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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

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The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning.

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing.

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job, ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office.

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention.

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe.

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play.

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square.

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code.

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles.

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms.

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob.

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads.

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

“He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.”

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him.

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor.

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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maizumis · 3 years

Text

LOVE IS NOT FOR EVERYONE - suna x fem!reader smau

part 5: the date

summary: after years of not talking to each other, your childhood best friend decided to reach out again, how will everything go?

note: heavy make out session with suna, he says ily as the stupid boy he is, thanks to @sunalma cos one of the songs is out of her playlists<33

series masterlist - part 6

An elevator ride couldn't feel so long and short at the same time, biting your lip, scared of seeing that person after so many years.

Clumsily taking your keys out of your bag, you open the door and there you saw it, perfect, handsome boy you fell in love on the young years of high school

“you look beautiful, as always” He told you with his deep voice that made you shiver on spot, he seemed more mature now, with features no longer like the ones of a teenage boy. You were out of guard when his arms wrapped comfortably around your waist, still leaning into it

Looking at him, at his eyes, that same green eyes that made you fall in love when you were a child and that green eyes that were making you fall in love, again “Rin, I missed you” you whisper with a soft tone, your head resting in the comfiness of the crook of his neck, his left hand came to cup your cheek, taking in how fucking pretty you looked like that

“I missed you too, so much, do you want to know what did I plan?”

“yeah rin, I'm sure I'm gonna love it" he took your hand in his, leading the way to the passenger sit in his car "you're not gonna found out until we are there, so you better be patient" he slid the seatbelt in front of him and pecked your hand before starting the car "okay, I can handle that"

"the aux is yours then, pretty girl"

your eyes widen after hearing that pet name "do you want me to call you daddy too?" it was supposed to be funny, you thought he would only call you pretty girl in texts, apparently not

"if you like"

Pretty Please by Dua Lipa starts playing in the background, gradually turning up the volume until it was hard to hear your own voice

Suna thought the sight was pretty, the window on your side rolled down with the wind all over your face, happily singing by the lyrics not giving a single fuck about the world, just as he loved to remember you

"This makes me remember of the old days but instead of the car, you in my room giving me a concert that, in fact, didn't ask for"

his comment took you back down to earth, old days, just old days, no feelings attached at the moment; you were praying to any god up there to make the butterflies go away in your gut go away, you were one hundred percent sure he could hear your heart beating from where he was sitting, not even the loud music could hide it

“old days? We should make new memories I think”

"yeah, we can make new memories but we shouldn't let go of the ones we have, hand me your phone" you did as you were told, suspicious of what he was about to do until you saw him open Spotify, oh okay, he is gonna change the song.

Fluorescent Adolescent was now blasting from the stereo "umm, love this song, gives me the dancing in front of a mirror with a brush vibe"

He chuckled at what you said "and you did that? would like to see it with my own eyes"

"We are almost there, babe, close your eyes"

"Babe? we are not dating, Rintaro"

"maybe we should"

maybe we what? that did take you back, choosing for peace, you shut your mouth and closed your eyes, anxiously waiting for what he had

"you have your eyes closed, right"

"yes, rin, they are closed, I didn't know you were blind"

he opened the door of your seat, interlacing your hands so he could guide you behind a tall tree "I need you to stay here until I have everything done, okay? it's not gonna take more than ten minutes" he didn't give you time to answer that he was already walking back to his car.

"better be something good" you murmured under your breath, turning on your phone to scroll through social media until he called you.

he called you exactly eight minutes after he dropped you behind the tree "if you don't like this, then I don't know what should I do"

The scene in front of you was dreamy to say at least, the back of his car decorated with fairy lights, lots of blankets that seemed so warm, and pillows in all their forms that you knew for a fact they were comfortable as fuck, you were quick to wrap your arms around his neck, chanting like a mantra 'rin, this is beautiful' and 'im so thankful' he gladly took you in his arms, his nose behind your ears, landing a sweet peck right there

"you ready for movie night, pretty girl?"

"bet your ass I'm ready, Rintaro Suna" and with that you were off, running to his car ready to spend the best night of your life

Or perhaps the beginning of the end, who knows

Howl's moving castle last scenes were on the screen of his laptop, a weird feeling in your heart after he remembered it was- no, is your favorite; you two stared sitting beside the other and now he has his arm protectively around you, his back straight against the backseat while your head was on top of his underarms, cheeks smashed to his collarbone "you did remember it, rin" your eyes still locked on the screen in front of you, watching the movie credits.

He looked down at you with soft eyes, deciding to close the laptop and pull it aside "how could I not? hand me my phone"

you did as you were told, searching for the little device under the huge blankets "here! take it"

he quickly searched for a song and toss it aside, I Wanna Be Yours playing inside the car from the 11-inch phone "come here" he signaled, patting his lap.

it took you a good minute to realize what he meant but now you're on top of him, looking at his emerald eyes in search of a hint of what he is thinking

he took his time analyzing your feature, looking at your cheeks, forehead, baby hairs, nose, lips, and finally your eyes, he could see the past in them, and a little of his future too

"not as much as you, rin"

he didn't answer, to lost in the paradise of your face, he was now focused on your lips, how would they taste?

to answer his own question, he leaned into your face, into your lips that he knew that were begging to be touched by his own

your eyes were wide, taken by surprise by his action, even if you saw it coming, it was something you were dreaming for years now

he looked at your eyes again for a kind of permission, and when he saw you nod, his hand was in the back of your neck in a matter of seconds while yours found home on his hair, tugging it slightly

"a kiss and you're all whiny and needy"

"shut up and fucking kiss me-"

he took the chance of sliding his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every single place he could, his free hand now on your lower back to move you back and fort his lap, he took the flavor of the artificial coconut lip balm you were wearing, he took all he could, in fact

"not only you look good but you taste good too" you hear him groan before going into it again, soft pants coming out of your mouth, whimpering his name as a mantra r-rin, r-innie, arching your back to be closer to him, you could feel his smirk on your now puffy lips with every movement of your hips, the hand on your lower back now going down to grip your thigh

pulling out to catch a little air, you rested your head on his large neck, you two were in comfortable silence, your head rested against his chest and his hands caressing your cheek

maybe ten minutes passed while you were cuddling until your phone screen turned up after a notification- you didn't care about it but the time, past two in the morning "rin, would you take me home? is getting late" he gave your cheek a sweet kiss before standing out the car, extending his hands to help you do the same "of course I can, pretty girl"

the drive back home was quiet, you could hear Apocalypse in the car radio, looking by the window to the beautiful night lights in the city, suna's hand on your thigh, playing with it from time to time, using the other one to drive

"We are here"

"Thanks for bringing me home, rin, I had fun"

he stepped out of the car with you- not letting you out that easily, his hands with a firm grip of your waist and silence was around the two of you, just appreciating the presence of each other, your hands going inside his jackets to hold his waist too

"good night, I love you" he told you and sealed his words with one last kiss

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dracowars · 3 years

Note

Hi could you write something where the reader is on the place of Hermione on the manor during DH1. And Narcissa sees her memories and finds out she's with Draco and how happy he looks with her. Happy ending please🥺 also Hufflepuff reader

daffodil | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 2,3k

summary: where narcissa is y/n's last hope

a/n: rip helen mccrory <3

warnings: angst, torture, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Trying to suppress your tears, you have to helplessly watch as your close friends Harry, Ron and Hermione are pushed away from the large, dark room to the basement, leaving you alone. Not actually alone, but in the sense of everyone who remains in this room now, will not help you out of here. It all began so well and was going smoothly.

Your plan was almost perfect, it should not have failed. Nevertheless, you were caught by Death Eaters and taken to Malfoy Manor, the mansion of the Malfoy family, which ironically also includes your boyfriend. Draco, of course, did not know about your plan, otherwise he might have accidentally given something away. You wanted to tell him, but you could not bring yourself to do it. You did not want to disappoint your friends and risk your plan. Anyway, it seems like Draco does not know what his own family is up to either.

“So, you are the pathetic little Hufflepuff girl who sniffed around in my dungeon in Gringotts and stole, huh?”, Bellatrix directs her sharp words at you after she made sure that her sister safely locked your friends in the cellar. “Speak!”

“I do not know what you are talking about”, you lie to her, your whole body visibly shaking in fear. You have heard numerous stories about Bellatrix Lestrange, and one was worse than the other. She is merciless and will not stop until she gets what she wants and that is exactly why you are not quite sure yourself why you suddenly have the audacity to lie directly into her face in this moment when it is obvious that you definitely know what she is talking about.

“Do not lie to me, you cheeky brat! How did you get my sword!?”, she furiously screams at you all of a sudden, anger in her eyes, making you shrink back a little. With her crazy sparkling eyes, she takes another step towards you until you retreated so far back against the wall that you have no way out, no way to escape her.

Before you can answer, however, you already feel the tip of her wand against your throat and you have to swallow hard as she drills it deeper, an insane smile on her pale lips.

“Well, if you do not want to speak, I will gladly force you to speak”, she giggles wickedly and before you know it, she harshly grabs you by the arm and forces you onto the cold wooden floor. You can intercept your fall with your hands in the last moment. Scared, you turn around to face her, your gaze falling on Narcissa, who watches the scene unfold in front of her without a word, just like her husband.

Nobody in Draco’s family knows about your relationship and so far, it has always been better that way. Even so, you do not come around wondering what if they did know about it right now. What if his mother knew about your undying love for each other? What if you would tell her right here, right now that you were the one who was always on her son’s side when he felt bad, that you cheered him up in his darkest times and supported him when no one else did. You were with him after he was declared a Death Eater and you were there when he decided against murdering your headmaster. You were there for him all this time when his family was not.

You can’t continue your thoughts when Bellatrix suddenly kicks you in the abdomen and you softly groan in pain, curling up on the floor.

“I will not ask you a second time: Where did you get the Gryffindor sword from?”, Bellatrix interrogates you again and harshly turns you on your back with her foot, using all her strength to prevent you from moving. Slowly she makes it hard for you to breathe and you desperately try to free yourself from her grip – without any success.

Since you still have not answered her question, she ends up pointing her wand at you threateningly again and before you even have the chance to admit anything, she puts an unforgivable curse on you.

“Crucio!”

Your body writhes in pain on the floor, screams escaping your mouth louder and stronger every second. You try to defy the curse, but you are too weak and can’t defend yourself, having to suffer the worst pain you have ever felt in your entire life.

And despite all of this, your thoughts go back to Draco. His smiling face appears in your mind and his gentle laughter echoes in your ears.

“D-Draco”, you gasp in pain and suddenly all of the pain disappears at once. Bellatrix has now lowered her wand and looks at you in confusion. But not only does she, but Draco’s parents as well.

“I did not ask about Draco!”, Bellatrix freaks out again in a matter of seconds and finally crawls over your weakened body, your faces so close to each other that you can feel her breath on your skin. “You have played enough games.”

At her words, you feel this unendurable pain again, but this time it feels different. It does not come from within you, you can still feel your body as a whole, and it feels a lot more realistic until you suddenly feel her rip open your arm with a sharp dagger inch by inch. Screeching in pain, you try to throw her off you, but she presses you onto the hard ground with all of her might and strength.

Exhausted, your head falls to one side, your body twitching at every painful touch on your arm. Tears flow down your already damp cheeks and you look at Draco’s mother through your blurry vision. She has averted her gaze from the terrible scenario.

“D-Draco.. I-“, you stutter out, the feeling of weightlessness from being on the verge of passing out obfuscating your words and thoughts. Still, you know that there is only one last chance that may get you out of here alive, even though you may regret it in the end.

“I love him”, you cry out in a heartbreaking voice which Bellatrix does not seem to mind at all. Narcissa, however, lifts her head in an instant and looks directly at you, her eyes full of sadness as far as you can tell by your restricted vision. Your eyelids are getting heavier by the second and just when you are about to pass out completely, you notice how Narcissa finally comes closer and thus puts an abrupt end to your unbearable pain.

“Legilmens”, her soft broken voice whispers and the world around you begins to spin, to transform.

And suddenly you are peacefully lying in a bed that is all too familiar to you, your gaze focused on the door that is opening at this very moment, revealing none other than Draco himself. You feel strange, weird, as if you have experienced all of this before. As soon as Draco enters the room with his head hanging low, you uncontrollably run into his arms. You speak to him with calming words until everything starts blurring in front of your eyes and you find yourself in a different place.

You are in a flooded bathroom, a slim and fragile figure trembling from crying from the bitter sobs at the sink in front of you.

“Draco”, you hear your own voice softly speak up and he jolts, turning around to you, his eyes red and swollen, his face completely dejected. Not another second goes by and you lie in his arms again, comforting him.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. It hurts so much”, Draco’s echoing sobs ring in your ear as he rolls up the sleeve of his white shirt, revealing the Dark Mark. “Please help me.”

However, you are not able to help him because you are forcibly torn away from the moment again and land in a large, wide meadow of flowers. Warmth created by the burning sunlight flows through you and the exclamation of your name from the distance brings a happy smile to your face immediately. Not far from you Draco runs up the hill towards you, a smile as bright and wide as yours decorating his beautiful facial features. Quickly, you get up from the soft picnic blanket that you have placed in the meadow and greet him with a firm hug.

The next moment, you lie on the blanket, hugging and looking up at the clear starry sky after the sun has already set hours ago. Draco repeatedly points to different shining stars which form a constellation, telling you everything he learned in astronomy, while you can’t take your eyes off him.

When he finally notices your gaze, he turns his head towards you so that the tips of your nose are almost touching. Neither of you say a word and you just stare into each other’s eyes lovingly.

“I love you”, your voice carefully confesses and your heart hammers against your chest.

“I love you too”, Draco replies, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.

The safe and happy feeling suddenly gets teared away from you and you find yourself back in the dark room of the Malfoy Manor. Shocked and not so sure about what has just happened, you straighten up. Only now do you realize that Bellatrix had let go of you in the meantime and is now looking down at you with widened eyes, standing closely behind her sister.

It hits you like a train when you realize that Narcissa has just used Legilimency on you, which caused you to be subjected to a rapid succession of passing memory scenes and in some cases even made you briefly lose consciousness. Thus, not only your expressed thoughts or perceptible feelings were revealed to her, but also your hidden feelings and experiences as well as your most secret desires.

An extremely uncomfortable silence arises in the room while all eyes are on you and only you. Lucius and Bellatrix seem rather angry at something, with Narcissa looking at you with pity and sadness.

“Take my hand”, Narcissa breaks the silence first, but because of her words you only look at her in confusion when she extends her hand to you. Looking back and forth between her outstretched hand and her face, for some inexplicable reason, you realize that she actually wants to help you.

As soon as your hands touch, everything around you blurs again and the next thing you know everything goes black. You feel pressure on your body from all directions and you find it difficult to breathe until everything around you takes on its usual color again, allowing you to breathe in deeply.

You feel the ground beneath your feet and notice that you are standing upright. And you notice that your and Narcissa’s hand are still connected. Startled, you pull your hand out of her grasp and look around.

“Where did you take me?!”, you angrily ask her, the place where you are now not seeming familiar to you and the fact that she just kidnapped you after invading your privacy makes you feel even more confused.

“To safety”, Narcissa replies shortly and it seems she wants to add something when her gaze suddenly slides past you, to something hat has now apparently appeared behind you.

“Mum?”

“Draco?”, you breathe out in relief when you hear his voice behind you and immediately turn around to him. Tears well up in your eyes and you run into Draco’s arms at lightning speed, but Draco seems to be quite perplexed. After all, he does not know what happened.

“W-What?”, he tries to form meaningful words while still not returning your hug, standing there rigid and tense.

“She knows about us”, you whisper in his ear while sobbing and his posture relaxes from one second to the other and he wraps his arms tightly around your trembling body without hesitation, his face disappearing in the crook of your neck.

“What happened?”, Draco asks you worried as he gently loosens the hug and takes your face between in his hands, not understanding why you are crying. With a shake of your head, you indicate that you do not want to talk about it and he understands, giving you the space you need, before his gaze falls back on his mother, who is watching you two silently.

“I am sorry”, Narcissa finally clears her throat, causing you to look at her as well. Tears have now also formed in her eyes, but her lips are adorned by a gentle smile as she looks at you. “It should never have come to this.”

“Why did you do that? Why did you help me?”, you want to know and step closer to her, your hand intertwined with Draco’s.

“I was inside of your head and saw all of your memories”, she explains and while she nervously plays with the long black sleeves of her beautiful dress, she looks up from the ground again. “I have seen how happy you make my son. I could not let them harm you or it would break him. You- You are too important to Draco.”

You are speechless at her words and Draco seems pretty stunned by what his mother said as well. Before either of you can comment on it though, she speaks up again.

“I will make sure that your friends get free”, she adds, letting her inner conflict reflect in her soft voice. “Stay with Draco. You are safe here until I have clarified everything. I will come back.”

“Mum-“

“I promise you that everything will be fine”, she gently smile at him, giving both of you a loving hug, before she disapparates into thin air and probably reappears where she has just saved your life moments ago.

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kimnjss · 3 years

Note

pls i jus need to see do it again! yoongi for fucking yn rough as punishment for going out drinking after a fight and being angry at paparazzi pics of some guy following her around the club ❤️‍🔥

do it again drabble. explicit. 1.8K words.

“it's not even that big of a deal!” eyes rolling as you storm away from him, once again. yoongi is two steps behind you the entire time, no intention of dropping the subject. no matter how many times you try to stomp off. “it is a big deal, yn! do you not get how this looks? you're my girlfriend,”

your dead set on ignoring him, focusing a little too hard on changing into your pajamas. “i don't belong to you,” you're saying in the emotionless tone that you know that he hates. deep down you know that you're wrong. you should've never left in the middle of a fight and the fact that you went out drinking didn't help.

an exact repeat of what broke you guys up the first time around, except this time you were the bad guy. yoongi, though, was just so annoying when he was right so you had every intention to argue your point until you were blue in the face.

so no, it wasn't a big deal that you left. and the guy that you met (which you didn't sleep with, so that sets you apart from him) just wanted to walk you to your car. it's not your fault that paparazzi caught the interaction on camera and now were spinning the entire incident. you couldn't control what they decided to type!

