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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

223 notes · View notes

problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

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NSFW Alphabet- Joe Toye

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ok, so here’s the 411- Joe gives it his all when y’all are fucking. He’s flipping you around into different positions, he’s gripping whatever part of your body he can get his hands so he can reach deeper faster harder better, Joe is fully prepared to do all the work.

That being said, the boy’s EXHAUSTED by the time he’s done with you. You’re lucky if he doesn’t collapse on you in a sweaty, sleepy mess. But after he’s had a second to regroup and rally- he’s totally down for some pillow talk.

WARNING: it’s going to be in that sexy husky voice of his, which means round two is imminent.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ok, so our Joe’s hot. Like, really hot. He is fully aware of how good he looks- sometimes to the point of arrogance. If he had to pick just one part of himself, it’d probably be his arms. He likes knowing that he can always fight his way out of a sticky situation, but what he really likes is how your hands feel when they clutch at his biceps while getting sexy. (He also really gets soft when you run your fingers up and down his arms/forearms while sitting around and talking with the guys shh shh shh)

On you? Your hands- this boy never thought of hands being sexy until he watched yours dance across a map while discussing plans of action. His eyes followed their motions like a moth follows a flame- and when they touched HIS HAND for the first time? Boner city. Population: this guy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

MESSY BOY. OH MY GOD.

He’s BIG into marking you, and if you gave him the ok (he always checks first) he’d gladly paint you in it (he gets very caveman when it comes to marking you as his ffs what a horndog).

But if you aren’t into that? Not a problem. Simply seeing his cum on your hands (which we’ve established he’s super into) is enough for him. Inside of you works too, FYI. He’s very accommodating.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He once secretly got off in class while watching you disassemble and reassemble your rifle. Your fingers moved so fast and confidently that he couldn’t help but wonder what ~other~ confident things they could do (his mind instantly pictured you fingering yourself and he’s only a little bit sorry about how depraved he is). He’d kneaded the heel of his hand against his cock under the table and to this day he has no idea how he wasn’t caught.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced is a good way to describe Joe, bc in cruder company he’d be called a fuckboy. He’s had more partners than the average Joe (lol sorry) but not nearly as many as someone like Tab or Nix or Liebgott have had. He just lived a full-ass life and, due to him being a stud, he’s never been wanting for company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything with him on top is his comfort zone. He likes feeling in control, and he really likes being able to see how good he’s making you feel.

Bonus points if he can grip your neck a lil bit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Joe is goofy in the sense that he likes to tease you, maybe antagonize you a lil. He knows that you get off on it- that you like when he points out how good he’s making you feel, or lightly chastising you for how quickly you’re going to cum. He doesn’t mean it, and if you were ever to tell him to back off he’d be totally down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dark, curly, trimmed but not ~groomed~, you know?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Personally, He seeks to establish intimacy during the afterglow, curling around you once the sweat has cooled and your breathing has evened out. Face touches, greedy but sweet kisses? Joe Toye’s your guy.

HOWEVER!: If he thinks you could use some during the act, he’s game. If you ask for it? HE’S WHATEVER MORE THAN BEING GAME IS. Get over here, hot stuff.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it whenever he feels the urge. It’s not a huge deal for him.

He’d prefer sex with you obviously, but if you’re not feeling it or it’s not a good time then he’ll take care of himself. In a perfect world, you could both do some mutual masturbation. He absolutely thinks of you while he does it, tho.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Choking kink. Wow wow wow. Nothing extreme- he doesn’t feel comfortable cutting off your airflow or anything, but a hand around the throat certainly adds a nice primitiveness to the experience.

If you choke him, however: different story.

Joe finds that EXTREMELY hot. Oh my God. It plays into his weird obsession with your hands/touch. It reminds him that you’re just as into him as he is with you, and he is a big fan of you getting a lil rough with him now and again.

Pin him down by his throat as you ride him? He’s done for.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any time, anywhere- as long as he can be sure that you won’t be interrupted. There are exceptions to this (see Risk).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Little touches from you can really get him going. Lacing your fingers with his as you both ride in a truck from location to location. Your eyes finding his as you talk business with someone else. The gentle scratch of your fingernails through the shorter hairs at the base of his skull. You also get a certain look in your eyes when you’re feeling frisky, and the moment he sees that, sexy with you is all that he can think about.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doing anything to you that leaves more than a bruise. Hickeys? Awesome. Speckles of bruises on your hips from where his fingertips dug into your skin a bit too hard? Hot.

Deep shadows around your throat left behind from him holding you a little too hard? NO NO NOPE THAT’S NOT OKAY.

It reminds him too much of violence, of someone trying to escape the touch of another and being denied freedom. Once, a German soldier had tried to choke you out so you wouldn’t alert anyone of his presence and Joe. Fucking. Lost it. His brass knuckles were nearly fused to his skin by the time Joe was done with them.

Tl;dr- deep marks on his girl? He’ll kick someone's ass. He’ll kick my ass. He’ll kick his own ass

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a fan of both! When he’s going down on you, he’s all about results- what will get you off the quickest and hardest. Overstimulation King (but in a good way).

When you go down on him and make a point to draw the process out as long as you possibly can, he just about cries with need. He’ll beg you to give him more so he can finally cum, but secretly he’s hoping that you’ll keep edging him bc dear god you’re so beautiful and evil and wow your nails scratching down his stomach feels good.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

FAST. Like I said before, he’s all for getting you off quick and hard. He likes the feeling of his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he pistons into you with ruthless speed, likes the way it makes your body shake and bounce and sheen with sweat. He really likes being able to just fall asleep with you afterwards, so his goal is to tire out the both of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ok, so here’s the thing- before you, most of his sexual history could be considered quickies. He didn’t like the idea of lingering too long after doing the do, so a quick fuck in the closet of a bar was his bread and butter. Remember: the quicker the better.

But since you, he’s decided that he’s good with both quickies and...slowies(?). If he’s feeling frisky while you both are out or just about to go out or in any sort of time crunch, he lets you know by coming up to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, gently pulling you back until you can feel his hardening cock against your backside.

If you rest one of your hands on his forearm and squeeze it- then you’re not feeling it rn and he backs off (or excuses himself to take care of it bc he’s practical like that). If you lean back into him or turn your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek- it’s go time. Meet him in the bathroom, bc someone’s about to get their world rocked.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

JOe is fine with public sex as long as he knows/can predict who or what could possibly figure out what the two of you are doing. And even then, it’s going to be sneaky. You sitting on his lap with his dick in your pussy? Nice. pretending to lean over and whisper something to you while sitting at a booth (but actually fingering you? Dope.

He’ll basically go as far as you let him, but his big thing is not letting the two of you get caught by someone who will hold it over your ehad. Do’t fuck with his girl.

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

Two and a half rounds- he always starts with getting you off with his hands, thigh, tongue (that’s the half round), then he cranks out the next two fast and unwaveringly. Ideally, the outcome for him is two orgasms for him and three for you. Bonus points if he can wring four out of you, but he’s not going to push it.

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

Probably didn’t own any of his own, but if you have a vibrator or something he’ll definitely use it on you. Would probably consider letting you use it on him, but only once he’s used it on you a couple times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very much in terms of edging teasing, but verbally he can be very antagonistic.

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

Loud and proud, but tries to keep the sounds in for as long as he can. You can always tell when he’s close by how vocal he’ll become. Huge whiner whenever you suck his cock or give him a handjob, bc you are so perfect and wicked that it literally overwhelms him.

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

Has at least one copy of the Kama Sutra. Bill gave it to him as a joke gift but Joe absolutely uses it for inspiration.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average length but girthy. He’s pretty proud of it.

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

Pretty high, but something he can control. He knows it’s unrealistic to be able to fuck you whenever he wants (bc otherwise, you’d never leave his bed), so he’s able to channel that desire into anticipation for the next time he gets the chance to fuck you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

SO FAST, OH MY GOD. But he doesn’t sleep long- it’s more like a power nap and then he wakes up and helps you clean up/cleans you up himself and then gets cuddly. Then he sleeps again. What a nerd.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #joe toye x reader #joe toye imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 10

A/N: y’all ever think about that one empires episode of pearl’s where she helps sausage fight off a raid and that turns into a pvp battle between them, and she absolutely destroys him? yeah me too. also check out this awesome art by @amostfoolishgold! anyway back to jimmy pov!

Warnings: injury, unconsciousness, fevers, talk of death, violence, corruption/infection, self-blame

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting the Overgrown in a golden glow. The castle was beginning to take shape, but they had unfortunately run low on materials, and Joel and Lizzie weren’t back from their gathering trip yet. So for the moment, they all just sat in the half-constructed shell of a castle, having light conversation as they waited for Joel and Lizzie to arrive. But soon enough, the conversation dwindled into an awkward silence. That is, until Gem stood up with a determined look in her eyes and a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we head to my empire for dinner? We’ve been working hard all day and could use a break!” she said brightly. Jimmy wasn’t sure how he felt about Gem quite yet, after everything that had happened- but she and Pearl had been a huge help. Meanwhile Shelby looked intrigued by the offer, and while Katherine first nervously glanced to the horizon, she looked back to Gem with a smile.

“That is very kind of you, Gem. I’d love to- we should probably just leave a note for Joel and Lizzie to let them know where we’ve gone,” Katherine said, standing up as well. Gem looked to Jimmy semi-nervously- and well, Jimmy was always a bit of a softie, wasn’t he? He smiled at Gem and stood up too.

“That does sound nice, thank you for inviting us,” Jimmy said. Gem beamed, and Pearl looked relieved as she stood up next to Gem.

“Well, you definitely won’t see me complaining about free food!” Shelby chimed in, hopping up to her feet. That caused the group to break into laughter, and the air between them felt comfortable again.

Once Katherine had written the note and put it where Lizzie and Joel could easily find it, the five of them (minus Pearl, who had wings) equipped their elytra and flew off to the Crystal Cliffs. When they first arrived there, everything seemed normal. The grand cliffs themselves, the buildings nestled in and around them, the towers- it was a beautiful and mystical place. But there was something blue, white, and gold that stood out in a heap on the ground near one of the buildings- a very familiar something blue, white and gold.

“Oh my god-” Gem started, landing on the ground beside the figure.

“Is that-” Pearl said, unable to finish the thought as she landed just behind Gem.

“Scott?” Jimmy finished, voice shaking as he came in for a bit of an unsteady landing a few feet away from where Scott laid on the ground, breathing shallow and upon a closer look, something red pulsing and spreading beneath his skin like some sort of vine. Jimmy barely registered Katherine and Shelby landing on either side of him, too focused on what was before him.

“This- this red stuff reminds me of the redstone spikes in Fwhip’s empire- or maybe something from the nether?” Gem pondered as she knelt beside Scott, a purple glow coming over her hand as she reached out towards the infection in his arm.

“I’ve seen that before,” Shelby said, voice sounding distant and laced with horror. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised to hear such a terrified tone of voice from the usually enthusiastic gnome.

“The infection?” Pearl asked.

“The corruption. I’ve seen it happen to my people back home, until it consumed them until there was nothing left- it’s why I came here, to try and find a cure or some way to stop it. But nothing worked,” Shelby explained shakily, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Jimmy felt like he was going to cry too- and some awful part of himself thought that he should be glad that this happened to Scott, that it served him right after betraying Jimmy and breaking his heart- but he couldn’t. Despite everything Scott had done, despite never wanting to see Scott again- none of that meant that Jimmy didn’t want a world where the winged elf wasn’t in it. And what about what Pearl had said? Scott didn’t seem happy with Fwhip either, but now Jimmy would never know the truth. Not if it died with Scott.

Jimmy was so wrapped up in his conflicted mess of emotions that he didn’t even notice that someone else had flown in until Katherine let out a sharp gasp. He tore his gaze away from Scott to see what had caused that reaction from Katherine- and saw Fwhip. A mix of anger and terror boiled in his veins and swirled in his stomach at the sight of him. Fwhip looked baffled to see so many people in Gem’s empire, and plastered on a forced friendly smile. Jimmy’s hand found Katherine’s, and she squeezed it back tightly with no intention of letting go.

“Gem! Hi, so I wanted to smooth things over- I think we left things on a bad note-”

“What did you do to Scott,” Gem demanded, cutting off Fwhip as she stood up from beside Scott. Purple sparks danced in the air around her, and Jimmy swallowed nervously- he didn’t think he had ever seen Gem seem so intimidating before. Jimmy was relieved to see that Fwhip looked nervous too.

“Well, I haven’t seen Scott since our meeting, he seemed upset when he left- weird that he ended up here- y’know I was actually gonna go and talk to him after you-”

“If by talk, you mean do whatever you did to Scott to us?!” Pearl demanded, hand on the hilt of her sword as she took a step forward to stand beside Gem.

“I didn’t-”

“I’ve had enough of your lies, Fwhip. What. Did. You. Do,” Gem said evenly. Fwhip swallowed nervously, before sighing and finally giving in.

“Okay, so I may have set a few traps in his empire and got Sausage to help me with letting a raid infiltrate his village and the surrounding lands- but I figured Scott could handle a few traps and some mobs, it was only meant to be a warning, I never meant to kill him! He must have really gotten soft if he couldn’t deal with it,” Fwhip rambled. Gem and Pearl seemed semi-satisfied with his answer, but Pearl kept her hand on her sword and purple sparks still danced around Gem. But there was something that Fwhip said that bothered Jimmy, and along with what Pearl had said… guilt was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you mean by that?” Jimmy asked tentatively. Fwhip let out a harsh laugh, turning to Jimmy incredulously.

“The idiot actually fell for you. He was just supposed to be a distraction, a contingency plan to make sure you wouldn’t be trouble. But he got in too deep, and look where that got him,” Fwhip scoffed, looking down at Scott’s deathly still form in disdain. Guilt was crashing on Jimmy in waves now. He had pushed Scott away. Scott had actually cared about him and he pushed him away. And then he had no one to go to for help when Fwhip decided to send a “warning” and got hurt as a result.

“You’re lucky I’m a pacifist,” Katherine spat, more angry than Jimmy had ever heard her. He wished he could have shared her anger, shouted at Fwhip too- but Jimmy just felt numb.

“Well unluckily for Fwhip, I don’t have that problem,” Pearl fumed, drawing her sword. Fwhip started to scramble back as Pearl leapt at him. His backwards stumble turned into a run, and Pearl kept pace with him just fine, using her wings if necessary and brandishing her sword to chase him away.

“Pearl can handle him- can you three help me get Scott to the apothecary? I’d do it by myself, but he’s tall and there’s the bulk of his wings to worry about too,” Gem asked, looking down at Scott worriedly.

“Erm- right, of course,” Jimmy said, letting go of Katherine’s hand to join Gem at Scott’s side.

“Hold on- go to the other side and help me turn him over,” Gem said. Jimmy did as she asked, and being mindful of his wings, the two of them gently rolled Scott over so he was on his back. Scott was feverish to the touch, and even unconscious his expression was contorted with pain.

“He’s hot,” Jimmy said, distant horror in his tone.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Jimmy,” Gem teased, trying to lessen the tension in the air. Jimmy’s face scrunched up in irritation as he half-heartedly glared at her.

“He has a fever, Gem,” Jimmy huffed. Gem laughed nervously.

“I know, I know, just trying to make this less terrible than it is,” Gem sighed. Jimmy gave her a weak smile, and together the two of them gently lifted Scott up. Jimmy ended up mostly holding Scott, while Gem supported his wings. Scott’s head lolled against his shoulder, labored breaths fanning his neck. Jimmy should have felt embarrassed or flustered, cradling Scott like this- but he was too concerned with how limp and unresponsive Scott felt in his arms.

“I’ll get the doors for you!” Shelby offered, quickly making her way over to the apothecary door. Katherine hovered around Jimmy and Gem semi-anxiously, making sure that they had a good hold on Scott as they made their way over to the apothecary. But all went well, and they were able to safely transport Scott into one of the apothecary beds. He had begun to shiver and tremble every so often now, and Jimmy could have sworn the corruption had spread, reaching his fingertips.

“There’s gotta be a way to stop that, or at least slow it down,” Gem murmured in thought, pulling up a chair to sit at Scott’s side. She reached out to the cut where the corruption on Scott’s arm stemmed from, hand glowing purple again. She closed her hand over it, and her eyes began to glow the same purple as her hand. But then the glow flickered, turning red for a moment before it dissipated entirely and Gem drew her hand back with a yelp, stumbling backwards out of her seat beside Scott’s bed. Jimmy scrambled over to help her up, eyes darting nervously between her and Scott.

“Is everything alright? I chased Fwhip off, but I swear if he’s done something in here…” Pearl trailed off as she walked into the apothecary, eyes zeroing on Gem as she rubbed at her temples.

“I’m fine. The corruption- it fought back. It’s… alive, somehow,” Gem said with morbid curiosity in her tone.

“It’s a type of fungus. That’s as much as my people could figure out before I came here to try and find a cure. The red stuff is everywhere in my old home- even if you tried to get rid of it, it would just come back. And in the cases where it latched onto a person… there was no getting it out,” Shelby explained, sounding like she was going to cry. Gem hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you try any sort of magic with it?” she asked.

“No, my people were not magic-users- in fact I’d hardly seen magic before I came here, where the air seems charged with the stuff,” Shelby replied, gesturing around her. A determined expression came over Gem’s face.

“Then I’m not gonna stop trying. I don’t know if I can fully fight off the corruption, but I definitely think I can slow its spread. In the meantime, we’re gonna need to get Scott’s fever down- at this rate, that’ll kill him before the corruption will,” Gem said, resting the back of her hand on Scott’s forehead and frowning.

“He’s probably a little beat-up too- Fwhip did say he trapped his empire,” Katherine added. Gem nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need cool water and cloth to make a compress for his forehead- and I should have some healing potions around here- it couldn’t hurt to brew some more though too, just in case,” Gem rambled, starting to stand up before Pearl put up a hand.

“You two stay here with Scott, I know where you keep things around here. Katherine, Shelby and I can worry about getting things for you,” she soothed. Jimmy tilted his head in confusion.

“Wait, I can help get things too…” Jimmy trailed off uncertainly.

“You can help if you want. I just figured you’d wanna stick by Scott,” Pearl shrugged with a gentle smile. Jimmy flushed slightly as he looked down at the floor, away from Pearl’s knowing stare.

“I… yeah. I’ll stick by Scott,” he said softly, gaze shifting to look at the winged elf who always managed to make his emotions into a muddled mess. Scott was an enemy, a friend, a- a something, then an enemy again- but whatever Scott was to Jimmy now, he knew one thing: he wasn’t letting Scott out of his sight again. Doing so the last time caused this to happen. He had to be there if- no, when Scott woke up. He had to apologize for pushing him away, and hope that maybe Scott still cared about him after everything that had happened to accept it.

