finally asked you in a tone that did not accept replies or lies of any sort.

You did not want to make him worried more than he had already been and still was, but you did not have much of a choice. You had to answer him, you had to tell him the truth.

"Whenever I try to sleep, or a sudden noise startles me, it's like being back to Hueco Mundo. I still hear Gin's mocking laughter, or see Sosuke's sharp eyes penetrating my brain in search for my weaknesses" you whispered, closing your eyes as Renji's large hand cupped your cheek to provide you some kind of comfort.

Sometimes he wished you had not been involved with that story. He would have never wanted you to get hurt, to suffer.

Some strands of his long red hair fell over your face, tickling the tip of your nose and your chin. You could swear you had seen his jaw tense for a second, but then he relaxed and craddled you in his arms. He buried his face onto the crook of your neck, his hot breath making you feel safe like you had never felt before.

"It’s my fault. I should have brought you with me to the Soul Society” he then said, your eyebrows knitting questioningly at his statement.

“What? How—” you interjected, only for him to shake his head and press his forehead against yours. There was sorrow dusting his usually fiery eyes and it was enough for you to let go of whatever you were trying to say. Talking was not a good idea, overall.

And Renji knew it too.

It happened naturally, your lips pulling him in like a magnet, compelling him to taste you eagerly, to find relief and secure the acquittal of his guilty coscience in that kiss. He loved you, his joy depended on yours. And when he found no resistance in you, when he hovered over your frame carefully not to crash your body with his, when you allowed him to gently lead you towards a sensual and blissful climax with his fingers, he knew you felt it too.

Labored breath, sweaty body, in a daze and finally safe from the monsters under your bed, you lulled yourself into sleep with your head resting onto his firm chest. He would have never let you alone anymore.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! You have no idea for how long this have been laying in my drafts. I seriously need to finish up those fics for my event or I won’t be able to host a new one 😫

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little scrap! As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @electronicwitchcollection @kr0wu

#renji abarai x reader #renji x reader #renji smut #abarai renji #renji abarai #renji x you #aizen sosuke x reader #gin ichimaru x reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut

204 notes · View notes

untildawnss · 27 days ago

Text

tailspin - joshua washington (until dawn)

in which josh always felt like the odd one out in his family and group of friends.

yes, i like to hurt my own feelings, why do you ask?

definitely inspired by myself and a few songs: gasoline by halsey, work in progress by the dangerous summer, 100 bad days by ajr, yes i'm a mess by ajr, breakdown by you me at six, i wanna get better by the bleachers, overwhelmed by royal & the serpent, panic room by au/ra, young by girli, crawling by linkin park

cw: depression, suicidal ideation, angst, attempted suicide

wc: 2.8k

josh looked down at the half-empty cup that he was balancing between his knee and the thumb and index finger of his right hand, tilting it down and back up right before the drink spilled over. his left thumb touched the tip of his index finger, then his middle finger, ringfinger and pinkie and back again while he inhaled for four seconds, held that breath for four seconds, exhaled for four seconds and then paused for another four seconds. he was uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. "hey, josh!" it took him a second to realise that someone was talking to him. "josh, we're up." the cup in his hand slipped slightly. "what?" josh looked up and there was chris, doing lunges and kicks and punching the air. "beerpong, bro! what's wrong with you?" everything. "nothing, just got really into planning my strategy." he drained the cup, forced his face into the well-practiced, toothy grin that he sported in every picture and whooped. "let's fucking go, bro! these suckers won't know what hit 'em."

the noise of the party was gone. josh could have called a cab or ordered an uber but he craved the fresh air and quiet that the walk home guaranteed. no driver trying to make conversation, no fastest route. he wasn't sure if he wanted to go home. sometimes it didn't feel like home. he felt out of place. his sisters had each other, their parents were barely involved anymore. and then there was him. josh. the oldest, the problem, the one that just didn't fit in. and he was going where his feet were taking him now. he'd had a lot to drink. he didn't feel like he made sense the way he was, just a bit off, like he was not entirely one single, whole person. just pieces of someone that were held together by the people around him. but there was no one around now and josh felt like he was crumbling, falling apart atom by atom. the darkness was suffocating and liberating at the same time and he stood still for a second or two. his hands were shaking and he didn't know why. now that he was alone he wished he wasn't. but he couldn't stand being around his friends either. because maybe they hated him as much as he hated himself.

josh's room was pitch black. even hannah and beth were already asleep when he finally snuck into the house. the buzz from the party had more than worn off at this point and his ears were ringing. it felt like someone was sitting on his chest, he definitely couldn't breathe right and his heart was beating faster. naturally, he'd made his way to the cabinet where his parents kept the booze to sneak another two or six big gulps of vodka or whiskey or whatever his hands could find in the dark corner of the room. just to calm down, to sleep. and here he was, throat burning and that ache in his chest still pulsing, pumping, stabbing. he could barely breathe. josh's eyes were stinging. he was tired now, away from everyone and everything. almost like a sensory deprivation chamber, if it wasn't for the creases in the sheets and the wrinkles in his shirts he felt against his back and thighs and calves. he hated it, being this aware of his own body. the old clock on the wall was ticking. he was trying to breathe in time with the ticking hand, four seconds, four seconds. but his lips were quavering and his eyes were stinging and he felt like he was choking. and then he was crying.

he'd fallen asleep at one point because someone was opening his curtains and the bright morning light stung in his still puffy eyes. someone sat down on the side of his bed. his body shifted with the dip in his mattress and his stomach lurched. another person plopped down on the other side of the bed. he heaved this time. "leave me alone," josh groaned. "mom and dad said to wake you up or we're not taking you to the beach." hannah and beth sounded excited. "don't wanna go to the beach. i'm not feeling well." josh pulled his blanket over his head. he felt his mattress shifting again, the twins' weight on his left and right vanishing. they left the door open. he heard someone else walk in and close the door. his mattress shifted again. a hand pulled the blanket off his face and gently stroked the side of his face. mom. he felt like crying again. "joshua, you're not feeling well?" she always used his given name when he wasn't well. "we can stay home." no, i'll ruin everything. "no, you can go. i'll call you if i need anything." she kissed his forehead. "are you sure?" no. he nodded. "okay." she closed the door when she walked out and he heard them, having fun, without him, as a family. they don't need me.

josh felt paralysed. some invisible, intangible force was trapping him in this bed, his bed. it had been a few hours since his family had left for the weekend trip to the beach. he had barely moved since then. the afternoon sun was reflecting off of the clock on his wall. it was still friday. he still had until sunday until his parents and sisters would get back. and he didn't belong. not really, anyway. hannah and beth were a few years younger and anything he'd never managed to achieve, they had. he was just the one that fell off the wagon years ago and had messed up the picture perfect family. there was a kind of disconnect, his body seemed to move without his input sometimes. he barely remembered getting in the shower or having breakfast, or maybe it was lunch at this point. josh could barely decide if he wanted to be alone or not before he had sent a text to the group chat with his friends asking them if they had any plans for tonight. it was too late now but he was barely convinced they liked him when he was at his best anyway, so what difference did it really make now?

they'd all agreed to come over to his place since his parents were out. they had invited more people, too. i should be fine. but he wasn't. there were so many people everywhere and he wished they would just leave. he should be fine, but he was not. he was anxious. he could barely move around his house without walking in on conversations or kisses or more. it was getting hard to breathe again. josh felt like someone was crushing his chest. but he was standing upright, just tipsy and dying to get out of this house, his house where everyone else wanted to stay and have fun. but something was happening to him and his breathing was getting shallower and he was stumbling, tumbling, falling up the stairs looking for a door that would keep him safe from whatever was going on down there. and then josh was in a bedroom, a guestroom that was barely ever used and he was clawing at his chest, at the heart that was beating the wrong way and making him gasp for air and everything was painful and he hit the floor, still clutching his chest. and josh wished he had never asked anyone for anything, not even their time. everyone was here and he was here and breaking down and the door was closed but it was barely anything between him fighting for his life and everyone else having fun. they don't need me. no one needs me. they didn't, they really didn't. he was living in the house with the fun stuff that rich people had. but if he just disappeared they'd still have hannah and beth. because everyone loved them. and he was just there.

josh had been in this room for a while. might've been minutes, might've been days. he didn't remember. maybe he was somewhere else. didn't matter, really. he was like a ship adrift, waves of consciousness crashing into him, bouncing him, left and right, port and starboard. faces flashed before his eyes, maybe friendly. and he was here, his back against a hard surface and two faces he knew in front of him. "sam, is he okay?" chris sounded panicked. there was something pressing against his neck. "he has a pulse. he's fine, he's alive, he's fine, chris." chris and sam. they were here. "what's up, guys?" he could barely hear himself. maybe he was slurring his words. he did drink a lot. "josh, you good?" chris was leaning in closer. josh gave him a thumbs up and tried grinning like he always did. "i'm good, cochise." he tried to aim the finger guns at chris. maybe he aimed them at sam. he wasn't sure. and before he knew it he was upright and there was sam on one side and chris on the other and he tried to walk where they were taking him but he was too drunk and so slow.

josh was in his bed again. there was still music downstairs. and he was tired but he wasn't. he wanted to scream, to tell everyone to shut up. but his body wouldn't move the way he wanted it to. he let his hands sweep around him to find his phone. there it was, neatly placed on his bedstand next to a glass of, probably, water. he was too far from coherent to understand the words on the screen the way he normally did. he had to bring the screen as close as possible and squint and finally his eye focused on the words. he tapped on chris' name. it took him a while, seeing as he was one handed and one eyed but josh finally managed to send a message to chris. who's still here? where are you? the words felt like heavy lifting, or maybe it was just the oncoming hangover that made him feel this way. we're getting everyone to go home. yeah, that was probably best. josh could barely type and send his response before he passed out again.

when josh woke up it was saturday. maybe midday or the afternoon. whatever. but there were no more people in his house and there was trash everywhere and a note from chris on the inside of the front door. we tried our best. and josh smiled because chris and sam could've left everything for him to clean up but they didn't. maybe they didn't hate him. he didn't dare debate this now that he was alone and had to clean the house. he preferred to believe that maybe they did like him. and so he turned on the music and turned it up to the point his parents would intervene because it would give him tinnitus.