“you don't belong to me!?” the wrong thing to say to your possessive and extremely jealous boyfriend. especially while angry.

you both know the answer to that question, so you ignore him, eyes focused on yourself in the mirror as your fingers move to work the buttons of your shirt. you're trying not to look at him, because truth be told, your boyfriend was unlawfully hot when he was angry. and you weren't actually annoyed, just looking for reasons to stress him out.

he takes two long strides before he's standing in front of you. you're baring your neck, predicting his actions and he lets out a humorless chuckle as his palm wraps around your neck. barely squeezing but enough to get your attention. “you're mine. say it,” you make a show of keeping your lips pressed together, shaking your head from side to side.

yoongi uses the grip he has on your neck to pull your head forward, mouth luring yours into a sloppy kiss. you hate how quickly you melt into him, hands gripping the sides of his shirt as your jaw falls slack for him. he licks into your mouth, teeth biting into your skin and you take everything he gives you with needy whimpers.

you don't even realize the way your hands travel, fingertips gliding down the front of his body until they're latching onto his belt buckle. you're tugging him closer to him, feeling the hardness of his cock against your lower belly. what you had been arguing about flying out of your mind.

he notices, pulling back from your mouth in an instant. pink tongue pushing out to break the line of saliva that connects your lips and he's got this look in his eye like he could swallow you whole. you wouldn't mind seeing him try.

the grip on your neck loosens, his hand moving to grasp your chin and force your head up to look at him. his jaw moves before his lips are pursing a little bead of spit poking out from the pink pout. you're quicker than him. no desire to wait for it to fully leave his mouth, you're leaning up and swiping your tongue over his lips, collecting the spit into your mouth.

yoongi laughs, fingers burying themselves in your hair to hold your face against his. nose smushed together and lips inches apart. “so greedy,” the words leave his mouth just before he's pressing them to yours. the kiss doesn't last long, no more than a peck before he's lowering you onto your knees with the hold he has in your hair.

no need to wait for instruction, you know what he wants. hands reaching out to undo the buckle of his belt and pull apart the button of his jeans. his large hand comes down to do the rest, fishing his hard cock from its confines.

you watch on greedily as his hand glides over his length. it's hypnotizing. engorged head peeking out from the hole his fist creates, thumb lifting to brush over the sensitive parts. his hips move slowly, much slower than he does with you. it's teasing, almost. he goes until you're growing impatient and precum is rolling over his knuckles.

“open.” mouth forming a perfect 'o' before the demand has fully left his lips. you're reaching out for him, but he's moving out of your reach. “no hands,” the tantalizing way he brushes his cock over your lips has you quickly locking your arms behind your back. yeah, right, not his. look how well you listen.

yoongi doesn't take his time with filling your mouth, pushing himself down your throat before leaning back and then shoving his way back in. he does that a few times as you struggle to move your tongue along the underside of him. with a firm grip in your hair, he fucks himself into your mouth. setting a pace that has his eyes feeling heavy.

he can't believe how cute you look, mouth wide open, cheeks flushed, and his cock down your throat. if he pushes far enough he could make your eyes water. you had spent so long in the mirror gluing those ridiculous lashes on, it would be rude to fuck it up. he hesitates, but is quickly reminded of the fact that you're kinda a bitch... so he's pushing down further.

your throat is tightening around him in the way you know he likes and it nearly knocks him off his feet. you're looking up at him with this cocky look in your teary eyes, so it only makes sense that he wipes that look off your face. he pulls back without little to no warning, quick to lift your body from the floor and tossing you onto the bed.

you can't help but laugh at the annoyed look on his face as he makes his way over to you, legs spread and arms reaching out to him. he settles into them as if there's some magnetic pull, cock instantly resting between your damp folds. “i can feel how wet you are... who got you like this, baby?”

shoulders lifting in a shrug as you force the smile from spreading onto your lips. “you're such a little shit,” he says through a laugh, hand reaching between your bodies to properly align his cock with your entrance. it takes one swift movement of his hips to have him buried deep inside of you, pulling a loud screech from your lips.

he moves with enough force that has your body inching up the bed. tugging you down when you get too far only to have to do it again. yoongi knows exactly what to do to push you over the edge, cock filling you so nicely as he sucks hickeys into your neck. one large hand grips your hips, moving your body along with him.

and then all at once, he's deciding that he wants you kneeled down in front of him. and instead of asking you to move, he's flipping you over. now you've never told yoongi about your slight strength kink, but you're sure it's obvious with how you flutter at the way he uses his against you.

his hips snap into your at a bruising pace, the sound of skin slapping and your needy cries filling the room. he builds you up, fingers between your legs and toying with your clit only to knock you down, easing his pace into a slow grind. it drives you nuts and you're seconds from begging him to let you cum when it's dawning on you what he wants to hear.

as if. deciding to take matters into your own hands, you're reaching down, fingers instantly finding your clit. the gasp you let out gives you away much sooner than you intended and he's quickly swatting your hand away. “what did i say about touching my stuff?” quick to flip you onto your back, you're met with his unimpressed scowl.

cheeks flushed and a layer of sweat forming at his hairline... on his brow, he's barely holding on. “fuck, make me cum.” walls tightening around his length as you reach down to wrap your arms around his waist.

the words you say barely register as he takes in the way you look. hair knotted and laying wild around your face. mascara smudged beneath your eyes, your lips are red and swollen from the way you've been biting them, eyelash stuck to your flushed cheek. you're so pretty. his pretty girlfriend.

he nearly knocks the wind out of you with the harsh thrust of his hips. stuffing himself deep inside of you before pulling away and then attempting to go deeper. you can barely focus enough to match his rhythm, mouth hanging open as you pant. and then any reserve you have his shattering when his knuckles meet your clit. pinching and rolling it between the two digits.

your head tilts back, body arching off of the bed as a loud squeal falls from your lips. “yoongi, fuck! oh my god...” and then you're babbling. nonsense sentences falling from your lips all of them being different variations on being his. he takes the confession in stride, angling his hips to reach parts of you that he knows will have you falling apart.

and he's right. the orgasm he has been teasing for the past half hour comes crashing through. all you can do is lie there and take it, desperately trying to get closer to him as panted chants of 'all yours' fall from your lips. it does wonders for his ego and the release he's been holding back.

it's at the final squeeze of your pussy he's letting himself finally let go. hurriedly pulling out to spill his seed onto your stomach. you're barely able to keep your eyes open, moaning at the new warmth on your skin. yoongi laughs at the sleepy way your arm moves, fingers swiping up as much cum as they can before you're pushing them into your mouth.

his lips follow suit, lips pressed to yours just as your fingers are slipping out. he can taste himself on your tongue, but he doesn't care. too in love with the lazy way you kiss him to care, sticky fingers tangled in his hair. “you're all mine too,” you're mumbling, just in case he forgot.

that has a large grin growing on his features. “all yours,” nose nudging against yours as he leans in for another kiss. much sweeter than the ones before, gentler. it gives away how in love with you he is.

it's more than obvious to you. “you're so in love with me,” you're saying through a yawn, lips falling for his and head finding his chest. you're the least bit concerned with getting up and cleaning off and he's not going to be the one to make the suggestion. instead, he pulls you closer, arms wrapped around your shoulders.

you don't wait to hear him agree, already know the answer. he's made it clear time and time again, no matter how often you fight. “don't worry, i love you too,” words barely audible with your face buried in his chest, eyes shut. it's not long before you're both falling asleep.

#do it again sm au #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi sm au #yoongi fic

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cower-before-power · 3 years

Text

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles. “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey @chaotic-nick @manjiroarchiviste

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

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angelguk · 3 years

Note

prompt: jock!jaykay sending oc to class with a load of his fresh cum in her p*ssy 🤓 hes like putting her panties back on her, patting said p*ssy like a good girl and saying shit like “be a good girl for me and keep it inside as long as you can, ok?” with a loving kiss on her forehead 🥰 n so she goes about her day trying so hard to keep it all inside even tho she can feel it sloshing inside her lmaoooo i feel like he’d be totally into nasty shit 🤪🤪

see yeah i’ve been thinking about this right......like....*clears throat* ahem!

warnings: creampie kink, use of pet name (redacted), dom!jk, fingering, mentions of oral sex

Jeongguk looks smug. It’s a look you’re still growing accustomed too as it’s not the usual result of his triumphs on the lacrosse fields or his not so subtle flexes in the middle of the gym garnering him a folk of admirers. Rather it’s because your face is planted in the tousled bed sheets, breath haggard and a warm glow spreading over your skin.

“You good, baby?” He asks like he’s concerned, but there’s a brazenness in his tone that your read clearly.

“No, Jeongguk,” you retort, fingertips languidly reaching out for him. He leans into your touch, broad chest warm under your palm, his lips stretching into a smile that is nothing but sinful. “I think you’ve killed me.”

Your thighs twitch when he yanks you close, settling your body on his with an ease that triggers a flip in your stomach. He’s so stupidly strong it’s mind-numbing, your brain eagerly recalling how he’d pinned you to the bed and fucked you wide up with fervour that should be illegal. Jeongguk just grins at your distress, fingertips delicately wondering down the length of your back.

“You look alive to me,” he murmurs. There’s the nudge of his nose against yours, lips gingerly meeting as your press yourself into him. Breathes that turn into one as his mouth parts yours. He tastes like you, petal lips soft as your bodies melt into one. You don’t even realise your shifting closer until he knocks your legs apart, slotting his hardening cock right between your heat. You’re still wet, dripping actually, and when he bucks up you can’t help the slick that seeps out. You know when he stills that he felt it too, the flood of cum coating your inner thighs. His cum. A lot actually. Apparently Jeongguk loves the idea of you stuffed with it.

“Barely,” you whisper, peeling away when your gaze catches the time on his bedside alarm clock. You have class in a few and judging from the way Jeongguk stares at your body as you shuffle in his lap he might not let you leave this room. It’s with a weak resolve that you ignore the twitch of him between your legs, shifting off the bed. The hand that clamps down on your hip to drag you back was expected, yet your walls still clench tight.

“Where are you going?” Unwavering honey eyes that glimmer with want trap you. You can’t help leaning back in, planting a gentle kiss on his check.

“I’ve got class, Gukkie.” He squeezes your hip in protest when you try to move away.

“Right now?” There’s the needy boy you know, a whine colouring his words as he holds you tight. “Skip it, bunny.”

“Jeongg—

“Missed you so much,” he mumbles, tugging you back down with a force that knocks the air out of your chest. Before you can retort his lips are on your neck, a gentle bite that leaves your skin tender. “So so much. Don’t go just yet.”

“I didn’t see you for three days Jeongguk.”

“Yeah,” he whines. “That’s like a fucking life-time.”

“It was three days, Guk! Three!” You whisper, exasperated. But there’s a heat forming between your legs.

“Didn’t touch myself the entire time too,” he returns, strong hands digging into your hip. “Look how much is leaking out of you. And I’m not done yet.”

“You—you can’t just fucking say that.”

“Why? I mean it. You can take more, I bet that if I—” He slips two fingers in then, your back arching from the intrusion. They slide in easy though, aided by the slick coating your cunt. Your brain shuts down when he curves them just right, aiming for that spot inside of you and has your eye fluttering shut. “So wet, bunny. Look how well you take my fingers.”

“Jeo—ohfuckkk.”

“What?” He says it with that stupid smug smile on his lips. “What do you need, bunny? Hmm? My fingers not enough for you? Do you need another?” He slips in a third before you have time to ask, the tightness in his balls driving his actions. You’re so wet, slick covering his knuckles every time he drives his fingers deep. He can feel his cum dripping from your cunt onto his thigh whenever your hips move too, an automatic movement as your search for something to grind your clit on.

“I need to get to class,” you snap back, a low groan slipping from mouth when he hits deep. “S-seriously, Jeon.”

Something clicks in his brain then, his fingers abruptly leaving the warm heat of your cunt. “Okay, get going.” For some reason you freeze. It’s exactly what you wanted, and yet now you’re to riled up to move. Jeongguk gives your hip a fond pat though, gently pushing you off his lap. “You said you wanted to go, bunny. Get going.”

You move agonisingly slow, searching for your clothes scattered on the floor with a frown plastered on your features. But before you can dress Jeongguk is rising from the bed, moving to stand behind you.

“Bend.” It’s a firm command, one that leaves no room for arguing but you can’t help it, already irritated by his sudden nonchalance.

“Jeongguk—

“I said bend, bunny.” His hands force your hips to move, the shift leaving your cunt on display as a shiver travels through your nerves. He gets low too, silently observing something. You can’t see but with every flutter of your walls his cum drips out, milky white and sticky, leaving your thighs and lips glistening. His cock is heavy against his thigh but he fights back the urge to shove you onto the mattress and fuck you full again. This will do for now.

“Good girl,” Jeongguk murmurs as he rises. You can’t even muster a word, checks flushed by his bold behaviour. He lets you dress unbothered, mumbling something about practise and Coach’s ridiculousness commands as you slide your clothes back on. You respond back because you’re too shocked to ask him what that was about, eyes everywhere but his naked firm built body.

It’s only when you’ve got your lanyard in your hands that he draws close, forcing you to look at him when he fingers dig deep between your lips, the smile tugging at his lips devious. He presses in with purpose, ignoring the hitch in your breathing when your underwear drenches.

“Be a good girl for me and keep it inside as long as you can, okay?”

You nod, brain fuzzy as he places a delicate kiss on your forehead. The contrast between the two touches has your mind spinning. He’s soft but firm in how he owns your body, the reminder that you’re his steadily leaking out of you. He grants your clothed cunt a gentle pat right before you leave, still smiling smugly. Yet, you don’t mind at as much as you did moments ago.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #au: jock!jaykay #ask #anon #yerrrrr jk having a cream pie kink yessir 😁😁😁#sorry if this was not good omg

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie @slightlyobsessedwithissues

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you��d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

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shoutogepi · 3 years

Text

A Million Times Over, part 1

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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Todoroki Shouto x American!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 11.3k holy shit this is so long guys. fuck.

[ ☀︎, ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] (series warnings)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : some NSFW themes but no actual smut. a lot of pining and angst. some cute moments too tho!

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : You lose all memories from the past five years of your life due to an accident-induced coma, including any recollection of your beloved boyfriend and fellow pro-hero, Shouto. He’s devastated that you don’t remember him, but the both of you are determined to get your memories back, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, you attempt to rebuild your relationship with him… while also nurturing the spark that’s still very much lit between you two.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Originally I intended for this to just be a long fic… but even for my standards, this would be wayyy too long to be just in one post. I decided to split the fic into three instead, so this will be the first part of my very first multi-chap series, A Million Times Over, for my beloved Sho <3

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : big thank you to my sweet friend @todoscript for beta-reading this for me and hyping me up!! love you, can’t wait to read what you have in the works soon <3

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─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“.../n”

…

“.. y/n…”

…

🅃he buzzing noise in your ears sharpened. White light snuck between your eyelids and you groaned, fingers reaching toward your temple. Confusion burst forth as you recognized foreign, plastic tubing connected to your skin, your eyes opening wider as you began to register your surroundings.

You were in a hospital room. To be more exact, you were in the bed in the middle of the hospital room— meaning, you were the patient. The realization shocked you, and you jolted upright abruptly, suddenly all too aware of the tubes stuck up your nose. At your sudden movement, large, warm hands landed on your arms and rubbed at your skin gently, making your attention turn to the person sitting at your bedside.

“Y/n? Hey, you’re okay, love, it's alright. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” His voice was smooth and deep, an anchor for you to grab onto in the midst of your confusion.

You were gawking, staring straight at him— you couldn't help it. Your jaw was probably hanging open, gaping like a fish at the man before you. What were you in the hospital for exactly— had you gone insane and dreamed this situation up?

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“Sh-Shouto Todoroki,” you mumbled, gaze connected with his tired but bright, heterochromatic orbs. His brow furrowed and his head tilted slightly at your courteous acknowledgement, but he brushed it aside and smiled at you instead.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you took in his form beside you. He was tall— you could tell even though he was seated— and he was more handsome than you’d ever imagined, somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties judging by the sharp, masculine features of his face.

“Y/n…,” he breathed out, a large, calloused hand coming up to cup your jaw. Then he pulled you into a hug, his strong, muscular arms wrapping around your torso and cradling the back of your head to press you into his chest. He smelled of clean laundry and winter, a crisp, fresh scent that made an unknown comfort blossom in your chest.

Slowly you placed an arm around his neck, your other hand laying limp on the sheets as it was still connected to the IV. You rubbed his back slightly, still dazed by your apparent situation. Looking outside the open window in the corner of the room, you realized it was daytime; yellow sunlight beaming into the room and pouring onto the tiled floor. There were vases of flowers all around the room, as well as stuffed animals, cards, and balloons that all wished for your health and speedy recovery.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Shouto whispered into your shoulder, still holding you tight in his embrace. His voice was still low, but this time it shook with profound emotion. “I missed you… so much.”

Your body felt relaxed in his arms, even though your brain was whirring a thousand miles a minute. You had no clue how you’d ended up in the hospital, who sent you all these gifts, where you even were geographically, and most importantly, why Shouto Todoroki was holding onto you like you meant the world to him. You patted his back stiffly and he let go of you just enough to move his face in front of yours. His eyes held such love and relief, the emotions as clear as day that butterflies ruptured from your stomach. As if his expression wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, he leaned forward and captured your lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a firm but sweet kiss.

It only lasted for a minute, but it was enough to have your heart rate monitor start beeping rapidly, noisily chiming at the other side of your bed. His face was so perfect and smooth up close— you couldn’t close your eyes as you took in his astonishing beauty. Sure, you’d imagined he would be perfect… but in person, here before you, he was indescribable. The man of your dreams. And a good kisser, too.

A nurse rushed into the room, seemingly out of breath. When she caught sight of the two of you, your lips locked, and Shouto holding you so tenderly, she let out an awkward cough and pawed at her scrubs, averting her eyes as she approached your bedside. Shouto pulled away, only to plant a soft kiss on the very tip of your nose before leaning back into his seat. He had a wide smile on his lips, content-crinkled eyes settled on you as his hand enveloped yours.

“So you’re awake!” the nurse stated excitedly, busying around with the beeping machine, managing to shut the blasted thing off. “How are you feeling? Any pain, discomfort?”

You glanced at Shouto, who smiled at you warmly and squeezed your hand. If that heart rate machine was still on, surely it would be going haywire again. “Uhh, I think I’m okay… just kinda groggy,” you replied truthfully, your voice coming out hoarse. You cleared your throat and she handed you a small cup of water, which you took gratefully. You continued on after taking a few sips, the liquid cooling your irritated throat. “No pain, but I’m a little… confused, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you are, hon,” the nurse said, giving you a smile full of understanding. It made you feel a little less on edge, and you gave her a half-hearted smile back. “You were in a bad accident almost a month ago. You suffered some head trauma, and you’ve been in a coma ever since. You also had two bruised ribs, and some minor surface wounds. The cuts are all gone now, and your ribs should be almost all healed by now as well, but if you have any discomfort on your left side here,” she gestured to your ribs and continued, “just let me know. I’ll page your doctor and we’ll do a quick check-up on you in just a minute!”

You nodded slowly, the gears turning in your head. You were in an accident, and then a coma for a whole month? It all seemed so crazy to you— you can’t remember a single thing leading up to your supposed accident. Head trauma… you weren’t usually the type to get hurt, and you’d never been in a coma before. “Umm… what kind of accident was it?” you asked, looking between Shouto and the nurse, not really directing the question to either of them specifically.

“You were flung into a cement pillar during a fight, love. The blow was mostly on your side, hence your bruised ribs… but your head smacked into the pillar secondarily,” Shouto replied, his smile disappearing as an unfamiliar bitterness washed over his handsome face. “We were battling together and you were knocked unconscious instantly… you’ve been asleep ever since.”

“A fight..?” you frowned, tilting your head in confusion. “We were fighting, and you threw me against a… cement pillar?”

Shouto looked horrified at your misunderstanding, adamantly shaking his head and making his soft, two-toned hair shine in the sunlight. “No, I would never hurt you— the villain did, baby. I incapacitated them right after,” he paused, eyes casting downwards and his free hand forming into a fist at the memory, “but the damage had already been done...”

That sounded right… your job was herowork, you could at least recall that. But you didn’t think you’d ever fought beside a hero as great and renowned as Japan’s famed dual-tempered Shouto. Sure, you’d been doing your best to climb the American hero leaderboard, but you weren’t by any means at the top yet. “Umm… can you tell me.. why we were fighting a villain together, exactly?”