Taglists below! Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @beepa99 @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #shubble #katherine elizabeth #fwhip #flower husbands #aiahs #mcyt #sage writes

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

All That I Ask

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 6990

Warnings: Smut. Smut, feels, and Sam Winchester being wonderful. There’s a brief moment of post-traumatic dissociation, but the traumatic event itself isn’t discussed or really even named. Otherwise, it’s about as gooey and sweet as a fuckin marshmallow. This is like... fix-it fic for life-canon.

A/N: Whether it was rape or coercion or just a partner who didn’t care enough to make you feel comfortable, I think almost every woman knows what it’s like to feel powerless or unsafe during sex. This is about agency and trust and hang-ups and recovery, and how partners should handle those things.

This was inspired by a request from @the-departed-patato. Thank you for trusting me with this one. I didn’t realize until I started typing that this was something I really really needed to write.

Also, major thanks to the Slack squad for edits and support and trying to curb my comma habit: @rockhoochie, @icemankazansky, @fangirlxwritesx67, @stunudo y’all are amazing.

Here’s my heart, don’t break it. It’s all that I ask, nothing more. - “Moonlight,” Future Islands

This is so stupid.

This is Sam. This is sweet, kind, gentle Sam, and I’m head over heels for him.

I want him. How could I not? I’ve wanted to do this since I met him, and now I can. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I can run my hand up his side, down his chest, tracing the ripply contours of abs, and god dammit, I want him.

He rolls me onto my back, hips slotting in against me. I can feel the drag and catch of denim, I can feel where he’s hard against the crease of my thigh, and I can feel his weight on me, holding me, pressing into me, trapping me, and I can feel myself start to shut down.

This is so stupid.

I remind myself that I’m safe. He’s being gentle, I tell myself. He’s not holding my wrists, he’s not pinning me, he’s not doing anything that should make me feel unsafe.

I’m still shutting down. I stare at a point somewhere over his shoulder as he kisses my neck, and I remind myself that I’m being stupid, and I can’t fucking breathe.

“Hey,” he whispers, and then he’s looking down at me, rolling onto his side again, and I try to focus on him but part of me is seeing someone else.

“Sorry,” I whisper, voice small and tight around the lump in my throat.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, so fucking sweet with his sunflower eyes wide and concerned. I shake my head.

“No, it’s stupid,” I squeak. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, you didn’t — we can — I’m fine.”

“Do you need space, or — how can I help?”

“Don’t go,” I breathe. “Please don’t, I’m okay, just come… come here?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, putting an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “Hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m right here. Take your time.”

I burrow into his chest, tears stinging my eyes as I start to break the grip of whatever cold thing has been clutching at my ribcage.

This is so fucking stupid.

I remember to breathe, and Sam waits. He strokes my hair, whispers soothing nonsense, cradles me close.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out eventually. I can’t look him in the eye; I look at his neck instead, the steady flutter of his pulse under the skin.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, soft but fierce. “Nothing. You hear me?”

“‘Kay.” I swallow hard and try to shake it off. “We can — it’s not that I don’t want to. Do you want—”

“Stop,” he interrupts. “There’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this because you think you should… for my sake? That’s not how it works.”

He curls a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his eyes, and I feel hot all over at the tenderness in his expression. I blink away tears and give him a tiny nod.

“This is about the guy you told me about?” he asks, tentative. “Was it… it was more than you made it out to be, wasn’t it?”

I nod again. I don’t trust myself to make words. My heart is racing, and I can feel the panicked beat of it in my throat, choking me.

“We need to talk about this, at some point. Okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know what not to do. I don’t ever want to scare you.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and so goddamn crazy about him.

“We don’t have to do that now, though. Just rest. You’re safe with me.”

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Sam whispers when I stir. He’s spooned up behind me, one big solid arm around my waist, and I settle myself more comfortably in the cocoon of his embrace. Then I remember.

“About last night—” I start hesitantly.

“If you’re going to try to apologize again, stop right there,” he says, and I can hear the wry smile in his voice. “But if you want to talk about it…”

We didn’t close the curtains, and the morning sun is filtering through the blinds of the motel room, making everything feel clean and bright and fresh. It’s easier like this, too, with my back to Sam. I don’t have to feel his eyes on me.

“There hasn’t been anyone else, since,” I admit. My voice sounds very small in the quiet of the room. “So… I don’t really know what causes it. Not for sure.”

Sam exhales slowly, his breath tickling the curve of my neck. “What happened last night, to set it off?”

“Having you on top of me, I think. It’s not — you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you. That’s all on him,” Sam says. The faintest hint of a growl in his voice takes me by surprise. “No blame, okay? I’m not going to take it personally. Not ever.”

“Okay. Um. Feeling… held down, or trapped. And you shouldn’t — don’t grab my wrists?”

“I can do that. What else?”

“I think… just, not too rough?” I ask, cheeks burning. “I don’t think I could handle… too much. The first time, at least.”

“Okay,” he agrees calmly. “And what else? What does work for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t about, like, just making it manageable for you,” he says, low and earnest, kissing the curve of my neck. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. “Oh. Um.”

I’m suddenly very conscious of his hand splayed over my lower abdomen, his palm warm through the thin cotton of my tank top. He must feel the way my belly tightens, because he slides his hand a little lower, thumb tucking under the hem and stroking back and forth, tickling deliciously.

It’s such a light touch, a barely-there brush, but it’s sending sparks down my spine. I wriggle back against Sam, wondering if the sudden crackle of tension in the air is just my imagination.

“I want to know what gets you off.” Sam’s voice is husky and heated, and my breath hitches. It’s not just my imagination, then. “I want to make you come. It’s not just about… penetration, or whatever.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and I wonder if that’s the first time someone has made the word penetration sound sexy. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want my mouth?”

I shift, and I can feel him getting hard through his pajama pants.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want that. Sam… want you.”

His hand slides lower, until the tips of his pinky and ring finger are dipping under the elastic of my shorts.

“When you touch yourself,” he says quietly. “What do you do? Can you show me?”

“I don’t—”

His hand finds mine where it’s curled loosely on the mattress, slides under it so that my palm rests on the back of his, and he laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands back to my stomach.

“Can you show me?” he repeats, and the warmth of his hand is burning through my shirt, pooling in my core, making me want like I haven’t wanted another person in a long time.

“Oh.” I take a deep breath.

I guide his hand lower, flush against my skin, under my waistband and down until his fingers cup my cunt. When I press my middle finger down against his, he moves with me, one long finger parting my lips and stroking through silky wet heat. He follows my lead, waiting for me, his knuckle bending when mine does, nudging against my entrance. His finger is so much longer than mine. When I curl it, pressing in, it’s him sliding into me, his fingertip, shallow and easy.

I exhale slowly, not pushing, and he stays, chest rising against my back as he sucks in a deep breath, waiting for my direction.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, low and gravelly.

“Good.”

I’m shaky and wet and aching with how much I want him, and I’m not sure where this is going, not sure I’m ready for more than his fingers, but I need him to understand: none of this, none of my hesitation, is because I don’t want him.

I draw his hand up, showing him where to stroke with one slick fingertip, circling my clit, and I can feel him trembling too, all down my back, his cock hard where it presses against my ass. This torturous drawn-out intensity, the way he’s waiting for me… it’s almost unbearable, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move any faster.

We breathe in sync, both our chests heaving at the same time as the zing of it ripples out through me, and —

Someone bangs on the door.

“Up and at ‘em!” Dean shouts. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, as Sam lets out a low groan. It takes every bit of my willpower to pull away. When I roll to face him, he’s just as wild-eyed as I feel, flushed and panting and gorgeous.

We’re both paralyzed for a second, staring at each other, until he lets out a long sigh.

“Later,” he husks, and it sounds like a promise.

“Later.”

Later, when we fall into bed, I’m shaking for a completely different reason.

It wasn’t a bad hunt, in the end. It’s just one moment that keeps replaying in my memories on a sickening loop. There was so much blood, all down the side of his face and neck, and he went still in a way that made my heart stop for a second.

Apparently ears bleed a lot.

I felt a little embarrassed when I saw the injury, a barely-there slice through the cartilage, but I couldn’t shake the sight of all that blood. There’s still traces of it on his skin, dried in his hair. My stomach churns whenever I catch a glimpse of rusty red.

He pulls the comforter up over us, lying on his uninjured side, and I kiss him, deep and starved, my entire body vibrating with the tension of lingering adrenaline, like my skin is sparking up with the reminder that we’re still alive and we should enjoy it while we can.

I can feel it in his muscles, too, the way he’s holding back, holding himself stiff like he has to restrain himself. He rolls onto his back and takes me with him, arms strong around me, body warm and ready under me.

I choke on a quiet sob, trying to hold it in.

Sam freezes, big hands cupping my cheeks as he breaks the kiss. He looks at me, eyes deep green-gold in the lamplight.

“It’s not — it’s not that. You scared me.”

“I know,” he says. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Want you,” I say fiercely, watching the way his swollen-red lips twitch into a bittersweet smile.

“Not like this,” he says. “Not when you’re already on edge. If your fight or flight system is still all revved up…”

He’s right, but I hate it. He brushes hair back from my forehead and kisses me again, chaste and quick.

“Okay,” I whisper, against his mouth. “Just… god, you scared me, Sam.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other.

“I need a shower,” he says.

I frown, feeling childish as I confess, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I didn’t mean — come with me,” he suggests. “Shower with me. Not — no sex.”

I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really?”

“You don’t have to,” he backtracks gently. “If you’re not ready to—”

“Sam, I’ve wanted to see you naked since I met you,” I say flatly. “Believe me, that is not the problem.”

He laughs, dimples flashing as he grins up at me. “Then… yeah. Come shower with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight either.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He only turns on half the bathroom lights, keeping it dim. The harsh fluorescents would be too much. It’s easier to pull my shirt off when I feel like I can still hide in the shadows.

I try not to stare as he strips down matter-of-factly and steps in, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look at myself, either, when I compare my body to Sam’s. I get my clothes off before I can talk myself out of it, tripping clumsily out of my jeans.

He must see something different than I do when I look at myself, because the way he stares at me when I step into the shower… he looks at me like he never wants to stop looking.

I’ve never felt like this before, shaky and vulnerable and open but in a good way, because somehow I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling like this. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust Sam. That trust is what stops me from covering myself with my hands, stops me from doubting myself as I step under the spray with him and stand up on my tiptoes for a kiss.

One kiss turns into more, syrupy-slow, water streaming down our skin as we melt into each other. Sam licks and sucks and nibbles at my mouth until my lips feel puffy and bruised. I adjust, slowly, to the feel of his body against mine, the way my soft curves mold to the muscled planes of his chest, the way his cock twitches against my stomach as he gets hard, and even though I can feel the length of him hot and heavy between us, he doesn’t press for more; he kisses me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do.

By the time he pulls away, I’m light-headed. He looks down at me with water beading in his spiky eyelashes, and he smiles.

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, and somehow, I believe him.

I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs his shampoo from the edge of the tub and turns me around, my back to his chest.

He massages little sudsy circles into my scalp and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. He shields my eyes when it’s time to rinse, tilting my chin back gently into the spray. Nobody’s done this for me since I was a child. It makes me feel innocent and serene and fucking treasured, the way he takes care of me.

Sex has always felt like the height of intimacy to me. I always feel vulnerable, like that’s the closest I can get to another person, the most exposed.

Sam’s fingers in my hair feel like a better expression of trust than anything I’ve ever done in bed. Sex has never felt this intimate. I’m not sure anything has ever felt this intimate.

Everything starts to fade, the leftover adrenaline draining out of me, the outside world ceasing to matter. It’s just Sam and me, completely bare, wrapped in our little steamy cocoon. I feel safe. I feel exhausted, heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, muscles aching, but I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel nervous. I just feel safe.

Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I want to lick Sam’s arms.

He’s stretched out over the pool table as he lines up his shot, eyes laser-focused, hands curled around the cue. He has his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and I can see veins standing out under the skin, corded muscles rippling, bunching and shifting with every twist of his wrist.

Yeah. I want to lick Sam’s arms.

Dean spits out a sip of his beer, spluttering out a vehement, “Ew, I don’t want to hear that shit!”

So apparently I said that out loud.

Dean stalks away, muttering to himself, and I chirp a quick “Sorry!” to his retreating back.

He’ll get over it.

Sam’s done with his game, and he’s walking toward me, grinning in that slow easy way of his as he tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I can’t handle not touching him any more.

“Can we get some air?” I ask breathlessly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement as he lets me tug him outside.

There are a couple people smoking by the door, so I pull him farther away, down to the end of the building, where a tacky wooden statue of a bear stands between us and the door. It’s close enough to privacy.

Sam slouches back against the brick, and I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him, leaning against him and trusting him to keep me upright. He goes with it, opening up for me as I take control of the kiss, his lips pillowy, and I can feel him smile.

“What was that for?” he asks, when I give him a second to breathe. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and nip at his pulse, and his fingers tighten on my hips.

“Just want you,” I say bluntly. I kiss him again, a deep filthy kiss that I can feel down to my toes. “I was watching you, and… yeah. Want you. Can we go back to the motel?”

“You’re drunk,” he says, mock-admonishing, but he’s still smiling.

“‘M not drunk, you’re drunk,” I mumble sulkily.

“Yep,” he says, popping the P, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” I concede. “Tipsy, maybe.”

“Which is still too drunk,” Sam says gently.

I let out a tiny frustrated sound as he kisses me again. “Fine.”

He laughs, shifting his weight, getting one knee between mine, and when I settle closer, I can feel the blunt pressure of his thigh right between my legs.

“Believe me,” he whispers, between kisses, “I would really, really love to take you back to the motel right now but… it’s not a good idea.” He shifts, and I whine at the friction. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. I want us both to be sober for that. When we get there… I want to remember every second of it.”

“Kinda worried I’m gonna combust before then.” The drag of denim on denim pulls at the seam of my jeans, almost painfully good, and I shiver.

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he didn’t realize that he was torturing me. He rocks forward experimentally. It feels like fireworks.

“Don’t oh me,” I grump, except it comes out more breathless than grumpy.

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he whispers. “Don’t want to rush it. Want to take my time with you. I want to watch you come for me, want to taste it —”

I whimper, rolling my hips helplessly, clinging to Sam so tight that my fingers must be bruising his biceps.

“Do you like thinking about that?” he asks, growling low against my ear. “My mouth?”

“Please,” I bite out. “Fuck, Sam, I need — something. Anything.” I tilt my hips down again, trying to make my point.

He hesitates for a split second before rocking up to meet me, and I let out a ragged sigh.

“I won’t — not tonight, not more than this,” he says hoarsely, stumbling over the words. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he asks intently, “Are you sure this is okay right now? If you really want —”

“Please,” I say again. I meet his eyes, embarrassed by how much I want him but steady in spite of it.

Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel like this, loose and relaxed and reckless, or maybe it’s just Sam, the way he’s letting me take the lead, the way he groans when I shudder against him, the way I trust him with my life and trust him enough to let him see me fall apart like this.

And I am falling apart. I work my hips in little circles, feeling the dull burn of it clench in my gut with every tiny movement, pushing myself closer to the edge.

Sam just lets me, chest heaving, murmuring filthy-sweet things in my ear: “I’m all yours. Anything. Don’t care how long I have to wait, just — want to make you feel good. Want you on top of me, want you to just — ride my mouth, rub yourself all over my tongue, want —”

I let out a tiny, bitten-off whimper, hiding my face against his shoulder. My muscles spasm as I come, jerking against him, feeling it thud through me all at once like a punch to the gut.

I’m almost surprised by it, and by the wave of relief that washes through me. It’s not the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the easiest by far. I never realized I could get off like that.

Then again, any experience I’ve ever had with dry-humping was with the guy on top of me, hipbones bruising my thighs, and… yeah. No thank you.

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, arms around me, supporting my weight as I collect myself.

“That was… unexpected,” I blurt out, and I giggle helplessly as I pull back to look at him. He grins back, and there’s something so dazed and beautiful in his expression that I lose my breath all over again.

“I —” Sam starts, but he catches himself, shutting his mouth abruptly.

I’m falling in love with you, I think, heart pounding, but I know I can’t say it now, can’t say it like this.

Sam and I look at each other in silence for a second, and then the moment passes. I flush, self-conscious, an apology on the tip of my tongue.

“Don’t apologize, that was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me,” Sam says preemptively, before I can form the words. “You should go inside, before Dean comes looking for us. Just… give me a second?” He adjusts himself in his jeans, making a face, and I giggle.

“See you in there.”

“That was easy,” Dean comments, as we buckle our seatbelts. “Where to next? Sammy, did you find anything in the paper this morning?”

“Actually,” Sam says. “I could really use an evening off. Can we grab some food and go back to the motel and just… chill for the night?”

He and Dean exchange one of those Winchester looks that don’t mean anything to anyone else but the two of them.

“Sure,” Dean says easily. Sam smiles at me in the rearview, and I think, oh.

My brain is my worst enemy. By the time we pull into the motel lot, I’m panicking, and I’m not even sure why.

Sam’s laughing at something Dean just said, bathed in gold late-afternoon light, and he’s incredible, and I should want nothing more than to get him in our room and jump him, but my chest feels tight and I’m convinced that I’ll freeze up, freak out, mess it all up, and he’ll give up, he’s already been so patient —

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks. The driver’s side door slams behind Dean, breaking me out of my trance.

“Fine,” I say, too brightly. “I’m fine.”

He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I try to smile at him. It doesn’t work.

“I’m not fine,” I amend, and feel my face crumple.

“Hang on one sec?” Sam asks, and I take a second to compose myself as he jumps out of the car. He and Dean have a whispered powwow and then Sam returns, key in hand, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Come sit up front,” he says easily, without explanation. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“We can —” I try, but he cuts me off.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like there’s pressure,” he says firmly. “I just want to spend time with you. Let’s just… go for a drive.”

So that’s what we do. When we leave the strip mall hell that surrounds the motel, Sam gets off the highway and we’re in the woods, driving up a winding mountain road. Sam seems to know where he’s headed; he mutters “Think it’s around here somewhere,” at one point, and then eventually he turns onto the Blue Ridge Parkway.

He drives slow, easing into the sharp curves. I can breathe again. It’s hard to feel panicky out here, up in the open air, close to the pink-tinted sky. When the trees open up there are views of sprawling valleys, just starting to turn orange and yellow in the first hints of fall.

There’s a wide pull-off for a scenic overlook, “Rocky Knob,” and Sam parks. The sun is setting behind us and the clouds are lined in deep pink now.

Sam spreads his coat out on the scratchy grass, right in front of Baby, and we sit next to each other, watching in easy silence as the light fades and dusk falls.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, tilting my head onto his shoulder. He slips an arm around me and I shift, turning to settle more comfortably against his side. A sliver of moon is just visible on the horizon.

“You know you don’t —” he starts. His voice sounds choked and strange. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I just like seeing you happy. That’s more important to me than… any of the rest of it.”

“Thank you,” I repeat, firmly, and he lets out a laugh that’s more of a sigh.