josh started collecting all the disposable cups and pizza boxes he could find around the house and on the patio. chris and sam had probably done a lot already because there had been so many people last night, he still filled almost an antire bag. he craved a cigarette. no one knew he had started smoking. maybe chris, but he wouldn't say anything. i should be fine. he wasn't. he wasn't fine at all. josh spent the rest of the day trying to clean the house, just trying to make sure his parents wouldn't realise he'd had a party.

but when the night came he was restless again. and he couldn't resist. blades seemed so vulgar. he'd put his father's gun to his head before, once or twice, just to know how it felt. and now it was 4 in the morning and he just wanted to not exist. and the pills were right there. but josh wasn't sure. did he want to go out that way? he didn't actually know. but the music was playing and he there were the pieces of everyone he loved the most flashing before his eyes. there was beth. you can't wake up. there was hannah. this is not a dream. mom. you're part of a machine. dad. you are not a human being. chris. with your face all made up, living on a screen. sam. low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline. josh. i think there's a flaw in my code. and he didn't know if this was real anymore. he knew he didn't fit in. i'm not scared. at least he tried not to be. but he was.

and josh tried, he really tried. but his pills were right there and he was just a disturbance in the perfect life his friends and family were living, right? they won't miss me. the thought was bouncing and bumping and jumping around and around in his head. he wanted to get better but he didn't know how, how, how. nothing helped and even drinking helped for a few hours at most. and they don't want me anyway. he was sure they didn't. they had hannah and beth and they got trophies and awards and everything he didn't. and sam liked hannah better anyway. and chris, chris would find a new friend. someone cooler than him.

he had deliberated, thought about this. there was really nothing else to do, nothing he could do, was there? but it was barely an hour until his family was supposed to be back. and he was panicking because he didn't want to see him like this but there was no other way. josh cried again. but because he had waited too long. and he was sitting on his bed, a glass of water and almost a month's supply of pills on his bedstand. oh death. and he begged for gods he didn't believe in to take him. and so he stuffed the pills in his mouth and it took him three, four, five, six gulps to swallow them all. and josh sat there and he was fine and he didn't want to be. he wanted to die and he took his pills, all at one,. and he was fine and he hated it. and then his vision blurred and his head started to hurt and then he could barely breathe and he got up and he was stumbling towards the door and he couldn't breathe and he opened his door but he was short of breath and he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. and then he was aspirating and he heard someone call his name and pressure on his chest and he wasn't sure if it was heaven or hell but there were the faces of the people he loved. his parents. hannah. beth. and he wanted to live. he didn't want to die anymore. and he needed them to know. and he was fighting, trying to dig himself up because it felt like he was buried alive and he clawed and punched and gasped and breathed until he was surrounded by machines and white and a hospital room and was choking on a tube. and his parents and sisters were there and all of them looked like they were crying. a nurse pulled the breathing tube out of his throat and informed the room that he was breathing on his own again. and josh started crying. and hannah and beth were on him, clawing at him as if he was the only thing that mattered and their parents were crying and telling him that they were sorry. and josh was crying, returning the hug. "i didn't mean to. i didn't want to." and he was sobbing and grabbing at every part of his sisters he could reach. "i didn't want to die. i don- i don't want to die." hannah and beth had removed themselves from josh's figure in the hospital bed, already informing their friends that josh was alive. melinda washington had sat down on the side of his bed, her husband behind her, a hand on his shoulder, his face a carefully curated mask. "mommy, i didn't want to die. mommy, please, i didn't want to die." josh was crying, begging, pleading. melinda washington knew they'd technically made a decision but seeing her son like this was different. but her husband wouldn't budge. melinda beckoned her daughters closer to prepare them but wondered if there was really a preparation for not seeing your brother, your son for at least a few months. bob was more than prepared to have joshua committed. she really wasn't but knew that there was nothing she could to do help him. so she went along with his decisions. just a few weeks, maybe months until they could see josh again.

#until dawn #josh washington #until dawn imagines #chris hartley #hannah washington #beth washington #samantha giddings

37 notes · View notes

adore-laur · 1 year ago

Text

SKIN

— a blurb from the dadrry universe 🤍

——

Harry's skin must be woven with threads of magic. There has to be an otherworldly magnetism entwined in his veins, bestowing captivating warmth on anyone who touches him. Or perhaps there's an underlying spell coursing through his bloodstream, effortlessly soothing deep-rooted aches and vociferating cries.

It's been said before, but it bears repeating: Harry is a natural when it comes to being a lover. He has been by your side through every trial and tribulation life has cruelly thrown at you. He has willingly taken your pain during grief-stricken times and selflessly shared the burden. You've navigated the rollercoaster years of dating, marriage, and parenthood with him, all the while watching him adapt to each role with unwavering patience and grace.

Witnessing him be a dad makes you firmly believe it's what he was made to do. It was written in the stars.

When you wake from a deep slumber—a long and uninterrupted one at that—the house smells like blueberries and homemade bread. Well, if four hours of sleep count as uninterrupted. You'll be the first to admit that you haven't missed the lack of sleep involved in caring for a newborn.

You slowly make your way to the kitchen, surprised by how quiet it is except for the sizzling sounds of breakfast being cooked. Your tired eyes regard Harry swaying by the stovetop, a spatula in his grasp, and his one-week-old baby girl cradled in his opposite arm. She's wide awake, her swaddled body cuddled perfectly in the crook of his elbow as she mesmerizingly stares at her dad skillfully take a loaf of bread out of the oven. He has on his favorite fleece robe with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair— that's getting quite long—is flatly pushed back due to him restlessly tossing and turning all night.

It's baffling how whenever Harry holds his daughter, she's completely content as long as her skin touches his. You don't quite understand it. You're well aware that skin-to-skin contact is essential, but it's wondrous how much she loves it with him already.

You stand still and watch him for a few more moments, thinking about how, nine months ago, you observed him from the same spot as he made pancakes with his eldest daughter. Back when the baby he's holding now was just a tiny bump he would fawn over, growing rounder each month and getting plenty of kisses each day.

Eventually, you refocus on the present and shuffle over to where your sleep-deprived husband is yawning and shutting the oven door with his hip. The both of you got a dreadfully short amount of sleep last night, but you think it isn't so bad when mornings look like they do with him.

"Hello," you say, making your presence known before appearing next to him.

Harry loosens a golden-brown blueberry crepe with the spatula and sets it on one of three plates. "Morning, sweetheart."

"When did she wake up?"

"'Bout an hour ago," he replies, his voice hoarse. "Just little whimpers, so I took her to the backyard for fresh air. She told me she wanted to make breakfast with me."

You amusedly tilt your head to the side. "Oh, she told you that? I didn't know you could translate her baby sounds."

"I can, actually. She also told me she wanted milk." He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Pronto, preferably."

"Here, give me her. She's definitely hungry." You take her from him and kiss her soft, munchable cheeks. "Thank you for making food, by the way."

"That's my job," he says melodically as you walk over to the couch. You sit and slide the strap of your silk pajama top down, then remove the white swaddle from the baby's body. She instantly latches onto your nipple, causing you to wince as a dull ache initiates.

As you feed her and zone out, you hear Harry plate the food and open the fridge several times before you sense him coming up behind you. He leans his torso over the back of the couch and rests his chin on your head. Breastfeeding has never been uncomfortable around him since you know he's appreciative of what a woman's body can supply and how draining it is to be the supplier. Often, like right now, he will silently observe his daughter fall into a state of tranquility as she suckles. It's beautiful to nurture another human using your body, and even though it's terribly time-consuming, the special bond formed during it is always worth it.

"I'm going to get dressed," Harry says after a while, squeezing your arm.

You turn your head and pucker your lips for the first kiss of the day. He grants you several soft pecks that taste like blueberries, each with a satisfied hum, before leaving a long, dramatic kiss on his daughter's head.

A few minutes later, he comes back just as you finish breastfeeding. He's wearing a patterned jacquard-knit sweater and loose denim jeans with ripped holes near his knees. He stands before you and takes his baby girl from your arms, kissing and blowing raspberries on her full belly until she's screeching happily.

"Who's ready for tummy time, hmm? Is it you?" She coos with a toothless smile, and Harry pretends to eat her cheeks. "I think it's you."

He gently sets her on the blanket on the living room floor, then lies on his stomach next to her. You grab your phone from the coffee table and snap a quick picture of the sweet memory.

After five minutes of encouragement and tracing every feature of her face, Harry picks her up and burps her. Meanwhile, you wander into the kitchen, grab the plates, and then slide the patio door open with your shoulder. You head out to the backyard, with Harry following closely behind. You're not too worried about your other daughter since she'll definitely be cranky if you wake her up this early.

As you set the plates down and sit in the wicker lounge chair, Harry passes the baby over and settles beside you, chewing and swallowing a bite of bread. He says, "I was thinking of going to the beach later and swimming with the girls. The water is pretty calm today."

You nod and pick at your crêpe. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll probably take a nap or something."

"You don't want to come with us?" he asks, scrunching his eyebrows. It's gorgeous out."

"I don't really feel like swimming. I'm not feeling my best."

He leans closer to you and places his palm on your forehead. "What do you mean, love? You feelin' okay?"

"I'm just tired," you lie partially. "Don't worry about me."

"Hey, look at me." He takes your hand in his. "I'm going to worry about you. You just gave birth a week ago. Gotta tell me how you're feeling mentally and physically. Otherwise, I don't know how to help you."

"I know, but I swear I'm—" A fussy cry cuts you off, and you sigh as you start rocking the baby. Harry soothingly massages the back of your neck, leaving a comforting kiss behind your ear.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" he murmurs.

You just weakly smile and hope he'll forget about it.

——

The sun has just begun to set, and the evening sky is a bright, beautiful orange that makes the ocean glimmer. All of you are on the beach to spend time together before an early bedtime. Harry had made dinner and is now shaking out a blanket so the both of you can sit on the sand. Your eldest daughter is distracted with her beach toys, talking to herself as she toddles along the shoreline in her swimsuit and floaties.