Shouto looked directly at you, his brow furrowing before he looked to the nurse on the other side of your bed. They shared a look, and you shuffled uncomfortably in the cotton sheets pulled up to your waist, unease sitting like a rock in your stomach.

“Y/N, can you tell me what you remember before the accident?” Shouto asked slowly, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. There was a sliver of something else in his voice now, a hint of urgency in his request.

You looked between him and the nurse hesitantly, racking your brain for anything you could think of. “Uhh… I don’t… I don’t remember, I— I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright hon, don’t worry. It’s common to have some confusion after just waking up from a coma. We can try an easier question. Let’s see… do you know your birthday?”

You responded instantly, and there was the tiniest amount of relief on Shouto’s face at your correct response.

“Your mother’s maiden name?”

You got that one right too, Shouto’s thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly in silent praise.

“How about your phone number?”

You took a second to think of it, but you answered that one too. The nurse looked over at Shouto to see his reaction, and so did you. But Shouto was frowning at you, making dread drip into your veins. “That’s your US number, love… what’s your Japanese number?”

You looked at him incredulously. “My Japanese number? Why would I need a Japanese number?” you inquired, thinking this must have been some kind of trick question.

The nurse and Shouto shared a more serious look, and Shouto swallowed as he looked away from you, turning toward the window instead. You squeezed at his hand but he didn’t respond, so you turned to the nurse instead, confused now more than ever.

“I don’t understand…,” you mumbled, hoping for some clarification from her. She smiled at you, but this time it did not reach her eyes.

“You’re in Japan, hon. You’re speaking Japanese right now… and you’re also one of the top heroes in Japan, just like your boyfriend here.”

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The next few days passed by in a blur. The hospital staff was all very kind and hospitable, but it still felt like you had woken up in the middle of someone else’s life. Even though your body was yours, and you looked just the same, you couldn’t help the unease that lingered from your imposter syndrome.

You had gone through so many tests and check-ups that they all blended together at this point. You had been poked, prodded, and quizzed the entire time since you’d woken up from your coma. There were so many different tests regarding your memory that your brain felt like melted jelly by now, and your frustration was at an all-time high.

Shouto had gotten up and left the room shortly after the nurse informed you of your situation. Your heart felt heavy for him— he seemed so excited, so relieved that you were finally awake— and this was the devastating reality that he was left to face. After patiently waiting at your bedside for weeks, this was the bitter pill he had to swallow when you had finally come-to… you imagined that he was not eager to confront such a terrible twist of fate. Yet he had come back into your room half an hour later, eyes suspiciously puffy and pink, and his nose a little stuffy, but nonetheless, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, squeezing even tighter than before. Even though you barely knew him, his presence made you feel safe, and you were glad to have him by your side.

Between your numerous mental tests and check-ins, the conversation between the two of you was surprisingly easy. He was patient with you, and kind. Apparently, you’d first met him in America at a hero convention about five years ago, and you started dating after a year and a half of being friends. Your memory had been completely wiped of the past five years, leaving your Japanese friends, coworkers, and dedicated boyfriend all in the dark. According to Shouto, you had befriended many of the top heroes in Japan, seeing as they were also your colleagues. It turned out that the numerous flower arrangements scattered about your room were from these heroes, as well as fans… though a good amount were from the heterochromatic man himself.

Shouto took care of you during your days at the hospital. He talked to the doctor after your check-ins, pulling them aside and conversing in hushed voices in the hallway just outside your door. He called your family for you and flew them out, only adding to the chaos in your hospital room. He told all of your Japanese friends and acquaintances to stay away for now, knowing that meeting them would probably just overwhelm and guilt you. And each day he would bring you a treat that you would inevitably love, proving to you that he really did know you, and that he knew your preferences and even your favorite boba order. He probably would have stayed by your bedside even through each night, but you insisted he go home and sleep in a proper bed. You already felt bad enough that he was taking a hiatus from hero work until you recovered… you didn’t need to add his future back issues to your already guilty conscience.

You found yourself enjoying your time with him. You knew who he was— you had certainly heard of him during your previous hero work that you actually remembered. You kept it to yourself that you had harbored an embarrassingly large crush on him, though. You figured he probably knew that, seeing as he was your boyfriend of three and a half years… no need to bring it up! But now that your memory had reverted back to your mental state five years ago… you inevitably had feelings for the pro hero, and you weren’t sure if he either couldn’t tell how he affected you, or if he was just being polite. Whatever the case, there was still a spark between the two of you. Even though all the progress of your relationship had been erased on your side, each day your feelings only grew for the selfless, charming, and witty half-and-half man. So much so, that you would now reach out for his hand when he would enter your room each morning, and he would smile at you and slip his fingers between yours, no matter how much it hurt to restrain himself from showing you more affection.

After about a week, you were cleared to go home. Your nurse, who you had come to know as Akari, told you that the doctor had originally wanted to keep you for longer… but that Shouto was such a doting beau that they had given you the express go-ahead, knowing you would be in the highest of care.

Your memory was still not restored, though you had started to remember odd things here and there. Like how to use your phone— it was the newest model and far from the technology you were familiar with five years ago, but you opened the device and navigated it expertly on your first go. The doctor said that that was a good sign, though it could just be muscle memory... but Shouto still gave you a small smile of encouragement. Next was when you had asked Shouto to bring you your favorite moisturizer, a Japanese brand, and you just mentioned it so casually in conversation that you would have blown right over it had Shouto not pointed it out to you. You were recalling little, mundane things here and there, but never anything big— no people, no places. No distinct memories.

Akari assured you many times that as long as you kept working at it, your memories would return. She always said it when you were frustrated— she could tell your moods and she could see how hard you were trying. But she also said it when you were doing fine, and that was when you knew she was saying it more to Shouto than anything. You were glad to have her there, because even though Shouto was there for you physically, he kept most of his emotions sealed off from you… and it was hard for you to read him. Akari was an excellent nurse, and you felt blessed to have been taken care of by her. But a tiny, minuscule part of you was jealous that she could tell how he was feeling, while you were left in the dark.

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You sighed as the car door clicked shut, feeling apprehensive. The vehicle that Shouto had driven to the hospital today is sleek, shiny, and foreign. You had no clue what model it was, but you knew it must have been expensive— the interior was framed with a polished wood that complimented the peanut-butter color of the leather seats and steering wheel. Shouto slipped into the drivers’ side next to you, offering you a small smile as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, pausing before he turned the ignition. The car purred to life, a welcome screen popping up in the middle of the console.

You thought it over for a moment before answering, watching as he slid the parking ticket out from under the overhead visor. “A little… I think excited is a better word for it, though.”

Shouto’s smile broadened just a tad, his hand reaching over the center console and squeezing yours briefly. “Me too,” he murmured, eyes locked with yours for just a moment too long before his arm propped back against the corner of your seat, and he reversed out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled jawline as he did so, eyes flitting away quickly when he caught your lingering gaze.

The drive from the hospital to your home wasn’t long, and you were thankful that was the case— you’d have definitely felt even guiltier if he’d been driving for a long time all these days to come and see you. The city distracted you along the way, bustling and bright as ever, and your eyes were wide with wonder as you took in the colorful displays littering the streets and storefronts. Everything— everyone just seemed so alive; it was impossible to keep the smile from your face.

At one red light in particular, you saw a cat cafe, zoning in on a particularly pudgy cat snoozing at the top of the cat tree in the window. You giggled and pointed it out to Shouto, glancing over at him to see if he was looking, and the softest smile was on his lips as his eyes gazed deeply into yours. You held his stare for a moment and then looked away again, flustered and your cheeks feeling warm as you cleared your throat.

It was then that you noticed his hand lying atop the center of the console, tempting you to reach out and lace your fingers with his, like you had done so many times at the hospital. But it felt different without the safety of the white walls and medical equipment you had grown to know, somehow scarier— like he might reject you for whatever reason. You chose to keep your hands to yourself for now.

“It seems like you’re curious about the city,” he said as silence settled between the pair of you, the only noise in the cabin of the vehicle being the low melody from the radio.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement, eyes now glued to the other side of the window as countless people and businesses whizz by. “I like to know the city I’m protecting,” you answered, leaning back against the headrest. “It makes me feel more connected to the people that live here… the people we’re helping when we do our jobs. Y’know?”

Shouto nodded, humming his own agreement. “Yeah… I know what you mean,” he replied. After a short pause, he turned to you, waiting for another red light to turn green. “Maybe we can come out in disguise sometime… if that would interest you. I can show you around, we can have a little adventure.”

You visibly perked up at his suggestion, your grin making his heart flutter suddenly in his chest. “Yes! I would love that!” you beamed at him and he smiled back at you, the faintest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks.

You bit your lip as he turned back toward the road, the car shifting forward as he pressed the gas at the green signal. He was trying… so you had to, too.

“But only if we go together, okay?” You reached over and took his hand before you could chicken out. His fingers fit perfectly in between yours, and your cheeks felt hot again as you gazed intently at your intertwined hands.

Shouto let out a little breath of surprise at your action, but his fingers curled tightly around yours in under a second. “Of course… love.”

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Shouto had sent your family home, despite their protests. The doctor’s orders were for you to resume life as you normally would— apparently, that would be the quickest way for you to regain your memories. The verdict was much to your parents’ dismay, but they understood that it was the fastest means for you to return to, well, you. So they left Shouto to take care of you, and he insisted that once your memories came back, he would fly them back out to see you again, or the two of you would come to them.

Though technically he was a stranger to you, he was the closest thing to home in the strange storm of your memory loss. He had been there for you every step of the way, every day. He tended to your every need, and he even anticipated your needs before you were aware of them. That didn’t change once you arrived at your shared apartment.

If you could even call it that.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled when Shouto unlocked the door for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Your jaw was on the herringbone-patterned, hardwood floor as your eyes wandered around the entryway, taking in every design detail you came across. You barely managed to take off your shoes before you were peeking your head into the bathroom next to the entry hallway, inspecting the clean and gorgeously-furnished half-bath.

Shouto chuckled and closed the door behind him, making sure to turn the lock as he set his keys into a porcelain bowl beside the door. “Go explore, I think you’ll like what you see,” he said amusedly, a half-smirk on his pink lips as he eyed you. Your starstruck expression only grew as you padded into the open space of the living room.

A long, cushy sofa and chaise stood before the huge flat-screen that was nestled into an elegant built-in, shelves filled with books you knew and loved and ones you didn’t recognize, too. Game consoles lined the shelf below the plasma screen, and your toes curled into the fuzzy rug underfoot as you gaped at the room. Everything— even the curtains and the coasters on the coffee table— was exactly in your taste. You felt like you were in wonderland. Had you fallen down a rabbit hole and this was the magical, heavenly place you had landed in? Clearly this had to be a dream, right? You woke up as Todoroki Shouto’s long-time girlfriend, and apparently you lived here, with him?

Goddamn.

The kitchen, laundry room, main bath, office, bedroom, and master bath all fit your taste exactly the same. Only the second office and spare bedroom seemed a little out of place— they were more of a traditional Japanese design, but even though it was different, you did not mind. Even the runner on the staircase— who had a staircase in their apartment, by the way?!— was in a pleasing color and pattern. There was even a decently sized home gym, with various equipment and machines and a mirror running the length of the entire wall. By the end of your expedition, you were simply at a loss for words. You found Shouto sitting on one of the stools at the marble island that separated the kitchen and the living room, busy combing through some manila files.

“Umm,” you started, catching his attention.

He looked up at you, propping his chin onto his hand as his elbow rested on the counter. One brow quirked up, he grinned slyly at your outright astonishment. “Well?” he prompted, sitting up and rolling his neck, then stretching his broad shoulders. “What do you think?”

You try not to linger on the way the muscles rippled underneath his tight, crisp shirt, playing off your silence as shock. “It’s uh… perfect? I live here? I actually live here, right? You’re not pulling my leg?”

Shouto chuckled and shook his head. “I would never, love. Well, I have before, but no— I’m not right now. You live here. We live here. It’s all ours.”

You laughed giddily, unable to contain your excitement. Shouto smiled fondly at you, your grin infectious as your eyes wandered around the kitchen once more.

“Snack pantry is behind that door,” he nodded his head to the side and your eyes grew even starrier. He couldn’t help the laugh that trickled out of him at your instant footsteps— you were still you, after all. He knew all the ways to your heart very well, and one of them was most definitely through food.

“Woah.” Your mouth hung open once again at the rows of snacks and foods that greeted your gaze when you opened the door, the light flicking on automatically. Your eyes danced over the labels, recognizing many of your favorite flavors throughout the variety. “We could survive a whole year off of this stuff, Shouto.”

You stiffened when an arm wrapped around your middle, his front pressing up against your back as his chin fell onto your shoulder. That same comforting scent encircled you, but this time it was mixed with a subtle, woodsy aroma that made your mouth water.

Shouto breathed softly into your hair, the tip of his nose brushing the side of your neck. “I stocked up for your return, love.” He took another leisurely deep breath before he pulled back, his arm falling from your body and leaving you surprisingly cold without his touch. “Wanted you to have everything you could possibly desire.”

Your eyes inspected the pattern on the hardwood floor as he stepped away from you, your arm crossing over your front to grab onto your bicep nervously. Letting out a small laugh, you replied, “Yeah, I think you covered all the bases…”

He only hummed as he returned to his seat, sliding on a pair of thin metal glasses you hadn’t seen him take off before. You couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly handsome like this— a rare, domestic sight for only your eyes to enjoy. “Sorry I can’t entertain you at the moment,” he said, that analytical gaze locking onto you once more. “My agency asked me to look over these cases and I just have to finish them up— I’m technically on leave, but I still want to help out when I can. I only need another half hour or so. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. This is your home, after all.”

You smiled and nodded, rolling back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Alright, I’ll try not to bother you.” Shouto frowned at your wording, but you carried on anyway. “I think I’ll poke around our room and see if I can find something that triggers a memory.” Your acknowledgement of your shared bedroom seemed to put him at ease, and with that, you grabbed a strawberry-flavored snack from the pantry before making your way past him, roaming over to the bedroom.

“You can go through my things if you want, too!” He called from behind you, having already made your way to the stairs. Choosing not to reply to his invitation, you hopped up the steps and quietly closed the door to your bedroom, hands landing on your hips. Inspecting the room from left to right, you decided to go through the toiletries in the master bath before anything else.

Before you could move even a foot in the direction of the en-suite, a furry creature darted out from underneath the bed skirt and dashed toward you. You gasped in delight at the gorgeous visage of the long-haired cat— she had bright blue eyes and fine white fur, her coat streaked with gray here and there. The cat meowed cutely and curled around your ankle, rubbing her head against your leg affectionately.

You immediately crouched down and lowered yourself to her level, fingers eagerly diving into her soft fur and offering a good scratch behind the ears. “Hi gorgeous,” you cooed, the animal mewling back at you in response. Your fingers found her collar and you flipped over the tag, reading her name with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Yuki.”

Heart softened at the thought of Shouto owning such a pretty creature, you gave her a good long rub before you decided to move on to your quest at hand. The creature followed closely behind, twisting in between your legs as you entered the en-suite.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, just what you would expect from a pro-hero of Shouto’s standing. It occurred to you that you too, were a hero of such regard, which must explain why you could afford all the lavish things you came across while combing through the closets and cabinetry.

You went through countless skincare products, face masks, makeup items, and bathing goods on what you presumed was your side of the double sink before you peeked into Shouto’s drawers. You fingered through his hygienic products, mumbling to yourself in surprise when you came across skincare items whose existence most men would not even be aware of. You shrugged and figured that you just must be an excellent girlfriend and teacher, assuming he used them correctly.

Eventually you found his shaving items, eyes scanning the labels until you find his aftershave. Shrugging, you took the cap off, giving a tentative sniff before you realized that must be what you smelled on him earlier, when he’d pressed up against you from behind and nuzzled into your neck. You bit your lip as you recalled how his arm felt around your waist, his nose on your throat. It had felt so intimate, and oddly… natural.

It was the most contact you’d had with him so far. While you were at the hospital, he would hold your hand. Besides that first moment when you had just woken up— when he hugged and kissed you, and the fireworks that had gone off had been then overshadowed by the horrific realization that your memory had been wiped— the half-hug just twenty minutes ago was the only time he had initiated further physical contact with you.

You frowned. It wasn’t like you’d been super affectionate toward him, either. Sure, you had reached out for his hand at the hospital, and you took it again during the car ride home… but now that it was just the two of you, alone in your home… it felt different. Maybe that was why Shouto had asked if you felt nervous when you were in the car, following your discharge from the hospital only an hour ago. Had he seen it coming— this potential pitfall in the reconstruction of your relationship? You wondered how he felt about all of this, but you were too shy to ask him so directly. Not when you barely knew him.

“Missed me so much you’re sniffing my cologne?”

You froze and glanced up at the mirror, Shouto’s reflection smirking at you from his leaned position against the doorway. Your cheeks immediately went warm and fuzzy again as you capped the glass bottle, carefully placing it back into its drawer before looking over your shoulder to him. A glance at the clock on the wall revealed it had been forty minutes; you must have gotten swept up in examining your beauty products.

He didn't have his glasses on anymore, and he had changed into a solid-colored t-shirt, the crisp button-down he’d donned earlier nowhere to be seen. Damn it… you had missed your chance to ogle at him with his shirt off. At your silence, his smirk melted into a small smile, stepping forward and joining your sitting form on the heated-tile floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve done the same to your perfume before as well,” he murmured as he reached toward the drawer on your far side, his arm brushing against your back as he searched for the glass vial. “You can try it, too. It’s the most recent addition to your collection, and I personally am very partial to its scent.”

The contact made you swallow, your gaze flicking over to his. He was looking at the various perfume bottles in the drawer, though, giving you the chance to inspect his face as his hair fell forward, soft locks of red and white splaying across his forehead. He was so breathtaking up close like this… your gaze dropped to his lips. God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to feel those lips on yours again, to be in his arms and to be held as tenderly as you were that first day you awoke.

“Oh right,” he chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “I brought it into the spare room the other day… Must’ve forgot to put it back.” He leaned back, ending the accidental physical contact with you.

You looked at him quizzically. “The spare room? Can I ask why?”

Shouto blushed and your heart thudded in your chest. Oh crap, he was so cute with his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah… I’ve been sleeping in there since the accident. It just feels…,” he paused as he searched for the right word, eyes avoiding yours, “wrong… to be in our bed without you.”

Your own cheeks warmed at that, his confession pulling at your heartstrings. “So the perfume..?”

His cheeks darkened a few shades, the hand on his neck rubbing harder at his skin. “Ah, that’s… honestly kind of… embarrassing to explain.”

You reached out so your hand covered his, and Shouto sighed as he allowed your fingers to slide in between his. “Can I guess? Will you tell me if I’m right?” He nodded at that, deciding it was better if he didn't have to say it. “You spray my perfume onto a pillow at night and snuggle up with it?”

Shouto’s eyes widened at your immediate response, swallowing before he let out a stiff laugh and a nod. “Yeah, that’s exactly right… kind of lame, isn’t it?”

Shaking your head, you smiled gently at him. “No, I think it’s sweet. It’s just what I would do if you were away, too.”

There’s a shocked silence that filled the bathroom then, Shouto’s wide eyes fixed on you for a long, intense moment. Eventually you broke eye contact, looking to the floor with an awkward smile.