I twist to kiss him, intending to make it a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, but he turns to meet me, tongue flickering over my lower lip, teeth scraping ever so carefully. One hand finds my cheek, and his fingers are so long that I feel dwarfed by the way they cradle and caress and pull me closer.

I crawl into his lap, straddling him. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other between my shoulderblades, steadying me. I trace the hard lines of bones under skin, running my fingers along the jut of his jaw and stroking the hinge of it with my thumb, sliding the other hand back to cup the shape of his skull, and for all his size and strength he feels fragile under my fingers. I brush over his pulse and rub the soft hollow behind his ear, and I can feel how fragile this is, this thing between us and the way it makes him shake when he breathes.

We’re both shaking, I realize, as I rest my forehead against his. The tip of my nose nudges against his. The curve of his lower lip brushes mine, barely, not intentional enough to be a kiss, just… close.

Not close enough. Never close enough.

“Sam,” I start, voice wobbling dangerously, but I don’t even know where to begin. His fingers twist in the back of my shirt, fisted in the fabric like he’s afraid to let go. He exhales — inhales — trembles.

Somehow I never considered that I might not be the only one here who’s scared.

I kiss him one more time, trying to tell him how I feel even if I can’t say the words yet, and then I pull away to look at him. His eyes catch and reflect the moonlight, glittering in the dark.

“Let’s go,” I say, and my voice isn’t shaking any more.

Sam’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with himself once the motel room door clicks shut behind us; he turns the desk lamp on and just stands there, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“We could watch a movie?” he offers. His hesitation makes it easier, somehow, to take the lead; I go up to him and tug at the hem of his shirt as I kiss his jaw.

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” I say firmly. I slide my hands under his shirt and run my thumbs over the ridges of his hipbones. “Take this off?”

He strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, smiling, shy and happy.

We kiss and shed layers and kiss again, stumbling back toward the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, we’re down to our underwear, and even though I’ve seen Sam naked, now, the sight of him takes me by surprise. It doesn’t seem fair, how beautiful he is. All the bare golden skin throws me off-balance.

He moves slowly into my space, running his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders, and when he kisses me, my head spins. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and stupid. Sam just folds to his knees in front of me, smiling up at me patiently.

“Can I?” he asks softly. He runs his hands up my legs and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties. When I nod, he tugs, and I lift my hips to let him slide the fabric down until it’s out of the way.

He moves closer, kneeling between my spread legs. He doesn’t look shy any more. He looks hungry, pupils huge in kaleidoscope blue-gold irises as he watches me through his lashes.

I nod again, silently giving him permission, and his lips curl into a smile. Sam hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me forward, until I’m right on the edge of the bed.

“Give me your hand?” he asks, and when I do, he brings it to his head, tangling my fingers through his silky hair. I lean on my other hand to brace myself and the position opens me up for him even more. “You’re in charge,” he reminds me.

The first lick is slow, just a smooth wet curl of heat tracing up my center, good in a way that’s easy and sweet even if it’s not the ‘god more now’ kind of pleasure. I run my fingers through Sam’s hair idly, trying to relax. He does it again, dipping down and dragging up, before swirling his tongue over my clit, and the friction coils up and rolls out through my core. The next lush swipe of his tongue has more pressure behind it, and he lingers on my clit, flattening his tongue, massaging. I let out a little sigh, and he hums approvingly.

“Want you to tell me what feels good, okay?” he asks, mouthing at the crease of my hip. “Or show me. Hold me where you want me.”

How does he just say those things?

Sam buries his face between my legs again, not just licking but working me over with his open mouth pressed to my cunt like he’s kissing me. He gets my clit between his lips and sucks gently, and it’s so good that I tug him closer helplessly, giving in to the pleasure before I even have a chance to hold back.

“Sorry,” I gasp, relaxing my grip when I realize how hard I’m pulling. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to —”

“I like it,” Sam growls, the words vibrating right up against me. Then he’s doing that thing again, slick pulsing pressure, and I give in, twisting my fingers in his hair and tilting my hips up to meet his mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. He moans low in his throat.

Every wave of suction feels more intense. It’s sharp and bright and perfect, building so fast I’m not sure what to do with myself; all I can do is hold on and arch up and shudder. I can feel it pulling up from my fingers, my toes, an inevitable swell of pressure under my skin until the wave of it finally crests and I come with a shout, long and drawn-out, one shock of pleasure after another.

“Fucking — fuck, Sam,” I whine, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched and cracked. He flicks his tongue over me again and I twitch, jerking away from the raw-nerve feel of it.

When I drag my eyes open he’s looking up at me, smiling, a dimple just visible as he turns his head to kiss my inner thigh.

The fuck am I supposed to say to that?

Apparently I can’t say anything to that. I think my brain has gone permanently offline.

Sam sort of scoops me up and deposits me farther back on the bed, where I’m not at risk of falling down on my ass, and I grin dazedly as he stands up. His mouth is red and swollen and it looks like sin.

“Still with me?” he asks, and I nod. “Be right back.”

I scoot back until I can get under the blanket and sink into the pillows. I hear Sam rummaging in his shower kit, then the water running, but I don’t have the mental capacity to pay attention. My eyes are half-closed by the time he comes back.

He sets a bottle of lube down on the nightstand and I avert my eyes uncomfortably, taking the glass of water he offers before he slides into bed next to me.

“Why did that just make you get all shy?” he asks softly, correctly interpreting my expression. I shrug and twist away to set the glass down, but when I turn back to him, he’s still waiting for an answer.

I cuddle close, tucking my head under his chin, listening to him breathe for a moment. He’s naked, hard against my hip, and I’m almost surprised by the way my body responds to that; my stomach flips, hot and eager, in spite of my racing thoughts.

“It’s like… all of this,” I say hoarsely. “It just makes me feel like I’m being a pain in the ass. Because it’s supposed to be simpler than this. It means I’m not wet enough, and… I want you, and that should be the only thing that matters, and instead we have to go through this whole process of talking about my issues and… it’s supposed to be easier than this, and it’s my fault.”

Sam is very still, muscles stiff, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s angry.

“It’s not ‘supposed to’ be anything other than good for you,” he says sharply. “Look at me for a second.”

I pull back, taking in the fierce, raw expression on his face. My chest feels tight.

“Everybody’s different,” Sam says, quiet and intense. “Everybody has shit they like and don’t like, places they like being touched… it’s not an issue, and it’s especially not your issue. You’re not being difficult by telling me how to help you enjoy yourself. I want that. I want to know how to make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“And if I ever meet any of your exes —” he says, jaw clenching, eyes stormy. I let out a nervous little giggle, and his expression melts from thunderous to soft before he continues, “It makes me happy knowing that you feel safe. It’s hot, watching you get off on it… your reaction is what turns me on more than anything.”

My stomach swoops. I slide closer, running a thumb over the soft swollen curve of his lower lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice dropping down low. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He rubs his palm over the curve of my hip like he can’t get enough of my bare skin. “When you were pulling my hair and just — the way you were shaking —”

I cut him off with a kiss, melding my body to his, and he smiles against my mouth before opening up easily, kissing me back with these slow, sultry swipes of his tongue. I can feel him everywhere: bare all down my front, hands roaming like he can’t help himself, close and feverish under the blanket. I push it down, shivering at the cool air on my sweaty skin.

When I tangle a hand in his hair and tug slightly, Sam makes a gorgeous needy sound, and his cock twitches, hard and thick against my stomach. I push him onto his back and he goes easily, pliant under me, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his lips as I straddle him. For a moment I feel paralyzed by the sight of him. The moment stretches and I just stare.

Sam runs his hands up my hips, sliding one hand up between my breasts before tracing the curve of one with his knuckles, dragging his thumb over my nipple and circling as the skin pebbles under his touch. My shivery sigh of pleasure breaks whatever spell we were under.

I duck down to kiss him again, and the movement presses the ridge of his cock right between my legs, silky skin hot where it slots up against me. When I roll my hips, we both groan.

I reach for the lube. His smile goes smirky at the edges.

“If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear to god —” I blurt out, and we’re both laughing as I touch him, slicking him up messily.

It’s the laughter that erases the last of my doubts. My nervous giggle bursts like a bubble in my chest, releasing whatever tension I was holding there. I just feel light and giddy and happy as I wipe my hand on the blankets and position myself.

Then I’m sinking down, opening up around him, and the sudden aching stretch turns my laugh into a breathy moan. Sam is watching me as I work my hips down, taking him in. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

I understand, now, what Sam meant: your reaction is what turns me on. Because if I’d wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how I feel now. He tilts his head back, arching up and exposing his throat, tendons shifting under the skin as he strains under me and gasps out my name, and the clenching wave of need in my belly is blinding.

Fuck.

I shift, lean forward, sparking up some new kind of friction deep inside where I’m so full of him, and I’m whimpering as I kiss him gently.

“Okay?” he asks. I cup a hand to his jaw and he brings his own up to cover it, an oddly tender gesture.

“So much better than okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth.

I take it slow. We kiss, mouths clumsy with need, and I take it slow.

It takes a few minutes to adjust to his size. I rock my hips in tiny little movements, circling, twisting, feeling all the different ways there are to just feel him. Every movement brings some new sort of sensation as he drags against every sweet spot deep inside me.

I’m barely moving. I know he must want to fuck up into me, thrust, but he holds back, holds himself steady, lets me take what I need while he whispers sweet bits of nonsense against my lips. He tells me I’m beautiful, tells me I feel incredible, tells me I’m safe, and I trust him.

Then I grind down harder, and something flares up inside me, quivering out from where his cock is pressing deep in my belly. I do it again. The low dull throb of it has me trembling, panting against his mouth as I brace myself to get more, harder, clenching around him desperately.

Sam slides a hand down between us, flattening his palm over that spot, and I can feel the pressure building right there, but I need more.

“Sit up for me?” he asks raggedly. “Lean back, it’ll —”

He grits his teeth and cuts himself off, but I do it without questioning, sitting back on my heels and bracing my hands behind me. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t distracted by how good this feels. I’m barely moving, still, but Sam presses his palm down and tilts his hips up, and it’s like I can feel the molten force of it everywhere, like it’s going to split my skin.

Sam looks as close to the edge as I feel, eyes glazed, and I can feel him jerking up to meet me.

“Do it,” I hiss, and when he thrusts up for real, the surge of pressure makes me cry out, loud and shameless like I never am.

One last urgent grinding roll, one last surge of pressure, and I’m gone. I let my head fall back and let go, trusting Sam to keep me tethered to the earth as everything else goes brilliant white and sends me flying.

I’m distantly aware of the way he curses and twists up, the way he swells and twitches inside me, but there’s so much sensation that I can’t separate what’s him and what’s me; it’s all just one hot slick rhythmic pulsing rush as we ride it out, together.

When I start to go shaky and useless, Sam tugs me so that I flop forward onto his chest. I melt against him, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck, skin thrumming with satisfaction. I kiss whatever bit of him is close to my mouth, and he tastes like salt.

“So that’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” I mumble.

“I don’t think it’s ever felt like that, with anyone,” Sam says quietly, like he’s telling me a secret. “But… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so.”

I can tell he’s holding his breath. I put my palm on his chest. His heart is pounding, racing in counterpoint to mine, and I want to tell him that he’s safe; he can trust me with this.

“Me too,” I whisper, and he exhales.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave me a message? It means the world.

Thanks for reading.

#spn fic #sam winchester fic #supernatural fic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader

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shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.17

Happy Times

03/05/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,336

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, big smut, smutty smut, talk of pregnancy, infertility, trouble with conception

A/N: This is the big one. The one I’ve been waiting to share. To write out and perfect and I hope it hits you all the way it did me to write it. I love this chapter for many reasons. The smut is probably one of my favorites to have written. I don’t know why. I hope y’all enjoy it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Something settles between you and Thor after your sobbing conversation.

Thor has always been sweet with you after your marriage but he seems intent. Like he’s playing catch up and watching him is exhausting.

You know it’s your fault. He probably feels like he has to give you reassurance and two days of watching him fluster, you finally reach out to grab his hand before he can get too far away from you.

"Thor wait," you sigh, pulling him back towards the bed.

You’re not dressed yet, wearing only his heather gray t-shirt. It’s stretched a little around the neck because you’d been pulling it a lot last night in your eagerness to have him on you.

"What is it, my cherub?" he worries, sitting back down beside you as you pull yourself up to sit too.

His hands fly towards you, an instinct, as he places his hands on your hips then slides one up along to your waist then your ribs where you flinch a little from the surprise of his touch.

You’re still not used to him touching you in some places. Not his fault. Not really yours either. You don’t mind. It’s just new.

"Nothing, Thor. Everything is fine. And that's the point."

With a sigh you get up, letting go of his hand as you make your way to the cord by the door that calls in one of your staff.

"I was going to go get it for you," Thor explains. “I know you’re hungry.”

"I know, but Thor...what's going on with you?”

Sitting beside him again, you take his hand and lace your fingers through his as he reaches to touch you again.

You pull his hands onto your lap and sit with one leg folded up on the bed while the other hangs off the edge.

The skin of your thigh draws his attention and he takes back his right hand so that he can reach out and stroke it, pushing the shirt up just a smidge.

“What do you mean?” he asks, not understanding your own confusion.

“I mean, watching you fuss over me has been...I’m exhausted just watching you.”

Thor’s hand never stops stroking but there’s a small understanding that smooths his creased forehead.

“Oh,” Thor smiles a little sadly, and it almost rips your heart out.

“Thor,” you fret, suddenly terrified, voice rising in pitch.

You scoot closer to him to close the gap and he lets his hand slide up underneath your shirt to wrap around your side to hold you. You rest your knee on his own, also folded up on the bed so that he could sit facing you.

Meeting your eyes at the sound of grief in your voice, his beautiful blue eye goes wide, “No, cherub. Do not worry for me. I’m more than alright. I know that I have been a bit enthusiastic in my attention to your needs but it was only because I wanted to make it clear.”

“Make what clear?”

He shrugs one shoulder, pouting his lips as he shakes his head and turns his gaze down to your hand still holding tightly to his.

“That you are my one priority,” he looks up, smiling wide but it’s somewhat forced. “Of course you are. My beautiful wife.”

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach and you bite your lip as your mind races to fix this.

“Is this because of what happened the other morning? Because of me?”

You know it is, and even as he shakes his head, you know he’s lying.

“Thor…” you warn him, “Honesty, remember?”

His head freezes mid shake and with a small sigh, he nods.

“I never want to see you cry like that again,” he confesses.

Without missing a beat, you throw yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and practically sit in his lap as he responds instantly and embraces you.

He holds you tight, tighter than he normally does which makes your fear double. He buries his face against your neck and breathes in deep as you reach up to stroke his short blonde locks.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper for him. “I was being silly the other morning.”

You weren’t though. Your insecurities had been founded in a real problem. It no longer applied though, the moment he accepted you as his wife, so you shouldn’t hold it against him.

“I believe you, Thor. I know that you love me. And I appreciate everything you’ve done these past two days, but you don’t have to try so hard. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to.”

“Your worries were not unfounded,” Thor disagrees, unwilling to let you trivialize your feelings. “I once asked you to do something that affected your image of me. I gave you those doubts. Even if they hold no merit now, they were my words.”

“Fine, I had reason to be upset, but Thor this is too much If you keep going at this pace, you’re going to wear yourself out emotionally. I don’t want you to resent your love for me. I appreciate you wanting to make sure I know how you feel--and I do know--but you trying so hard feels almost as bad as why I was upset in the first place.”

The confusion on his godly face is heartbreaking.

“How-?”

“I don’t want to be a burden on you. I want our marriage to be a partnership. We’ll figure things out together, work through things as a team. You were on a team with the Avengers, right? Didn’t you all do much better together than you could do separately?

“And when any of you did break away, how did things go then? Not good, I’m guessing.”

Thor nods, “Not good.”

“I don’t want us to break away from each other. I’m glad you understand how much the way we started had me worried, but I get it too now. I know you don’t want Jane. And I’ll be better about my insecurities.

“So, can you stop running around like crazy and just be with me?”

Reaching up you place both of your hands on the sides of his neck, wrapping your hands around the back to give him a gentle shake.

He takes his own hands and traces your back from shoulder to hips then back up before he pulls you in against his chest to simply hold you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tuck your head beneath his chin.

“I guess I should probably cancel that chocolatier I hired just for you then?”

You shove your face against the skin of his collarbone and laugh a smothered laugh as he presses his lips against your hair.

“Oh, my god!” you shout, voice still muffled against his pecs.

Thor chuckles, then reaches down to take hold of your chin and tilt your head back until he can lean over you and press his lips to yours.

He kisses you again and again, slow languid pecks that smack quietly, wetly as his lips begin to part. A stirring between your legs makes you shiver and Thor quickly hooks his hands behind your knees to pull you onto his lap where you straddle him easily.

The position places you higher and as your heights are reversed, you grasp the sides of his face. You trace the shape of his top lip with your tongue and he sighs heavily. A huff of mild frustration before he lifts you, flipping you at the same time to press you down onto the mattress.

He kisses the corner of your lips, making a trail down along your jaw to your neck where he licks and suckles driving your sex absolutely wild. It contracts, searching desperately for filling.

“You-drive-me-absolutely-mad-” Thor gasps between wet kisses.

“Oh, Thor…” you whisper, a breathy moan that makes him growl.

He pulls you up for only a second as he takes the shirt off your body then pushes you back onto the bed as his mouth finds your breast to nibble.

He circles your nipples, raising pebbled peaks while his hands trace every curve of your body.

Somewhere in your mind, you’re aware that the bedroom door opens and a timid Estrid’s voice floats in.

“Good morning, Your Majesties. Are you ready for break-? Oh!”

And just as quickly as her voice floated in, it’s gone, the click of the door prompting Thor to stand and pull off his pajama pants.

He strokes himself, drawing your eyes to his large cock but instead of filling you up the way your cunt desperately wants, he pushes your legs apart and up towards you.

One long stroke of his tongue to drive your folds apart pulls a shuddering moan from your parted lips.

“Breakfast indeed,” he mutters, then latches onto your core to suckle on your nub then lap at you hungrily making you quiver.

But you want him inside you. You long to be full with him, pumped with his seed.

He notices your reluctance to his feast, your impatience. It makes him angry? No. It makes him want to change your mind.

He throws himself down flat on his stomach, your legs tossed over his shoulders as his hands make their way to tweak your nipples as his tongue pushes inside of you.

You gasp, arching your back when he pulls back to trace deliciously tortuous circles around your clit.

Like they have a mind of their own, your hands grasp his golden hair, holding him still as he presses more firmly against your nub. You thrust against him, unable to help yourself as you chase your release.

Thor brings his hands back down, hooking them against the fold of your legs and pelvis, shaking his head from side to side as he follows your enthusiastic lead.

The lurid sounds of his mouth devouring you push you over the edge and you buck against him as heat rushes from your core up into the rest of your body to bathe you in ecstasy.

As it spreads, you go numb to anything other than the buzz of your climax.