There's no time for peaceful watching, however, because once you plop down on the blanket with the baby snuggled to your chest, Harry sits right by you and clasps his hands over his bent knee like he's about to give a lecture. He jerks his chin and says, "You know what I'm going to say."

It's impossible not to roll your eyes. "Do I have to?" you mutter with a sheepish grin.

"Yes. You're legally required to talk to your husband and baby daddy."

You just groan and prepare yourself to vent about all the postpartum feelings that have been swirling in your pessimistic brain over the past seven days.

"I'm scared of losing myself," you say, exhaling heavily. "I remember the first time I became a mom and how I didn't even recognize myself some days. It took so much energy out of me, you know? With breastfeeding, being up all night, and trying to get my body back to normal, I guess I just don't want to fall into that dark mindset again."

Harry nods understandingly. "Do you recognize yourself right now?"

"A lot more than last time," you reply quietly. "I mean, we're both more experienced with how to handle a newborn. That definitely helps."

He swallows, and his serious expression reveals that he sees right through you. "Can I know the real reason why you didn't want to go swimming earlier?" he asks with a gentleness that could break you if you dwell on it for long enough.

You sometimes wonder if your skin is made of glass or if he knows you well enough to notice all the cracks.

"If I talk about it, I'll start crying."

He tuts and nudges your foot with his. "And what's wrong with crying?"

Shrugging, you defeatedly mumble, "It makes me feel like a little kid."

"You're my wife, not some stranger to me," he stresses with a soft laugh. "I hate that you think crying in front of me will put me off. Please be vulnerable with me. I don't want you to keep your feelings bottled up."

Your lips wobble, and a teardrop escapes as you look downward. "I don't feel good when I look at my body. I don't think I could put on a swimsuit and have you see me." Harry scoots closer and wipes your tears away, a sympathetic frown on his lips. "And I spent so long trying to accept it last time I gave birth," you add, "and now having to bounce back again seems exhausting."

"I don't expect you to bounce back," Harry says gently. "I don't expect anything of you that involves changing your body. It's your body. Do whatever you need to make you feel good, and do it at your own pace, all right?"

Your heart lovingly falters at his statement. "Once we can finally have sex in five weeks, it's going to be terrible. I'll probably cry."

He laughs, and you let one out too. "Is that really what you're worried about?"

"No." He gives you an unamused look with a hint of a smirk. "Okay, maybe. I just don't want you to look at me. I could blindfold you or something."

"Can you look at me right now for a second?" Harry asks earnestly. You adjust the baby in your arms and meet his eyes, which sparkle in the sunlight. I look at you and see a goddess," he says, holding your free hand. "A mother to two beautiful girls who make me smile every single day. You're my safety blanket. The body you think I don't want to see is the one that grew life. That is so precious to me."

He begins tracing his fingertips across the light striations on your thigh as he continues, "The stretch marks on your skin are there because you grew two humans, which to me is the most powerful goddamn thing I could ever watch you do. And you've done it so effortlessly that I can't help but fall in love with you more and more each day."

In that moment, you wonder why you were ever doubtful in the first place and how the man sitting next to you can always easily drag you out of any momentary insecurity.

Harry suddenly stands and carefully pulls you up with him. He then kneels on the blanket and spreads his arms out. "Look at you," he says over the crashing waves. "You're literally glowing in front of me, holding our baby girl that you brought into this world all by yourself, and making my heart pound just as hard as the first day I met you."

"Stop, Harry," you tell him, heat expanding across your face.

"No, because look at you!" He exhales sharply and lowers his arms. "I worship you. Everything you do or say, every smile and laugh, every time you look at me... I'm hooked for eternity."

You kneel in front of him with tears threatening to spill over. He cradles your cheeks and kisses you with an intensity similar to the evening waves pelting the shore. Is there a way to thank the ocean for bringing him to you?

As the sun says its routine farewell, you bask in Harry's glow that cascades from the solicitous words he speaks and the tender touches he gives. Skin that's unquestionably loved by him, and skin that you will love at your own pace.

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #dad!harry #dadrry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur #skin

269 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Text

Parallel Cut

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is taller than r though) , TW violence, CW injury, CW food mention, suggestive content.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 10 >>> EPILOGUE

You walk through aunt Janet's shop, eyes adjusting to the lights. The smell of the store wafts through your senses, the old carpet smell, rows and rows of fabric displayed on the shelves smelling of chemicals and dye. There's a faint smell of leather lingering in the air, reminding you of Hobie. Trainers squeak briefly on the floor, waking you up from your zombie like trance.

When did you even get here?

Your mind has been noisy since yesterday, you've mostly been on autopilot, muscle memory guiding you to your destination. Rubbing your tired eyes, barely sleeping last night, you had the urge to knock on Hobie's door to help soothe your screaming head. You feel a throbbing pain behind your eyes, temple aching in a stabbing headache.

You make your way towards the register, finding it empty, you ring the call bell.

"I'll be there in a second" Janet's voice answers. You have no energy to reply back.

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, fingers fiddling with your ring, its red beady eyes glaring at you, you turn it around so that it faces your palm. Clutching your hand into a tight fist, you're sure it leaves a spider shaped indent on your soft skin.

You already know you're not gonna take the offer so why are you feeling this way? Is it because you're afraid of telling Hobie? If you did, what would be his reaction to it? Whatever it is, you won't accept the job. You only have one Hobie, there'll always be another job, right?

Exhaling, you scratch off a bit of your nail polish, it falls on the floor like snowflakes. Janet finally makes an appearance, cane thumping against carpet, face lighting up when she sees you.

"And here I thought you wouldn't pick up your order" she chuckles, eyes staying on your leather jacket. "Nice jacket, wonder whose that is?" Janet gives you a teasing look, eyebrow raising knowingly.

Giving her a shy smile, you bite your lip. "He made the move– well it was a team effort for the both of us" chuckling, your eyes twinkle when talking about him.

Janet claps her hand, you jump slightly at the cracking sound. For an old woman she could clap really loud. She grins widely at you, smile lines prominent.

"Oh my days! Finally!" She clutches her pearls, "oh so proud of you, sweetheart. Tell me, How'd it go? Only if you're comfortable of course"

"Well he made this really dramatic entrance at the show, running late of course" Janet hangs on to every word, eyes flickering to your tired ones. "After he walked on the runway he just upped and kissed me" you say still in disbelief, happy that you've finally told someone else in person.

Telling Yuri and the others on the phone wasn't as satisfying as you thought it would be. Still, their happy screeches and between 'told you so's'– It left a very giddy look on your face while Hobie rolls his eyes at Yuri telling James he owes her money. Ned was yelling the entire time, chanting 'I did that!' On the speaker, so loud in fact you thought he was gonna break it.

You didn't even mean to tell them at first, but when you answered the phone, Hobie's phone at three am, voice hoarse, sleep still in your eyes with Hobie tangled around your body, telling you in his sleep deprived voice to drop the call, it's safe to say your eardrums almost burst out with (a very drunk) Ned's surprised screech followed by (an equally drunk) Yuri and James. There goes keeping it a secret for a while till you two get the hang of things.

Despite that, your past thoughts linger in the back of your head, hammering loudly, threatening to break down your defensive walls.

"But you don't look too happy" Janet pipes up after your retelling. She looks concerned, lips turning into a thin line. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm really happy" Voice quiet, surprised that she saw through the cracks. You're really happy but the offer has your very being torn in half. Occupying your thoughts, eating you inside.

"Honey, I have five children and eleven grandkids, trust me I can tell." She sighs, eyes softening. "You don't have to tell me, but if that boy did something–"

Shaking your head, you're prepared to defend Hobie with your life. "It's not him." With a wobbly breath, you ask her for advice. "Did you ever have to leave someone you love because it'll be better in the long run?"

"Depends, better for whom exactly?" She turns around, grabbing your order from the shelf behind her. "And why would it be better for them?" Bringing the rolls of fabric on the counter with a thump.

"Nevermind, it's nothing" you retract your previous words. Palm aching from how hard you're clenching your fists, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Janet nods, genuine concern on her face. "I don't want to push you, but if you still want my advice just ask." She rings up your purchase.

"Thank you" paying for the fabric, you walk away from the cashier. An idea pops up wherein you don't have to directly ask, because if you did, it would make it real.

"A friend of mine was offered a job" biting your lip, you're technically not lying to her since your classmate Hannah got offered the same thing as you.

Walking back to the counter, Janet listens intently. "And uh, she's worrying about leaving her friends because the job requires her to move away," you pause for a brief second. "Really far away. And she hasn't told them"

"Give your friend my congratulations then." She smiles at you, "Was it a good offer at least?"

"Yeah, they gave m–her a lot to consider. It's a great opportunity for her," with all the numerous visits at her shop, you've grown to trust Aunt Janet with her wisdom in life, not to mention you're quite similar to each other. You value her opinion.

"But she's anxious because she wants to stay with her friend?" You nod at her question, knowing exactly what she's implying. "Well, ask her what was her initial reaction to the news, that usually gives a lot of information on what she truly feels" remembering your excitement and happy first reaction, you try to cover it up in your mind.

"She really doesn't want to leave him behind" your eyes start watering at the thought.

"Does she love him?"

"A lot, she loves him so much it hurts sometimes." You inhale at the confession, feeling guilty that you're dumping it all on Janet.

She takes your clenched hand that's been shaking on the counter, unclenching it, your nails leave half moon indents on your palms.

"Just talk to him, tell him. He'll help her figure it out, better than this old woman can" Janet squeezes your hand. You nod, taking her advice.

"Thank you, I'll tell her that" smiling at aunt Janet, you blink away the tears pooling in your watery eyes.

"Do you want to have a cup of tea? My daughter just sent me a batch from India. I think you'll like it." Janet asks, determined to help ease your mind off of things.

"Okay, sure" accepting, she leads you behind the counter into the back of the store.

—

You wave to Janet goodbye, stomach full of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, you stop in your tracks.