“And you don’t have to do that tonight…” you offered quietly. “If you want, I mean… you can sleep in here.”

“Is that where you’ll be sleeping?”

You looked back at him, surprised by his instant reply. “Y-Yeah, I think so…”

“Alright,” he conceded, his blank face melting into a warm smile. “Then that’s where I’ll sleep, too.”

You returned the gesture, pleased to have made him happy. “Will you be spraying me with perfume before we tuck in?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“No,” Shouto answered seriously, the smile dropping from his face, “your natural scent is a thousand times better than any perfume, love. I’ve missed it lingering on our sheets.”

Cheeks warmed for what seemed like the thousandth time today, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled, unsure of what to say. “Aha okay… well, I think you smell pretty good, too.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Shouto originally wanted to order in from your favorite restaurant for dinner, but you managed to sweet talk him into allowing you to cook instead. After about a week of feeling completely worthless, it was nice to have something you could finally, actually do.

The refrigerator was just as stocked as the pantry, so after analyzing the plethora of ingredients at your disposal, you decided on a meal and set off, gathering all the things you’d need in an excited hurry. Just as you were about to start washing vegetables, Shouto slipped an apron over your head, steady hands drawing the ties together at the bottom of your spine. The garment fit you perfectly, intricate design in your favorite color. You thanked him as you glanced over your shoulder, grinning up at him.

There was a somewhat somber look in his eyes, a halfhearted smile just barely curving his lips before he nodded and moved away, retreating back to the other side of the counter where he’s staked out to watch you work. He’d offered to help— numerous times, actually— but you told him to just sit back and relax. You wanted to do something for the tired man, even if it was as small as putting together a meal.

It didn't take long for you to get into a rhythm. Chopping the vegetables and preparing the other ingredients came naturally to you, and you found yourself enjoying the process. It was something familiar, which was very much welcome.

“Do we cook a lot?” you inquired, raising your voice a bit so Shouto could hear you over the sizzling pan in front of you.

He was leaning on the countertop again— he must’ve known he looked delicious like that or something— and he glanced over at you from the open book he was reading. “Mm, when we have time. It’s not that we don’t enjoy it, but usually we’re both very busy. It’s normal for us to leave early, and return home late.”

You nodded in understanding, grinding fresh peppercorns above the skillet and giving the contents a stir.

“I like everything you cook for me, though.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, stealing a look over at him. While your cooking had improved since your teenage years, it wasn’t like you were a chef by any means. “Everything? You’re just trying to be sweet on me.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Maybe… is it working?”

The sound of the food crackling from a drizzle of oil filled the kitchen for a beat, and you stared at the wilting greens before you, unable to bring yourself to look at him. “Yeah, I think it’s working…”

There was another pause in conversation, this one less stifling than before. This time, Shouto broke the ice. “Even though we’re busy people, we always have a date every Friday… It’s the highlight of my week.” His voice sounded gloomier than just a moment ago, but when you chanced a look over at him, he was smiling slightly, staring at a cabinet and seemingly off in his own memories.

You wondered which memory he was going over particularly, but didn’t want to intrude his recollection, so you focused on stirring the pan instead. Tapping your phone on the counter next to you just to make sure, your eyes flitted over today’s date.

Thursday.

“Tomorrow’s a Friday,” you mentioned, trying to be casual, despite your heartbeat ringing in your ears. It was stupid for you to get anxious that he’d reject you— he was your boyfriend after all. But to you, this was all uncharted territory; foreign waters.

“Tomorrow is a Friday, yeah,” he confirmed, looking down at his book again. “It’ll be a week since you woke up.”

The realization that you’d woken up exactly one week ago—the day that caused the man so much joy and then so much pain— that that day had been on a Friday, your sacred day that was devoted to being spent with each other… it made your heart throb uncomfortably in your chest. You nibbled on the inside of your cheek, shutting off the burner and transferring the food into a serving dish. Bringing it over to the counter and setting it in front of him, you untied the apron and folded it neatly, placing that on the counter too.

“Would you… want to go out with me tomorrow, then?” you proposed smally, opening the drawers before you in search of eating utensils. You frowned when all you were met with was measuring cups and spatulas. “For our Friday date ritual, I mean.”

Shouto stood and crossed the island, opening the drawer behind you and revealing all the silverware and chopsticks. You moved to grab two pairs of chopsticks and he took your wrist gently, large thumb stroking across your skin. His other hand came to brush against the small of your back, but he chose not to grab onto you. “I would love that.”

You shared a smile and a meaningful look.

“Then it’s a date.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

After the dishes were all washed, you agreed to watch a movie. You had initially wanted to pour over your things again, to see if anything could help your memories come back. But Shouto had suggested the two of you relax on the couch instead, explaining that he was not surprised that you were overworking yourself, but that it was his job to make sure you took care of yourself. He further threatened that if you wouldn’t take care of yourself, then he would have to “take care of you himself”, and that left you flustered more than anything. So you dropped whatever excuse you had prepared to argue back at him and followed him to the living room.

Walking in, you blinked in awe at the spread that Shouto had set up. Numerous candies and snacks are laid out for your convenience across the coffee table. The lights were dimmed and curtains drawn, even a few candles flickering in the shadows and scenting the room with a cool, refreshing aroma. There was a pile of blankets stacked in the center of the sofa, all the decorative pillows pushed into the corners to leave one large space for the two of you to share. It was a little… dare you say it… romantic. You looked over your shoulder at him, shooting him a suspicious glance. He had led you to believe he was “taking care of you”, but it seemed he had ulterior motives, too. Not that you were complaining.

Seating yourself next to the blanket tower, you peeled one off the top before unfolding it, letting the soft fleece tickle your ankles and lay across your lap. Shouto crossed in front of the TV, grabbing two remotes from the basket and coming to sit next to you. There was a respectful amount of space between your legs, and you couldn’t help but frown at the gap. You thought that he would sit right next to you…

It took a little while for you to settle on a movie, all the films from the past five years unknown and novel to you… even if Shouto informed you you had already seen them. He went along with your selection without resistance, opting to grab one of the biscuit snacks on the table before you.

As the movie began, you leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch, not really focusing on the actors on the screen. Your eyes were trained on the television, but your mind was elsewhere, unable to distract yourself with the story. You also noticed that Shouto was sitting stiff as a board next to you, focused on nibbling at his snack. He didn’t attempt any moves at you throughout the first thirty minutes, even after he’d finished with his confection. Slowly you allowed yourself to relax, succumbing to the film and settling into the pillowy sofa.

Shouto detected your newfound relaxation, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he watched your eyes fix on the main character and her love interest. “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like a cup, love?”

“I’m okay, thanks…” you replied softly, not really hearing him as the love interest was in the middle of their heartfelt confession.

He took a moment alone in the kitchen to calm himself. Even though you had been very receptive to him, he couldn’t help but feel hesitant whenever he touched you. He wanted you to want him; for you to want him to touch you. But he didn’t want to force anything with you, in fear that he’d scare you off or make a bad impression. He didn’t want to be pushy. Even before the accident, his heart still pounded whenever you would smile at him. When you would grab his hand, bring him something because it reminded you of him… when you would moan into his ear at ungodly hours in the night… Now it felt like his heart was in his throat every time you spoke to him, like if he said one word wrong, you’d fly away from him and never look back. It was terrifying.

Shouto shook his head. Sighing to himself, he filled his mug with water and held the ceramic in his hands, steam rising off the surface of the liquid almost instantly as he activated his quirk. He allowed the tea leaves to steep for a moment before he fished them out, steeling his nerves and returning to his spot on the couch. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like you’d scooted over just the tiniest bit, shortening the distance between you two as he took his seat.

Your eyes flicked over to him and caught his gaze on you, inspecting the mug in his hands before giving a curious sniff. “Chamomile?”

He nodded and offered the cup to you, which you took in both hands. “Technically, it’s called Sleepytime Mix. But yes, it has chamomile. Have some, if you want.”

“Ah,” you gave a long inhale and smiled drowsily at the familiar scent. “I don’t wanna drink all your tea. And besides, it’s a little hot for me.”

“Oh,” Shouto said, taking the cup back into his hands. He focused for a second, and then the liquid no longer emitted steam, now a pleasant, warm temperature. “Try it now. Help yourself, please.” He handed the mug back to you, the light from the television flickering across his handsome face.

You blinked at him cutely, taking the mug in your hands again. Your fingers brushed against his in the transfer, and he cleared his throat slightly, skin warmed from your touch. “Wow!” you chimed after a sip, going back for another few gulps before you handed it back to him. “It’s really good. Perfect temp, Sho, thank you.”

Shouto felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, his eyes widening at the name he hadn’t heard in weeks. It sounded so good rolling off your tongue, so right. At his flustered expression, you laughed awkwardly, fingers delving into the blanket and looking away meekly.

“Sorry… I thought that that was probably what you’re used to me calling you, but I can use something else if you like.”

“No,” he said instantly, his hand automatically reaching for yours. He pried it out of the fleecy material, folding his fingers around yours. “I like it. Please call me that, I… I’ve missed hearing it.”

“Alright,” you mumbled, fingers squeezing his for a moment. You kept his gaze for a long pause, and then you duck down, scooching flush against his side and laying your head onto his broad shoulder. It caught him off guard, but after a moment of buffering, he moved, his arm tentatively wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. The action made your cheeks perhaps as hot as the tea in his mug, but you only settled deeper into his embrace, happy to be in his arms. You fixed the blanket so it covered his long legs, too, settling over the both of you snuggly.

You two stayed like that for the rest of the movie, another forty five minutes or so. Your hand gradually moved to rest on his stomach, his long fingers stroking your spine through your shirt. It was new to you, but it was comfortable— your body recognized his touch and welcomed it, even— years of unknowingly conditioning yourself to receive his affection allowing you to accept his embrace. By the end of the film, you were dozing off, warm and relaxed now more than ever, curled up into Shouto’s side.

Shouto, however, was wide awake, his pulse rushing in his ears at your proximity. It had been a very long month without you, and now here you were, cuddled up with him just like how you used to be every night. He knew you were somewhere in between consciousness and sleep, so he let the entire movie credits roll by before he decided to move you. Still holding his mug, which had been empty for the past half hour— but he didn’t want to risk moving and causing you to pull away— he set it on the side table, carefully maneuvering his wide frame so as to not disturb you.

You whined in protest but did not stir when he curled his arms around you, picking your form up and off the couch. After making sure all the candles were blown out and the lights were turned off, he quietly carried you to your shared room, not bothering to turn on the lights. It was then that he hesitated to make the next move— you were still in your clothes from the day, and he wasn’t sure if you would want him to see your bare body if he took the liberty to rid you of them.

His tongue wandered over the bottom of his teeth as he gazed at you, strewn across the soft blankets that covered your bed. The few beams of moonlight that slithered through the bottom of the blinds fell perfectly onto your face, your lashes casting long shadows onto the duvet and giving you an ethereal glow. He could imagine how your naked skin looked underneath that cute little sweater you donned, your bra strap poking out as if to tease him even more. His eyes slammed shut as he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, recognizing the color, and the image of you clad in the matching panties that completed the set suddenly sprung forth in his mind.

Acquainted was an understatement as to how well he knew your body, but the problem was not as simple as physicality— the problem was mental, and it could not be vanquished by anything except time, it seemed. The beautiful brain he loved so dearly was now wiped, void of all the memories the two of you had made and cherished together. Shouto clutched his stomach as he took a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, feeling sick from the forceful whirlwind of emotion that came along with the thoughts that crept up on him in the night. The knowledge that you did not remember him, not even one measly memory of him, upset him more than anything.

He had not realized how much his world had shifted now that he had you. Of course, he loved you and he made great effort to ensure that you knew the extent of his devotion to you. But it wasn’t until you had woken up like this, confused and distraught, mind reverted to just months before he had even met you, that he had come to terms with just how much you meant to him. He knew that he loved you before. But now he knew the pain of being unable to hold you, and be with you— really, even talk to you like he had grown so accustomed to.

It was eating him alive, and tearing him apart.

When you had awoken after such an excruciating, lonely month, he had been overjoyed. Finally, he could be with you again— he could touch you and kiss you, hear your sweet voice, hold your body close to his as you fell asleep, and wake up with you still in his arms, groggy and adorable… except, he couldn’t. Because while you knew who he was… you didn’t, really. You didn’t know him at all. And what hurt the most was that he could see that you were trying… but at the end of the day, he was only a stranger to you. He was not your boyfriend, not anything more, other than a hero that you idolized and had a silly crush on.

At the very least, he found comfort in the knowledge that you found him attractive. Of course, you had revealed to him, albeit once you were deep into your relationship, that you had fantasized about him and fostered a schoolgirlish crush on him when you hadn’t yet been introduced. He remembered laughing at your embarrassed confession, pinching your cheeks and then kissing you through his smile… then, taking you from behind as you bent over the bathroom counter, pressing you against the mirror as he donned his hero suit, savoring your pleading moans for him to fuck you deeper, harder.

His cock twitched in his slacks, blood beginning to travel south as his interest grew for the first time in weeks. He groaned and he grit his teeth, frustrated at himself for even daring to feel desire while you laid asleep next to him, plagued by your wiped memory but sitting there looking like that. Gorgeous and untouchable.

As if his heated gaze had summoned you from your slumber, your eyes opened and you blinked at him, squinting at his silhouette in the dark of the room. Shouto recoiled even though he hadn’t been caught doing anything too suspicious; he was a good distance away from you, but still, you had caught him staring at you like a creep in the shadows.

“Sho?” you mumbled drowsily, a hand coming up to rub at your eyes. You propped your body up on your elbows, your shift stretching flush over your chest.

Shouto nearly moaned at the sight combined with the sound of your sleepy voice uttering his name. It didn't help the situation that was stirring in his pants one bit, only adding water to an oil fire. “Hey,” he replied, clearing his throat. “You fell asleep, so I brought you to bed.. Did you want to clean up before we go to sleep?”

You sighed, rolling over as you roused yourself from sleep. “Not really…,” you chuckled, and Shouto felt his chest tighten at the premise of having to get into bed with you with his problem at hand. “But I’ll be a responsible adult,” you finished, rolling out of bed and padding over to the bathroom.

He glanced over at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, the cat curling around his ankle and taking his attention away from you. Giving the animal a scratch underneath her chin, he tried to focus on calming himself, closing his eyes and controlling his breathing. Even though this wasn’t at all like how it had been before, it was still better than being alone. Your presence, the sound of you tidying yourself up in the nearby vicinity, took the month-long weight of loneliness off of his chest. It still stung, it still hurt— but at the very least, you were here. You were alive, and you were here with him.

It was you calling out for him that interrupted his train of thought, and when he looked toward your voice, he found you peeking around the doorframe, your hair pushed back and your face glistening with moisture from your nightly routine. “Aren’t you going to wash up, too? There’s two sinks in here, y’know,” you stated matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t know the layout of his own home.

But Shouto only smiled at you and nodded, leaving the cat and accepting your invitation for him to join you in your bedtime ritual. The situation in his pants had since relaxed, thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry as he took his place adjacent to you at the sink counter. Squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles of his toothbrush, and watching you put on your moisturizer in his peripheral, it felt almost as if nothing had changed. For the first time in a long time, he let himself forget about the horrible curveball that life had thrown at him, instead choosing to stare at you as you picked up the cat at your feet, and placed a sweet kiss on the top of its head as you cradled it in your arms.

You padded out of the bathroom first, opting to close the door behind you. After Shouto had finished his routine, he slinked out into the bedroom quietly, surprise flickering in his gaze at the pyjamas you were now dressed in— a pair of soft sleep shorts and an old t-shirt you had stolen from him years ago. He tried not to stare as you crawled into the sheets, the cat taking her perch at the foot of the bed.

The clearing of his throat caught your attention, and he licked his lip as your eyes settled on his. “Is it okay if I sleep without a shirt?” he asked, having to keep himself from smirking as your eyes widened and a flustered expression blossomed on your face. Cute.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered after a second of recalibrating, your eyes still trained on his. “The doctors said we should just live out our normal routine, so… whatever we normally do, we should do.” Sliding deeper underneath the comforter, you pretended to look busy as you fiddled with your phone.

Shouto bit his lip and wondered if telling you that your nightly routine of getting naked and passionate between the sheets would do you any good, but he decided against it, not willing to push his luck. Instead, he tore his shirt over his head and pulled down his pants, turning toward the wall so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. He could still feel your gaze on his flesh— he always could, for his skin prickled and the hairs on his body stood up as your eyes roved over every inch of him in appreciation. He didn’t need to see you to know that you were staring.

After he stepped into a long pair of sleep pants, he turned and pretended not to notice your obvious shuffling in a foiled attempt to not be caught looking at him. Carefully he slipped into the sheets on his side of the bed, ensuring not to wander too close to you in order to keep a respectful distance between your bodies… even though he wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you, and wrap his body around yours until neither of you could tell where one of you stopped, and the other started.

There was a long, stuffy silence as the two of you laid there, both of you unsure as to the level of affection you should be displaying at the moment. Shouto was doubtful that you’d want him to hold you like he so desperately desired, and you were hesitant to initiate anything with him laying frozen and a good distance away from you.

“Is this… how we normally sleep?” you wondered aloud, and though you were surprised that the words actually fell from your lips, you were grateful to have broken the rising tension.

Shouto left out a breath he had been holding at that, turning so that he was facing you on his side. “No,” he answered truthfully, his fingers sliding over the cool cotton that separated your bodies, wandering toward you at a snail's pace. “Usually… we like to,” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that was situated there, “snuggle.”

In the quiet of the room, he could hear your lips part, a soft breath falling from between them as you processed his response. Your heart was beating faster now, body crying out for his touch, his embrace. “Can we?” you asked so softly that you hadn’t thought he’d heard you, but slowly, surely, he shuffled toward you.

You inhaled as he placed a gentle hand on your waist, pulling your body to slide across the sheets and meet him in the middle of the bed. Lifting your head so he could slip his arm beneath your neck, he brought your face into his neck, arms wrapping tight around your torso. His fingers dug into your side and the hair at the crown of your neck, curling around the tendrils as if he was scared that you would slip out of his grasp at any moment. Pressed up against his bare chest, you could hear the steady, fast thumping of his heart, and the shakiness in each breath he drew in and let out.

It sounded like he was trying not to cry.

Your hand wandered up and under his neck, your elbow angling around the back of his neck so that your fingers could trace the sinews that lined his shoulder blades. Your other arm slung around his back, and although it was just a bit of a reach, you managed to find his silky locks, combing through the ends with your fingers. Daring to push the fragile boundaries that kept you two separate, you threw your leg across his hips, trapping his legs between yours and pressing your body completely flush against his.

Shouto stopped breathing, tears threatening to spill over as he held you so delicately for the first time in what seemed like forever. Similar emotions were flowing through you as well, your body singing at the feeling of being with him, in his embrace. Your heart throbbed at the thought of leaving this man alone for an entire month, with no one to comfort him and calm his worries. No one to hold him and tell him that it was going to be okay, no one to plant kisses across his tear-streaked cheeks and help him forget his pain.