Thor traces kisses along your thighs, kissing up to your hips, stomach--where you flinch from the unexpected touch--between your breasts and finally your lips.

The taste of you on him is intoxicating. The satisfaction that makes him moan against your lips seduces you again, bringing your legs up against his hips as you spread yourself wide for him.

“I want you inside me,” you breathe, unable to find the volume to do more than gasp at him.

Thor kisses you hard, mouth open wide as he tongues your mouth, exploring the soft heated wetness of your tongue.

With one hand he reaches between your bodies and in one smooth push, he’s got his cock all the way in.

He groans loudly. You moan with him.

“Oh, fuck…”

You’re lost in his body again, the sturdy weight of him pressing you into your bed.

He thrusts into you slowly at first, feeling every twitch of your cunt as you take him.

But with your breathy moans, his excitement grows and his soft thrusts turn into hard pumps.

“Faster, Thor,” you beg.

He throws himself behind you, lifting your leg to wrap it around his waist as he pulls your back against his chest. One hand he uses to massage your breast while the other he uses to hold your leg up to keep you open wide.

You throw your head back, searching for him and he kisses you messily, all tongues and gasping moans.

His cock slides in and out of you smoothly, his pelvis slapping against your ass with a quick rhythm.

“Thor,” you warn, your body pushing towards your second climax.

He buries his face against your neck, lips latching on in a lazy kiss as his focus has shot down to his cock.

Holding your body as still as he possibly can without hurting you, he fucks you quickly, bringing his free hand down to press and flick your clit as he chases his own fix.

He grunts. It’s a growl of exertion.

Your breathing is labored. A pant as you cry out for release.

Thor comes first, biting down on your neck with surprising control while his hips stutter and he shoots his hot seed deep within you.

His hand is relentless as it works you and only a moment later, your toes curl. You lose your breath, a sharp cry of ecstasy piercing the sex haze as your body is overcome.

Thor overworks you, stretching your orgasm for as long as he can while your body twitches within his arms as he waits for you to be more pliable.

As your toes uncurl, Thor’s fingers slowly stop. He traces your side, grasping your breasts to squeeze with lusty admiration as both your bodies come down from their high.

“That’s what I call, a good morning,” Thor says breathlessly.

You chuckle, exhausted and as you shut your eyes, you begin to drift back to sleep.

Thor notices, pushing himself up to press a kiss to your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your cheek.

“Wake up, love,” he urges you. “We have appointments to keep this morning.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to just stay here in bed and do nothing all day but this over and over.

Thor laughs.

“I know, cherub. Should we call in sick?” he asks, half-serious.

“Ugh, no,” you sigh. “I have to go down to the park. And I have a meeting with the ambassadors at one.”

“What do they want?” Thor asks, wary of the Earth ambassadors because of their previous stance on getting Thor married to someone from Earth without an ounce of care as to who, so long as it was quickly.

“They want a report on our baby making progress.”

Thor sighs.

“Will you tell them about this morning? Should we have just made a video?”

You understand his frustration. You’re pretty tired of having your lack of a baby thrown in your face. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep telling them that you and Thor are trying and that when you have news, you’ll let them know.

“You just want a video for yourself,” you tease him, hoping to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work. “I hate that they call you for this. As if their meddling will help anything. I know it stresses you.”

Slowly, you turn to face him, hands pressed against his cheeks.

“I’m okay, puppy,” you promise him. “I’ll make sure to tell them today that they can’t call me for this anymore.”

“Will they listen?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But maybe if I tell them that they’re stressing me out with all of these progress meetings and that it might be hindering any possibility of conception they’ll leave me alone.”

“Is that possible?” Thor worries, propping himself up on his elbow as his hand gently strokes your lower belly.

“It is possible for stress to make having a baby harder. That’s why I thought that maybe we should take a break from trying but…”

Thor’s lips curl up into a smirk, “There is no way I am letting you take this perfection away from me.”

His hand gives your torso a once over before coming back to rest on your lower belly.

With a laugh, you nod.

“I know. I feel the same way. I think we should just stop thinking of it as a way to have a baby and just...do what we just did. Enjoy ourselves.”

“What we just did was more than enjoy ourselves,” Thor disagrees. “That was worship.”

“Then we’ll keep worshiping each other. Over and over and over and over-”

“Mmmm,” Thor wiggles his eyebrows at you and you laugh as he leans down to kiss your lips.

Your stomach suddenly growls.

“Now that I’ve had my breakfast,” Thor says, turning and getting to his feet. “Let’s get some for you.”

As you sit up, he tosses his t-shirt back at you and you slip it over your head quickly.

Thor moves to the door and pulls it open, nonchalantly peeking outside.

“Ah, Estrid, you’re still here. Good. Her Majesty would like some breakfast, please.”

“Right away, Your Majesty,” you hear Estrid say and your cheeks burn with the realization that Estrid literally just stood outside the doors of your bedroom, listening to Thor fuck you senseless.

As Thor shuts the door, he catches your bashful expression and laughs.

“I’m fairly certain that wasn’t the first time she’s heard us, cherub. No need for embarrassment.”

“I was so loud,” you whimper.

“A point of pride for me, I assure you.”

You bite your lip and Thor shakes his head.

“Shall we make some more noises for Estrid to overhear when she comes back with our food?”

Like a switch, you’re smiling, crawling away from Thor as quickly as you can across his massive bed.

You get only inches before his large hand closes around your ankle and he’s yanking you back to him.

“Come, let me have seconds,” he teases and you laugh as he pounces.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time has a way of getting away from you.

Your days become routine in New Asgard. More than they were before Tony, Bruce, and Jane showed up.

The security setup for the palace takes a long time. Bruce stays the entire month, but Tony goes home to Pepper every week for the weekend.

Jane is a constant presence in your daily life. Despite this, she doesn’t talk to you. Not often.

You tried a couple times to build some kind of rapport with her, but she’s resistant and you give up after the first week of her stay.

If she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, then you won’t force your friendship on her.

She’s not evil. It’s not like she’s mean to you or outright ignoring you. She returns your greeting in the morning and at night your goodbye, but otherwise she makes no attempt to talk to you.

Thor doesn’t see it. Then again, he’s hardly ever with both of you at the same time.

His meetings with Jane take place everyday after lunch. You’re busy with the city park’s construction so you’re left out of their meetups. This doesn’t worry you.

Thor always gives you a breakdown of what Jane reports to him and you trust him. There isn’t an inch in your heart that believes anything funny is going on. Thor gives you no reason to doubt him.

Loki makes regular visits to the observation stations that the Warriors Three and Sif are tasked with watching and he keeps you and Thor informed. As of now though, there’s nothing to inform you of.

“Nothing’s changed,” Loki assures you both as you lounge in the small sitting room just down the hall from the dining room you, Thor, Loki, and your guests always eat in.

“Do you still feel it? The thing we’re keeping an eye out for?” you ask him, putting your book down on the small coffee table in front of you.

“Oh, yes,” Loki nods. “Whatever it is, is still coming.”

“What’s taking it so long?” you wonder, frustrated with all the suspense.

“Lack of power?” Thor wonders aloud, standing at the wide window that looks out to the sea.

He’s got his thinking cap on.

“No,” Loki shakes his head, pulling down on the dark jade silk he’s wearing over a perfectly ironed white button up.

He’s the complete opposite of Thor in dress who’s taken to wearing a pair of dark jeans and various styles of casual tops from t-shirts to long sleeves that he pushes up to his elbows.

“No, I don’t think power is the problem. It feels more like strategic planning. Whatever they’re waiting for, hasn’t happened yet.”

Loki moves towards you, holds out his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

Almost as if on cue, Bruce suddenly pokes his head in through the open doorway, “Hey.”

“Hi, Bruce,” you greet, suddenly realizing what time it is.

“Lunch?” he asks, eager for a meal.

He’s always starving after he’s been cooped up in the basement security room all morning.

“Lunch,” you agree. “Thor?”

“Hm?” Thor turns towards you, your arm already hooked on Loki’s elbow.

“Coming? It’s lunch time,” you inform him.

“Right, of course,” he smiles at you then moves to take you from Loki who gladly releases you to Thor who guides your arm around his own elbow.

Lunch is uneventful. The same as it always is.

The food is delicious and the meal is hearty.

Thor devours his lamb, Loki nibbles.

Thor sits at the head of the table and you sit beside him, where he likes you to be. Loki across from you. Jane and Bruce sit at the opposite end of the table and anyone else who happens to be around takes up the remaining seats.

Seeing as today is Saturday, Tony is not in his usual spot across from Bruce.

As you sit beside Thor, he reaches over to take your hand, shoveling his food into his mouth with one hand while you also try and fail to cut your lamb with one hand.

You sigh and then laugh, finally pulling Thor out of his thoughts.

“What is it?” he looks around to see if anyone has said a joke, but you’re the only one not focused on anyone but him.

“I need my hand,” you explain, and smile.

“Oh, sorry,” Thor says.

He lets you go but his hand dives down underneath the table to take gentle hold of your thigh.

This touch doesn’t surprise you. You’ve gotten used to Thor’s need to touch you. It’s not overt, usually. Not like he has to be draped around you. He just likes to feel you close.

A hand along your back, fingers tickling the small hairs on the back of your head, your hand held gently, or like now, a hand gently squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

You chuckle as you cut your meat, putting a forkful into your mouth. As you chew, Thor stares at you, smiling softly at your amusement.

“Have I been monopolizing you?” he wonders.

“A little,” you admit. “But I like it. I like when you touch me.”

“I like touching you,” he admits.

“Mmm,” you wiggle your eyebrows once and place your elbow on the table to lean towards him as if you’re about to whisper a secret. “What kind of touches?”

Thor clears his throat, swallows hard, and licks his lips as he tries to guess your mood.

“All kinds,” he whispers for you, leaning in closer.

“Even the ones that make me wiggle?”

“Especially the ones that make you wiggle,” Thor replies adamantly.

You chuckle and he smiles wide, leaning the rest of the way to indicate he wants a kiss.

Putting your fork down, you reach over to his ear and pull him towards you. You angle his head a little more so that you can kiss him easily and both of you laugh a little as your lips meet.

He pulls back once, then leans back in to give you a peck. Then another. And another. And another. For half a minute, he simply gives you as many smooches as he can while Loki purposely avoids looking at your display.

“I love you,” Thor whispers to you, making your heart leap in your chest and take off like a racehorse as butterflies fill your tummy.

A scraping chair pulls both your attention to the opposite end of the table.

Jane stands, moving around her seat and then pushing it in.

“Well, as delicious as that was, I’ve gotta get back to the tower. There’s supposed to be some sort of midday aurora or something? I don’t want to miss it.

“Thor? Are we still on for two o’clock?”

“Of course,” Thor nods, smiling at her. “See you at two."

She leaves the dining room, every pair of eyes on her departure but you find that only Loki’s brow is crinkled with curiosity.

After lunch, you and Thor retreat to his office, the last room on your floor.

Well, it’s your office too now. After Thor’s wish that you wouldn’t make any kind of office for yourself too far from where he might see you, he’d bought you a sizable desk and bookshelf and had them installed in his office on the wall opposite his own desk.

It’s still a fairly large room so there’s plenty of space for both of you to move around and do what you need to.

Today, you’ve chosen to take a break and grab a novel from your shelf that you’ve been meaning to read.

After sitting at your desk for a chapter, you get up and move towards Thor’s desk where he’s sitting pouring over paperwork. You reach out, nose still in your book, and turn his swivel chair a little so that you can sit on his lap.

Thor doesn’t even look up from his work as he spreads his legs a little wider to offer you one of his massive thighs, and an outstretched arm ready to wrap around your waist once you’re settled.

He gives you a gentle squeeze once you’re in his arms but otherwise neither of you make a fuss.

You’re allowed only about thirty minutes of peace before a knock on the office doors pull both your gazes up.

“Come in,” Thor says, hand relaxed on the small stack of paperwork he’s been reading through.

The door creaks open and large brown eyes peek through.

“Jane?” Thor worries, looking at the small clock on his desk which tells him that she’s half an hour early and she also never comes to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry to bother you both,” Jane says which already sounds odd seeing as she hardly ever includes you in anything. “But I have something I need to show you, Thor.”

“Of course,” he nods, and you’re already getting up off of his lap. “I’ll come see you later, cherub.”

He leans down and kisses you but guides you to sit in his seat, which you do.

You watch him go, shutting the door behind him as Jane leads him off, stealing a precious half hour from you.

Disappointed, you sigh and shut your book. There’s no way you’ll be able to concentrate now.

Luckily, you’re spared having to find something new to do by a second knock on the door.

“Come in,” you say with another sigh.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid looks towards your desk but when she doesn’t see you at your desk, her eyes search the room.

“What’s the matter, Estrid?”

“Oh,” she smiles when she spots you. “‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty.”

Her reminder hits you like a bolt of lightning and you get up as quickly as you can.

“I keep forgetting!” you complain to yourself but with Estrid hot on your heels you hurry down the hall to your bedroom where inside you find Dr. Wilson and Doctor Alric waiting at the small breakfast table.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wilson? Dr. Alric?” you stop a few feet from them as the curtsy and bow respectively.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” they greet.

“Another blood test today?” you ask, already rolling up the sleeve of the oversized sweater you’d chosen this morning.

“Actually,” Dr. Alric begins. “There will be no need for a blood test today, Your Majesty.”

“What? But I thought-?”

“You’re pregnant, Your Majesty,” Dr. Wilson says, no prompting or lead up.

She just says it, and you freeze.

With wide eyes you look from doctor to doctor completely confused by what it seems their saying.

Do you dare hope that you heard them correctly?!

“I’m what?”

“You’re with child, m’am,” Dr. Alric assures you. “Dr. Wilson and I were finally able to find a way to test your blood for an Asgardian and human mixed child. Since our genetic makeups are so different, it took a bit of creativity and-”

Dr. Wilson reaches out to place her hand on Dr. Alric’s forearm, “We won’t bore you with the medicine behind it, but we tested as far back as we could with the samples of your blood that we kept just in case we managed to find a way to get a conclusive result and you’re about three months. A little less. You will have conceived just after your marriage. Perhaps on your honeymoon?”

Slowly you start to understand what they’re saying and a smile begins to spread across your face.

Can it be true?

“I’m really pregnant?” you check again, because you’ve wanted it for so long.

“Yes,” Dr. Wilson smiles at you. “It’ll be just a tiny swell right now. You might not even notice the change yet.”

“I’m pregnant!” you gasp, laughing as you press your hands to your cheeks.

Your doctors laugh.

Instinctively, you want to run to Thor and tell him. You want to call David and celebrate with him. You want to shout it from the rooftop of the palace so that Earth’s ambassadors will hear and finally leave you alone!

“There are a few things we’d like to go over with you. A diet and some medications to ensure the health and safety of both you and the baby,” Dr. Wilson explains.

“Dr. Wilson will cover the human side of the heir, and I shall employ a brief idea as to what I think might assist in maintaining the child’s Asgardian side.”

This reality check is just what you need and you move to take a seat with them, eager to learn and even more so to get to Thor and tell him that you’ve both been worrying for months when he’d already gotten the job done a long time ago.

You end up taking notes on everything that Dr. Wilson and Dr. Alric tell you. It’s a lot of information, instruction, and advice that you will never remember if you don’t put it down somewhere.

Time passes quickly and slowly at the same time but once they’re done with you, you see them off and then race back to the office to see if Thor’s meeting with Jane has finished.

Although it’s been nearly an hour and a half since he left you, he’s not returned to the office so you call for Estrid but take a peek out towards the tower instead.

You don’t see them out there and are almost set to go look for him up there yourself when Estrid comes.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, everything is wonderful Estrid. Do you know where Thor is?” you ask eagerly.

“I believe His Majesty is in his war room with Prince Loki, m’am.”

“Thank you, Estrid!” you zoom past her, unable to contain your excitement.

It feels like you’re literally flying down the halls as you make your way to your husband.

Your body is absolutely vibrating with glee. You’re weightless. Ecstatic. You’re so relieved that you’re not a failure. That you were able to give Thor and his people what they want more than anything else in the world. A future!

A beacon of hope. An assurance that the people of New Asgard will always have a place here on Earth. An heir.

As you reach the war room door, you see that it’s cracked open, Thor and Loki’s familiar voices spilling out from within.

You reach out for the handle.

“What did she say, Thor?!” Loki is demanding.

There’s something off about his tone.

Somewhere deep in your heart, fear strikes a cord. Panic. The weightless feeling your news has given you turns into numbness as your body recognizes danger before you do.

“She said she’s with child,” Thor spits, angry, frustrated, absolutely out of his mind with grief? “Jane said that she’s pregnant with my child.”

What?!

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #royal au #arranged marriage au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #a wife for thor pt17

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Cutie Pie | Sweet Pea

Hey Lovelies! Still updating from my Wattpad! Today’s feature: Sweet Pea! On another note; I think I’m going to open my requests for Thanksgiving! What do y’all think? All my love!!

Description: Y/n, Southside sweetheart, thinks Sweet Pea despises her. He really, really, does not.

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Warnings: Hints at smut but not really

Word count: 3k

Tags: Fluff, angst

Toni groans and throws another top on the growing pile of shirts that she has deemed unwearable. You had seen nothing wrong with it, a flowing pink blouse with cream polka dots. To her, however, it was too girly. You had scoffed at that. There's nothing wrong with femininity, she of all people should understand that. Maybe if she had wanted something that screams masculinity she should have raided Sweet Pea's closet instead of yours.

The Serpents seem to think there is something wrong with being girly though, looking down on anyone who dares wear anything pink or flowery and definitely anyone who wears both at the same time. You roll your eyes at that every time. You, a teenage Serpent yourself, are perhaps the most "girly" person to have ever set foot on Southside grounds. You take pride in that, wearing your Serpent jacket over all the ballerina skirts and pretty pink bralettes that your flowery heart desires. Yes, you get glares all the time but the switchblade in the pocket of your cherry blossom backpack just begs them to start something they can't finish.

"Y/n, baby, I love you but your closet is a nightmare! Do you have nothing remotely black? Or skimpy! C'mon, you want to impress Sweet Pea don't you?" Toni's voice is teasing and your cheeks flame in embarrassment and a tinge of anger.

"I would never dress to impress," you make air quotes with your fingers and pretend to gag, hiding the unavoidable lust in your voice before you say his name, "Sweet Pea! He's a jackass who's high on some masculinity crap! I can't do that."

She smirks at you from the mirror she's applying her bright red lipstick in, "you can very much do that and I know you want to. You're telling me that you don't lay awake at night and imagine his hands, his very large hands, doing unspeakable things to you? You may be the cutest little thing we've got on the Southside but you, baby girl, want him bad. Trust me, I know. I'm your best friend."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong and even if I did want, well, all that," you blush at the thought and swallow hard, pushing down at the buzz in the pit of your stomach, "he hates me so it would never happen. Theoretically, of course!"

"Uh huh, sure," is all your pink haired best friend says before turning back to your baby blue, vintage vanity to curl her pink locks.