Hobie leans on his bike, grinning widely as he sees you come out of the store. He gives you a look that sweeps you off your feet, feeling like you're back in school having a crush on your best friend. Your heart sings in his presence, a giddy smile on your lips, practically skipping over to him.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" Your smile turns into a frown when you spot a cut on his lip. "Holy shit! What happened? Who did this to you?" Anger settles in your chest. Hands carefully cupping his jaw, scanning for more injuries. You grit your teeth, winching at the thought of him getting hurt.

"It's nothing I can't handle, you should've seen the tosser who tried to take me on" He holds your wrist, calloused fingertips massaging the tensed muscle.

"Are you okay? Any pain?"

"I'm fine, I can barely feel it now" it's how he finds out about his enhanced healing, thanks to the ability, he healed it in no time. The injury looked much worse before coming to you. Still, he savors you doting on him, "Gromit, I'm fine, yeah? Don't worry"

You let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding. Hand sliding down to his neck, fingers fiddling with his necklace. "Are you sure? Let's just go home for today, then you can tell me who I need to beat up" pulling back, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Nah, c'mon. I feel better now that you're here" Hobie pats the seat of the motorcycle. Noticing that you haven't moved, he tilts his head, giving you his most convincing smile. "Gromit, love, cherry" He calls every nickname you have until there's a shy smile on your lips, he even calls your most embarrassing childhood nicknames, "little worm, pebbles, guppy" you hide behind your hand.

"Okay, enough" you laugh, embarrassed at the names, especially that you're on a semi busy street. Taking your hands away from your face to cup Hobie's mouth. He smiles underneath it.

"There she is" Hobie brings you closer, pulling you by the sleeve of his jacket.

"I hate you" you grin through it, eyes flicking down to his lips, worried that you might exacerbate his injury if you kiss him right there and then.

He chuckles deeply, "You love me though" Hobie shuts down your apprehensiveness, lips a breath away from yours.

Sighing, you act exasperated but your love struck smile betrays you. "Unfortunately, I do" you quip back, words stitched with fondness. Closing your eyes, he guides you into the kiss. Hands flying to the back of his neck, deepening it further.

The nagging feeling stays, whispering and taunting. You push it far back in your mind, it gnaws and claws, begging to be let out.

—

You whistle out at the breathtaking view in front of you, clutching the bag of fish and chips in your arms, Hobie helps you take off your helmet. The cliff overlooks the city's landscape, sunset turning everything around you in an orange glow. To your right is a dozen or so picnic tables, moss clings to the wood, still it stands tall. Behind is the woods, thick enough to get lost in, curved oak and pine looming like giants. Birds chirp in the background adding to the calm scenery.

"Do you take all your women here?" You ask teasingly half seriously.

"Only the ones I've pined for since childhood" he joins your side, shoving you with his hip lightly. Hobie takes the bag from your arm in exchange for his hand. Intertwining his fingers with yours as heat rises to your cold cheeks.

You and Hobie are the only ones in the place, save for a few birds and critters hanging around. Cold air nips at your neck, the sun making it warm enough to enjoy the weather.

Hand in hand, he guides you towards one of the tables. Sitting down, you inhale the fresh air. Hobie gives you your share of chips, you smile at him appreciatively.

"So, who do I have to beat up?" You ask, cracking your knuckles for added effect.

Hobie chortles, "hell, I'll even help you"

"What happened anyway?"

He sighs, frustrated. "We got blocked, they knocked down one of us for no reason. Things escalated" Hobie saves you from the violence. "Fuckin' Wilson Fisk still sits pretty up in his ivory tower" his frustration barks back. "Sorry" He exhales, unclenching his fists.

"Don't be, I should've been there. I'm the one who should be sorry" You take his hand, squeezing it three times.

"If you were there, you could've gotten hurt. Don't think I can handle that" The thought of you almost getting trampled back in the pit still weighs heavy in his mind. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a quick yet affectionate kiss over your skin. "Everyone's fairly okay, we got out early. We'll try again though"

"I'll be there next time, are you sure it's not hurting anymore? Once we get back home, I'll put some betadine over it" the thought of you on his lap, cooing and cleaning his wounds fills him with affection.

"I'm sure, love" Hobie exhales. "Let's eat, it's starting to get cold" you nod, still concerned for him. Hobie watches your eyes roam around the greenery. "D'you seriously not remember this place?" Sitting next to you, he sips at his drink, avoiding his cut lip.

"Why? have we been here before?"

"Yeah, school field trip. Our classes had the same schedule. This is where we ate lunch, remember now?"

"Oh, shit!" Recognition flashes on your face. "Where we got left behind by the bus!"

"Mm-hmm" He points at you with a mouthful of chips.

"We got left behind because you were too busy snogging what's her face behind a tree to remember the call time"

"No, I wasn't," he shakes his head. "You gotta get your memory checked, love"

"Nuh-uh, I remember it because it was what everyone was talking about"

"We got left behind by the bus because I was lookin' for you" his face turning serious.

"What?"

"I never snogged anyone here" he scoffs, "wankers were stirring up rumours 'bout me again." Hobie scoots closer to you, "I got back to the bus after going to the toilets. I watched your bus get filled up but I never saw you get on. So I came back out to look for you"

You nod, trying to recollect the memory.

He walks you back to that day. "I looked around, asked your classmates. No one saw you. I was starting to panic, thinkin' you got lost in the woods, tempted by a ghoul or somethin'" you snort at his joke. "Found you ten minutes later, crouched on the grass, drawing a fucking flower"

You hide your face in embarrassment, remembering exactly why you hid there. Memory brings you back to that day.

Hobie finally finds you, he feels like he can breathe again. Sitting quietly next to you, his eyes linger on the side of your face. Clutching your sketchbook and pencil in a tight knuckle grip.

You sat there in silence until you forgave yourself for loving him.

"Oh fuck" voice muffled by your hands. "We were stuck here for like three fucking hours because I was such a dramatic bitch!"

"Well, it was a pretty flower" he tries to make you feel better.

"That was not my best moment" you chuckle, "I remember running there because I heard about you kissing someone. Guess I've got a penchant for running away huh?"

"No matter, I'll keep trying to find you whenever you do," you smile sweetly at his words. "Or just catch you before you do"

"You're implying that there's going to be something for me to run away from" you joke, Hobie goes with your bit.

"I don't think there's any more crude rumours of me out there. Think you're good, love." You shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes, cleaning a crumb off his cheek. Hobie gives you a peck on your finger tip as a thank you.

A comfortable silence blankets you both, your mind takes the quiet to its advantage, it goes back to Janet's advice. Mrs. Williams' words echo around you, layered on top of Riley's offer. Heart beating fast, the plastic spoon snaps in half as you grip it too tightly.

Hobie's head turns towards the crunching sound, "you alright? Let me see, you might have splinters"

"I'm okay, just flimsy plastic"

"Here, you can share mine."

"Thanks"

Silence permeates the air once again.

"I need to tell you something" you and Hobie say at the same time.

"Age before beauty" He pokes your side with a chuckle.

You bite your lip, gaze lingering somewhere other than his face. Eyes moving at the gaps of sunlight on the trees. Maybe you shouldn't tell him, you're gonna stay with him anyway, what's the point? You find It painfully difficult.

Because if you did tell him, it would all feel sickenly real. A gut feeling fluttering restlessly, mind predicting the outcome of the conversation.

Hobie notices your apprehensiveness, he calls your name tenderly. Encouraging you to speak your mind.

"Do you remember that bloke back at the fashion show?" Bravery taking over with a shaky voice.

Humming in understanding, Hobie moves his leg over the bench, straddling it to look at you fully.

You fake a smile through it, "well he offered me a job"

"Bloody good on you, love!" He pats your arm, hand staying on it. "Well deserved!"

You smile bashfully at his reaction. "Thanks, but I'm not gonna take it" you bravely look at him, focusing on the slow knit of his brows.

"Why not? 's a good opportunity" his hand slides down your arm, landing on your thigh, unmoving, tethering you to him.

"It's just that– they want me to move to the US for it." Sighing, "so, I'm not taking it" you watch as Hobie's smile fades, the cogs in his head moving rapidly, jaw clenching, wrapping his mind to what you just said.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Trying to change the topic, Hobie takes your hand in his.

Heart lodged in his throat, Hobie stays quiet for a minute, for you it seemed like forever. The only sounds are the leaves blowing in the cool air, birds happily chirping as if they're mocking you. Faint traffic beeps from below, it might as well be right next to you with how deafening the silence is. The food you ate sits weirdly in your stomach. You try to even out your breathing as Hobie finally opens his mouth to speak.

"I fell for you right here, did you know that?" He squeezes your hand. You did not expect for him to say that, shaking your head, your heart beats a thousand times per minute.

"You gave me a sandwich– made me one, actually" he continues as you listen on. "Because you know I wouldn't bring my own lunch. You cared for me when no one else did. Then you upped and disappeared that day and–" Hobie releases a shuddering breath. "I just panicked. Then that turned into relief when I finally found you."

Stray tears slide down your cheeks. "As I sat down next to you, realizing that I was panicking because I loved you. And was afraid you were already gone without knowing how much loved you were"

A sob breaks through when you see his watery eyes, something you would've never thought of ever seeing from the strongest person you know and love.

"Hobie–"

"Take it, take the offer" he says woefully.

You shake your head like a child throwing a tantrum. "No, I'm not leaving you," your voice breaking. "I can't"

"You've wanted this since–before you've even met me." Hobie chuckles humorlessly. "I don't want to hold you back" softly, he cups your face in both hands, afraid of what he'll do next. "Do you want it? I won't hold it against you, I want you to fulfill your dreams" even if I'm not a part of it.

You nod your head slowly, answering his question, soft hands holding his trembling ones tightly. "Please, just say the words and I'll stay." You sniff, acting brave. "Please say it!" Balling his shirt in your fists. You hope, wish that he changes his mind. That he would tell you to stay with him. But you know him better, Hobie's a lot of things, selfish isn't one of them.

He stares at your glimmering eyes, watching his own face contort into sorrow. Killing the part of him that wants you to stay.

"You need to go" sobs wracked your body when he utters the words. The ground would've swallowed you whole if not for his hold on you. But it'll be okay if it did as long as you fall with him.

It's love in its most painful form.