It wasn’t your fault you had been in this accident, that you had forgotten your memories from the past five years. But it wasn’t his, either. The two of you were forced to suffer in different ways, separated by your condition and worlds apart. You wished so desperately that you would just remember already— if not for your sake, then for his. Anything that would make him feel better, anything to ease the ache in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out quietly, overcome with emotion as you laid in the arms of the man you had once loved. The man you’d been learning to love again. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. I want to, I’m trying.” A tear dripped down your face and landed on his chest, sliding down to stain the sheets.

Shouto sucked in a shaky breath at your meager apology, rough fingers running over the back of your neck. “I know you are,” he murmured, and you could feel him swallow thickly as he tried to find the right words. “It’s not your fault, love… You can’t— you can’t blame yourself.” His voice broke at the last syllable, his arms squeezing tighter as he held onto you.

You pressed your face into the junction between his shoulder and his neck, uncaring of your tears that smeared across his skin. “Neither can you,” you sniffled, body clinging to him as best you could. “Please, Shouto, promise me you won’t.”

It was then that he let the tears he had been holding back fall, racing down his cheeks to plop onto the dampening pillow. You held him as he cried, unphased by the sudden outburst of emotion from the man who had shown you so little of himself in the past week.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled into your hair once he had calmed down a bit, lungs still rattling as he tried to suppress his emotions. “For you, I’ll try.”

You leaned back from his chest, his heart seizing up at the tear tracks on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moon’s glow. And then, you kissed him. It was simple and sweet, just your lips pressed to his as your thumb swiped across his cheek. But it felt like you were breathing life into him, like he had been starved of oxygen until this very moment.

Both of you gasped when you pulled away, the kiss having lasted as long as you could stand without breaking for breath. Your eyes wandered from his shining ones to his lips, shocked that you had planted such a passionate kiss there just seconds ago. It had worked, though— Shouto was breathing normally and his tears had stopped, dual-colored eyes now staring at you as if you had just given him a purpose to live. You licked your lips, not missing the way his gaze flicked down to watch the action with longing, but he did not act on it.

“We’ll get through this together,” you whispered, hand resting on his sharp jawline. There was not a hint of doubt in your voice, no hesitance nor fear. It was just a fact, simple as that. You let yourself look at his handsome face for a moment longer before you ducked and nuzzled into his chest again, taking your spot as if you had never left.

Shouto exhaled, his fingers trailing down your spine as he closed his eyes, syncing his breathing to yours. The feeling of your body wrapped around his made his bones glow with a missed sense of comfort, his heart fuller than it had been for quite some time. He welcomed sleep to take him, the exhaustion of many long and insomnia-plagued nights from the past month all piling on. Pressing his lips to your forehead as softly as he could, he closed his eyes and murmured one word, wishing with every fiber of his being for you to wake up the next morning and have just one memory of him.

“Together.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

...soooooooo idk how this is only part 1, shit’s 11k already 💀 ahh for those of you who made it through, thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed!! there was no smut in this chapter which is so foreign to me, but i’m hoping to improve my story creation skills as part of my 2021 author resolutions... so, let me know what you think! hopefully part 2 will come to fruition soon, but it would probably come faster if i knew people were waiting for it ;)

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

The Vessel. [ Pt. 8 ]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Tissaia de Vries pays you a visit and you are met with a startling revelation that can change your life, and the Witcher's forever. How are the two of you going to act upon it?

Warnings: None

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

"Why won't this fucking spell let me in?" Jaskier whined; in frustration, having tried for perhaps the tenth time to step into your chambers, but the spell that Yennefer had placed, had not allowed him to enter. And even Geralt, for that matter. Geralt had already experienced it once, and his sensible self didn't try it again, but Jaskier was headstrong, not wanting to stop trying until he had found a way to break that spell.

"Jaskier, let it go. Will you let her rest? Yen's put the spell to protect [Y/N]." Geralt tried to intervene, but the bard threw out both his hands in the air; dramatically and glared at him.

"I mean her no harm, Geralt. I'm sure you are very much aware of that. I love that woman."

Although Geralt knew that Jaskier meant it entirely in a platonic way; given the fact that the two of you had developed a deep rooted friendship ever since the whole knock you up with the Witcher baby drama had begun; a part inside of him flared with jealousy.

Jaskier, on the other hand felt guilt pierce through his heart, ever since he had found out exactly what had happened through Geralt. A part of it was his fault— although the entire conversation in the celebration revolving around Henrik had been a sodden joke from his end, because he had seen Henrik's eyes on her; he had never thought he would go to this extent. He felt guilty, finding himself responsible to a limit for what you had gone through, and he had to talk to you, get it off his chest; but the damn spell.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier from the collar of his shirt and began dragging him away from your room, without muttering a word, when finally, you emerged from your chambers, your eyes sullen, sleep deprived and deep dark bags already formed under them.

"Geralt, [Y/N]—" Jaskier tried pulling his shirt off the Witcher's clutches, trying to bring to a halt to the Witcher's dragging, "—Gods, you're such a big grizzly bear, would you look? She is here."

Geralt's head turned towards you and he let Jaskier go, his facial expressions changing almost instantly, from cold and unemotional to soft, and concerned; the second his eyes landed on you. You looked like a wreck, and Geralt mentally cursed himself, and his inability in that minute to reach out and provide you with comfort, or anything that could make you feel better, made him feel worse.

Instead, he decided to keep quiet, and let the bard talk to you instead, as he was already hovering around you, like a mother hen, concerned.

"[Y/N], I'm really sorry, I didn't know, I had no idea he was such a pervert, I swear to the Gods, had I known, I wouldn't have made those jokes—" he began, and you gave him a weak smile, reaching out and letting your hand rest against the side of his arm, aware of Geralt's eyes fixed on the exchange between the two of you.

"You had no idea, Jaskier. Stop beating yourself up, I'm alright."

Jaskier looked visibly relaxed upon hearing those words although he still wasn't entirely convinced, but decided not to push you any further.

"Would you like some breakfast? I'll ask someone to bring something up here for you," Jaskier asked softly, to which you simply shook your head, and turned to Geralt.

"I want to go home, Geralt. If you don't mind, can you arrange for a horse for me?"

Geralt stiffened when he was addressed directly, and he immediately nodded swiping his palm over his jaw and looked at you, "Give me some time, I'll arrange it."

"Thank you, Geralt," you whispered, giving him a meagre smile, before the smile was overshadowed by a painful look in your eyes, and Geralt forced himself to look away as he left you alone with the bard.

The bard did leave you alone shortly, with a promise to come back with a plate full of bread and ham for you; and you conceded because, as much as it pained you to think of it, you did want to be left alone, and this was the only way to make the hovering bard leave.

You were thankful you didn't see the sorceress all day, for you weren't ready to deal with her. But, you were shocked to have a visitor on your door, and a person you had least expected to see— Tissaia de Vries. When she stepped into your bed chambers, Yennefer's spell being no barrier for her, you weren't surprised, because you knew who she was.

"My name is Tissaia de Vries—"

"I know who you are, you are a member of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, you are a powerful sorceress who created Yennefer of Vengerberg," you stood up from the side of your bed, your palms reflexively fixing on your bump as you stepped closer to the woman, eyeing her carefully from the corner of your eye. You noticed her lips curl into a smile, and she nodded, bringing her palms together and rubbing them lightly.

"Indeed, but the girl grew her wings, and she flew away."

You watched, noting how her smile faltered for a bit, and her eyes grew distant, as though she was suddenly plagued by certain memories, before she blinked, and turned towards you again; smiling at the curiousity that laced the features of your face.

"You must have questions."

"Yes, what do you want?" You pointed out, bluntly, without leaving a room for any further blabbering.

"Straight to the point, I see. Which is good. Saves me the effort, and the time," she slowly stepped closer, her head turning slightly to look for any unwanted ears out in the hallway prying into the conversation. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed your wrist, although the grip was light; as she pulled you towards her, so her lips were lined to your ears.

"Yennefer hasn't been entirely honest with you. There are a lot of things you don't know, and you must know," you blinked, listening to her as she continued, "Now this mansion has ears, but if you wish to know more come find me, child. I will be at the tavern in the village below, just until dawn tomorrow."

Sneaking out of the mansion in the death of the night was easier than you had thought it would. Your face was almost covered, the cloak wrapped around your body, covering your face partially as you hurried down the secluded street of the village. You had walked for over a kilometer, and hadn't experienced anything dangerous so far, and you were thankful for it.

The village lights were finally in sight, and you breathed a sigh of relief, when someone caught your arm and pulled you to the side of the road. He pulled off the cloak off your face; and you were met with the Witcher's golden orbs, his lips pressed together in a firm line, that only told you that he wasn't happy with the way you had sneaked out.

"You followed me. All the way."

His nose twitched, and he let go off your arm, your fingers feeling tingling due to the lack of his touch.

"I wanted to see how reckless or stupid you could get," he mumbled, his voice raspy.

"And?" You parted your lips to let out your breath, still looking at him.

"You like to play with fire."

You rolled your eyes, and turned away as you began walking towards the village once more, and Geralt cursed under his breath, before he began following you.

"You think you can just leave in the middle of the night? I am arranging for you to leave, but like a normal human being, in the light of the day."

You let out a snort; your pace slowing down a bit to let the Witcher catch up with you, but you didn't stop walking. You turned your head slightly to look at him, "I'm not leaving, Geralt. I knew you were following me. I saw you."

Geralt's lips twitched, almost faintly but you caught it before he looked at you with all seriousness again.

"I'm sure you didn't want to just go out for a walk."

"Well—" Your hand flew to the back of your head, as you scratched it lightly, and pulled your gaze away. The village was already upon you. "— You wouldn't exactly have let me if I had asked for your permission."

"Fair."

Your eyes spotted the tavern, and a rush of adrenaline surged through you. You wouldn't lie; you were curious as to what was it that Tissaia knew, and you didn't.

"It's funny, Witcher, you barely used to say words to me. Look at you now."

He grunted in response to you, his own eyes now having captured the destination where you were headed; the tavern.

"The tavern?"

You ignored him as you stepped into the tavern, and your nose immediately scrunched upwards, as the horrid smell of ale; too much of it, filled in your nostrils. Ignoring the pang to throw up, your eyes began looking for Tissaia until you spotted her, sitting at the back, at a farther end, smiling and watching you. It was as though she knew you were coming.

"Tissaia de Vries?" Geralt mumbled, and you nodded. Before he could even stop you, you were striding towards her. He decided to simply follow you, now that he was here with you. It was better to keep his eye on you, in case she decided to pull up an antic.

"I see you're not alone, [Y/N]. Witcher." The sorceress nodded her head in his direction and motioned for the two of you to sit down on a bench in front of her. You looked at Geralt, and he craned his neck slightly, his eyes darting around, scanning the tavern for anything unusual, while you sat down. In a minute, he sat down too, the bench now feeling cramped with his massive frame just next to yours.

"Tell me what you told me earlier. About what Yennefer hid from me."

Geralt tensed beside you and you chose deliberately not to look at him, at the mention of her name, keeping your eyes fixed on the sorceress in front of you.

"I think it's time, Geralt. Yennefer's been keeping things from you, I thought you would have understood, but unfortunately—"

"Tissaia, I don't understand what game you are playing," Geralt leaned forward, his palm placed on the table, his eyes narrowed at her, his shoulders tense.

"Geralt," you whispered, "let her speak."

The White Wolf grumbled under his breath, but didn't say anything else. His shoulders remained tense, heat radiating from his body; that you could feel but you were too curious to listen to the sorceress to feel any different.

"There are certain spells that can take a human's life," Tissaia began, her solemn eyes now fixed on you, "they are strong enough to destroy a human body. Because a human body isn't strong enough to take it." She leaned forward, letting her elbows rest against the table as she picked a piece of red meat and tossed it into her mouth, chewing on it and swallowing it. "The point is, the spell that Yennefer used, to grow his child within you wasn't an ordinary spell. No human can endure the power of that spell, and come out unscathed. You did."

You turned towards Geralt and shot him a look, before turning back to the sorceress again, "I don't get it. I survived the spell. Which is why this happened," your hand flew to your belly, and you looked down at your stomach, feeling Geralt's gaze on it too, before the two of you turned towards her again and she nodded.

"You think it was a mere coincidence that Yennefer picked you, out of all the women in the world, to carry that baby?" She pointed to your stomach.

"I needed the coin."

"The coin was a facade, child."

She turned towards the Witcher and he blinked, "You didn't know it too, Wolf. She never mentioned [Y/N] before, did she? I doubt it. Yennefer never betrays her own plans."

"Get to the fucking point, Tissaia," Geralt growled, and you shifted uncomfortably towards him, agreeing with him on this. Tissaia was making you uncomfortable.

"Twenty five years back, Queen Calanthe gave birth to a girl, this was before Pavetta was born. Someone stole the baby the night she was born, but they never found her."

"I think we should leave." Geralt intervened.

You turned towards Geralt, confused and helpless, before turning back to the sorceress again.

"That baby had the Elder Blood running through her veins. She had immense power, power that could disrupt everything around her by just one scream from her throat."

"What happened to the baby?" You asked; your heart thumping wildly against your chest.

"That baby grew up until Yennefer of Vengerberg found her in Redania, and a Witcher put his child in her."

Tissaia found herself a smile, you couldn't help but gasp, and Geralt just deadpanned, "Well, fuck."

"You're telling me that I'm the Princess of Cintra? Gods you must be mistaken, I don't know anything about magic. I'm just a commoner that got trapped by these two for coin." You turned towards him, giving him a glare, and he grunted in response.

"You were never trapped, you chose to do it."

"You think Yennefer wants to be a mother?" Tissaia spoke again, but this time, her eyes were on Geralt. You glanced from him to her, and then back, until you had your eyes fixed on his uncomfortable form. His fingers had clenched into a fist. "Combine the Elder blood, with a Witcher's blood. No sorceress is powerful enough against that baby." She pointed towards your stomach, and instinctively, your palm flew towards it, trying to shield your bump from the woman's eyes. You felt Geralt stiffen too; as he shifted towards you, his own protective side spilling out at those words as he glanced at you.

"If you knew your lover well, White Wolf, you would have known. Her lust for power would never end. She wants that baby because that baby is the key for her to slide to the top."

Geralt swallowed thickly. His palm came to rest against the table in front of him, his grip tightening over it, his knuckles almost turning white. He knew Yennefer was power hungry; but never had he realized that her hunger was now out of control. He felt stupid now, and more than stupid, he felt relentless rage, because she had played him. All this while, he thought that she wanted his child— but all she wanted was a Witcher's child, mixed with the Elder Blood, so she could have, for herself, the most powerful magic yielder in the form of a child.

"It wasn't a coincidence then, that Yennefer wanted me to carry this baby," you whispered to Geralt who just looked at you blankly. You then turned to Tissaia, who tossed a piece of red meat into her mouth once again, her eyes fixed on you, "What power does Yennefer have over me?"

She smirked slightly, as though she had thought about this quite a lot.

"Well, your powers need to be harnessed, which is why she has an edge over you. Once you do learn to harness your powers, Yennefer wouldn't be a problem." She suddenly closed her eyes, and her lips started moving as she began chanting something and your eyebrow shot up. Within seconds, she was already done. "She wouldn't be able to track you for a while. You can go wherever you want. The effect of the spell should last five to six days."

Somewhere outside, a rooster suddenly crowed, signalling that it was morning. Tissaia de Vries suddenly lowered her cloak so that it covered her face.

"It's dawn, I will take your leave, [Y/N]. Find me whenever you need me," You watched, numbly, only nodding your head at her as she stood up, and placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly until she was already out of sight. You kept sitting there, bellowed in silence, both of you breathing laboured, lost in your own thoughts.

Geralt finally pulled you out of your thoughts, "A Princess? I need a fucking drink."

Geralt stood up and walked away, to get himself a drink. You just kept staring at him, too shocked to even react, or process anything. This was all too much to process in a single night. You were a Princess, and not just any Princess, you had Elder Blood running through your veins.

Your baby —

You pressed your palm to your mouth, rather abruptly and stood up, dashing towards the exit of the tavern.

Geralt's head shot towards you like missile as he watched you leave.

You ran outside, Geralt's heavy footsteps racing behind you as you bent over in a corner and began throwing up.

Geralt's warm palm fixed on your lower back; and you felt him pull your hair away from your face, holding them up for you while his other hand ran soothing circles over your lower back.

You weakly stood up straighter, but your legs suddenly felt weak which is why you held on to the wall for support, as you wiped the corners of your mouth with your sleeve.

"Too much information for one night," You muttered in a low voice, your eyes not meeting Geralt's.

"Not the only one," Geralt responded, his lips twitching with humour, but that immediately washed away when you tried taking a step towards him but found yourself unable to hold yourself on your feet. He reached out, grabbing you by your shoulders to steady you to your feet.

Finally, letting out a soft exhale, the Witcher bent, and lifted you up in his arms, almost effortlessly, his hand holding you from the base of your thighs. Your hand wrapped around the Witcher's neck almost reflexively, as he held you against his chest and began walking back.

The first few minutes were quiet, until you finally spoke— your fingers unknowingly playing with the Witcher's hair.

"This complicates things."

He hummed in response but chose to stay quiet; so you continued.

"Where does this leave you, Geralt? Because I have .. already made up my mind."

A silence took over the two of you, causing you to flick your gaze to the side of his face. His lips were pursed together, as though he was thinking. You didn't stop toying with the strands of his hair, and neither did he stop you. Finally, he exhaled, and craned his neck slightly lower so he could look at you.

"And what did you decide?"

You bit the insides of your cheeks nervously. Geralt had been nice to you, until today, if you were to ignore the first few weeks you had known him. You had seen the change in the man; having grown from cold to lukewarm towards you, but that didn't mean you didn't know what Yennefer meant to him. Now, would Geralt really let you go? Especially.. if you were carrying his baby?

"I .. I want to go home.. to Cintra.. I want to see my mother, I want to.. see my kingdom, and I want to learn to harness .. my magic.." You whispered.

Geralt nodded, but he didn't reply.

He slowly let you down, and you looked up to realize that you had been so distracted talking to Geralt, you hadn't realized that you were standing on the bottom most step that led to the sorceress' mansion.

"I won't stop you."

You abruptly stopped walking when you heard those words, your legs almost freezing when you felt that he wasn't behind you anymore. You turned back around to find him standing on the bottom most step while you had already made your way to the door.

"Thank you, Geralt. For everything."

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @babypink224221

Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox or comments. ✨

#geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x y/n

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dionnaea · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found | Yelena x Reader

pairing: yelena x reader

warnings: upset reader, yelena is pretty awkward cause she doesn’t know what feelings are, pure fluff near the end

wc: 1.1k

a/n: ok, i hope you like this! i didn’t want to make the bad day too specific, so i instead tried to focus on the reader and yelena’s relationship + how they both deal with their feelings. yelena is a pretty complicated character, so i found it super fascinating to write her! thanks for the request!!

request: Could you maybe write yelena x reader where yelena is comforting the reader who has a awful day. :)

attack on titan masterlist | general masterlist

It was late. Too late to be out of the Marleyan barracks and crossing onto the section where only Paradis residents were allowed to camp, too late to be sneaking around to meet a girl, and definitely too late for the sound of your sobs to be echoing from behind your wooden door.

Yelena was hesitant. Did she knock? Did she leave you be? She had never really had to deal with tears before. Anybody she met who had cried had soon disappeared, and salt had never stained her own cheeks. This was new territory, something she had felt would happen all day but terrified to face it.