You cross your arms over you aqua t-shirt, feigning annoyance, "and just what is that supposed to mean, missy?"

"Just that we both know you're turned on from just hearing Sweets' name. And he doesn't hate you, I roll with the guys remember," she catches your wide, doe eyes in the mirror and shakes her head lightly, laughing softly at your blown pupils, "he wants you. Bad."

You scoff again, leaning down to tie up your white tennis shoes, "he does not. He thinks I'm weak; that I'm going to bring down the pack.”

"He feels like he needs to protect you. There is a difference," Toni stands, twirling in front of your mirror to approve her outfit for tonight.

Some of the Serpent teens are gathering at the quarry, much like they do most weekends, to hang out. Today is special, though, because it's the last weekend before summer ends and you're all forced to go back to an educational prison. You're heart races knowing that Sweet Pea will, in fact, be there tonight. He's a jerk, at least he seems like one. Every time you’ve spoken to him it's been to tell him to let you handle your own problems. Granted most of your problems have involved ghoulies trying to make you their lunch because of your cute aura and quiet voice but he's never given you an opportunity to prove yourself. No one has.

Your voice is soft, like usual, but a tad annoyed, "I don't need protection. Why does everyone assume that I do?"

"Because you're so cute we could just eat you up!" Toni leans over to pinch your cheeks and you try not to giggle because that would only prove her point, "also, that isn't what you're wearing, is it?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" You peek around her and scrutinize your outfit.

An aquamarine t-shirt that stops right before a pair of fashionably baggy, cuffed jean shorts. The same pair of pink pearl earrings that you always wear are in your ears and the white tennis shoes you just laced are on your feet. Your worn Serpent jacket hangs proudly off your shoulders, the bright red patches bold against the black leather. The cherry blossom backpack is settled on your bed, ready to be grabbed and filled with your reusable water bottle, rose perfume, matching cherry blossom wallet, and switchblade, of course. All in all, it’s the perfect outfit.

You glance up to see Toni just smiling lightly at you, "Nothing, you're right. It's perfect."

* * * * *

Like usual, you and Toni take her bike to the quarry. You don't have your own bike so you ride behind her, your arms around her waist, her sugary scent blowing at you in full force, and your head thrown back, hollering into the wind. The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Nobody would have ever seen it coming. You were always playing in princess dresses and she was the pirate storming the tea party in search of cookies that were dubbed gold. You're polar opposites yet she's, perhaps, the only one who really knows how alike you are.

You arrive at the quarry laughing and cheering like maniacs, nothing out of the norm. You swing your legs over the side of her bike, hopping off gracefully and smoothing back your wind blown hair. It's dusk, the sun having just set, and there are mason jar lights sitting on the picnic tables and fairy lights strung through the trees. For such a rowdy gang, there is soft indie music floating through the air; the final touch to, dare you say, a romantic atmosphere. You couldn't be more proud.

A familiar arm is slung over your shoulders, pulling you into a playful side hug.

"Fogarty! I haven't seen you all summer," you swing yourself into a real hug, latching your arms around his neck and squeezing as he pulls you off your toes, "where have you been, Fangsy?"

He chuckles and sets you back on your feet, ruffling your hair and grabbing one of your hands to twirl you around, "hey cupcake, it's good to see you too. I've been here and there, sorry I wasn't around."

You giggle and shake your head, pulling him to sit at the practically full picnic table that Toni claimed. The table cheers when they see you, pulling you in for hugs and playing with your hair. You hear a couple voices tell you that you look cute and others telling you to come sit with them. You slide your backpack off, placing it under the table when you find an empty spot. Before you can take your seat, however, a pair of muscled arms circles your waist, pulling you onto their lap and stealing your seat for themselves.

A leather and pine scent envelopes you as the table breaks out in hooting laughter, "Sweet Pea this is my seat. As in singular. Mine."

All he does is tighten his arms deliciously around your hips, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach and making you very much aware of the intimacy of your position. You look to Toni for help but all she does is wink, turning her head to join one of the many side conversations taking place. You sit in silence for a while, as stiff as a board in Sweet Pea's lap. You aren't uncomfortable so much as nervous. You can't lie, you've been practically in love with Sweets for as long as you can remember but, until now, he has barely shown you any form of affection besides ‘saving’ your sorry butt on numerous occasions.

"Relax, baby," he mumbles into your neck for only you to hear, "it's just me."

You want to yell at him for calling you baby, you really do, but it sounds so perfect coming from his lips and his mouth on your neck is too pleasurable to push away. Instead, going against everything you stand for, you sink into his broad chest, leaning your head under his chin and pulling one of his hands into both of yours.

"Much better," his chest rumbles softly under your back.

"Pea we're supposed to hate each other, remember?" You toy with his fingers, noting their size and remembering your conversation with Toni from earlier today.

She wasn't wrong, thoughts of his hands, among other parts of him, keep you awake at night. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck.

He leans down, skimming his lips over your earlobe while he answers, "Since when? I never got that memo."

His hand moves from your hip to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers dipping in and resting on the skin under your naval. You bite back an unexpected moan at his lips and searing fingertips, leaning further into his chest and shifting your hips backward to fully press yourself against him. You let go of his hand in exchange for digging your fingernails into the picnic table. His hands are hidden, given him all the encouragement he needs to slide his now free hand up your bare thigh, drawing circles with his thumb on the inside of it.

"Sweets," your voice is raw, "what are you doing?"

"Showing you just how much I don't hate you."

His lips inconspicuously move to your neck, claiming the skin under your jaw as his own in the darkness. His hand draws further up your thigh, under the denim of your shorts and stopping at the apex of your thigh.

"Let me show you that I very much do not hate you, baby," he murmurs into your ear, the hand in the waistband of your shorts skimming over your skin in mesmerising patterns.

"Not here," you force the words pass you lips, melting into his touch.

"Then let's go," he practically pleads into your ear and it's all you can do not to wrap your legs around him right here and right now, nodding desperately as he scoops you into his arms and stands up.

You giggle loudly and, for the first time tonight, you're able to see his face. He's smiling down at you, a soft look in his molten chocolate eyes. His stare soon turns heated and he licks his lips, drawing your eyes to his mouth. Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling you flush against his chest. You turn to look at the table in time to see Toni nudge Fangs and point to the two of you, smirking at you when she catches your eye.

"Well guys," Sweet Pea addresses the table as he walks stealthily backwards, "it's been fun but we're going to head out now."

Before anyone can protest you lean up and whisper run in his ear. Before you know it he's sprinting to his motorcycle, the table of hollering Serpents shouting words of advice at your back. One that rings louder in the night is your best friend's voice screaming to "use protection". You blush and bury your head into Sweets' shoulder.

He sets you down on his bike when he reaches it, placing his hands on your hips and staring into your eyes through the darkness. The tension between you is tangible. You can hear every inhale he takes, imagining his bare chest moving over your own. In the blink of an eye you reach up and hook your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. Sparks dance up your spine and his hands find your hips. Fire burns everywhere he touches you.

You break the kiss quickly, "crap Pea, my backpack! I left it under the table!"

His eyes are still closed and he finds you lips once more, pressing another kiss to you lips, "okay baby, wait here, I'll go grab it."

"No, it's okay I ca-"

"Baby, just let me go get it," he stares into your eyes, pleading with you to let him go retrieve your backpack.

"Fine."

You watch him run back towards the others. You don't realise how dark it is until your all alone and the woods around the quarry become more prominent. Every noise you hear sets you on edge. You swear you keep hearing twigs snap but it's only your imagination, right? It has to be. That or Sweet Pea is pulling a prank on you. Maybe you should have just gone to get your bag with him.

You hear another twig snap and tense up. You ball your hands into fists, readying for anything. You can fight, that puts you somewhat at ease. Toni is the only one who knows that, spare a few older Serpent women who aren't in Riverdale anymore, because they had been the ones to rough you up during your gauntlet. Yes you, the softest girl on the Southside, refused to do the dance. There were no rules prohibiting you from the gauntlet so you opted for it instead. Needless to say, you can take a hit.

"You little skank!" A voice sounds from behind you, causing you to whirl around.

In front of you stands a tall redhead with hair to her elbows. Her serpent jacket clings to her slim form, accentuating her curves in a way that makes you jealous. She wears a paint of off brand skinny jeans and a black t-shirt that's a little too tight. Her eyes are bright green and furious, glaring bloody murder at you. You have no clue who she is.

"Uhm, excuse me?" You glance behind you just to make sure she isn't talking to some else.

"You heard me, slut. Who the hell do you think you are? Sitting on my man's lap?"

The ‘slut’ thing doesn't bother you and neither does the ‘who the hell’. She doesn't know you so you refuse to take her meaningless words to heart. However, the part where she claims Sweet Pea has you seeing red.

"Amazing. Everything that you've just said is wrong." You smile innocently at her, curling your hands into fists once more behind your back.

"I'm sorry? What did you just say to me?" She takes a step towards you, her chucks cracking another stick.

"Oh, sorry, let me explain. My name is y/n, not slut,” you counter her step with one of your own, “that's who I am. Oh, and he's not your man. If he is than why is he pulling me onto his lap instead of you?” you scrunch your eyebrows and look her up and down, “Oh, wait, who are you again?"

Your sugary sweet smile turns sinister in the blink of an eye; the same amount of time it takes her to charge at you. The words ‘cat fight’ ring in your ears as you dodge a poorly thrown left hook. You use the opportunity to land a blow to her exposed stomach. She coughs quietly and you step back to give her room, trying to be as kind as you can to someone who's wrongly accusing you of being a harlot. You're caught off guard though when she lunges for you, knocking you to the ground and pinning your legs under her.

Rookie mistake number two. She goes to swing again but before she can you grab her shoulders and roll, ending in a straddled position with her arms secured over her head. You smirk triumphantly down at the red head under you.

You plan to keep her there until Sweet Pea gets back but she decides to, rather stupidly, open her mouth, "I bet this is a familiar position for you, huh?"

It's not red that you see this time but blackness. All you remember is calling her a bitch and the next thing you know your hands are bruised and you're being pulled, legs kicking in protest, off the red head who now has a busted eye and a bloody nose. You're screaming at whoever has you in their grasp to let you go another round with the nameless girl. A mass of teen Serpents surrounds you, cheering loudly for you.

"Baby, as hot as that was, I'm not putting you down," a familiar voice whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You look back at the bloodied girl on the ground. She makes eye contact with you from around Fangs who's trying to help her stand up. You don't know where the reckless idea comes from but, to be fair, you aren't really thinking straight right now. Perhaps that's why you follow through with the plan you have just hastily concocted in your head.

You toss the red head a cute smile and mumble delicately to the tall raven haired boy, "hey, Sweets?"

"Yeah y/n?"

You glance up at him, still in his arms, and pull his lips to yours. You kiss him slowly, drawing it out for as long as you can before you have to breath again. You keep your lips millimetres from his, pressing them against his softly a few more times. When you look back to the ground, the girl is nowhere in sight and the rest of the Serpents have migrated back to the picnic tables. Your cherry blossom back pack is settled at Sweet Pea's feet.

"So," you giggle at his dazed expression, "do you still feel like you need to protect me?"

"Yes," your face falls and you almost push yourself from his arms.

"But, to be fair, I always will. That's just me. You looked amazing fighting though. Absolutely fucking beautiful."

"Okay," you kiss his jaw softly, "I think I can handle that. Now can we please get out of here?"

"Fuck yes!"

#sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea #sweet #pea #riverdale #riverdale imagine #toni topaz #topaz #toni #fangs #fogarty #fangs fogarty #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x y/n #imagine #reader insert

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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love to hate you | ten (m)

title: love to hate you pairing: ten x gender neutral!reader genre: smut, pwp word count: 1.5k warnings: hate sex, choking (there’s no prior discussion of kinks/boundaries here pleaseeee don’t do this irl), power play, switch!ten, cumshot, cumplay, protected sex (but the creampie kink jumps out every time anyway. send help) a/n: i don’t think i’ve written hate sex before cuz that’s a weird concept to me but i decided to try it anyway. so anyway,,,y’all wanted more riding fic ? this is what i came up with 💀 this is also my first time writing smut with a GN reader soo let me know if i overlooked something here

“I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

Ten’s statement is another one of his familiar taunts, and it makes you glare at him disdainfully. But you also know it feels too good to deny either of you what he’s demanding, with him seated inside you like this, his lithe body underneath yours.

You never would’ve thought your constant fighting and nitpicking each other would end up this way. Alright—maybe once or twice you’ve thought about his fingers shoved in your mouth, or his own mouth between your legs. The latter would be a good way to shut his ass up for once, and it definitely doesn’t hurt that he’s attractive.

“I think you’ll break.” You draw your nails across his stomach firm enough to leave marks behind, though not enough to break the skin.

“I can handle it.” He pushes his dancer hips up to prove it, and it causes your skin to make a loud wet slap where his body meets yours. “Unless you’re too afraid to do it.”

You lean forward for more leverage, planting your hands on either side of his shoulders and staring down at him defiantly. “Afraid of you? Never that.”

You ride him harder then, and your ass smacks on his thick thighs as you push your hips down on him. Ten’s hands come to your hips to press you onto him more forcefully, his black-painted fingernails pinching into your flesh. The sharp touch feels like annoying little pinpricks on your skin, though it also makes a shiver travel up your spine. “Yes, just like that, fuck me.” He tilts his head back a bit, the muscles in his neck straining as he does.

Ten’s praise of your skills has you wanting to gag him and hear more of it at the same time, though you decide on the former option.

You sit up again and grip the smooth column of his throat, feeling his heartbeat pounding under your palm and squeezing lightly where you know you’ll restrict some of his air. Ten’s body tenses and shakes under yours, his breaths coming faster. One of his hands flies up and he grabs your wrist like he’s about to take your hand off his neck, his fingers sliding to lace with yours, but he only presses your digits harder into his neck. This action piques your interest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His curses come out as staccato little sounds with you cutting his breaths off. He soon has to use his other hand to brace himself on the headboard so he doesn’t bump his head on it, with you riding him roughly enough to make his body inch up the bed, your toes digging into the mattress and sweat gathering on your skin.

Your legs and thighs burn from the effort of it, but you don’t intend on stopping now. Not when the pleasure is mounting like this and you’re both so close to reaching the end.

Ten’s done most of the moaning and crying out this whole time, even with you wrapping your hand around his throat, but now you let a few sounds of your own slip out as you creep closer to your climax. Your lips curl around the edge of his name. You want to feel it roll across your tongue, but your stubbornness overrides that desire.

His moans become a little higher-pitched and breathy when he gets nearer to his orgasm, and even without that sign you’d know he’s about to come because of how his muscles tense more under you and his back curves upwards slightly.

He twitches a few times and pulses hot cum into the condom, finally, and you have a brief thought about feeling him raw—the veins and hard shaft kissing your walls and warm seed spreading thick inside you—before you cum too, squeezing his length tight. As the pleasure pours through you, your legs lock up and you can’t do anything more than grind your ass on him, making sure he’s buried deep and pressed hard against your spot as you come.

After you both come, Ten pushes you off him and onto the bed unceremoniously, and you’d complain if you weren’t feeling so good that your legs were turning to liquid and your head was filled with soft clouds. Maybe it’s weird to feel that way after fucking someone you can’t stand, but you don’t truly mind if it makes you this satisfied.

Ten gets up to get rid of the condom, and you assume he must be spent after that. You’re wondering what either of you are gonna do now in the aftermath of your fucking, and you can already feel a sense of awkwardness trying to sneak up on you. You’re a bit surprised, however, when he returns to the bed and is still hard, already pulling out another condom.

You puff out a breath when Ten gets back on the bed with you, kneeling at your side and his dick hovering just over your face, like he wants you to take it in your mouth. Instead, you sit up and feign your best unimpressed look. “Really? Didn’t know you could still get it up.”

He merely scoffs and pushes you back into the mattress, your head landing on the soft pillow behind you as he settles between your legs. He tries to pin your legs back but you immediately protest, bringing them back around his waist—and shoving your foot into his ribs, though you act like that wasn’t your intention. “Hello? I’m not as flexible as you, chill out with the acrobatics!”

“Obviously. I thought your knees were going to give out while you were riding me.” Ten laughs at that, and you roll your eyes hard. But, it’s too late to stop a laugh of your own that you unsuccessfully try to keep hidden.

The laugh breaks off into a moan when he slips inside of you, hitting home on the first stroke. Your toes curl when he keeps rubbing up against that sensitive part of you, causing a burning pleasure to reignite in your veins.

Your words and thoughts fall away as Ten fucks you just as hard as you did for him, looking into your eyes and mumbling about how he really doesn’t like you but how are you so sexy? And then he kisses you deeply like he’s trying to consume the pure taste of you, gripping your jaw and biting your bottom lip as he does. When he does things like that, it makes you forget that you’re supposed to hate him, no matter how momentary the feeling is.

When you finally get your breath back—only because he gives you a moment of reprieve between the kissing and biting—you say, “Of course you don’t like me, you love me.”

“Shut up.” Ten says it sharply, but his tone is also not as searing as it was earlier in the night. Are you finally breaking some of the defenses he’s worked so hard to put up against you? Wishful thinking, maybe, but you’ll content yourself with the idea of it anyway. You squeeze your walls around him for good measure, and you delight in the broken moan it draws out of him. He retaliates by sliding his hand between the two of you and pleasuring you in kind. The touch of his hand makes you gasp and press your hips further up into his pelvis, wanting more of what he’s providing—all while raking your hands down his back and sides.

His eyebrows furrow at the pain of you scratching at him, though he doesn’t pull away from it. “You keep marking me up.”

“Something to remember me by,” you answer, your words trailing into a groan. You don’t care to hear his response after, if he even has one, because his fingers have you tipping over the edge and coming hard around him once again.

When Ten comes this time, he pulls out of you and rips the condom off, kneeling over you like he did earlier as he releases himself on your chest and neck and chin. His moans send shockwaves through your body, though if anyone asked you’d swear you’ve never imagined what they’d sound like before. And he paints an even prettier picture with his blonde hair falling into his face and his lips plump and red from kissing and biting all night—but you’d never tell him so.

Instead, all you do is stare at him with some mix of arousal and annoyance brewing in you as he makes a mess of you. Then he swipes some of his cum up with his thumb and pushes it into your mouth, making you taste him for the first time, and he smiles, satisfied.

“I hope you know I’ve ruined you for anyone else,” Ten says, and he smears the rest of his cum across your chest as if to prove it.

“You wish,” you retort, but you don’t really mind.

#ten smut #ten imagines #ten scenarios #ten fic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #wayv scenarios #wayv ten #wayv fic #ten lee #wayv imagines #wayv smut #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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harrypotter-imaginess · 3 years

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A/N: I just want to say, for my OG readers that have been reading this since I first posted the headcanon list last year, I love and appreciate y’all so much!! If you want, since this is a long term project, I can add you to the tag list if you like :)

Also Letter commission’s are open until 3/10, so if your interested, price and info are here.