His heart breaks for what he's about to do. Hobie takes out his favour card from his pocket, punching out all the remaining logos. You can barely see through your tears while he does it, the card looks bare in his hands. Small circles of logos taken by a gust of wind. He calls your name softly with no malice or resentment in his voice.

Nothing remains on the piece of paper.

You want him to scream and curse at you, make him feel something else instead of sadness. Instead, Hobie hugs you through it, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped around you protectively. Your hands cling to his vest like it's your lifeline.

You hate that you broke his heart after filling it with love.

In between weeping, you mumble 'sorries' love overflowing for each other, cups filling to the bream.

"I'm sorry," you look at him through the tears, cheek on his broad chest, he shakes his head, rocking you slightly in his arms. You feel his racing heartbeat.

"Do you regret this?" Us? You ask tentatively, sniffling. You don't want him to resent you for stringing him along just to leave him right after.

"No, never. I'll do it all over again if I have to.'' He doesn't regret loving you or even confessing, the only thing he grieves over is that it took him too long to do so, he would've had more time with you.

He resents himself.

"I'll wait for you" he blurts out through the tears.

"Please, don't. You don't have to"

"I've waited for you for as long as I could remember and I'll wait for decades more if I have to." He wipes your cheeks, you savour him with every touch. Hobie asks the dreaded question, "when are you leaving?" Whispering it to you so that the world doesn't know. Just you and him on that park bench, bodies in a tight embrace, love pouring out from every pore.

"In two months" you answer with a frown, tears still flowing freely.

"It'll be the best two months of your life then" he captures your lips in a solemn kiss, memorizing every detail, engraving it into his brain.

—

Hobie kept his promise, those two months were the best you've ever had. You and Hobie did everything you've ever wanted together. Moved in with him on that houseboat you've briefly called your home.

Bodies joined together on his sheets you've mended, love and laughter lit up the entire house. With every caress and whispered confessions sends you two reeling over the edge.

Still, your parting looms over your heads. Tears wiped away as soon as they started, reminding you that you won't be truly apart when your very souls have been intertwined since the beginning.

With tearful eyes and sad smiles you part with the love of your life. Promises of late night calls and hand written letters falling on both your lips. Kisses lingering, touch fading as you fly off to your new life.

Hobie takes your photo with him on every patrol, tucked safely inside his leather vest, fingers gliding over the seams you've stitched together.

You look at the polaroid of you and Hobie before bed as you end your call with him, his voice anchoring you. Looking at the moon on your small window brings you comfort that the same one watches over him.

He wakes up alone, sun beaming down on his face, smiling fondly, the thought of the same sun bearing down on you fills the hole in his heart. Reminders of you stays in his home, *your home. Throw pillows on his lumpy couch, your slippers in the bathroom, mug sitting next to his. He leaves it where you last put them, waiting for you.

You endure.

Slowly but surely you grow accustomed to your new life, getting used to the empty space beside you. You meet like minded friends, they help you get out of your shell.

You find yourself, the same one you've lost years ago.

Both of you try to make time for each other even with the time difference and busy schedules. You write letters sprayed with your perfume, a piece of fabric from your newest design is taped inside, words filled with adoration and content. Hobie replies immediately back, with blood stained knuckles he writes quickly. He leaves a dried flower inside the envelope, his letters always ending with the same three words.

After a rough battle, Hobie finds himself recruited to some society full of people with abilities like him. He doesn't seem so lonely anymore. A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders.

You see Spider-Man on TV one day, smiling as the reporter tells the audience that Wilson Fisk is finally out of power thanks to the spandex and leather clad hero. Even with the grainy footage, you recognize Spider-Man's vest.

You dream of each other, dreams getting blurry every night until it's foggy and muddy, turning into a dreamless sleep.

Hobie sees your familiar face, a version of you at least, he doesn't run to her or talk, just watches with a faint smile on his lips. Glad that you're happy in every dimension. He harbours no sadness or even guilt, just love. He'd always miss you but his happiness for you would always win over the emotion.

With each sunrise he wakes up to, satisfaction flowing through him, knowing he chose well. One day he looks next to him without sadness blooming in his chest, just a fond smile under his mask.

He's proud of you and you're proud of him. Sometimes that's enough.

Your love for each other never waned, it stood dormant in your hearts, waiting and yearning for the day you finally reunite.

Until you thread the needle again.

A/N: AHHH!! IT'S FINALLY DONE! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, and interacting with my lil story! And thank you for sticking around this long ❤️

Until next time, lovelies (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

(Please read the epilogue when it comes out ily)

306 notes · View notes

ladyinwriting18 · 2 years ago

Text

The Gift (Darth Maul x You)

Summary: Returning home after a recent failure, Darth Maul just wants to sink into solitude. But instead he finds a rather large gift box waiting for him.

Words: 5,072

Warnings: Master/Slave, PIV, Oral Sex, Knotting.

It had been one of the longest weeks of Maul’s entire life. He had barely eaten, barely slept. There hadn’t been time for such things. Not when his Master had given him the important task hunting down the Nubian Princess and her two Jedi protectors. There had been sightings of them in the Outer Rim, but by the time Maul had arrived there had been no trace of them. Which meant that he had searched every desolate planet in the forsaken system. But he found nothing. Which meant that, not only is Maul sleep-deprived and underfed, he’s also fucking livid. Come morning he’d be standing before his Master admitting his failure. The disappointment he’d soon face is undeinable. He enters his quarters, desperate to sink into silence and isolation, but instead he finds a giant and neatly wrapped gift box standing right in his path.

Maul almost loses it and snatches off his heavy black cloak to toss it aside. “What in the Stars is this?” He growls to himself. The anger he feels evolves into tension that it has the muscles between his shoulder blades aching. Slowly, he approaches the strange box. His bright eyes run over it, catching sight of a letter sitting beneath a large red bow. Gloved fingers snatch the note up to read the perfectly written Aurebeshian words. Dear Apprentice,

Use this gift to ease the sting of your failure. Perhaps taking your aggression out on it will help you remember who you are. -Sidious Nausea rolls through him. His Master already knew he had failed. He didn’t need to be told. He just knew. Which is not only infuriating but also humiliating. Maul crumples the letter in his hand and squeezes until his fist begins to hurt. After a moment he lets it drop. He might as well get this over with so he could finally get some sleep.

He reaches out and pulls apart the bow before ripping away the wrapping paper. Cautiously, he leans forward to look inside but what he finds leaves him stunned. He blinks his eyes a few times to see if he’s simply sleep deprived or if there really is a beautiful and nearly naked woman looking up at him. Your lips turn up into a soft smile. “Hello, Master. How may I serve you?” Maul can only stare. You tilt your head to the side curiously. “Master? Are you alright? You look-” “Who are you? What is this?” He snaps, though he can’t stop himself from looking over the length of your body. You’re in a kneeling position, with your knees closed and your hands folded in your lap. Around your neck a silk black ribbon is neatly tied. It matches the nightgown you wear. It doesn’t go unnoticed that it barely covers your body. Maul swallows….hard. Looking up, he finds your gentle and friendly gaze. No one looked at a sith lord like that, especially not random women. You speak up, your voice is soft….comforting, like warm honey. “I’m yours now, Master. I belong to you.” His brows pull together. He doesn’t understand. “What?” However, his confusion doesn’t deter you from patiently re-explaining. “I’m a gift from your Master and I’m here to serve you, for as long as you want me.” “You’re my….gift.” You warmly smile and nod. He still can’t seem to fully wrap his head around the concept. “A human gift. In a box?” “Mhmm,” You hum. “Although, I could be more useful outside the box. If it pleases you, Master.”

Maul suddenly realizes that he’s kept you waiting inside this damn box for much too long. He also has no idea how long you’ve been inside before finding you. Sidious isn’t known for his tenderness towards women. For all Maul knows you had been made to wait for days. He holds his hand out for you to take and waits, but you don’t move. “Well?” He asks, irritated to see you still kneeling. You whisper, looking rather shy. “I need your permission first.” “You need–what?” He has no idea why you’d need a verbal command to stand up, but his patience is wearing thin. His fingers twitch as his hand remains outstretched to you. “Get out of the box. Now.” You immediately rise to your feet and place your smaller hand in his as you lift your leg over the edge of the box, then the other. It gives Maul an excellent view of your body. You’re beautiful, with an air of grace and femininity. Not to mention your scent is so intoxicating that it has his cock twitching. He continues to eye you curiously, enjoying the way your body moves as you situate yourself in front of him. You smooth out your short nightgown and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before sinking back to your knees. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. Placing his hand behind his back, he looks down at you from the tip of his nose and starts to circle around you with slow, calculated steps. “Did I hear you correctly? You said you belong to me now?” “Yes, Master.” He stops in front of you. “And you’ll do anything I ask?” You keep your eyes down, but answer without hesitation. “It will bring me great pleasure to fulfill your every request.” He grits his teeth and clenches his hands into fists. But not out of anger…out of anticipation and need. Needs that hadn’t been met in a very long time. “Look up at me,” He commands. You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him like you truly want to fulfill his every desire. Everything about you screams submission. It awakens the primal side within him. The one that hiss at him to mate and breed. His Master had said that the gift was meant for him to take his aggressions out on. He could dominate you, take you, and claim you all in a single night. His chest rises and falls at a quick, jagged pace. This stunning little creature is all mine.

The realization makes him grin. “You say that you’ll fulfill any request?” You nod, “Anything Master.”

Maul chuckles darkly. He wants to test that theory by having you crawl to him and swallow his cock whole.

But first? First he wants to play, to see if you really did want to serve him. He takes a step forward with his right foot, placing his boot in front of you. “Kiss it.” Immediately you obey, positioning yourself on all fours. You lean down and press your full lips to the tip of his boot. But you don’t stop at just one kiss. In fact you cover the top of his boot with kisses. The entire time you make soft, sweet noises—as if it’s actually bringing you pleasure to kiss his fucking foot. Maul lets out a rough growl. “Don’t stop.” You purr and lower your upper body even further onto the floor, but keep your hips in the air. It showcases the soft curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the tops of his boot glisten with your spit. The sight almost makes him lose control. “Keep going,” he commands through clenched teeth. He can feel his cock pulsing, constrained by his pants but so fucking hard and just waiting to be set free. Clasping your hands around his ankle, you pull your torso off the floor to get closer to him. You hold eye contact with him while kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment.