When she did gain the courage to lightly tap against the wood and you cracked the door open, it wasn’t the tears that made Yelena uncomfortable but the expression that marred your features. Your normally bright eyes were agitated and red, surely from rubbing away too many tears. Your soft lips were battered from worrying them between your teeth, a habit that you had had since Yelena met you. Your hair was a mess, your shirt was wrinkled, and for the first time in her life, Yelena looked away from you, wondering why exactly she felt this ache in her chest at the sight of your distress.

Her chest always ached when she was around you, her heart skipping a second too fast, her lungs tightening when you gave her the look that meant nothing more than you were here. But now, too unnerved by your morphed features and her own reaction, Yelena’s chest was aching in pain, in distress for your wellbeing. She forced herself to look back at you, knowing you were probably hurting just as much.

“Are you okay?” It came out a bit dry, but Yelena was just glad she managed to push the words from her lips. She realized it was a stupid question when you let out a rough laugh, but despite her stupidity, you opened the door wider, motioning for her to enter.

To Yelena, this was more than an invitation inside. This was an invitation inside you.

Yelena cleared her throat, still a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation as she took a seat beside you on the bed. “So… Do you… What, um…”

This was obviously not her forte, and you laughed, a real one this time, amused at the woman’s attempt to provide comfort. Yelena raised her eyebrows, and you laughed more. “You,” a giggle, “you really don’t know what to say, do you?”

Yelena was unamused, you could tell from the slight downturn of her lips, but she was also curious, wanting to understand just what exactly was going on. “No,” she stated, unashamed in her lack of experience with emotion. “I don’t.” Your features softened as the blonde flicked her head to the side to knock her bangs out of her eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing in particular,” you replied before sighing. “It‘s just been a terrible day.” The tears were welling up again, and you closed your eyes, trying to fight them off as you knew it would just make the woman more uncomfortable. “I-I just… It’s just sucked.” You bit your bottom lip, tugging it in between your teeth. Before you could do more damage to the already injured skin, a light touch grazed your lip, fingers grasping your chin delicately. Her hand was gentle, but it was giving an unspoken order and you were inclined to obey, releasing your lip into her care.

For a moment, you stayed there, eyes closed, soaking in the feeling of her skin on yours. A tiny point of contact, but heat flooded from it, spreading through your body like a forest fire. When she brushed her thumb against your lip, you let out a small gasp, opening your eyes in surprise at the electricity that came from the motion. Her eyes were staring directly into yours, a darkness swirling in them that you would undoubtedly get lost in as soon as you made the choice to dive in. But, you thought, to be lost in someone else was the most magnificent form of confusion.

“What… What are you doing?” You dared to speak, hoping the movement of your mouth wouldn’t make Yelena move her hand. Instead, her grip tightened.

“I’m not… the best at this. I don’t know what the right thing to say or do is, and I don’t know how to help.” She took a breath in, her gaze steady and piercing. “But I know that when you touch me, I feel better. I know when you smile or laugh, especially if it’s me causing it,” she added that part with a mumble, “I feel better. I know that when I’m with you, I feel better. So, I hope I can do the same for you. All I want is for you to feel better.” The tears were gathering in your eyes again, and Yelena reeled back, removing her hand in case she had gone too far.

You leaned forward without thinking, craving her skin to be connected with yours once more. “You do,” you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “You do make me feel better.” You watched the way Yelena’s body relaxed, first in her eyebrows before spreading to her shoulders and all the way down to her toes. Slowly, carefully, you took her hand, threading your fingers together, her calloused palm pressing against yours. You saw the unasked question behind her irises, and you answered it. “I’m okay now.”

“Good.” Her voice was firm, but it was obvious that she cared, relief being revealed in the way her fingers squeezed yours. “Can I… touch you more?”

It was an innocent question, a request for affirmation that you felt the same way she did. And when you granted her permission with a nod, she was quick to act, but her motions were deliberate in their gentleness. Her free hand came up, brushing along your temple, trailing the lines of your cheekbones and the slope of your nose, gliding across your lips, before finally stopping to caress your cheek. It was tender, a side of Yelena you had never seen before but one that you definitely wanted to see again.

The heat was back, though it never really left, and flooded your cheeks, and Yelena’s chest felt once more, filled with the gentle ache that only shows itself when a person is in love. And as you sat there gazing at her in the flicker of candlelight, you decided it was okay to be lost because you knew she would find you.

And so, you dove into the darkness, letting it wrap you in its arms, tie a blindfold across your eyes, and pull you into the void known as love.

#yelena x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #yelena #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #mere writes

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yellowsuitcase · 4 years

Text

Cycle Comfort

Request (wattpad): Could you make one where Y/n gets her period in class or something and she’s really embarrassed so Draco, her boyfriend of two years comforts her and looks after her while she’s upset about it?

A/N: I’m afraid this might not be my best work, but it was a cute idea and I knew exactly what I wanted to write so I just sat down and got to work. I apologize if it’s not the greatest, my brain is fried. Hope you enjoy! (It’s super fluffy)

Summary: Y/N gets her period and Draco comforts her.

Waring(s): Mentions of period/menstrual cycle, cramps

Word Count: 1.7k

Y/N felt a sudden pang in her abdomen. It pulled her focus away from Professor Binns’ lecture. Another twinge of pain, this one stretched longer than the first. She leaned forward in her chair, feeling the desperate need to curl up into the fetal position. The pain in her lower stomach was growing in intensity by the minute.

Her hunched over posture caught the attention of her boyfriend, Draco. He knew something was wrong just by looking at her. Luckily, he was sat next to her and was able to lean over to whisper in her ear. “What’s wrong, love?” he asked softly. Y/N responded with a small groan. This made Draco begin to panic. “Y/N, are you okay?”

She slowly straightened her spine and turned to the concerned blonde boy beside her. “I think I’m onmyperiod,” she mumbled. Draco raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t quite catch that, love,” he said. Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She glanced around the room before parting her lips to speak again.

“I think… I’m on my period,” she whispered. “And I don’t have any...products,” she continued, the look of embarrassment beginning to settle on her facial features. Draco grabbed her hand and kissed it comfortingly. “Are you in pain?” he asked. His girlfriend nodded curtly. She was making a diligent effort to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Draco, I think I’ve already bled through my skirt,” she whined; her face was now beet red. Draco’s grip on her hand tightened. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I have a plan.”

To Y/N’s surprise, Draco’s hand shot into the air, catching Professor Binns off guard; hardly anybody ever had a question in his class. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked. Draco cleared his throat and, in a calm and smooth voice, said, “Y/L/N’s stomach hurts. Could I escort her to the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey? I suspect someone slipped puking pastilles into her drink at lunch. If that’s the case, then at any minute now, she’ll be vomiting everywhere.”

Professor Binns scowled at the mental image of upchuck all over his clean classroom. He nodded his head. “Yes, you may take her,” he said while shooing them with his hand. Draco rose to his feet and helped Y/N to hers. He made sure to stand behind her as they exited the classroom, shielding her behind from their classmates’ gazes.

Once they’d left the classroom and saw nobody in the corridors, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Dray,” she said.

“Of course. I figured you’d want to go to your dormitory to get whatever you need, but perhaps we should stop by Madam Pomfrey’s afterward? You said you were in pain.”

As if the universe had heard Draco, just then, Y/N’s abdomen clenched with another oncoming cramp. She grimaced and put her hand over her belly. “I’m fine, Draco. I just need to get cleaned up, that’s all,” she replied. Draco’s frown deepened when he saw his girlfriend's obvious discomfort. She looked quite the opposite of fine to him. He pulled her in close for a tight hug and a quick kiss.

“You’re in pain, darling. You should at least see what Pomfrey can give you. I don’t want you to continue to walk around in pain all day.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, but Draco stopped her with a finger to her lips before she could. “Don’t even try to tell me your cramps aren’t that bad because I know for a fact that they are since you told me yourself. Now, go do what you need to do, and I’ll be waiting for you outside the Hospital Wing. Alright?” Draco asked.

Y/N smiled at him and flung herself into his arms. She snuggled her face into his chest and hummed in content. Draco chuckled lightly and planted a sweet kiss on her head. “Go,” he whispered as he released her from his embrace. But Y/N still hadn’t let go of Draco. He sighed, pretending to be defeated. Little did Y/N know that Draco’s hands were hovering next to her sides, preparing to strike.

“Draco!” Y/N gasped as her boyfriend began to tickle her, causing her to burst into uncontrollable laughter that echoed throughout the hallway. He didn’t torture her forever though, he knew she was already uncomfortable enough. So he ceased his torment and sent her on her way.

------------

After classes had ended, Y/N found Draco at their usual meet up spot. Usually, he’d be sitting down, quietly surveying the corridor. But today, he was on his feet, his shoulders were tense. He was on high alert. When he caught sight of Y/N, he rushed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders as he looked her up and down.

“Are you feeling any better? Madam Pomfrey did say that that potion might not last the entire day,” Draco said. He was visibly concerned. Y/N smiled at her boyfriend and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Draco smiled softly, but the look of worry was still stuck on his face.

“The pain started to return about an hour ago. I’m gonna head up to my dorm for some rest. Thank you for your concern, though, my love. You’re too sweet, sometimes. If only the rest of the school knew what a softie Draco Malfoy really is,” she mused. Draco rolled his eyes and removed his hands from Y/N’s shoulders.

“What if we went to the library instead?” he asked.

Y/N gave him a look. “I don’t know, I’d really rather take a nap in my bed…”

“I have a feeling you’ll like what I have planned much more than a simple nap,” Draco said hopefully. Y/N looked at him skeptically, doubting his words. “Do you trust me?” Draco asked.

“Well, of course, I trust you but—”

“Then let’s go, gotta get a good spot!” he said excitedly as he gripped Y/N’s hand and dragged her down the hallway. She yelped in surprise but followed after her boyfriend, wondering what the hell he was planning.

When they reached the library, Y/N noticed that the couches were already taken by some second years. “Draco, let’s just go somewhere else. Since when do you want to go to the library anyway?” she asked. Draco ignored her and walked up to the second years. They looked up when he cleared his throat. Their faces paled when they saw who it was. “Up,” Draco said simply. The children scrambled to their feet and hurried away from the couches. When they passed Y/N, she apologized on behalf of her boyfriend. Draco shook his head at his girlfriend’s actions.

“Such a Hufflepuff you are,” he mused as she walked over to the couches and sat down next to him. Y/N rolled her eyes. “I would hope so as Hufflepuff is my house.”

Draco smiled and put his hands around Y/N’s waist and pulled her close so that she was in between his legs, her back resting against his chest. Y/N resisted his pull and turned around to look at him. “Draco, what are you doing?” she asked. Draco shushed her and rubbed her tense shoulders, gently lowering her back down onto his chest. Y/N gave in and allowed herself to let herself recline onto her blonde boy. When she got settled, Draco’s hands found her abdomen, where they tentatively began to massage it. His apprehension, however, faded once he heard a content sigh from Y/N.

“How did you know to do this?” she asked him softly. Her cramps were dwindling with every gently yet firm push of Draco’s fingers.

“I overheard some guys talking about how they’d do this for their girlfriends, so I thought I’d give it a shot. Is it helping?” he asked.

Y/N nodded eagerly. “It feels wonderful, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll do this for you as long as you need tonight, and tomorrow, and until your cycle is over,” Draco declared, making Y/N chuckle.

“That’s very kind of you, Dray. I appreciate it,” Y/N replied. She felt a kiss on her head, then her ear, then her neck. A smile crept onto her face. She felt so loved, so lucky to have a boyfriend as caring as Draco, even if she was the only one who knew about this side of him. Y/N turned around in his hold. He raised an eyebrow in concern.

“What’s wrong? Am I pushing too hard?” he asked, panicked. Y/N shook her head and pressed a kiss to his soft lips. He kissed her back tenderly as if he was afraid he’d break her. When she pulled away, she hummed happily.

“I’m so in love with you, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco’s face turned pink, but that didn’t stop his witty reply. “Is that so, Y/L/N? Well, I hate to inform you, but it just so happens that I love you more.”

“Not true; I definitely love you more.”

“Hmm, pretty sure that’s a lie, love.”

Y/N shook her head adamantly. “It most certainly is not. I love you more; just accept it.”

Just then, Madam Pince walked over to the couple and glared at them. “Shh!” she said. Y/N nodded her head in apology. When Pince left, she delivered a light wack to Draco's chest. “You’re too loud,” she berated. Draco smiled playfully, ignoring the angry look on his girlfriend’s face.

“If I let you win, will you go back to resting?” Draco asked. Y/N pointed her nose to the sky. “Perhaps… but you must admit that you, in fact, do not love me more because it is impossible for anyone to love someone as much as I love you.”

Draco couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. He did his best to cover it up with a cough and gently urged Y/N to lay back down. “You win, darling. You love me more,” he said. Y/N smirked and snuggled back into his chest, and Draco resumed his massage.

Within a few minutes, Y/N was fast asleep. Draco stroked her face lovingly. At that moment, it was just her and him. He treasured moments like these. The sight of his girl resting peacefully on top of him filled his heart with warmth. He hadn’t felt this cozy and comfortable in a long time. Deciding to give her one last kiss, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her soft hair. “I love you most,” he whispered.

#Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x yn #draco imagine #draco fluff #request #harry potter fanfiction #period cramps #period #draco malfoy x reader

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 12

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: slight-NSFW

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Twelve: Day Dreams, Night Terrors

The kiss was short – sweet – merely a brush of their lips before Elain pulled back an inch to meet his eye. Lucien was not even sure it had happened. He had felt a pressure on his mouth but the notion that Elain Archeron had just kissed him seemed to go through one ear and out the other.

Surely not. Surely not.

But she was holding onto his shoulders, looking up at him with such an excited concern that he couldn’t help but feel himself give way. Elain had kissed him, and thus finally, some formality broke down between them. Lucien bowed his head and caught her lips before the moment could be ruined by their own stupidity.

He felt the slight intake of breath his mate took before he brushed his lips against her own, pressing into her with a bit more firmness than she had. The arm resting by his side came up to brush against her delicate jaw, his other hand bracing himself on the tree behind her.

After the first brush, he proceeded with a second, then a third. Then, he was pushing his lips against hers in their first, full-bodied kiss. As he did so, he pressed his fingers against her jaw, tilting her head up and back so that he may have fuller access.

Kissing her was thoughtless. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and as their lips began to move against one another, Lucien had the feeling that he had done this a thousand times before.

Nothing she did was lost on him. The way her hands shyly dragged from his shoulders to his chest, nor how he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The way she still had to stand some-what on her tiptoes to reach him. Each delicate noise that left her mouth, the fragile gasps to the high hums – he noticed it all.

He could’ve done it forever. He could’ve stayed within this moment till the stars went out one by one and the world was nothing but dust and ash. The warmth spreading through his chest was golden and warm, and felt like the light of a thousand suns and Lucien swore he could feel pure love racing through his veins.

Except in some way, it was stronger than love. It was the feeling of the glory of fate – the feeling of finding a home.

Lucien was just about to take his tongue and taste her when he felt the kiss come to a natural end. Even though he’d never admit it, even after that chaste embrace, he felt as though he needed a break. There was so much emotion raging within him as he reached a peak of happiness he had not experienced in a long time, perhaps ever.

Slowly, torturously, he pulled his lips back as he rested his forehead against hers. In the kiss, their bodies had moved closer together, and he felt her leg slotted between his own, their chests touching as well as their souls.

For a few laboured moments, all that could be heard between them were their heavy, shared breaths. At least until Lucien couldn’t take it any longer and pulling back, he looked at her, as it was his favourite thing to do. His mate kept her eyes closed as she seemed to focus on her breath, her hands having come to gently hold the wrist of the one hand holding her jaw.

She was everything to him. From the first time, he’d laid eyes on her to this moment, to every one in between. She was everything to him, she was his purpose.

His breath. His sword. His home. His heart.

Though this exhilarated him to some degree he was not necessarily scared, for he knew as long as he ventured down this path with her hand in his, it would all make perfect sense.

Finally, Elain opened her eyes and looked at him with curiosity and hope. The timid doe coming to trust the crafty fox.

“Will you still gift me the moon?” Lucien laughed, loud and bright, before quickly lowering his head to catch her lips with his.

“I will bring you every star in the sky,” Lucien murmured against her lips. “And if they do not shine bright enough for you, then I shall kill the Gods themselves for having displeased you.”

He heard Elain’s delicate gasp of breath and continued to kiss her for several more moments, unable to stop himself as he slowly got drunk on the feeling of her touch and the sound of her sighs. Slowly and with remorse, Lucien pulled back a second time, both his hands now against her jaw, holding her to himself.

Elain took several breaths, simply looking at him before she sighed, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Lucien said plainly, lowering his head.

“But-” Elain protested.

“Just shut up.”

This time Lucien bent and pressed his lips against the soft, golden plain of her neck. A small sound escaped his mate, something akin to a whimper and he groaned in response as his body reacted to the sound.

Slowly, so that his mate would feel every touch of his lips, Lucien left a trail of burning kisses downwards to the sweetest, most intimate crook of her neck, where he burrowed his nose and lips. He kissed her there for several moments, feeling her squirm and listening to her whimper before he sucked the skin taut. There was some feral, beastly part of himself that wanted nothing more than to mark her perfect skin, not in a way that hurt, but just enough that he may lay claim to her – that he may mark her as his.

“Lucien-” Elain gasped, her hands burrowing themselves in his hair. Lucien continued, kissing along her shoulder to the strap of her dress.

His instinct was to slowly drop the strap off her shoulder so that it would leave a trail of goosebumps, but he hesitated when he reached the fabric. If Lucien began to undress Elain, in the state they were both in, there would be no stopping them.

“We should stop.” Lucien finally concluded, placing one final kiss on her collarbone before standing straight and yet, not moving away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elain flushed, her eyes skirting away from his. A jolt of anger coursed through him. Because she shouldn’t be apologising, and he knew exactly who was to blame for her feeling like she must.

“Don’t apologise, ‘Lainy,” Lucien husked, reaching and taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his mouth. She turned back and watched him with wide eyes. “I’m only stopping because-” Lucien took her hand and wrapped it around the side of his neck. “-when I have you I want you lain out on silken sheets in a heavily warded room, in which no one can hear the things I’ll do to you, nor the filthy things I say.”

Elain seemed to only stare at him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and alarmed and yet, he could read the excitement there.

“Oh…right…okay…” Elain eventually stuttered, and a beautiful blush began across her cheeks and nose.

Lucien had another urge to kiss her.

“Do you, um, do you want to talk about…” Lucien said, slightly bashfully. Again, he thought of Tamlin poking fun at him at the sight of Lucien tripping on his tongue around a female. It was unheard of, he was the silver-tongued fox, infamous for making others blush and yet there never being a crack in his mask – literally.

“No,” Elain surprised Lucien by shaking her head, “We’ve both said a lot today I think…I think this is just nice for now.” Lucien nodded.

“I’m sorry, by the way. Some of the things I said…”

“Me too…”

They shared another look and Lucien, again, really wanted to kiss her. Though really, that wasn’t a new feeling.

They stood like that for a while, merely just absorbing the moment – the sound of the water gushing in the river, the melodies of the numerous birds, hidden in the trees. The feeling of one another, of the fingers and thumbs brushing strands of hair away from foreheads and skirting along the columns of throats.