Based on this Headcanon list (x) : Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! <This is Part 4!>

You sigh, eyes glancing back at your watch.

Maybe it’s off?

You wouldn’t put it past Fred to screw up the time on your watch just so you would show up an hour early to your class, wondering if it was always this dark at eight in the morning.

But if Fred did mess with your watch, how does that explain everyone else? You turn to your right and look at a group of third and fourth years scattered around the room. Surely he couldn’t have changed the time in everyone’s watch.

Though at this point you know better than to assume anything is impossible for Fred Weasley, especially if he’s able to get George on board with his pranks.

You sigh, eyes sweeping over the room again. The chatting has long died down, now it looks like all those late nights in the common room playing exploding snap are finally beginning catching up.

Especially when the class was missing the particularly loud and somewhat entertaining antics of the one and only, Gilderoy Lockhart. It wasn’t that it was particularly fun to watch his nonsensical lessons or anything- but at least it was something to watch. And as long as you were barley competent, you could get by just fine on the “pop quizzes” he had. Though they were really more like magazine quizzes about how well you knew him.

Plus he was pretty good looking, though you would rather die than admit that to Fred or George.

Speaking of your favorite pair of doppelgängers-

You turn to look at your side, the two chair next to you on the long bench are vacant. Well, it’s not like it’s totally unusual for them to skip class. You can count on one hand how many times they’ve been excited to come to defense against the dark arts this year. But-

But... they usually invite you when they do decide to play hooky.

Maybe they didn’t invite you because you’re always persuading them to come to class instead. ‘You don’t want a howler from your Mum now do you?’ You would say, pushing them towards the class.

Maybe they just don’t think you’re fun to be around anymore. No, no, they’re your friends- you can’t start thinking like that, there must be a good reason why-

“Hey (Y/N/N)” George squeezes past you, plopping into the chair next to you with a soft rattle.

His hair’s sticking every which way, his robe is crooked, and his tie isn’t even tied, just hanging limply along his neck.

“You don’t even have your bag George” you hiss, did he finally get into a fist fight with Draco Malfoy? You’ve told them both not to think too hard about how he called you-

“Wait where’s Fred?” You look to the door, expecting to see a messy head of fire red hair walk through the door, sporting bruises and maybe a grin like his black eye is a gold medal.

But instead, there’s a familiar head of golden hair standing in the doorway. It’s Gilderoy Lockhart. There’s no doubt about it, the image of him is perfect. Of course it’s your professor.

Of course it is.

But there’s something about the way he carries himself? Like he’s still getting used to having legs so short. The way his smile seems a little more...mischievous than usual, that twinkle of absolute delight in those strangely familiar eyes.

“Oh no” you mumble, but George grins from beside you.

“I’m not going to be needing my bag, and neither are you” George whispers in your ear, and you turn to look at him.

They didn’t.

“Good afternoon class, sorry I’m late! I was admiring myself in one of my thirty mirrors and the time just...got away from me.” ‘Professor Lockhart’ says flashing his class the most condescending smile you have ever seen.

“That’s not a lie you know, we did find him admiring himself in the mirror” George whispers, your face is in your hands but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s got a pleased grin on his face.

“It’s why it was so easy to knock him out and shove him into the teachers lounge- he never even saw it coming”

Well at least they didn’t shove him into a broom closet.

“Now class, I would like you to write a list of things you love about me-“ there’s a collective groan and the rustle of parchment but neither you and George don’t move a muscle.

“Four feet at least!” Fred, in his Lockhart-skin-suit bellows, which earns another collective groan from the rest of the class.

“So what, did you draw the short stick, why aren’t you up there?” You ask jerking your head towards Fred, it looks like the more fun part of the prank honestly. It also seems like the sweetest m form of revenge after old Gildy gave you three detention last week for showing up late to class, but you won’t mention that.

George only shrugs.

Honestly ninety percent of this situation was Fred’s poor impulse control. One second they were running late to class, and George was worrying about getting detention because if he has to scrub all those awards for Filch again he won’t be able to hold a quil - and the next thing he knows he’s carrying Lockhart by his feet into the teachers lounge.

“He’s the showman, I’m just the side kick.” George shrugs, it’s been that way since they were kids. Fred would come up with an idea and George would follow his lead.

Not that he’s upset about it. It’s always interesting, he’s hasn’t been bored in years. Still, he can’t help but wonder if they didn’t share the same face, would he and Fred be as close as they are now?

Or would he be just as easily replaced, most likely by Lee Jordan. Well Ron might make a more susceptible accomplice, would anyone do-

“And where would our fearless leader be without his trustworthy sidekicks?” You say, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. Your voice drawing George out of his thoughts.

“Probably in detention” You muse, that or jail, because technically they assaulted their professor, and that’s got to be a serious offense.

George laughs next to you, well you’ve got a point. If it wasn’t for you and him, you three would have been expelled long ago. He’s about to lean over and whisper something in your ear when some interrupts him mid motion.

“Weasley and (L/N), less flirting and more quil movement, yes?” He really sounds like Fred right there, a hint of an accent peaking through. Not that anyone other than you and George seem to notice. They’re all too busy contemplating how embarrassing it must be to get called out for not paying attention by Gilderoy Lockhart of all people.

You manage to not roll your eyes, sifting through your bag until you pull out some parchment.

“Geez four feet? That’s kind of excessive” you mumble while George is holding back laughter so violent he’s actually shaking.

“You know he’s just teasin’ right? It’s not like Lockhart’s actually going to grade these-“ and then a horrible realization dawns on him.

Half of the reason they thought this plan would work is because someone as pompous as Gilderoy Lockhart would never admit that two teenage boys hit him over the head with one of his books, and shoved him on a sofa (after tying his shoe laces together).

No, good old Gildy would go along like nothing had even happened, perhaps he’d even believe that nothing had really happened. Not enough sleep and too much caffeine do result in memory loss. And who can sleep with ‘the heir of Slytherin’ on the loose?

Ordering-sorry, assigning them to write four feet worth of parchment about what they admire about their professor sounds exactly like something he would do.

“Fucking Fred.” George hisses, why did he bloody have to pick four feet? Wouldn’t just one foot have sufficed? But no, the great Fred could never- ‘it adds enthusiasm, it’s all about the drama’ he would say.

Well where’s your god damn drama now that your best friend and brother are about to fail this god forksaken class, all because you couldn’t say one foot instead of f*cking four, George wants to scream.

You sigh, cutting your parchment in half, handing one half to George. You’ve only got four feet on you, you didn’t think you would need any more than that, so the both of you are just going to have to turn in two feet each.

“Sure would be a shame if Fred came back to the dorm and found, oh I don’t know, fifty spiders in his bed” you muse as you pull out two quills, and a bottle of ink. You’ve only got the one bottle, you’ll have to share.

But George isn’t paying any mind to the ink and parchment situation, instead he’s grinning at your suggestion. He always knew you had a wicked streak.

“Yeah it would be a real shame if say, two people were to go down to Hagrid’s hut, collect some drool from Fang, and smear it all over Fred’s robes” You peer at George from the corner of your eye, trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

“Oh well now wouldn’t that just be awful, hypothetically of course” You say, looking down to your parchment

“Truly a tragedy” He responds with a grin.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter #fred and goerge weasley #Fred and George Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #Fred Weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #george and fred weasley #george weasley x reader

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saltpepperbeard · 3 years

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Fighting the Rain ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Oh? What’s this? *Cough hacks CHOKES on cobwebs* A one-shot after almost two years of inactivity? Who knew that over-caffeinating was the true key to motivation after all this time! But hello hello everyone! So very happy to be back. I come bearing a bit of Reverent Sweetness™ as a small exercise to hop back into things! I really wish for this energy to continue, and so I’ll be attempting to push myself into getting back into the swing of things.

For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly blame Andy and Cate for such an idea. And I do believe I’ve seen another tub-related piece that was also hanging around in my mind as I thought this up. Whatever the case, thank y’all; your talks and creations fINALLY FUELED ME lmao!

But for now, enjoy some simple Everlark rubadubdub, and without further adoooooo...

Fighting the Rain

No two days are the same, and no two hunts are created equal. Some glow with warmth and yield a plentiful harvest, while others fall into a category of melancholy and disappointment. Unfortunately, as the clouds build relentlessly overheard, my efforts seem to be leaning towards the latter.

My arrows drive into a frustrating nothingness. My pray scurry as if they have an oddly heightened sense of awareness. My attitude grows all the more frustrated and downtrodden. And almost as if to directly mock me, the sky cackles and booms before releasing an onslaught of cold moisture.

Great. I’m quite a ways from home, but close enough to hopefully beat a deluge should it chose to erupt. I hate departing emptyhanded, but don’t feel keen on pushing my luck further. Not when a kindling of annoyance burns within my chest, and the clouds answer back with further rumbling.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and dart with bow in hand, the various unused arrows clinking against my backside. The rain is chilling, biting my skin and hissing against the internal fire. Water is normally apt at putting out flames, but it only serves to amplify mine. My scowl deepens as I continue on, growing damper and colder by the minute.

Aside from the fire roaring in irritation, perhaps it burns for another reason. Perhaps it presents itself now as a yearn for warmth, for the feeling only he can provide. His arms have always been there to chase away the deepest of stings, so of course I would want him like nothing else now.

My step inadvertently quickens, the mental image of his embrace fueling me. A blessing and a curse; the sky groans above and opens up to completion, sending buckets of rain upon me. My desperate speed of course, points to an even extremer drenching effect, my scowl deepening something terrible as I’m quickly soaked to the bone. But in moving faster, in practically flying across the land, the entrance to the back porch quickly appears through the falling sheets.

I waste no time in careening up the steps, practically throwing myself into the house with a hissing groan. But I’m sure such sourness will be short-lived. Such dampness will likely turn anew. Such chilling sensations will be burned off, the embodiment of the sun coming forth to bestow his touch.

Or not.

On the contrary, I’m met with emptiness. Silence. Nothing more than the shivers coursing through my form, and the soft drips of water rolling off my soaked clothes.

My scowl, though now painted with confusion, deepens all the more. Was I too presumptuous? Knowing my current luck, he’s likely elsewhere: wrapped up in the Bakery, next door with Haymitch, or deep in the throes of a painting upstairs.

I shed my father’s hunting jacket, hanging the damp leather to dry before shrugging off my equally-wet bag. My arms come to lace across my chest, crossing in both self-comfort and simmering frustration. Though, my lungs are quick to rattle with a sigh. He’s not responsible for my happiness, and I know so. And I can manage well enough alone when I need to; I’m no stranger to the empty cold.

But God, he definitely helps. He’s everything and more on a rainy, relentless day. And with every hour, with every moment spent with him, it gets harder and harder to deny the growing draw. So used to solitude and survival, and yet now do I find myself wishing for warm company more often than not. How Spring has warmed the deepest reaches of my soul.

I’m about to let my hair down and poke my head out the door to wring it out, when the day continues to prove me wrong. Or maybe, my mental call is answered by the only one who can hear it. Whatever the case, cold limbs run warm and angered heart beats ginger as his voice unexpectedly manifests.

“Katniss?”

My sigh shifts to something of tender relief, blowing out a quivering breath as I feel the instant effects.

“Down here,” I call back.

My chest seems to pound in unison with his footsteps on the stairs. He has no idea, the effect he has. It’s like the dissatisfaction towards the day’s events instantly drains, washing away like the billowing spout outside. Made even more intense, of course, by him rounding the corner.

I should be used to this. This is something of normalcy now. And yet, my breath still manages to hitch, coupled with the stutter of my heart. As usual, he beats me to talking, grinning his endearing smile as his blue eyes lay upon me.

“Hi, my love-” His voice and the expression are short-lived; he must have gotten a proper look at my state. Yes, the widening and wandering of his eyes confirm it, as does the speed in which he reaches me.

“Oh...God, you’re soaked!”

“That obvious?” I grumble through the hairs plastered to my face, though twinges of amusement exist therein.

“A bit!” he softly chuckles, reaching up to brush said strands away. An action which, is unsurprisingly topped off with a kiss, a very tender one against my glistening forehead. In missing him, in wanting the mellowness from my flower, I move for more. I chase after his lips as they depart, quickly bringing forth my own. The tender connection causes me to contently sigh, particularly when I can feel him smiling. We hold each other in the gentle lock for a few ginger beats, before he pulls free- oddly looking sheepish.

I cock a brow at him, which seems to be enough to pry an explanation.

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Really ah...puts a damper on my plans.”

I roll my eyes at what appears to be a pun, and he laughs a bit before grabbing the back of his neck. I cannot help but pry further.

“Plans?”

“Yeah...”

He puts on the shy smile which likely stole my heart all those years ago, and looks down in the direction of our feet.

“I ah...Drew you a bath. Thought you would like it after a long morning of hunting. Seems kind of counterintuitive now though.”

There it goes, the departure of every ounce of cold, of negativity. Akin to Spring melting the deepest reaches of Winter, easing the snow into the Earth and drawing forth blooms. I’m sure his thoughtfulness will never cease to soften me into awe. And, though it seemed impossible years ago, what with all the roadblocks and challenges that stood in our way, I’m sure my love will never stop heightening.

I find myself hushed into an affectionate silence, my cheeks blushing all the while. Before he can doubt the validity of his decision though, or doubt himself to any other degree, I leap back to him once more. My mouth dusts across his tender cheek first, before selfishly seeking out another caress of his lips.

“No,” I assure when we finally break, “No. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Fighting dampness with dampness?”

“Well, yeah. One is awful, cold, and from rain, and the other is inviting, warm, and from you.”

I’m surprised, though absolutely not, to see a glint flash through his shyness, his smile turning a bit more crooked to match.

“Hmm. Not yet it’s not.”

I roll my eyes and give his chest a playful shove. He of course laughs, and softly grabs my wrists, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I sigh against him, falling all the more into a state of contentment. Unsurprisingly, a trio of relatively new words present themselves on my tongue. Though, in yearning for Peeta, in having my heart beat deeper and faster for him day by day, their utterance feels more and more natural.

“I love you...” I whisper for him to capture, “Thank you.”

He grins so hard our connection breaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush, effectively triggering mine all the same.

“I love you too. Now go ahead- can’t have the bathwater turning into sitting rainwater.”

I let out a huff of mirth, and give one last parting kiss before taking him up on his offer. There’s a small bit of apprehension towards leaving him so soon, but I remind myself that this was his doing. The warm water will carry his essence, surely, ushering me away from all the troubles of the morning.

And so I walk up the stairs towards our bathroom, humming softly as I envision what awaits. Dampness to fight dampness indeed; I’m met with a plume of steam when I open the door. But quite quickly, it proves to be a far better option than that of outside.

Unlike the rain which chased me away, this draws me deeper into the bathroom. The steam is like a warm blanket, or a hug from Peeta, wrapping around my slightly shivering form. When I inhale deep enough, it seems like I catch notes of something floral- lavender, maybe? All the more thoughtful of him to doctor it up so.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly rid myself of my soaked garments, plopping them into a wet heap on the tile. My skin is quick to pimple from the biting air, so I’m even faster to slip into the beckoning tub.

And I cannot hush the contented moan that slips from my lips. It’s wonderful. Heated just so, smelling so sweet. My eyes roll shut with a sigh, and I poise myself to slip deeper into the watery embrace. That is, until the day continues on with its ever-changing events. That is, until a jostling of the doorknob halts my movements and breaks the relaxed trance.

Out of pure reflex, I draw my knees up towards my chest, hugging myself and hiding my body away. An action birthed from years of apprehension, and one that immediately unravels at the sight to follow.

Because it’s Peeta, of course it’s Peeta.

But the unexpected element is that he too, stands completely bare, all of him on displayed for my stunned, flustered eyes. I find his own first, and though he’s grinning, I can see that same shyness playing across his features. Much to my blushing dismay, my gaze cannot help but drift to the space I’ve become recently acquainted with. It’s still so new to the both of us that the hitch of my breath is answered by one in return. Warmth seems to travel to more than one place as I gaze at him, though my grey stare wanders to where it’s most prominent, his cheeks utterly rosy with red.

He shifts himself a bit then, looking down and snickering softly before catching my eye once more.

“Too much?”

A shiver rolls down my spine. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I have a feeling I won’t be opposed to anything he brings forth. Thus, I’m entirely earnest as I shake my head, releasing my knees fully.

“No,” I murmur, giving my lips a quick lick.

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Already seem pretty prepped to do so.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh, before blue interlocks tightly with grey. In knowing he’s silently asking for permission, a nodding gesture of my head brings him forward. I watch as he walks towards my backside, and I believe I’ve placed his intention. I slide forward a bit then, allowing him space to slip in behind me, should he choose to do so.

Sure enough, he does, momentarily sitting on the tub’s lip to unclasp his prosthetic before sliding in, the water sloshing a bit and rising from the introduction of another body. And, of course, it seemingly grows warmer, his form, his raw form, utterly reaching the depths of my being.

It’s ridiculous, considering he’s gone where no one else has, but I find myself somewhat timid. Maybe because it’s yet another new form of intimacy. I never really considered so many existing aside from the more carnal ones, but Peeta continues to surprise me. And where I find myself unsure, he also is there to softly guide me.

His warm hands gently slip to grasp my shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he ushers me to lean back against him. I don’t protest in the slightest, venturing back with his grasp and gasping ever so slightly when skin meets skin.

It’s different. Our bodies have been unified before of course, tangled and messy and desperate. But this is...different. It’s vulnerable, it’s tender, and it’s...comforting.

It’s everything. Just as he is.

My thoughts momentarily blip back to the former however, when I feel...him wedged between us. I squirm a bit, my breath hitching as more intense thoughts threaten to invade. But the more I feel, the more I lay against him, the more I realize that he’s relaxed.

And that it’s simply us. All that we are, together.

The thought settles me, and I sigh as I fully melt against him. Every bit of tension saps from my body, and my form seems to meld perfectly into his. His head comes forward to nestle against mine, and I can feel him smiling, the heat evident as he nuzzles and offers the occasional kiss.

I’m back to humming, back to closing my eyes, utterly slipping away like he intended, like I wanted. I had felt almost selfish before, wanting this so badly. But then again, it was nigh impossible not to; it does exactly the intended purpose. I’m ushered to plane where it’s just he and I, where nothing bad exists. I’m taken to a place of pure warmth, of pure love, everything else falling away.

As blissfully lost as I am, I of course have no choice but to vocalize once more.

“I love you so much...”

His turn to hum, as if he’s absorbing and ingesting such sacred words. But all the same, he presses a kiss to my cheek before returning the sentiments.

“And I love you...”

I’m prepped to simply drift away, waiting for my body to become so relaxed that I doze off against his chest. He denies me the opportunity though, but I don’t complain, his fingers coming up to nestle into my messy braid.

“May I?”

When I nod, he begins to softly unravel the intertwined strands. An easier task than usual, as the rain and running left it loose. I give my head a gentle shake when I feel it entirely unwind, fully freeing the waves of darkened ebony.