It's an unusual occurrence for him. Especially because on his home planet of Dathomir, males are deemed desirable based solely on fighting skills. But this is different. You are different. You look at him with reverence and lust. A quick peek into your mind tells him that you find him beautiful….exotic.

Another unusual occurrence that only makes him more eager to claim you. However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels with your feet folded beneath you. You sit with your spine perfectly straight and your hands resting atop your knees, palms up. So submissive and so fucking perfect. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” Maul asks, as a gloved hand hovers over the bulge in his pants. Your eyes dart to the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.

“My sole purpose is to give my Master pleasure. I’m your property to do with as you please.”

“My property?” He breathes and lowers his pants to release his aching cock.

He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it.

You nod as your gaze looks over the markings that line his shaft.

“You’re my property,” he repeats, savoring the concept on his tongue. “My beautiful…little…submissive…slave girl.”

Maul pants between words, stroking himself with a firm grip.

“Yes Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips as you watch his hand move up and down his length. “I’m your slave. I belong to you and only you.”

“Then be a good girl and come suck my cock.”

You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Within seconds, you have one hand wrapped around the base while your tongue traces over the markings you were once eyeing.

“My Master is so beautiful.” You moan out while your tongue eagerly works.

Maul isn’t sure if you meant to say that outloud or not but it hardly matters once you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Your hand and mouth work in tandem—tugging firmly while lovingly sucking. That is until you drop your hand away and deepthroat him. “Fucking Maker.” He swears and throws his head back.

You hum, tightening your lips around him as you pick up your pace and bob your head up and down while sucking him off. He watches you intently. Yellow irises burn with lust at every flick of your tongue. “Are you enjoying this, pet?” He pants, dick stiffening and pulsing in your mouth. You hum happily and Maul can’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. His hand shoots out to grip the back of your head. Thick fingers tangle in the locks of your hair, moving you up and down at just the right pace. You obey his physical commands and let him fuck your mouth while you slobber all over him. The sounds of you slurping and sucking with so much enthusiasm send him into a frenzy. It’s almost too much. Your skilful tongue. Your hot mouth. The wet, messy sounds of you sucking. And your big beautiful eyes that look up at him full of affection.

It only makes him want you more. His hands tighten their grasp on your head and begin thrusting his hips forward, slamming his cock into your throat as far as physically possible. You sputter around him, nails gripping and digging into his thighs to hold yourself steady. “That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.” You moan, gagging and groaning while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Your brows knit together, face crumpled in pleasure and that’s when he catches sight of you pressing your thighs together. A spark of intense heat bursts through him. You’re getting off on this. Pleasing him. Choking on his cock. Being a good little slave girl. His last bit of control snaps. “Stand up.” He commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath before standing. He allows you this reprieve but keeps himself busy by stripping off the rest of his clothing. By the time you’re on your feet, he stands before you naked except for his leather gloves. You look him over, taking in every black mark that decorates his flesh. You take a step forward, hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance. Instead he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backwards until your back hits the wall. He shoves his hand between your legs while the other leans flat against the wall above your head.

He towers over with a grin, “Be a good girl and open wider for me.” You shift your stance, leaning against the wall so you can spread your legs wider and allow his hand to slip inside your panties. His fingers make contact with your already soaked cunt. A chorus of sweet melodies leave your open mouth. You grind yourself into his touch. He desperately wants to fuck you right here against the wall, but he knows you’ll need to cum before taking his cock and more importantly his knot. So first he’d take care of you and make your sweet little pussy gush all over him. “You’re so wet.” He breathes, he can tell by how easily his glove slides along your slit that you’re drenched.

He prods your opening and watches your eyelids droop close. “What an overactive cunt you have.” “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.” He hums in approval and leans in to whisper in your ear. “That’s right, you do belong to me,” His finger traces back up towards your clit. “Every part of you is mine. Including your clit,” He purrs and applies pressure to the sensitive bud. You whine and twitch, nearly coming undone from the firm circles he rubs onto your clit. Being Dathomirian helps to heighten his senses. Allowing him to pick up on the sound of your wetness smashing against his glove. Your head tilts back and your mouth falls open into a tiny ‘o’. You’re about to cum, but he isn’t finished playing with you. Not by a long shot. He pulls his gloved hand away and brings it to his mouth, causing you to sob at the loss of his touch. It’s almost adorable how needy you are. Using his teeth, he rips the glove from his hand before spitting it onto the floor and returning it to your cunt. Except this time he moves his fingers to your entrance and plunges them inside of you. You cry out, both hands grab ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs and mercilessly fingerfucking you. His fingers move in slick, quick thrusts that have you mewling nonsense.

He leans in further, nuzzling the side of your face with his and pressing his body against yours. You gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh. Maul chuckles and hovers by your ear while he speaks. “This belongs to me too. This tight little hole is mine. Do you understand?” He asks, picking up the pace of his fingers. “I’ll fuck it when I want and fill it up with my cum whenever I want.”

“Yes, yes, my Master! I understand.” You blubber at him but he doesn’t relent. “That’s a good girl.” He praises before falling silent.

For the next few moments, the only sounds are the wet squelching sounds of your cunt and your desperate cries.

You’re close to cumming again, and this time he has no plans on stopping you.

“Master….I….I’m going to–”

“I know.” He cuts you off, “But cumming is a privilege and you may not cum without my permission. Ever. Is that understood?”

“Yes Master. I must never cum without permission.” You whine while gripping his arm even tighter.

His thumb grazes your clit while still skillfully pumping his fingers.

“P-Please Master. May I cum? Please let me?”

Even if he wanted to tell you no he couldn’t with how wide and pleading your eyes look.

“Go on and cum for me.”

The permission is all you need to let the cord inside you snap.

Your entire body goes rigid and the ability to speak leaves you. Words are replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you so hard that your legs threaten to give out, but his muscular body holds you in place.

His fingers are coated in your juices which makes him wonder if you’d do the same to his cock.

You ride out your orgasm before slumping back against the wall. With a flushed face and glossed over eyes, you try to catch your breath. He watches your every move and removes his fingers from your core.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Master.” You murmur politely.

Could you be any more perfect?

Maul crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth. You return the kiss in a flurry of passion.

Up until now you had mostly kept your hands to yourself. Using them only when necessary to bring him pleasure or cling to him, but now your hands roam free.

Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.

Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.

He breaks the kiss with a grin. “Does my slave girl want more? Should I give that cunt a taste of my cock?”

You only have time to nod before being grabbed, spun around, and thrown to the floor. Before you could yell out in shock he’s on top of you, trapping you beneath his body.

“You want this, to be fucked by your Master’s cock.” He lets his gaze leisurely travel down the length of you before making eye contact again. “Isn’t that right my naughty little slut?”

“If it pleases you, my Master,” You breath out with your chest rising and falling at a much quicker speed. “Then yes, I would like to be fucked on your cock.” At the last second you bite your bottom lip and whisper out a please. It has his pulse thumping in his veins and gripping the bust of your nightgown and tearing it apart. You yelp in surprise at being instantly exposed. The flimsy material is nothing but shreds in his hand. He does the same to your panties, leaving you bare except for the silk bow that had been tied around your neck. He stills, soaking in your beauty. You were quite possibly the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. He lets his fingertips brush along your side, chuckling when you shiver as if you’re ticklish. “Get on all fours for me.” As you turn to obey he situates himself behind you, grabbing at your flesh and kneading fistfulls of your ass. You moan, arching into his touch. “Does the naughty thing like this?” He coos, gripping your hips and pulling you back so your ass touches his cock. “Yes Master,” you moan, wiggling against him so his cock presses into your cunt from behind. “Does my little slave want to be fucked?” “I do, Master. Please. Please fuck me?” You look over your shoulder and beg. His arm lashes out and squeezes the back of your neck. He forces your head to the ground before growling out a command. “Keep that pretty face of yours on the floor.” You squeak and manage a nod before he releases your neck and lines his cock up to your entrance. He drags it across the length of your slit, making you whimper impatiently. He chuckles at your eagerness. “Now, now use your words. Tell your Master what you want….Exactly what you want.” Your mind spins, trying to form words good enough to get you what you desire. “I….I want Master to claim me for the very first time. I want to feel your cock hit me so deep that I have to beg permission to cum again. Please Master, I'll do anything.” A low growl rumbles in his chest as sweet words flow from your lips. Everything you’re saying is beyond perfection but instead of giving you a verbal reply, Maul plunges balls deep inside of you. You both tense and moan. He because of the tightness of your walls fluttering around him and you because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “Is that deep enough for that hungry hole of yours?” He groans and slowly moves out, then back in, giving you time to adjust. But knew he couldn’t wait for much longer. Not when you feel so good wrapped around him. He breathes out, watching his cock glisten from your juices when he pulls out a bit. “Are you enjoying being my little fuck toy? Do you like that I own this pussy?” “Yes!” You cry, trying to arch back to get his cock deeper. “I’m all yours, Master, and I love it.” At that he slams into you, not being able to wait any longer. You yelp at the pressure, screaming against the floor as he fucks you. He couldn’t keep his pace slow, his rhythm rough and steady. You clench around him, causing him to hiss. “No one will ever fuck you again. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine!” He punctuates the last of his words with deeper thrusts.

Your eyes screw shut, the pleasure building in your lower belly. How you manage to nod in response is beyond you. It all feels too amazing to use the rational side of your brain. He plows into you from behind, his balls slapping against your clit. You curl your toes with a whine.

“Mhmm, that’s my good pet. Take this cock.” He looks down at his cock, hard, ribbed with veins and coated in your juices as it thrusts in and out of your wet hole. It’s a glorious sight and it has his orgasm threatening to hit, but there’s something he has to do first. And that’s making you cum. He grips your hips and delves as deep as he can inside of you, hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you speaking in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum for me,” he speaks in labored breathing and reaches around your thigh so he could rub your clit while spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.” You fall completely silent. For a moment he worries you’ve passed out, but then he feels your inner walls close around his cock in the more delicious way. Then comes the mewls. Loud, unfiltered, beautiful music. “That’s it. Cum on your Master’s cock.” He praises, lurching forward as you gush and spasm all over him. Your breathing is labored as you start coming down from your high.