It was like existing within a melody, or a beautiful painting. Together, in this moment, they were art – who could blame them for wanting to stay a little while.

Eventually, Lucien stepped back, but not without extending his hand which Elain took immediately. Together, they walked to the lip of the water, their intertwined fingers swinging shyly between them. They were both so elated over the small staple of intimacy and yet, it was unusual and foreign, at least for now.

“We got a little, ahem, distracted but that was some seriously good winnowing.” Lucien smiled down at her, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

“Really?” The excitement in her eyes made his heart ache.

“Yes! Of course, it normally takes fae years to accomplish winnowing a few feet but, I assumed you’d be more skilled than most.”

“Really…I…I wouldn’t think anyone thought that of me,” Elain said shyly, looking down at the water where little orange fish were swimming in circles deep below the furious gushing.

“I’ve always thought that of you,” Lucien said in a stern enough voice that no one could mistake his words for anything but the truth. And it was, true, he’d always known of her talent.

He’d always seen her, even when he could not speak to her.

Just then, Elain’s stomach growled loudly, and an adorably mortified expression came onto her features as her free hand slapped over her stomach.

“Oh, my Mother!” She gasped, her cheeks flushing even redder.

Lucien just tilted his head back laughing. The fact Elain still cared about appearing as a Lady even after their rather improper embrace against a tree trunk delighted him to no end.

“Hungry?” Lucien grinned down at her, to which she slapped at his chest playfully.

“Breakfast was a long time ago,” she huffed, though she was still smiling. Suddenly, Lucien remembered something. Turning away from the lip of the water, Lucien looked back to the tree in which they had just been braced against.

“What?” Elain hummed.

“I just want to check something,” Lucien tugged her along. Now that he had her hand in hers, he wasn’t going to dare let go.

After a moment of quiet assessment, Lucien realised he was right. The tree – their tree – bore fruit. They were little round purple baubles, about the size of Elain’s fist. The tree was centuries old, and the lowest fruit was far too far for Elain, but Lucien could reach it no problem.

Reaching up, Lucien plucked two before looking at the fruit in his hand.

“I’m not sure if they’re safe to eat,” he murmured, “I’ll have one first and then, y’know, if I’m still alive it should be okay.” Elain just tipped her head back and laughed.

“Lucien…they’re figs!” Lucien merely glared down at the suspicious fruit. Elain just laughed loudly. “They’re fine, I promise.”

Elain smiled; she took one of the figs out of his hand. She then removed the hand that was holding Lucien’s, he went to complain until she turned and began to slide her hand into his pocket. It was Lucien’s turn for his breath to catch in his throat as her small hand rubbed against his upper thigh. His mouth went dry, and he had absolutely no idea what was happening until she pulled his small knife out of his pocket, the one he’d been using on the apple.

She proceeded to carve into the Fig, cutting it into several pieces. Pocketing the knife, she held out a slice to Lucien. For a moment, Lucien was stunned that she would offer him a piece before feeding herself, and then he was shocked at the fact she was offering him food. Despite his heart galloping into an elevated pace, Lucien knew that Elain’s mind must’ve skipped the whole ‘food means an accepted bond’ fae custom. It was only when Lucien did not immediately take the fruit that Elain’s eyes widened as she realised what she was doing.

“I’d rather not,” Lucien said quickly, with a surprising amount of ease, “Human food is barely tolerable as it is, I can’t imagine their fruit is much better.”

Elain nodded at him, her eyes still on the piece of fruit. And just like that they were once more confronted by the endless complications of their relationship, the weight that had been placed on them before they’d even had a chance to properly introduce themselves.

Lucien shoved it all to the side. He didn’t care. Elain had kissed him today – that was enough to give him enough hope for a lifetime.

“Eat,” he nodded at the fruit. There was something about his mate being hungry that was making his skin itch, it was like an overwhelming urge to go out hunting or something despite there being a warm meal waiting for them the minute they got back.

It was a need to provide and care for, and Lucien didn’t mind it one bit.

He watched as she wrapped her lips around the inner part of the fruit which was pink with yellow seeds. Slowly, she both bit and sucked on the fruit, the flesh coming away easily into her mouth. Lucien swallowed thickly, his body responding eagerly to the sight of her fruit-stained lips.

Elain met his eye instinctively, as though she could hear his thoughts, and he watched as her eyes lapped into a darker shade of brown.

“We should head back,” Lucien husked, in a pained voice.

“Good idea,” she said, dryly.

***

Lucien had winnowed the two of them back to the front door, holding her hand the entire time. It was only when they entered the foyer did Lucien agree to part with her as Elain wished to change her dress before they ate.

After she’d disappeared upstairs he’d stood waiting by the window with a glass of whiskey, trying to not picture Elain pulling off her white dress, nor her getting into the bath and lathering herself in soap and running a damp rag across her skin.

She’d looked better today, he’d decided. Out there in the sun, throwing her hair into a bun as she focused and worked. The sweat making her skin glisten, the heat making her cheeks flush. He’d practically watched as she browned slightly over the course of their lesson, freckles popping up in clusters along her arms.

Gods, she was beautiful.

It seemed to be the most recurring thought in his mind these days. But she truly was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, and she only seemed to grow in splendour. There were times where he wished he were a painter, just so he may be able to capture her essence. When something exists as magnificent as that, sometimes all you want to do is reflect it in your own creations.

Lucien was impatient as he stood, but merely because everything around him now reminded him of her.

Looking out the window he could see the gardens with her Honeysuckle mountains near the stone walls. The breeze made him think of how her hair danced in the wind. The distant birdsong reminded him of her laugh. The warmth of the sun on his skin made him think of her hands, splayed across his chest.

Then there was the kiss.

Gods, that kiss.

He hadn’t been expecting it, to say the least. Whilst he knew that there remained an ocean between them in terms of complications, the waters didn’t look so murky anymore. They were bright and clear, and through the glassy aquamarine, Lucien could see all kinds of thriving life.

The bond was satiated and strangely, silent between his ribs. Where there used to be an agonising, dull tautness was now a feeling of relaxation and comfort. He could still feel the string, leading upwards to where Elain – his mate – was changing, but it seemed to float in the air rather than bind.

Footsteps pushed Lucien to down his whiskey, setting the glass on the windowsill as he turned back to watch his mate enter the room.

Gods, something had changed between them, because she had never looked so impossibly lovely.

The dress was an amethyst cream chiffon that floated around her, making her look as though she had truly descended from the heavens. Her hair was unleashed, slightly wild with the head.

He was right, she was tanner, and there were a few freckles now clustered across her nose. Gods she was…

She was…

“Perfect,” he hadn’t meant to say it, and it truly only came out as a whisper, but Elain’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink as her fingers began to twist together in front of her dress.

Lucien cleared his throat before walking over to their usual dining table, Elain followed close behind and Lucien promptly pulled back a chair for her to sit. Elain gave him a shy, pleased look as she sank into the chair, to which Lucien winked with a smirk as he circled and sat opposite her.

Within seconds food was placed in front of them with a bustle of maids and cooks. Lucien felt Elain watching him as he avidly chatted with several of the maids and even the chef. He’d taken a liking to the residents, and he couldn’t help but feel rather in his element as he smiled and made friendly chat.

Though, he truly wished to only talk to one person and eventually, his patience ran out as he softly sent the maids away and turned to his mate.

“Sorry, I often get carried away with talking,” he said, rather shyly as he dug in.

“No, I…I like it,” her voice was butter and honey, and it was making him melt.

“Well, the skill of having a loose jaw is not always a blessing, at least not in the fae world.” He grinned before tapping his ruined cheek with the handle of his fork. Elain’s brows furrowed slightly, as her eyes drifted across his scar and eye.

Not for the first time, Lucien felt a wave of self-consciousness run over him. It was strange to think that he himself was not yet used to having the scar, given that shortly after he received it, Aramantha had bound that horrid mask to his face.

He guessed he was over it now but, being fae is difficult for this exact reason. As Lucien had only been scared for a small portion of his life and before that he’d had centuries of being known as the most handsome son of Autumn. What he had lacked in martial prospects he had made up for in aesthetic. With his consistently tan skin and healthy, long hair, he’d caught the eye of many fae. Where all his brothers were pale with soft features, Lucien was tall and dark with a large, sharp nose and strong, angled brows.

Before Aramantha or Tamlin, or even Jes, Lucien had often been the talk of the Court. For he had rarely taken lovers, and many wondered what it would take for him to wish to bed you.

Though, after the tragedy of Jes, in his early days as Spring Emissary, he had been going through fae at a pace that some said put Helion to shame. His days of being compared to the High Lord of Day continued into his scarred days and even when he had the mask – but by then, sex was not merely an extension of being the most handsome son of Autumn, but rather Lucien trying to prove to himself that he had not changed.

That he was still…him.

“Do you like it?” Lucien said after a few moments of silence. He was expecting Elain’s eyes to shyly flick away from where they’d been tracing his scar, but instead, she merely tilted her head.

“Liking scars seems a difficult concept,” she merely responded.

“Oh? How so?”

“I do not wish for such an awful thing to have happened to you,” Elain pushed a few things around on her plate, “But, and maybe it’s terrible of me, I can’t deny that I think your scar makes you look indefinitely more handsome.”

That…he was not expecting,

“Oh?” He husked after a second. Elain paused her eating to meet him dead in the eye.

“You look magical,” was all she said, and Lucien felt his heart shudder. “Like everything I shouldn’t want…but everything that I ultimately do….”

A heavy silence fell between them, both of them pausing in their eating as they made eye contact. It was almost as though now that they had kissed, the pre-existing tension was now insufferable.

As Lucien looked at her, the world fell away, and he was utterly consumed by the sight of her. Again, all he could think about were the things he wanted to do with her. Images flooded his mind, of taking her up against the wall, of spreading her on this table. He was aching just to feel her skin against his, to feel her warmth and to hear her sighs. He wanted nothing more than to hike up her endless skirts and find purchase in her folds. The idea of slipping a finger into her had his pants uncomfortably tight.

“Spring?” Elain said, breaking Lucien’s chain of thought and causing his mind to temporarily stutter.

“Spring – oh – spring, yes,” Lucien took a long drink, “I’m leaving to head to Spring, and I’d like for you to join me.”

“I’d love to,” she said without hesitation. Lucien merely grinned at her as he nodded, turning back to his food.

“You’ll like spring, I just know it.”

***

It was a vision, or a dream.

The experience was familiar by this point – the feeling of the world being tangible and yet distant, as though everything were real but you, as the viewer, were merely a ghost. Elain could feel her presence there in the world, taking up a certain kind of space, and yet she felt forgotten by the atoms themselves.

It was a dark room, cold with the overwhelming air of loneliness. Elain could see walls made of wood and stone with windows up high near the ceiling which allowed columns of moonlight to pass through. These bands of silver shadows gave way to very little. There were some general shapes of furniture, wooden chairs and bookshelves, but the large stone columns that ran the length of the room and made everything seem smaller and more complicated.

She was sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, and before her was a stone pillar that had been cut in half so that it came to her waist. It seemed to be an altar, and two beams of moonlight met from opposite sides of the room to light it up, the stone almost glowing. Upon the rocky surface was a single copper pin which, upon further inspection, Elain recognised as a hairpin.

Footsteps made her jerk with shock, the first sign of life in the seemingly dead building. The steps came from behind and echoed through the empty room, ringing back into her ears. Elain went to turn around but found that her body would not obey her, whether this was due to it being a vision or the fact she had been bound, she could not tell.

The footsteps neared in a slow, torturous pace that was full of cockiness – a person who knew they had power. Elain could only sit and listen as they approached, eyes roving over the room, trying to take in all that she could see.

Eventually, the being came to a stop directly behind her and Elain felt the thrumming magic that came from their presence. The magic’s strength washed over her like a fog, and it felt strangely familiar.

“As I was saying,” the being spoke. The voice was low, deeper than any Elain had heard before, even the Illyrians did not compare.

“The mind, particularly one like yours, is a weapon. It simply begs to be sharped…wielded…” The voice spoke with the casual certainty of an aged teacher. Elain, for some reason, was still focused on the hairpin. It was old, older than her and older than any building she’d ever stepped foot in – she suspected it was even older than Prythian.

“You have no idea what you can do, and it’s so frustrating to see the way peasants of this world have treated you.”

Elain’s mind was running a mile a minute. This could not be a dream then; it must be a vision – an insight of what was to come. But where was she? Who was this person? How did she get here and how would she get out?

“They’ve taught you so many terribly inaccurate things, much of our time together will be spent undoing the poisoned seeds they sowed.” Elain didn’t know who this ‘they’ was that the voice spoke of, but his voice had somehow turned even more deadly and frightening at their mention.

Elain then heard the dragging of wood on stone before there was the clatter of a chair being settled behind her to which she heard the being flop into with a gust of wind – or rather, dust.

It was then that hands came around her and ran from her upper arms down to her hands.

Looking down, Elain saw skin of truest grey with white scars that were reminiscent of lightning covering every inch of exposed skin. The being’s arms were powerful, around three times the size of Elain’s now seemingly dainty, pale hands. The being then wrapped his own hands around hers, his chest pressing into her back. He then tucked his head into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

“Your mind is not broken, Elain,” the being whispered in her ear. His voice now dark, seductive, full of a thousand promises she knew he’d do good on. “I often wonder how you must feel, to go from feeling so worthless to discovering you’re the most valuable being to exist, perhaps ever.” Another deep inhale paused the creature in his speech. “When the world discovers just who you are, there will be people carving themselves up in the streets for a single hair from your head. They will make relics of your clothes. Holidays out of your achievements.”

The hands began to intertwine with hers, grey meeting ivory, twisting like a wreath.

“A part of you has always known.” He was amused, and she felt his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You knew you there was something so much bigger than any of them running through your blood, that’s why you let them play without you, why you stayed in the gardens where no one could worry. But you’re more powerful than that silly little High Lord of stars and his mutant wife – your sister, of course. The only one who ever came close was that other sister of yours, Lady Death, though she foolishly bargained her gift, she will come to reject that choice, though, you already knew that.”

Elain did. Nesta would never admit to herself, but Elain had seen Nesta glaring at the mirror, wondering how much of a mutant she was to wish she’d kept the flames of ice. Because getting rid of her powers hadn’t gotten rid of the shadow of death that had marred her since birth. In the end, Nesta had run from the darkest part of herself rather than harnessing it.

“I won’t let you make the same mistake.” His voice was abruptly inside her head, a painful invasion, a reminder of what he could do and what he could take. His hands unentwined from her own and those long fingers wrapped themselves around her wrists. Elain only watched as his large, grey hands formed perfect cuffs around her now dainty wrists, and he squeezed with a threatening promise. She was manacled.

Elain went to beg him to stop but then the rush of power hit and she felt her head loll against his shoulder, her mouth parting as a wanton moan tore from her lips. The magic was ecstasy, a pure rush of power and possibility. Elain could feel it courses through her blood, pounding around her body turning her skin alive and electric – just like he had.

The thought of him caused Elain to struggle against the magic but the figure only tightened his grip. Elain could taste his annoyance in the air.

“What is it you want?” It was the first thing she’d said, and to Elain’s surprise, her voice was steady, calm, entirely satiated. The magic continued to course through her, lighting her up from within. It was beautiful, and it was so, so cursed.

The being’s lips returned to her ear, and she felt his tongue once more trace the shape, as though he were trying to memorise her. He stiffened behind her, his entire figure turning rigid as his grip on her wrists turned excruciating.

“I want him dead.” The voice was deadly, cruel, otherworldly – familiar.

Pain exploded within her in the form of black fire.

***

Elain lurched awake, her hands slamming into her chest as she tried to extinguish the fire within. It took several moments of her thrashing in her vacant sheets before she realised that it had not been real – or, at least not tangible.

The black fire she had felt was phantom, a ghost of pain that had brushed through her body via her mind. That…had not felt like a vision. Or, perhaps, she merely not understand the capacity of her powers.

It had felt so real. She had been there, in that dark room looking at that hairpin as that being had taunted her. It had not felt so much of a vision as an invasion. It had felt as though someone had poured something foreign into her brain and she’d temporarily been infected.

Elain shuddered and was up and out of bed before she could think of somewhere to go or something to do. There was a whispering in her mind, a murmuring of a name that she dare not think, and she strongly wished for silence.

But, as it so often did, her mind betrayed her as she went back to the ‘vision’. She hadn’t been afraid of him – the being with grey, mottled skin – as much as she was afraid of the things he had said. The simple statements of her power to which he believed her to have plenty.

More power than Rhysand, more than Feyre. Then there were the visions of Nesta, regretting her choice, regretting saving Feyre, Rhysand and Nyx and giving up her powers. None of it made sense, none of it worked in the world that she thought she knew.

Shivering, Elain blinked to realise that she’d walked over to her closet and pulled out Lucien’s jacket. It was not the one he had given her last night when he had cocooned her in his riding jacket before carrying her to bed. Instead, his one was a deep green with brown lining. There were seven pockets in total, all of them empty bar the one that had contained several flower heads that had long since dried and turned to dust – they had been yellow carnations. The lining was of silk, not just any silk Elain realised, but Didache, the fabric from Autumn. It was fraying at the seams which told her it had been worn lots, loved much, and yet the owner had not cared enough about the jacket or themself to fix it. There was a distressing along the cuffs in which Elain could imagine worried fingers constantly curling and plucking at the seams.

It was the jacket Elain had been wrapped in after the Cauldron, and it was perhaps her only tether to the world those first few days after. Nothing could get through to her, not the angry screams of her sister or the comforting talks from her brother-in-law. Just this rag of fabric that smelt like a home Elain had never been to.

He’d been with her even then, Elain supposed.

It’s funny, she thought, even when I was completely lost, I always had him.

Tugging the jacket on, Elain was able to return to her sheets and curl up into a ball. Around her hung both the scent of him and her. His jacket having been worn by her on many sleepless nights.

The scent wasn’t just his or hers, it was theirs.

Rolling onto her side Elain took what she had seen and pushed it to the back of her mind, imaging herself locking the thought away in a box and burying it under sand. With every spade, the memory receded until her brain was quiet enough for her to slip soundlessly into sleep.

In this distance, under the moon, a firebird screamed in agony.

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Footprints in the Sand

Part Twelve: Hunger

Summary/Author's Note: We are in Dorne people! You wake up in bed with your lovers for the first morning of what you hope will be the rest of your days. Oberyn tells you about his family and the two of you share some quality morning time.

I need a fucking spreadsheet for Oberyn’s Daughters. I have a google doc and at this time in the Footprints era he only has 6 (there are two left to be born). Trust me, the age calculations were...time consuming.

(gif credit to @pajamasecrets, yes this is my header. It's perfect.)

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k Warnings/Rating (NC-17/18+) - language, cockwarming, Oberyn uses ridiculous blades for the AESTHETIC, threesome, oral fem!receiving x2, penetration, lady on top, face sitting, mild breath play if you squint... (ALL OF THIS WILL BE HAPPENING IN PART 13, I HAD TO CUT IT.)

[Part Eleven] [Masterlist]

The sounds of birds quietly singing outside the open window in the branches of the citrus trees drew you slowly out of slumber. If you strained your ears you could hear the distinct sounds of the ocean crashing against the sands as the city started to rise and begin it's day. With tired limbs, shaky and weak like a newborn foal, you slowly sat up and pushed your wild hair out of your face. Even laden with fatigue, you had never felt more rested.