“Beautiful...” I hear him whisper, and before I have a chance to respond, before I can really even process, his fingers venture in further, sifting through swaths of black to dance atop my scalp.

Any crinkle of my nose towards his compliment instantly dies with such an action. He rubs, massages, the pads of his fingers driving me into an entirely different state of bliss. How is he able to do this? How can he affect me so? How can he drive my body and soul to places unthinkable?

I guess if anyone could be able to do it, it would definitely be Peeta. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I fall even deeper, my skin sliding against his as I descend a bit into the water. He snickers softly, but continues on with the massage. Or wash, perhaps? I think I can smell even stronger notes of flora and sweetness. Whatever the case, I can barely think, barely process, utterly mollified and melting.

So much so that I think my chin eventually brushes the water’s surface, effectively snapping me back into reality. With it, comes a hint of something else. Further selfishness? Guilt? Desire to return? Either way, my whisper breaks through the gentle steam.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like...We need to switch places. Take turns.”

His fingers momentarily halt, before he laughs and continues on.

“No. No no- this is more than enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“But-”

“Just enjoy it, love,” he murmurs, “Really. I’m just...happy to be here with you.”

So sweet, sugary sweet, sweeter than the confectionaries he specializes in. Surely something that would have earned a tense scowl years ago; now it draws forth a ghost of a smile. It makes me want to consider the journey, the steps we’ve taken to come to this very moment. But in the delightful erasure, all the pain and hurt is numbed, cast aside in the eyes of our affection.

What it fails to erase however, is my want to be stubborn, my need to please in return. Though blips of meekness still linger, shyness still evident amidst my cheeks, the former drives me and overrides. With a bit of difficulty in the porcelain space, I pivot around to face Peeta, connecting our stares with my smile running to a playful scowl.

Though there’s a slightly confused lift to his brows, he’s grinning immensely, an expression that acts as magnetism between our mouths. I kiss him for just a moment before carrying on with the intended plan. Just as he had done with me, I reach up with both hands, curling my fingers through his ashy blonde locks. I hear him shakily sigh, though the silence it what truly drives me onward; no argument is being made.

My pads nestle deep into his hair, softly rubbing and massaging like he had done for me. It’s lovely, returning the sentiments, returning the newly found intimacy. Unfortunately though, in doing so, I fail to recognize the more prominent form, the more familiar.

Perhaps it’s Peeta’s shaky hand that comes to rest at the small of my back, or the realization that such a position has put him directly at eyelevel with a more than desirable part of me- at least to him. I subsequently bite my lip, blush, and halt at the thought, slipping back to my previous perch.

Sure enough, when I pull away to get a look at his face, the flush to his cheeks and flare to his nostrils paint the correct picture.

“Too much?” I ask, parroting his opening question from earlier.

“Hmm, uh, a test of will perhaps, yes,” he replies with a shaky laugh.

It’s my turn to snicker, reaching to gently cup his face with a hand.

“Sorry. Might make this take a different turn.”

“I mean, it could, if you wanted,” Peeta murmurs, his grin turning crooked once more.

I let out a huff of mirth, softly shaking my head.

“Seems inevitable. But I dunno...I do like this.”

Peeta’s smile shifts back to a warmer tonality, pivoting his face to kiss my hand a kiss before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m just...happy to be here with you. Always.”

His words repeated off my tongue are perhaps more loving and beneficial than the stroke of my fingers; he lights up like the sun, burning away the fog between us as his sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Always,” he reaffirms with a whisper, giving my hand another kiss before continuing, “Whatever you’d like then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Whether I nestle up against his chest, lay back against him once again, or get ravished atop towels on the bathroom floor, the thick clouds of steam refuse to reveal. Whether they remain entirely chaste and grey, or heated and dripping, they encapsulate us, locking us away from the morning, from the bad.

Just as he does for me, and how I hopefully do in turn.

Oh, how life is simpler, more bearable. How the negatives turn into things so much more desirable. And how humorous is it that I find myself longing to get caught out in the rain once more.

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fourmarkdove · 4 years

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Fawn.

Title: Fawn.

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Geralt stops into ye locale brothel expecting one the ladies to soothe his battle weary soul. You aren’t meant to be there and have no idea how to handle his needs.

Paring: Geralt x reader

Warnings/Triggers: Smut.

A/N: This is a multi-chapter beasty. I’m already up to 10k so I’ll be editing and breaking it up into chapters to post in the next couple days. I’ve held onto this for 3 months (?) and I still can’t figure out where I’m going with it past chapter like 8, so I may be asking y’all what you think when we get there. (Also, I need to go back and tag some folks.) Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

It had been weeks since the Witcher had been through town, so when his massive frame darkened the doorway of the inn, the women who worked there scattered to put on their rosy lips and tighten their bodices just a bit more. In truth, none of them would have even asked him for a single coin. Being the one chosen to bed the Witcher later that night would have been more than enough payment for keeping his plate full, his drink topped off, and some easy company with curves to fondle while he consumed and brooded.

By dusk, the leather clad man was served enough of a steady stream of ale to just barely soften the lines across his troubled brow. His demeanor was still altogether sullen, leaning over his mug, shoulders rolled forward, silver strands of hair fallen around his weary features. The hunt had not gone well.

He needed food, a bath and a hard fuck. Emptying himself out in the tight cunt of a pretty little thing would help clear his head. It might even afford him the chance to get a little bit of rest.

Mathilde, one of the more experienced women, saw Geralt always had proper company to suit his mood. Settling in next to him with a mug, she let out a labored sigh and sipped on her ale. His heavy lidded gaze glanced her way and an acknowledgement “Hmm” rumbled from his chest.

“You look tired, Witcher,” she noted, leaning heavily into his shoulder armor. “Why don’t you stay more than a night or two, my darling? Let Mathilde look after you a bit.”

“Hmm.”

That was usually enough to get him headed into a room upstairs but instead he sat back and downed the last third of his drink.

Mimicking his motions, she sighed and turned away from the room to whisper into his ear.

“Anyone caught your eye tonight, darling?”

Geralt looked in a drunken citrine haze around the room, but took pause at your figure sitting at the hearth, tending to the fire.

“Hm,” he grunted, motioning with his chin, before sipping on the fresh pint just delivered.

Mathilde pressed her lips together and slipped her hand under the table to touch his knee. Lazily lifting an eyebrow at her advances, he waited in silence for more information.

“She is new since you been here last, darling. Might not be exactly what you’re in the mood for tonight though love. Let’s maybe try Larissa? She can be bent over a sack of potatoes in the kitchen in about two minutes if you want an early night in.”

The slightest downward tick of his mouth indicated he was not pleased with her proposition. Returning his gaze to your outline seated by the fire, he grunted,

“Send the doe-eyed one up with soap.”

You’d barely seen the shadowy figure dragging his weary frame upstairs before Mathilde crossed the noisy room to where you were seated.

“You’re up, girlie,” the mistress instructed without a drop of honey in her tone. “Take a bar of soap up to the Witcher.”

Willing your hands to stop trembling, you paused and pressed your back against the wall just outside his door. Shaky breaths felt like they could have rattled your body to pieces and left you collapsed on the floor.

You’d been saved the humiliation of participating in the activities all of the other girls were involved with by staying in the kitchen for the last few weeks you’d been at the inn. Knowing absolutely nothing about cooking, you still tried to make yourself useful. Carrots were cut in odd sizes at an achingly slow pace. Onions made you weep so much that you closed your eyes while cutting and sliced your knuckles by mistake. Collecting potatoes, you’d managed to get tangled in a thicket of thistles and stumbled back to the kitchen empty handed and covered head to toe in burrs.

Having absolutely no training about local flora and fauna, you assumed all herbs were created equal. You’d never have known the herbs next to the parsley were in fact poisonous had you not washed and cut them to put in the soup yourself. Just a few sprinkles of green on top of a spoonful of broth made you immediately sick. Your body revolted and cast up everything you’d eaten that day, over and over.

So you were sent out of the kitchen. Potentially poisoning patrons was apparently the last straw. You knew it was only a matter of time before you would be sent upstairs to perform other activities. And it made your hands sweat and breathing quicken so much that you started to see stars.

Just as you were feeling your legs might give out from under you, the door swung open.

The white haired man stood as a broad shouldered wall of muscle, leather pants undone low around his hips, shirt crumpled in his hand.

You were absolutely dwarfed small by his impressive size. Upon one last shallow inhale, the soap dropped from your hand and your eyelashes fluttered closed.

Catching your waist, he tossed his shirt at the foot of the bed, swept you over his forearm and sighed. He’d heard your rapid heartbeat, like a frightened deer hiding under a brush pile, from the other side of his closed door. Of course, he was used to a cool reception wherever he went, but making you faint dead away was not his intention.

Dragging you to the bed, he hummed a thoughtful sound. He’d felt the kind of expensive green fabric you wore under his rough hands many times, but never in a place like this. Dresses this soft came from fabric woven from far away places, which meant you’d come from money and belonged in a court somewhere not collapsed on his bed in a brothel in the center of nowhere.

Fortunately, he had more knowledge of courtly dresses than most men, particularly their quick removal.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he let you fall forward so your head rested against his shoulder as he reached for his silver dagger and slipped it right up your spine, slicing the ties laced across your back. Roughly tugging apart your dress, your body responded with a desperate gasp.

With a shuddering exhale, your fingers grasped onto his thick biceps, trying to ground yourself as the dizzying sensation passed.

He made quick work pulling you free from the binding garment, slipping it down your shoulders, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’m… sorry… I don’t know… what happened,” you stilted, pressing your forehead into the crook of his neck.

“Why you ladies tie yourselves up in these fucking dresses I’ll never know,” he grumbled almost imperceptibly low. Slipping a hand under your hair, he stroked along your jaw and lifted your head with his thumb. “Better?”

You straightened up a bit and released your fingertips from their death grip into his upper arms.

“Better,” you lied. “How may I… please you?”

Regarding you with amusement, he lifted a brow. “Please me? Keep breathing for a start.”

You bit your lip, and his golden eyes followed. You were uncertain how to say the things out loud that you were supposed to say. Even moreso, do the things you were in his bed to do.

You frowned in confusion when he reached around your hip and pulled back the covers.

“You can stay here tonight,” his voice resonated deep in his chest. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Can I help?” you asked meekly.

He tugged your bitten bottom lip from between your teeth with his thumb. “You can stay right here.”

Decision made, his weight lifted from the bed making the old frame creak. He went to the fireplace to add more wood before heading to the bath in the main part of the room.

Pushing your heavy outer dress down your hips, you remained in your underclothes and slipped your cold feet under the covers, pulling the wool blanket up to your neck.

Geralt groaned as he sank down into the bath. Every muscle in his body ached.

Resting his heavy arms along the sides of the bath, his tired eyes finally closed and he rested his head back against the hot water basin.

Still alert like a snoozing cat, he didn’t move a muscle when you padded over, undressed and carefully held onto the edge of the bath to climb in with him.

You settled a long moment opposite him, drawing your knees up to your chest in the warm water. Fairly certain he was sleeping, you were allowed a longer look at him without those keen eyes flashing at you. He really was stunningly beautiful. Somehow that made what you were about to do even more difficult.

You were just inches away from touching his large hand holding onto the edge of the tub but he sensed your reach and grumbled, “What are you doing, little fawn?”

You gasped and froze, glancing at his still reclined and resting form.

“I… um…” you stumbled, pushing forward despite your racing heart shooting up into your throat. Wrapping your hand around two of his massive fingers, you pulled it underwater and his palm around your waist.

“You paid for this... room…” came your breathy voice, collecting every last bit of courage left in your body. Slipping over to him, you rose onto your knees before him, letting the water just skim the underside of your breasts.

His gaze became dark, pupils dilated, as he followed the water droplets rolling down your flushed skin.

He licked over his lip and flicked his gaze back up to yours after drinking in all of the soft flesh you were offering. His hand you’d wrapped around yourself flexed and pulled you flush to his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart pounding like a horse’s canter under your palms. Nudging his nose to yours, you could feel his warm breath against your lips when he parted his and waited.

It was so close and quiet and intimate and it surprised you.

A man like him could take what he wanted. But he was stalled out, stroking your neck with his thumb and the curve at the small of your back, while you decided. Leaning just that tiny bit more forward, you gave his full lips a chaste kiss, long and lingering, before backing off, still just inches from his face, and gazed at him through your dark lashes.

It was more than enough encouragement for him to stretch his long neck and tilt his head just a degree, capturing your mouth with his. He kissed you like a man starved, filling all of his senses with your sweet, soft presence, inhaling deeply your scent and needing to taste your lips, feel your soft tongue, breathe the same breath with each kiss that he dipped to receive from you.

It filled your body with such heat, from your cheeks to your toes, overwhelmed with the sensation.

Dropping his head, he pressed his lips to your neck, leaving little nips down to your collarbone. Nuzzling your chest there he huffed in appreciation and lifted his gaze again, arching a brow. He had a mischievous glint in his amber eyes which you couldn’t help but smile softly at. It was then that you felt him cup your breast, massaging it gently in his strong hand. His thumb found the sensitive nub of your hardened nipple and you bit your bottom lip to stifle a whimper.

Your eyelashes fluttered closed when your foreheads touched. He nudged his nose to yours and told you in a gentle rumble, “I want to hear you.”

Pawing your fingertips at the rock hard muscle atop his shoulders, you whined and let your head fall back, your hair spreading across the water as he lifted your body inches more out of the bath, kissing down your sternum, delivering hungry kisses to your warm flesh until his mouth finally found that nipple he’d been teasing.

Your whine turned into a moan as he hugged your hips to his chest. He caught behind one of your shaky knees and helped you wrap your squirming legs around his middle, never pausing for a second on the attention his open mouthed suckling kisses were giving your breast. Once it seemed he’d gorged himself on one breast, he shifted your body slightly and dropped his head down again to capture the second nipple in his mouth.

You dug your heels into his muscular back and threaded your fingers through his hair, arching and whimpering sounds you didn’t know you could make. Flattening his tongue along the swell of the underside of your breast, he lifted it past his lips and into his hollowed mouth, drawing you deep into him and suckling at such a slow even rhythm, rubbing your sensitive nipple into the roof of his mouth. Something like lightning shocked from your nipple down to your clit, making your hips jerk foreword violently.

“Hmm,” he grunted approvingly, feeling the swell of the hood of your clit nudge against his stomach when your thighs tightened again. Even underwater he could feel your slick heat smearing against his taut skin.

The slightest flutter of gentle fingertips near your core made you gasp his name. Wrapping both arms behind his neck, you rutted into him, trying desperately to get more friction.

Thick fingers slipped along your folds, coating you in your own sex, and a desperate ache pooled in your belly. Your hips rocked making waves in the bath and some spilled onto the floor.

“Careful there,” he teased, spreading two fingers around your core to stretch your center from outside. His thumb pad completely covered and deliciously circled your almost too sensitive clit. It made you cry out when he sped up thumbing over the tip of your swollen nub and then curled a thick finger over your clit hood, drawing down to his circling thumb. It was a motion and sensation and pressure you’d never even thought of to try yourself and it made your inside walls tighten and become thick with want.

Your fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, not meaning to pull his hair hard as you writhed into his hand and panted into his mouth. Your eyes were shut, and an almost pained expression tensed your features as you moved into his rhythmic ministrations.

His expressive eyes never closed for a moment, however. Black dilated pupils caught in the light and he gazed at you like a hunter to prey. He wanted to see the heave of your breasts and how they shuddered against his chest at the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to see how your eyebrows lifted and furrowed as if you were singing a song of ecstasy whose melody could only be heard by watching your beautiful features as he stroked your most sensitive parts of you. It was a melody you were writing together with every caress, kiss and muscle twitch.

You wrapped one arm behind his neck and pressed the other’s palm to his shoulder, giving you a bit of push and pull leverage against his anchored body. Your core was tightening and not willing to relax even if you willed it to.

“Fuck! Please don’t stop!” you cried trembling all over.

He growled a pleased sound, snaking his tongue into your mouth which you licked at wildly. He was doing things to your body you’d never felt before. How were you supposed to tell him it felt better than the best feeling ever without having any words fully formed coming from your brain?

“You like that, little fawn?” he purred as your mouth crashed against his again.

“Ah-hah…” you mumbled into his mouth, coveting more of his strong tongue. You wanted to taste him, every inch of him, have his scent all over your body. The need was incredible.

The forearm holding around your hips eased tension and his free hand slid down to caress over the curve of your behind. You cooed and nibbled at his swollen lower lip, still slipping into his thumb and fingers at your front.

His one strong palm pressed under you from behind almost made a seat for you, and you were able to relax your thighs’ grip on his sides.

You gasped and dropped your head down against his shoulder, shuddering when you felt his thick fingers from behind slicking along your tensed up core and began circling with increased pressure where he’d been working to stretch you before.

Falling silent, your hips stilled and warm breath panting against his neck caught in your throat.

He could no longer see the impending orgasm written across your features when you buried your face in his neck, but he could definitely still feel the hard heartbeat between your legs kissing at his bare stomach.

One slickened middle finger traced your opening, swirling over it gently at first and then pressed his fingertip into you.

His heightened hearing caught your mouse-sized whisper into his shoulder, “Please don’t…”

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #smut #fourmarkdovewrites

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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 3 years

Text

Family

Leviathan x gn!MC

Words - 3215

Content warnings - angst, family issues, lots of comfort, a sprinkling of humor

Prompt/Inspiration - none

Summary - Levi learns why you didn’t want him to meet your family.

AO3

Family had always been a bit of a sore subject for Levi. He may have 6 brothers that he would have been willing to do anything for - die for, if it came to it - but he still felt like the odd one out. The black sheep.

Asmodeus had Satan. Belphie had Beel. And Lucifer was well, Lucifer. And even if Mammon was easily the most picked on of them all, he still frequently hung out with Asmo and did whatever it was that normies do when they go out.

But for Levi? He was largely just left to his own devices.

At least, that was before you came. Now that you were here, he found himself able to spend more time with his brothers. And you helped him find common ground so he could share his interests with them too. Mammon in particular had gotten a lot closer to him and hung out with him far more frequently. Levi was still the undisputed otaku in the family...but Mammon? Well, he had his moments.

When Levi found out you would be going to the human realm to visit your family, he was curious. His only experience with human families came from his anime and manga that he’d import to the Devildom, so he wanted to see how close those things were to reality. At least that’s what he told you. You were skeptical about his motives. And also concerned about the whole “meeting people” thing - but he assured you if it was just your parents, he could manage.

You initially told him that you thought it best that you go alone, but after seeing how hurt he was you quickly changed your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t want your family to meet Levi, you weren’t trying to hide him. But you didn’t want him to meet them . They just weren’t the sort of people you wanted to spend much time with. To put it simply, it was a miracle that you turned out as well as you did.