His hand runs up your back to tangle his fingers into your hair, and using it to tug your head back so you hold yourself with your hands. He leans over your body and licks up your spine. Your sweat tastes salty on his tongue. He moans at the taste before moving towards your ear. “Have you ever taken a knot before, Little One?” A barely audible moan passes your lips before shaking your head. Maul hums in satisfaction. “Would you like to?” You don’t hesitate in answering. “Yes please, Master.” Releasing your hair, he returns it to your waist so he can drive himself into you. You start crying out for him again, even going so far as to beg for his knot. He’s so close now, the base of his cock starts to swell. Your pleas push him over the edge. He growls and lurches forward as his knot expands and locks you both together. You yelp and tense up, trying to move away from the intense intrusion but Maul’s arm comes around your middle and holds you securely to his chest as ropes of cum fill you. “Shhhh, you’re alright.” He soothes while panting. He knows that taking a knot isn’t easy. Especially since it’s your first time.

On shaky limbs he turns so you can both rest on your sides. The movements though slow still cause you to whimper. “Easy, I’ve got you.” He continues to sooth and slips an arm under your head so you can use it as a pillow. While the other strokes your sternum. “You did so well for me. You’ve made your Master proud.” He whispers, pleased when he feels you relax slightly. Clearly his words have comforted you.

“I feel so full.” He hums and nuzzles you with his nose. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nod, “It’s intense but I’ve never felt anything like it.” He leaves a number of kisses along your shoulder and neck. “Once it goes down we’ll be able to get up and dress for bed.” You leave a kiss on his bicep. “Yes, Master.” “Call me Maul.” “As you wish, Master Maul.” Maul pauses, warmth blooms in his chest. He liked the way you said his name and looked at him. It made him feel things.

Things he didn’t have a name for. The knot inside you softens, allowing Maul to slip his cock from your depths. He detangles from you and holds a hand out to you. “Let me help you up.” You murmur a thank you, smiling sweetly and place your hand in his. He hoists you up with ease. You sway slightly but his hands hold onto you until you find your footing. His bright eyes look you over and notice the ribbon still tied in place at your neck. He reaches out and unties it. “What’s your name, sweet thing?” You tell him and he repeats it back, liking the way it rolled off his tongue. “Well pet, you are now under my care. If you serve me well, I will take care of your every need.” Your eyes go wide, tears filling them. “Thank you Master Maul! Thank you so much. I promise to be the perfect slave for you.” He eyes you for a moment, curious as to why you seem so emotional. Eventually giving you a nod before walking past you to pull his pants back on. However, when he looks back at you, he finds you still standing there naked. “You can dress in your nightclothes. It’s time for bed.” You fidget uncomfortably. “The only clothes I have with me are ruined, Master Maul.” You point down to the nightgown that he had torn off you. He frowns, “That won’t do. I’ll have clothes made for you tomorrow.”

Picking up his discarded cloak he starts making his way over to you. “Did my Master not send you here with any personal items?” “No, Master Maul. He said that, um, that…” you trail off, looking down at the ground. “Nevermind, Master.” Your discomfort is palpable. He wraps his robe around your shoulders, letting it encompass your frame. You clutch onto it and say thank you, but still don’t meet his gaze. “Look at me.” He commands, knowing you’ll obey. You do and his hand cups your cheek. “Don’t shut your Master out. What’s upsetting you?” You gnaw on your bottom lip before responding. “It’s just…your Master told me I didn’t need to pack anything because he didn’t think you’d spare my life after….well after you were through with me.” This gives him pause. Sure he was a Sith assassin but that didn’t mean he’d harm someone without good reason. “What else did he tell you?” “That I belong to whoever opens the box, and that I’m to serve them until they no longer have use for me.” You shuffle your feet. “Which he predicted to be for one night.” Your eyes fall back to the ground. He lets out a deep sigh. Your fear isn’t something he wants. He places a finger under your chin and raises it, ensuring your eyes are locked. “I meant what I said. You are mine now, and I will take good care of you.” Slowly the anxiety in your expression melts away. Your bright eyes and sweet smile returning once more. “Thank you, Master Maul.” “Come, let’s go to bed.” His finger drops and in one graceful motion lifts you up into his arms. You cling to him as he cradles you to his broad chest and brings you into his bedroom. He lets you crawl out of his cloak and under the covers of his bed. Once you’re situated he lays next to you. Suddenly, he feels fucking exhausted–emotionally and physically. He just wants to rest, but every time he closes his eyes everything comes tumbling down on him. His failures, his wasted time and resources, his impending meeting with Sidious in the morning. A rustling beside him pulls him from his thoughts. “Thank you, Master Maul.” You coo, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. Your lips flutter against his skin as you whisper. “For everything.”

No one had ever thanked him so much in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle this type of praise. What he does know is that a kiss on the cheek isn’t enough.

He turns his head to capture your lips with his own. “You’re welcome, pet.” He whispers against your mouth.

You seem satisfied and let out a soft sigh before nestling yourself against him with your head on his chest. Not knowing how to react, he doesn’t move. He had never had a woman snuggle with him before. Should he bring you closer? Should he hold you? It doesn’t seem to matter because within minutes your breathing slows and you fall asleep. Maul looks down at your slumbering face. You feel so soft and small next to him. How could his Master ever imagine that he’d hurt someone like you? Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on the curve of your hip and pulls you closer. The scent of your hair fills his nostrils.

He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as the pleasant smell.

You hum contently in your sleep and Maul’s lip twitches up. He doesn’t know what the future held but he did know one thing….

He could get used to this.

#darth maul #darth maul x you #darth maul x reader #darth maul smut #darth maul fanfic

763 notes · View notes

joelsmochi · 2 years ago

Text

Joel Miller — You Poor Thing

i saw his fingers in this gif and diED so enjoy this Part 2 to There You Go [can be read as a standalone, p1 is not crucial to this!] a/n: tthere’s more spacing than normal between paragraphs bc i’m not editing on my computer, so i hope it’s not an issue!! ok i’ll let you read now ♡ enjoy :) warnings: smut (minors dni), rough + light fingering, fluffy!joel, squirting (sorry guys it's just so fun to write about hehe), dirty talk, praise, slight (?) degradation, overstimulation, male ejaculation, cursing duh, multiple orgasms, narrator slightly objectifying herself :)))) lots of pet names & quite a bit of “good girls” wc: 3k

masterlist

My eyes flutter open when I feel fingers tracing the side of my face and though my first instinct is to move away from the body beneath me I smell the familiar scent of Joel and calm down. I look up at him and watch a smile spread across his face.

“Mornin’, pretty girl,” he gruffly says while still tracing my skin. “How’d you sleep?”

I plant a soft kiss on his clothed shoulder and sit up a little bit. His eyes are wider than usual and his normally flat cheekbones are poking high and bright, a sheer layer of red coating them.

“I slept fine. Why didn’t you wake me up for second watch, asshole?” I poke his arm and reach behind his head to take a drink of his water.

“Well, I shook you a couple of times, but you just pushed my face away and held me tighter,” he laughs.

“Mmm, you didn’t shake me hard enough then because I wake up easy as a lemon squeeze.”

“No, I didn’t try that hard to wake you up… You looked like you could use the sleep the way I wore you out yesterday,” he teases with a smug grin, his eyes still wide like he is in awe of me.

“Fuck off,” I chuckle. “Your ass woulda been wore out had you not been so damn stubborn, not letting me do any of the work.”

“Don’t act like it upset you… Being cared for.”

“It didn’t upset me… Just means I have to outdo you now.”

Joel lets out a belly laugh and I sit up completely. I stare at his salt and pepper beard while his eyes trail down to my blue tank top, and he looks up at me as if to ask permission but without waiting for an answer his hand rests on my ribcage and his thumb flattens over my perky nipple. I sharply inhale and my lips part wide enough to let his cock in if he wanted, Lord knows I do.

“This okay?” He asks softly.

I only nod, afraid that if I speak my voice will crack from how tense my body is getting.

“Yeah?” He whispers, kissing my shoulder before moving from the side of me to sit up behind me. “Come sit between my legs, baby.” I listen to his instructions and press my back to his chest, earning a kiss on my cheek from his supple lips. “You know… You really shouldn’t sleep half naked…“

“Because of danger?” I sarcastically tease.

“That too… But if I were to wake you up last night it wouldn’t have been for watch.” His hands roam around my chest and stomach roughly and his cock begins pressing against the small of my back. I try to reach for it but his grip remains firm on me as he whispers, “Let me take care of you again, baby girl.”

I choose not to argue out of being mentally drained from how much sleep I got. I figure I’d need the mental stamina later on.

“Can you take your panties off for me?” Joel coos against the lining of my ear, softly nibbling on it as I obey him. “Mmkay, now spread your legs for me. Good girl.”

He loops his legs through my open ones to ensure I can’t close them and his feverish hand spreads across the peak of my tummy, inching towards my throbbing vulva which is definitely soaking the blanket beneath us. He sucks hard on the curve of my neck making me ache to turn around and ride him then and there, but his “good girl” keeps replaying in my head and I’d do anything to hear him say it again. Even if it means depriving myself of pleasure for just a little longer.

“Soft or hard?” He asks gently, almost as if he were afraid his words would break me.

I hum and throw my head back to his broad shoulder. “Why not both?” I flirt.

His eyelashes tickle my jaw from his blinking and he skips his hand past my clit to curl over inside of me. I cry out his name instantaneously, feeling his smooth fingertips press against my swollen g-spot every few seconds. With my nails digging into his hairy thighs and my legs squeezing around his calves, I look at him. I don’t know what I’m looking for but when I find his eyes narrow and lustful I can’t resist turning my head and slipping my tongue into his wet mouth.