Ellaria slept quietly beside you, naked and draped in one of the many silk sheets that adorned the massive bed that the three of you now shared. Her ebony curls fanned over the pillows and her copper skin looked so soft in the morning glow of the sunbeams filtering through the gently swaying curtains. It was clear to you then that you would never get used to how truly beautiful she was, nor the idea that you were to wake beside her every morning. Was such a gift your new reality?

Looking to your left, you noticed the third member of your triad was missing.

"Oberyn?" You asked quietly to an empty room.

Ellaria turned over and pulled the sheet with her to help nestle herself down into the pillows and it made you smile. You could look for Oberyn alone--after spending the majority of the trip home sick she needed as much rest as she could get. Home. The idea of referring to such a place, and the ease at which the thought came to your mind made you feel light and giddy.

You grabbed one of Ellaria's oversized silk dressing robes off of the edge of the overflowing trunks and draped it over your shoulders. It didn't tie in the front and confirmed that it was more for decoration than for actual concealing of your nakedness. But it was soft, the royal blue slipping across your skin in a way that made you feel devine--the two of them had a knack for collecting devine and beautiful things.

The quiet trickle of water drew you to the room off to the side of the master bedroom. Before the three of you had tumbled into bed and well, into one another, Ellaria had given you a tour. The washroom was off to the side with a large marble pool for bathing, an ornate sun-shaped looking glass on the wall, and shelves full of scented oils and healing balms. Such luxury was something you had never seen, not even in the red keep, where money was thrown at armies instead of at the city's infrastructure.

Just as you had deducted, Oberyn sat in an armless, straight backed chair that he had pulled closer to one of the mirrors. A bowl of water sat on the table closest to him, and you leaned against the doorway and watched as he shaved. Despite the sunlight coming in from the window above the pool, a few candelabras flickered closer to where he was working to give him more light. There was yet to be a lighting in which his tanned skin didn't look utterly breathtaking to you and as you watched him drag his blade slowly up his throat and wipe away a bit of the soap on his neck, you had to remind yourself to in fact take a breath.

Your hand dipped down the valley of your breasts as you were suddenly filled with the desire to touch him. And yet, you didn't want him to stray from his task. You wanted to observe the way he moved, the way the muscles of his back shamelessly made your mouth water. The obvious solution for now was to touch yourself. Your fingers had barely ghosted the apex of your thighs when he spoke.

"What are you doing, lover?" His voice came as he looked at you in the mirror over his shoulder.

You took your hand away from your body and walked towards him, the silk of the robe blowing behind you gracefully while you walked. "Nothing.."

"Don't lie to your prince," he said, still holding a smile as he balanced the blade across the top of the bowl. "It looked like you were about to enjoy yourself to the image of me--come here." He grabbed your wrists and pulled you against him. He looked you up and down slowly, his dark eyes drinking you in as he reached up and pushed the robe from your shoulders to pool in the floor at your feet. "Aren't you a vision?"

"You flatter me."

"I simply observe."

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he transferred his grip from your wrist to your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips.

“Best sleep I’ve had in years.”

“Good.”

You touched the smooth skin of his throat with the tip of your finger. The soap he had lathered onto his skin smelled of honeysuckle and rosemary. You desperately wanted to kiss along his jaw but he had only finished about half of his shaving, sculpting the sharp beard that ran along his pointed features perfectly. "May I?"

"May you what?" He looked up as he helped you slide into his lap.

"Teach me," you said, quietly as you straddled his thighs and nodded to the blade and then gestured to his jaw.

"Hmm," he made a thoughtful noise as his hands slid up your sides and cupped your breasts. His thumbs played over your nipples, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. "I don't allow many people to have a blade that close to my throat."

"I overstep--"

He pinched your right nipple gently and stopped your words before you could apologize. "You never overstep in my presence. Whose bed are you in?" He took your hand and guided it between your bodies as he started to grow hard against your thigh.

"Yours," You gasp as he wraps your fingers around his thick shaft, growing larger by the moment.

"And who am I?"

"A prince of Dorne."

"Exactly."

He put his hand behind your head and gripped your hair, pulling you forward enough to kiss you hard. You stroked him gently as you felt your own core start to respond to him. A small whimper fell from your mouth as you felt his fingers part your folds. You were sore from the night before but not enough to push away his affections. His name fell from your lips and his large hands cupped your ass and lifted you slightly.

"I'll teach you," he mumbled against your lips. "On the condition that you sit that beautiful cunt on top of my cock while you do."

You nodded as he gripped your ass and spread you slightly, making it easier for you to raise up on your knees. Using his shoulders for balance, you let him slowly impale you. He made room for himself in a way that made you clench against the intrusion. He encouraged you to relax as he nosed your neck and up to your cheek.

"How are you fairing from last night?" He asked, a soft grunt coming from his throat as you get settled.

"Sore, but I'll get used to it," you play your fingers in the back of his hair and watch his face. "I--um," you swallow hard and fight to keep your blush down. "I dreamed about what we did."

"About which part, my dear?"

"About," you lowered your voice and said quietly. "About tasting Ellaria."

"Hmm, I dare say you enjoyed that almost as much as she did." He chuckled and put his knuckle under your chin before you could look away. “No shame in that--who wouldn’t want to taste something that sweet?”

He trailed his fingers along the curve of your jaw and down over one of the mouth-shaped bruises on your neck. He had already apologized for them and you wouldn’t hear it again. You had enjoyed the making of them just as much as he had. When you bit your lip his cock twitched inside of you and you readjusted on his lap with a soft groan.

“Easy,” he chided you softly. “I can’t fuck you until I finish shaving.” His grin was as mischievous as his desire to keep you waiting. It excited you, made you long for unspoken promises you knew he intended to keep. “Grab the blade--I’ll teach you.”

You looked to the table on your right and picked up the dagger off of the bowl. It was a solid weight in your hand, not too heavy, but not at all flexible or flimsy. Unlike his other blades that you had seen on his belts and belongings, the handle was not adorned with a snake or sun or any kind of writing. In fact, it was pretty plain. Its charred black handle was crafted from the horn of an animal of some kind and wrapped in a leather strap for grip--despite the lack-luster appearance, it was clear that the blade was incredibly sharp.

“Should you use this on your face?” You raised an eyebrow and balanced it gingerly in your hand.

“What else would I use?” he chuckled as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Now, firm grip. You’re going to need one hand on the blade and one hand on my neck.”

“Oberyn--” you said, suddenly feeling less sure of yourself.

“You can do it,” he encouraged. “I happen to like the view better like this.” He smirked, looking at your breasts. He started to lean forward to put his mouth on them and you pressed him back against the chair, firmly.

“Stay still,” you teased and he nodded.

“As you command, my love,” he leaned his head to the side. “Use your free hand to press gently and pull down on my skin. It will make it taught, and then you can shave down with the grain. Short, smooth strokes.”

You bit your lip in concentration as you did just as he said. Weeks of being in his bed and your heart still hammered when you were this close to him. Here sat one of the most deadly men you had ever known and his calloused but gentle hands cupped your ass as you held a rather large blade to his throat. The intimacy and trust of the situation was not lost on you.

The blade gave a little resistance as you started to drag it gently through the soap against his neck. The suds parted revealing his skin in the most entrancing way and you carved a path down from his jaw to where his previous lines ended.

“Was Doran upset with you? Yesterday, that is,” you asked quietly once you finished your line and moved to dip the knife in the bowl of water and wipe it on the cloth.

“Yes, of course,” Oberyn, took the chance to smile as you paused in your process. “But it wasn’t the first time, and I promise you it won’t be the last.”

Your stomach turned at his words and you looked at him in earnest. “I don’t want to go back--”

“I won’t let that happen.”

His tone was sharp enough to make you flinch but his hands moved up your back as if to soothe the sting from his words. Although you didn’t know how he planned on keeping it from happening, you wanted to believe him. You had to.

The two of you sat in silence as you carefully moved the blade down his throat, taking any hair with the soap before rinsing, drying, and starting a new line. You went much slower than was probably needed, but if you drew blood on him, you would have never forgiven yourself--although Oberyn would have probably found it amusing. He took the cloth and held it for you gently, his eyes softening as he gazed upon you. The trickle of the water in the bowl sounded far too loud in all of the quiet, so you cleared your throat.

"Tell me about your family, other than Doran--your children, perhaps?"

"You wish to know about my daughters?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and when you nodded he continued. "I have six."

"Six??" You asked, unable to keep the shock from your voice.

"Yes," he said simply. His voice continued to hold a good-natured tone, despite the fact that yours teetered on audacity.

"I'm sorry, that's just so many for--"

"An unmarried man?" He moved his hand up your side and rubbed his thumb along the side of your breast slowly. "It's much different down here in the southern part of the world, my love. As I've said of our Ellaria--bastards are born of passion, of love, and we do not despise them. Should the need arise, any one of my girls would be accepted as a princess of Dorne and would be allowed to sit on the throne."

"I didn't mean any offense--"

"And you have given me none. I just wish you to unlearn the ways of such small minded people. I know it will take time, but you live here now. Your home is in Dorne, so are your people." He reached up and brushed your hair back from your neck.

"I'll try." You sat up a little, adjusting yourself around his length as you resumed the task of shaving his face. The way he spoke to you didn't make you feel foolish or small, much like his voice when you asked about the blade, he wanted nothing more than to teach you.

"That's all I ask." He put his hands back on your hips and leaned his head back against the chair, exposing his throat to you again. "Let's see, my oldest, Obara, is eighteen. Her mother was a whore from oldtown. She is an excellent fighter."

"Like her father."

"Yes," he smiled sadly. "Unfortunately the gods also gave her my anger. But I don't blame her, considering her mother's love was also full of betrayal."

"Where is her mother?" You asked without thinking and before you could apologize, Oberyn answered.

"Dead."

You kept quiet and let him continue. The blade of the dagger whispered through the soap once again and you meticulously inspected his skin for stray hairs. Hundreds of questions came to the tip of your tongue and although you were certain he would answer them all, it was enough to listen to him tell his stories the way he wanted to.

"Sarella," he paused as he said the name quietly. "Well, I guess she'd be almost nine. Also born in Old Town. Her mother is captain of a trading ship. She writes to me. Told me of her birth--perhaps one day I'll get to meet her."

"Is that something you want?"

"Of course. But only if Sarella wishes it as well."

“I can't imagine a girl not wanting to meet her father if it means she would be a princess." You smiled and worked on the last section of his neck, priding yourself on the fact that you had managed not to accidentally draw blood on him.

"Her happiness is more important than her title. And if she is happy at sea with her mother, then so am I."

“Not a lot of fathers think that way.” You nodded and pressed gently on his skin. "Almost done."

"Take your time," he reassured with a relaxed sigh before continuing. "Nymeria just had her fifteenth name day, and she was born of a Noble woman in Volantis," Oberyn said factually as he trailed his finger up your spine slowly. "She looks like her mother. Acts like her, too." He chuckled. "Tyene, now her mother was a Septa."

You paused and leaned back, unable to mask the obvious shock on your face. "A Septa?"

"Scandalous, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Am I to believe that you charmed a woman from her own faith and into your bed?"

"You can believe what you want but the proof of our endeavor is thirteen years of age and currently living at the Water Gardens of the Martells." He laughed as you placed the blade back in the bowl and used the cloth to wipe the excess soap from his jaw. "She is the only one with blonde hair and pale skin--and you know that didn't come from me."

"You speak of them fondly. Not just your daughters, but...their mothers."

"I do."

"Did you love them?"

"I did. Once upon a time."

"You are…" you paused, shaking your head and moved to put the towel on the table.

"What?"

"Nothing." Your voice was sharper than you wanted it to be and looked away from him.

"I'm what?" he challenged. "I love each one of my daughters, just as I loved their mothers. That love may have burned out quickly, may have been nothing more than passionate infatuation but it doesn't make it less real. My heart has travelled a great distance before finding its permanent home with Ellaria...and you."

“Permanent?”

“Have you ever known me to be untruthful?” he asked and you shook your head ‘no’.

Did his list of lovers intimidate you? Did knowing he held genuine emotion for them make it any easier to swallow? Jealousy was a horrible thing and yet it burned in your heart for no reason at all. These women were long gone, lost to the past of his many lived lifetimes, and here you sat, perched on his cock no less, trying not to feel jealous. It was a childish way of thinking, a foolish way, and you were neither a child or a fool. He must have seen the anguish of your thoughts on your face because his hand reached up and grabbed your jaw roughly.

"Do you wish me to stop? Does my touch offend you, now?"

"No." You answered him stubbornly as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

"Do you want me to tell you that you're far more lovely than any of them? That they all pale next to the beauty of my stolen lioness?" He raised his eyebrow again and when you tried to jerk your face from his grip, he held fast.

"Don't patronize me, Oberyn," you scowled as you put your hands on his chest and clenched around his cock. You suddenly wished he wasn't inside of you, distracting you, pulling you from the jealousy that your mind so desperately wanted to cling to. And yet, you wanted him deeper, closer, you wanted to claim him in a way that the flames of his past no longer could. All you had to do was say it.

"Then what would you have me do?" He asked as he pushed his hips up slightly, the feeling making your eyes flutter as you dug your nails into his flesh. "Say what you're feeling. What you want."

"I want," you took a steady breath before opening your eyes and looking at him with a level gaze. "I want to know that Ellaria and I are the only ones that possess your heart. That you don't look at me and see a foolish girl who has never left home, who doesn't have adventures to tell you about, or a long list of colorful lovers. I want to know that you won't grow bored of me."

“Ah,” he nodded. “I see.”

“You see? That’s it?”

Before you could pull away his hand slipped from your jaw to the back of your neck. He pulled you into him and kissed your lips with such a tenderness that made the animosity melt from your very skin. You desperately wanted to hold on to the small amount of anger you had, whatever upper hand it gave you was a lie, but it was better than continuing to feel naive in front of him.

“There’s that fire,” he whispered against your lips and you succumbed to him at last.

“What do you mean?”

“You insult yourself when there is nothing to insult. What an honor it is to help you write your own adventures." He moved his fingers to his lips and licked the tips of his first two. "And I say you've already had quite a first one--scaling down the Red Keep and running away with your two lovers is nothing to make light of."

"I guess you're right," you say quietly. You rock your hips forward once and he hisses, but still keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“You are not the wilting flower that the Lannisters have led you to believe your whole life. How does Ellaria feel about timid creatures?”

“Timid is boring.”

"And how wonderful will it be, to make it my life's work, to make you experience a love so exquisite, it will ruin all other partners you may have had in this life," he kept his tone even as he slipped his hand between your bodies and pressed his dampened fingers against your clit. "Or the next."

"Oberyn," you gasped quietly, raising up as he started to gently move his fingers back and forth. He had been inside of you the entire time and you were practically dripping because of it. Your own wetness soaked the inside of your thighs and dampened his lap as your velvety heat kept his cock tight and warm. You didn't know how much longer you could stand him not fucking you like he had the night before.

"And how are you feeling about my affections now?" He asked.

"Better," you whimpered.

"Better? Hmm, an improvement. I'll just have to keep reminding you until you're confident in them."

His free hand pressed into the small of your back to encourage you to move your hips. Obeying his silent command, you put your hands back on his chest and started to ride his lap. The stretch of him inside of you was still a tight fight due to the lack of movement for so long, and it was one of the most exquisite feelings in the world. Your head hung forward slightly, your hair falling over the front of your shoulder, and you made a soft sound as he pinched your clit. The way the head of him pressed against the sweet spot towards the end of you, made you ache for more. The feeling was intoxicating, addictive, and made you feel powerful in ways nothing else ever would.

“Oberyn--”

“Yes, my love?”

"I am more lovely than your…," you swallowed hard as you forced the squeak from your voice. "Your other lovers."

"What did you say?" Oberyn moved his hand from your slit and grabbed your hips roughly, his tone surprised but still the deep rumble it had been.

"I said," you looked at him through the curtain of your hair before pushing it back and repeating yourself. "I am more lovely than your other lovers. Ellaria and I are lovelier and you will never grow bored of our bed."

“A much better tone.” He smirked, a grin that slowly reached from ear to ear and held a pride that was almost palpable. "And what makes you say that?"

"You're here, aren't you?" You leaned your forehead against his and whispered against his lips. "And whose cunt are you inside of?"

He chuckled quietly and matched your tone. "Hmm, I suppose you're right."

You yelped as he surged forward and kissed you hard, his tongue parting your lips as if he wanted to taste the words you had just said. He fisted his hand in your hair and held your head still as he devoured your mouth and thrust his hips up against yours. Your hands found his neck and moved up to cup his jaw, holding him in place with only a fraction of the strength he held you with.

His neck and face were soft and fragrant from the soaps you had just used to shave him. His beard once again was its normal crisp line that framed the edge of his jaw. He looked every bit the Prince that he was and you wanted him in the same desperate way that you wanted him in King's Landing.

Would that ever go away? Would the burning desire to claim such a powerful entity as your own ever truly leave you? The way Oberyn and Ellaria spoke of each other, it didn't seem so. And now that love included you. A triad of adoration, of burning passion that would follow the three of you to your dying day--you were ready to be consumed by it. You wanted to be consumed, to be devoured, and in their arms it wasn't a terrifying thought.

"Fuck me."

Normally such words fell from your lips, but this time, it was Oberyn that said them.

He purred against your skin as his large hand came down on your ass with a smack spurring your hips into action. You wanted to own him in the way he did you, possess his soul in the way he possessed yours. So if he wanted you to fuck him, you would happily oblige.

"I want your mouth on my tits," you panted as you grabbed him by his dark hair and shoved his face down against your chest. He obeyed, bowing his head to mouth at your breasts. He bit, he sucked, he grabbed handfuls of your chest.

“Like that, sweet girl?” he said, his beard rubbing harshly against your soft skin in a way that made you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him closer.

You leaned your head over his as you continued to ride him relentlessly and he held your hips, pulling you down on his cock over and over. A trickle of warmth started low in your belly as the tip of him brushed the end of you and you held still to preserve the feeling for a moment extra. It was a desperate fuck that was unlike the night before. It was about staking his claim on your body, or perhaps you were staking yours on his.

“Oberyn,” you whined as you felt your body teetering on the edge of its release.

“My body is but a throne for you and Ellaria. To use as you see fit and to sit on as it pleases you,” he looked up at you, his neck straining from the angle and making his voice a breathy plea. “Such a gorgeous woman and you’re all mine.”

“As you are mine,” you leaned down to capture his lips as you breathed your words into his mouth. You gasped and pulled away from his kiss as your orgasm took you abruptly. Your nails pressed into the back of his scalp as you bared down on his lap, enveloping his entire length and holding it inside you in a greedy moment of pure ecstasy.

His arm tightened around you as he cupped your pussy and used his hand to help bring you through the pleasure. You felt the wetness of your release on his fingers and lap as he stood, clutching you to his chest and giving you a moment to clench your legs around him. With a firm kick, he knocked the chair back out of the way and laid you bare on the floor.

“Apologies, but if I don’t fill you up soon, I may go mad,” he braced his arms on the ground next to your head as he rammed himself up inside of you and you pulled his weight down on top of your body.

“We wouldn’t want that,” you moaned as you claimed his mouth just as he claimed you with his release and a groan of pure adoration.

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