His thick digits slip out of me to spread my soaked lips; he drags the buds of his fingers up and down the inside of my folds, shoving his tongue deeper into my mouth and drinking every moan I let out. His fingers spread to either side of my clit giving me goosebumps and his other hand snakes its way to fondle one of my breasts over my top. I lean my back into his hard cock to give him some tension release and he pulls his head up from mine to watch me as he begins his work.

He watches my eyebrows furrow when he starts to rub little circles over my swollen clit. He watches my eyes squeeze shut and open wide. He watches my throat swallow at how good he’s making me feel. He watches my heaving body fight the grip he has on mine.

He watches me like I’m his favorite movie.

He couldn’t have been rubbing my clit any longer than five minutes when my knees tighten against his legs when my climax swims through my stomach and swallows me whole. Neither of us had words, I just paw at his arms and trust his body to hold all of my weight. His breaths pour over my neck and he chooses to be gentle and slowly ease up on me so that I can have a full orgasm without the overstimulation.

Joel takes a few moments while I catch my breath to rub his calloused palms around my thighs and belly, sharing a few more kisses with me.

I open my eyes softly to smile as I give him a butterfly kiss which he took as an invitation to shove his fingers inside of me again; I focus on how it feels to have his fingers reach as far as the angle would let him, noting how it stung a bit being stretched out by just two of his fingers but feels so sweet at the same time. I let out a high-pitched moan when he rubs tiny circles on my g-spot, occasionally pushing it up.

His free arm wraps itself above my chest and squeezes me in closer to his big frame before asking, “That feel good?”

“Mm-hmm,” is all my body would let me say.

He pulls his fingers out, lands a firm smack on my clit, and then inserts his fingers inside of me again. My eyes screw shut at the mix of pain and pleasure and my chest heaves from my deep gasps. He grunts and starts to finger me so fast I could barely process when his fingers were actually moving. I watch him drill in and out of my sore pussy, grimacing at how overwhelmingly hard he’s fucking me with his perfect hands.

“You like that?” He whispers against the back of my head. “You’re such a good girl. You get so wet for me. You want daddy a’take care a’you? Hmm?” My thighs tremble at his filthy words, more so at his repetition of good girl. I dig my nails into his skin, waiting for ecstasy to engulf me again. “My pretty girl giving all of her sweet cum to me? That’s my girl.” There’s something about the way he talks to me that sounds…different. He speaks with certainty, but his tone is still asking for permission from my body.

The cocky son of a bitch knows the effect he has on me and could use my obedience to only please himself, but instead, he just gives me that sappy little look with his heavy eyes like he doesn’t suspect a thing about the way I feel for him.

He likes to pay attention to me and every muscle I move, hoping to read me like a book. Somehow he can tell that my leg is locking up from another orgasm rising as opposed to being uncomfortable. That’s what I love about Joel: how even on his darkest days he still managed to find enough light for me. He never forgets about me, and how to tend to my needs, and I’m noticing the same applies especially during sex.

“J—oh, fuck… Joel,” I stutter.

“What is it, doll? Talk to me.”

“I’m gonn—oh! I’m gonna cum f—for you.”

Joel nods against my damp head, somehow keeping the speed of his arm up. “Show me how pretty that cum is,” he grunts. “Fuck. You take it so good, sweetheart.”

While squeezing his thighs my back painfully arches off of him and I am just waiting, craving that final rub that sends me to the calmest parts of my mind.

Suddenly all of the tension that mounted inside of me explodes. I cry out his name as if it was my dying breath and his fingers keep reaching into me for more of my juices. He slides his digits as far up as they could go before curling them against my sweet spot, trying to gain as much depth as my body would allow.

“I can’t! I c-an’t, Jo—Joel!” I beg. My arms and legs fight him, but he remains as still as a mountain against me. “Please, Joel, I can’t take anymore!” The passion and pleasure turn into just aching, but he doesn’t give up despite my pleas. I close my eyes just when he speaks up again.

“Just a little longer, it’ll feel good again, I promise.” He pecks my cheek and rubs my chest to calm my breath. “I know you got it in you, doll, just need you to relax.”

“It’s too much,” I breathe out tiredly. The pain inside of me subsides, but from where his fingers are curving there is this wave of shocks rising to the surface of my clit. Pressure increases in my pelvis as his pace slows but his force strengthens. I wipe some of the sweat off of my forehead and slightly adjust my body against his; I wonder how he knows exactly what to do and how to do it. I couldn’t even begin to know how to make myself feel this on edge to where the pain was worth it, but Joel did it effortlessly. He knows the inside of me better than myself and knows how to make me crave the pain because with him I know it’ll always be worth it.

“I want you to cum for me again, baby,” he desperately begs while taking his other hand to rub large circles on my clit, “give me that pretty pussy. I need you to cum for me again. Don’t hold back. Just give it all to me, mmm, fuck, give it all. To. Me.”

I fold, caving my body to him and shuddering at the love taps he gives inside of me. His movements send shivers up my spine and then back down like a seesaw.

I hear my pussy squelch around his thick fingers and a gush of water makes my eyes pop open to see what it was, but I felt it before I saw it; his pads looping around my clit paired with his fingers inside of me had built up so much more than just cum.

Once he sees me squirting himself he lays all four of his fingers flat and taut, rubbing side to side over the bud to get my stream to splash everywhere — and I mean everywhere. I managed enough squirt to cover both of our legs and the blanket beneath us. I can’t even feel his fingers anymore as my body slowly numbs itself, but my orgasm wouldn’t stop which made me sink further into the bed and I ended up squirting all over my chest and face. I flinch and close my eyes, repeatedly smacking his arm to tell him I tap out once tears leave my eyes from the overwhelming state my body is currently in. I scream at an embarrassingly high volume but he doesn’t seem to mind. No, he loves it.

He laughs loudly and removes his fingers from inside of me, but not the ones on top of me. His rubbing slows down as does my gushing, but a little bit still comes out in short intervals. My hair is glued to my forehead and cheeks and my eyelids are stuck halfway down my pupils.

After a few more seconds he completely lets my core breathe, using his stocky hands to carefully push my hair from my face so that he could admire his work. I take a few seconds to breathe and twist my face to look up at him, and my goodness does he look happy to see me like this. He beams down at me before placing a smooch on my upper lip.

“You did so good, baby doll.”

“You got me all wet,” I pout wiping my lips dry.

Nodding shamelessly his hand finds its way back to my clit. “Lemme get one more outta you, just look at me, baby girl, mmkay?”

I suck on my bottom lip nervously and wrap my arm around his neck. “Mhm, anything you say,” I hum. To be honest I’m too tired to argue with him, and I love how he has his way with me. “I’ll do anything for you, Joel.”

He presses his fingers to my swollen clit, dragging them down to my opening and slowly pushing inside of me. He rigs his fingers to explore the forgotten parts of me craving to memorize every ridge along my walls. I gasp when his middle fingers reach past my sweet spot, clenching tight enough around him to hear more of my cum squish out of me.

“Such a pretty girl,” he moans, gasping with me when he slides against a curve inside of me.

His bushy eyebrows pinch together tightly at the sight of me curling up in his arms. I manage to move one of my outstretched legs back to the center of his legs, opting to hold it up by my head for comfort. He continues exploring my peaks and valleys, calling me all sorts of pretty names.

“Your fingers feel so good,” I coo, maintaining eye contact with him.

He tilts his head up in admiration and rewards me by touching me where I needed him the most. “You look so pretty when you cum, mnh,” he grunts. I feel his cock pressing against my back again, throbbing hard against his zipper. “I love feeling you squeeze around my fingers, you do so well for me, you love it don’t you?”

I give him a desperate nod, pushing myself harder against his warm strain. “I fucking love the way you fuck me, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“I love the way you take care of me.”

He watches my needy body spasm for him, practically drooling over me. “You came all over yourself just for me?” I nod at his question. “Look at you… All wet and soaked for me,” he says before pausing to remove his fingers and squeeze my cheeks in his cum-covered hand. “You crying from how hard I made you cum?” He says like he was pretending to feel bad for me. “Awe you crying for me? …You poor thing.”

The way he shook my head a little when he said that—you poor thing—I can’t even compare this feeling to anything in this entire fucking world. My chest rises and falls harder than ever at his borderline degradation, and again I obnoxiously whine at his fingers entering me again. With another climax rising, his raspy voice whispering in my ear, and his throbbing cock aching beneath me, I couldn’t help but let the feeling consume me again.

“Mnh-mnh, look at me, baby,” he tells me; I open my eyes back up and watch the muscles in his face relax and then tense up again. “Look at me when you cum. I need you to cum for me again.”

I hiss when his pace quickens, leaving me feeling so stuffed with his fingers I couldn’t even make a single noise from how good it feels. I feel my orgasm finally explode and he does me a favor by continuing to talk.

His wet lips press to my cum-soaked face and he whimpers again my skin. “You poor little thing. You’re so fucking helpless right now, look at’cha.” His lips form an ‘o’ when a moan finally escapes my mouth. “You look so pretty… Cumming ‘round my fingers like that. Mm, I feel you cumming, princess, just give it all to me. Give it all to me.”

My walls push against his fingers as my discharge pours out of me. I feel so lightheaded from all the orgasms he’s given me back to back and my vision is hazy. I feel him smile against me, moaning when he spread my slit open before rubbing a few gentle circles on my clit.

I hear him whisper a few curse words as though he were troubled, so I peer my eyes open and look at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…”

I feel his cock throb harder than before against my back and I smile once I realize what happened.

“Don’t—“

“You came in your pants?!” I tease, laughing boastfully.

“Yeah, well you pissed on yourself,” he mumbles begrudgingly.

“Only a little.”

He watches me blow some dripping liquid off of my face, smirking as it continues dripping down my chin. “Mhm.” He gives me a sweet kiss and helps me stand up. I stretch my legs out and let him peel off my shirt before handing me a rag to wipe myself clean. “You look beautiful today.”

I scoff. “You’re just saying that.”

“No… I’m not.” He gives me one of his shirts and lays me back down, kneeling in front of my tired face.

I snicker and giggle like a child. “Can’t believe I made you cum without even touching you.”

“Shut up.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

922 notes · View notes