The only reason that you were going back at all was because Lord Diavolo insisted. He thought it would be a wonderful idea. The next step in bringing harmony to the realms. The human exchange student and their demon boyfriend. You tried to explain to him that your family was not the understanding and accepting sort, but he was confident that if you could win Lucifer over, some humans shouldn’t be a problem at all. Totally ignoring the fact that you had already spent the majority of your life with these people and had not had any progress thus far.

You had tried your best to manage Levi’s expectations. You didn’t want to make him too anxious about the visit but you also didn’t want him to get caught completely off guard either. You briefly considered giving him a list of subjects to avoid, just so he didn’t draw anymore attention to himself than necessary. But you knew that wouldn’t be fair to him, and he was self conscious enough as it was - you didn’t want him thinking you were embarrassed to be seen with him.

As you pulled into the driveway of your family home, you stole a glance at Levi. He was white as a sheet and bouncing his leg up and down nervously, taking deep breaths to calm himself. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his own that was resting on his leg. He jumped a little, having gotten a bit lost in his thoughts, but soon gave your hand a squeeze in return.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” he said.

“You really don’t have to, you know. We could just hide out in a hotel and tell Lord Diavolo everything went great…”

“No! I-I-I want to do this.”

You gave Levi a small smile. You really had to appreciate how hard he was trying. He wanted to impress you. This was supposed to be what boyfriends did, right? Visit their partner’s family? Bond with their father over drinks? Win the heart of their mother with his gentlemanly demeanor? He could do that. He was sure. He had to do it. Levi wanted to stay in your life for a long, long time, and this was the next logical step, wasn’t it?

“Alright, but if it gets to be too crazy for you, just let me know.”

He nodded, smiling back at you and giving your hand another squeeze before climbing out of the car. As you two walked hand in hand up the driveway, you started to notice that something wasn’t quite right. There was a new car in the driveway you didn’t recognize, for starters. And you heard the raised voices of a rather large group of people talking. By the time you reached the front door, you were positive there wasn’t just your parents here.

“Umm Levi, I really…” you had started to explain to him your suspicions, when the front door suddenly opened and your mother greeted you, arms open wide.

“OH MY BABY! YOU'RE HOME! I watched you walking up the driveway but I just couldn’t WAIT!”

Levi watched in horror as this woman wrapped you up in a tight hug, screeching out a greeting that made his skin crawl and his blood run cold. Why did she have to be so... loud ? It didn’t take long before she had released you and finally turned her sights on him. He gulped as he prepared for his introduction, but thankfully, she was much more reserved this time.

“Well ain’t you just the cutest thing,” she cooed, pinching his cheek, “You must be Levi, right? C’mon in the both of y’all. The family is in the backyard while Daddy is working on the grill. We’re having barbecue tonight!”

“The family…? No, Mom, you didn’t…”

“Oh hush. We haven’t seen you in forever! Of course we had to invite the rest of the family. It’s not like we ever know when we’re gonna see you again…”

For a brief, fleeting moment Levi had started to think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Your mother was loud and shrill...but she seemed nice enough. She called him cute, after all. But when he turned to look at you after learning that the “rest” of your family had been invited, his smile started to waver. You looked like you were about to cry one minute, and then like you were ready to spit hellfire the next. For all the headaches he and his brothers had caused you - he had never seen you this upset before.

Eventually you plastered a smile on your face and accepted your fate, reminding yourself that they hadn’t done anything yet. Maybe they would behave for once and there wouldn’t be a repeat of The Holidays ‘09™️ where half your family ended up at the local urgent care clinic before the night was out because someone decided a food fight with flaming marshmallows was a good idea. (And it had quickly progressed to much more than marshmallows on fire)

You adjusted your grip on Levi’s hand, lacing your fingers together, determined to not let him get separated from you, and followed after your mother through the house. Levi gave your hand a small squeeze, in his own attempt to reassure you, because as perfect as your fake smile was, there was no hiding just how tense you were. You turned to look at him giving him a small, genuine smile before mouthing, “I’m sorry,” as you stepped outside into the yard.

————

To your great surprise, things really weren’t that bad at first. You walked around and introduced Levi to the various cousins and aunts and uncles that had arrived, and everyone had been mostly polite and courteous. He looked a little worn out, but nothing like you had imagined. You were also able to keep him safely by your side, so there weren’t any opportunities for your more mischievous family members to cause trouble. By the time the food was ready, you were starting to let your guard down a tiny bit.

And that, you would soon learn, was a grave mistake.

Your family had gathered around the large picnic table in the backyard, and lunch was being served. You had managed to get a seat near the end so Levi was not sandwiched in between you and your family members, and the rowdier of your cousins were seated at the further end, far away from the two of you. You were listening to your family chat, occasionally exchanging touches and smiles with Levi to check in with him, when the conversation suddenly shifted to you.

“So dear,” your mother started, “when are you going to get serious about getting married?”

“Pardon…?!” you choked out, as you desperately grabbed for the glass of water in front of you to clear your throat.

“Yeah hun, you’re coming to that age when you should start thinking about your family. You need to start looking for a suitable partner,” one of your aunts chimed in.

Your face flushed scarlet, and you felt your stomach flip, “I’m good. I already have a boyfriend. I’m not looking for another,” you finally managed to answer, hoping to make it sound like there was no room for argument.

Your mother, however, did not take the hint.

“Do you mean him dear? He’s very cute but he doesn’t exactly look like the responsible type.”

“Hey son, what’s it you doing for a living?”, your father asked, leveling his gaze on Levi, who had been trying to ignore the conversation.

You felt Levi flinch beside you and you shifted so you were sitting just a little bit closer to him, your legs now pressing together. Oh how much you wished you could have just grabbed him and run right now. You were so stupid for doing this. Arrogant even, for thinking things were going to be fine with you there to deflect the awkward questions.

“Dad, that’s really not something we need to talk about right now.”

“Mind your father,” your mother warned, “Let the poor boy answer.” All eyes then focused on Levi, waiting for his response.

In that moment, Levi really wished he could just turn invisible. He hadn’t taken his eyes off his own plate yet, but he could feel everyone else staring at him. He felt you shift closer to him, and while he did appreciate the reassuring touch from you, it did nothing to quell the anxiety bubbling up in his stomach.

“Umm...I’m...a...I’m a Devil...errr...YouTuber…”

“A what now?”

“A YouTuber. He makes videos of gameplay and walkthroughs, things like that. He’s really good at it too,” you explained, smiling at Levi, hoping that your little bit of encouragement would help soothe his nerves.

“Well hun, that ain’t a real job.”

“Your mother’s right. You need to find someone with a stable career that will be able to contribute to your family. You don’t want to be stuck carin’ for a mooch, like your Auntie Tammy do ya?”, your father asked, followed by snickers from your cousins at the jab towards your conspicuously absent aunt.

“I’m fine. That’s between me and Levi.”

“You can’t really be serious, dear.”

“I am.”

“Hahaha, but he looks like such a dweeb!”, cackled one of your cousins, from the very same rowdy bunch of cousins you had tried best to avoid all evening.

“Watch it,” you snapped, tightening your grip on Levi’s hand. This was going downhill. And fast.

“Don’t talk to your cousin that way.”

“I’m uhh...I’m going to the bathroom…” Levi mumbled as he stood up and made a hasty retreat inside the house, having finally had enough of your family’s judgmental looks and insults.

“And you wonder why I don’t come by very often…”

“Now hold on, what is that supposed to mean?” your mother asked.

“It means, y’all are a rude bunch of assholes and I’d rather chew glass than sit through another meal with you.”

And cue your mother’s crocodile tears.

“Look what you did! Apologize to your mother now!” your father said, his tone sharper than it had been before, as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Sure, after you apologize to me and my boyfriend.”

“Apologize for what? We just want what’s best for you. Why can’t you see that?” your mom said, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.

“Because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times. You don’t approve of my choices. You’ve mocked every partner of mine that’s had the misfortune of meeting you. And frankly, I’d rather be living in hell than spend another moment here.”

And with that you stood up, ignoring the shouts and your mothers sobs as you went on the hunt for Levi, whom you were sure was not going to be returning to the table anytime soon. When you finally found him, he had taken refuge in the small upstairs bathroom, hoping that anyone who may be looking to use the restroom would go to the downstairs one first and leave him undisturbed.

“Levi?” you knocked on the door, “Can I come in?” You heard some sniffing and shuffling around before the door finally opened, revealing a very red faced Levi who was trying (and failing) to hide behind his bangs. You quickly slipped inside, locking the door behind you. When you turned back to Levi, he was sitting on top of the large bathroom vanity, his feet dangling over the edge, and you didn’t waste another minute going to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, as he slipped his around your waist.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you said, over and over again as you hugged him, “They’re a bunch of angry, miserable people. Please don’t listen to them.”

Levi pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and trying to distract himself from his chaotic thoughts. This was not how today was supposed to go. It was supposed to be his chance to get to know your parents, but from the moment your mother answered the door things had started to go south. Why hadn’t he listened to you when you suggested spending the day in hiding?

And what was going to happen now? Was this it? Did this really mean there was no future for you and him? Of course there wouldn’t be one. He was foolish to have ever thought there could be. Your parents weren’t wrong when they said he didn’t have a real job. And what did he even know about supporting a human family anyways? Why did he think he’d be able to take care of you at all? You probably wanted someone who knew what they were doing. Not someone who you’d end up caring for.

“I love you so much. Please don’t listen to them. Please.”

“...they’re not wrong though...I...I don’t have a real job…”

“Levi, look at me,” you said, pulling back slightly and taking his face in your hands, gently turning him to look at you, “You’re one of seven demon lords of the Devildom, Grand Admiral of The Hell’s Navy. I think you’re ok in the job and prestige department.” You smiled at him, and he gave you a small, weak smile in return.

“Even my family would have been impressed with that if I could have told them,” you teased, before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, “Besides, there is nothing wrong with being a You...DevilTuber anyways. You’re good at it, and you enjoy it. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re not worried about being stuck with your loser boyfriend who uses up all your time and money for his failed hobbies and selfish interests and…”

“No, Levi. I’m not worried about that. For starters, I don’t even have a loser boyfriend,” you said, this time kissing Levi softly on his lips, “I have a very talented boyfriend whom I’m very proud of.”

Levi blushed at your compliment before pulling you closer and resting his head on your shoulder. This day sucked. He was exhausted. And he really just wanted to go home and go to sleep. But at least you were here with him, and hadn’t left him alone to deal with the pack of wolves that was your family.

“Are they always like that?”

“My family?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Levi’s neck again and kissing the top of his head, “Yeah. Pretty much. That’s why I don’t see them often.”

He finally understood why you had been so anxious about this whole trip, and why you stayed glued to his side the entire afternoon. You weren’t worried about him embarrassing you or himself - you were worried about your vicious relatives attacking your boyfriend. How many other friends and partners of yours had they mistreated? he wondered.

“I thought since you were so nice, they couldn’t be that bad…”

“Pffft. No. They definitely could be that bad. It’s said that kids can go one of two ways - they either turn out just like their parents, or the complete opposite and use their parents as the blueprint for everything they don’t want to be in life.

I am obviously part of the latter category.”

“Good.”

You laughed at Levi’s reply, glad he seemed to be feeling a little bit better. His head was still resting on your shoulder and you could tell he had reached his threshold for human interaction for the next decade, at least. You started to comb your fingers through his hair, snuggling him close. Levi’s arms tightened around you, letting more of his weight rest on you as he started to relax.

“So, do you want to go ahead and go back to the Devildom?...or do you want to find the fanciest hotel around and spend the night there on Lord Diavolo’s dime?”

“...what kind of fancy hotel?”

“The kind that offers 24/7 room service and will cook up anything you can imagine.

Oh, and, can’t forget to mention this, the kind your brothers don’t know about so they can’t interrupt us.”

“...that sounds good.”

“It’s the least Lord Diavolo can do for us I think, after forcing us on this awful trip.”

“Could we rent movies too?” Levi had turned his head to look at you, his eyes sparkling as he started to remember some really good anime movies that were currently only available in the human realm.

“Oh definitely. As many as you like,” you smiled, giving him a quick kiss.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here before your mom tries to hug you and starts screeching again.”

Laughter filled the small bathroom as the two of you began giggling at his comment, taking turns shushing one another in an attempt to keep quiet. It didn’t matter what your family thought about your life choices, or whether they judged Levi “worthy” of your time. All that mattered to you was that you were able to enjoy moments like this, with your best friend and partner. And you weren’t about to give that up.

#gn!mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me levi #levi x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me comfort #levi fanfic #levi angst #levi comfort

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kakakakashi · 4 years

Text

Hokage’s Office: The Desk I

100 Follower Celebration - Day 2

Kakashi Hatake x Reader || NSFW

Warnings: porn without plot, spanking, cursing, Kakashi’s filthy mouth, y’all know the drill

Word count: 2,112

A/N: Dorks in love! Dorks in love! Dorks in love... who are also slightly kinky.

“Thank you, captain. You’re all dismissed except Y/N.”

You gave a nod in understanding, as professional as ever. Sure, you and the Hokage were an item, but first and foremost, you were shinobi. Whenever you were in the public eye, you were professional. Well, most of the time.

You figured Kakashi had wanted to catch up, to have company while he did his paperwork. That is, until the door shut.

You waited in your position before the Hokage’s desk while Kakashi stood from his chair. You’d thought he was going to approach you for a hug, but he simply past your fame to get the door. The sound of the lock activating made you realize his intentions, and you bit your lower lip at the thought of what was about to come.

Heavy breath husked in your ear, Kakashi’s proximity taking you by surprise. His body was almost pressed against yours, and he even went so far as to take your earlobe between his teeth.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” The sound of his words sent a shudder through your body. “You’re practically dripping.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d missed him a lot on this last mission, and while you walked back, your mind began to wander. Kakashi naturally starred in all your daydreams. They started innocent enough, but by the time you’d entered the gate, you’d be lucky if heaven ever let you in. You couldn’t help yourself, though. You’d missed him so much, and in more ways than one.

You thought that you’d shaken off the dirty thoughts by the time you met Kakashi in his office, but apparently his sense of smell told another story.

“What’s got you so wet?”

His lips pressed against your neck through his mask, and you clenched your thighs together in an attempt to get some form of friction against your core. You hadn’t realized how turned on you were until now, especially when he rested his hands on your hips and started stroking his thumbs. Your pulse was racing, the air felt too hot, and your mind was already drifting. In a breathy murmur, you informed him, “You do. I was thinking about you.”

Kakashi chuckled against your neck. “What were you thinking about?”

All of the sinful fantasies from earlier came back. With each of the scenarios, you felt yourself getting more aroused.

“You fucking me,” you confessed, “Your hands, your mouth, your cock. You.”

He must have liked what he heard because a growl ripped deep from within his chest before he pulled away.

“Bend over.”

You did as you were told, bending over the Hokage’s desk, pressing your palms across the scattered papers for support and spreading your legs for the man behind you.

Kakashi took the opportunity to press his body against yours, reaching his thick fingers around to undo your pants before he retreated to push them down your thighs. You felt his palm press against your lower back, encouraging you to bend over further. You took the hint and went so far as to press your cheek against the desk to get more comfortable.

“Mmmmh.” It was something between a laugh and a purr. “Look how wet you are for me. You made this big of a mess just from thinking about me?”

“Please, Kakashi.” you whined. The fire in your veins made you sound even more desperate than you wanted, but you couldn’t help it. You had been worked up for so long, you wanted nothing more than for him to make you see stars.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, and you balled your hands into fists at your frustration. Your cunt was practically throbbing, and the pulsing sensation was only magnified by the cool air throughout the office. Emptiness overwhelmed you, knowing that Kakashi was so close, but you knew he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“Hands behind your back, love,” he cooed. His sinfully sweet tone laced with the promise of something more malicious. You did as you were told, reaching your hands behind your lower back, so Kakashi could take both of them in one of his large palms. He squeezed them together tight enough to keep you in place, but not enough to really make it painful. “How many do you think you can take?”

His breath fanned across your neck and jaw, causing a shiver to run through your body, landing in the pool between your legs. “Five.”

Your words came out breathlessly, but Kakashi only clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Come on, doll. We both know you can take more than that. Five could hardly satisfy you. Let’s at least double it and make it ten,” Kakashi suggested. You clenched around nothing at his suggestion, giving him all the answer he needed. “Looks like someone likes that idea.”

You could feel your heart thumping in your ears while you squirmed in Kakashi’s grasp.

“I need to hear it,” he stated, “I won’t touch you until I hear it.”

Your fuzzy head knew exactly what Kakashi meant, but you could hardly form a coherent thought with your desire consuming you. You could even feel your slick begin to make its way to the border of your thighs.

“Yes!” you all but cried, “Please, Kakashi! Yes! I can take ten. Please, just touch me!”

“God, you’re so desperate for me,” the smirk in his voice was audible, “Legs spread, begging me to spank you like a slut, in my office, nonetheless. What a naughty girl.”

A soft moan fell past your lips at his words. You also heard the sound of fabric rustling. He was probably lowering his mask to help him get his glove off with his teeth. Sure enough, after a moment, you saw the article land right beside your face with a clink of the metal. You could sense him drawing his hand back to prepare for the first strike, and you felt like ten years past before the hot sting of his large palm cracked against your ass.

You moaned at the contact, louder than you expected. Heat consumed your behind while Kakashi kneaded the flesh to soothe it a little bit. The sensation had your hips bucking without your consent, but it only made Kakashi chuckle to himself. His hand retreated from you, and you immediately braced yourself for the next hit. The sting had you arching your back and tossing your head with pleasure. You moaned out again at the repeated action, encouraging Kakashi further.

A third spank had you feeling right where Kakashi’s palm was making contact with you. You knew your ass was already as flushed as your face was. You could feel the tingling of the blood flow, and it only added to the electricity in your core. Four. You bit your lip to try to stifle your noise, and you found yourself squirming in desperation again. You tried to fight against Kakashi’s grip on you, but you couldn’t. You were completely at his mercy when he drew back one last time. Five. Tears prickled in your eyes at the sensation. Out of arousal or out of pain, you’d never know.

Instead, you noted how Kakashi released the hand that tightly bound your wrists. The second of relief was quickly replaced by his hot, bare palm that was previously cracking against your ass. Another second passed when he took of the other glove before he snapped his palm against your previously untouched cheek. Again, your hips bucked unconsciously while he soothed the ache. You were whimpering with need at the bubbling sting. You couldn’t take much more of this. Again, Kakashi’s palm collided with your flesh, your backside jiggling with the force. You couldn’t help the spasm of your insides while he continued his work. Eight. Your cries were broken when they escaped your throat, and you noticed the wetness between your legs had caught on Kakashi’s hand while he was massaging you. The sensation had you jerking again, but it made him retract his touch. Nine. You could feel the ghost of his palm on you, and you just wanted to get the tenth over with.

Crack. You practically screamed. The thought of someone potentially hearing was nowhere near your mind. You were too desperate to control yourself at this point.

The sound of rustling fabric had you squirming again before Kakashi’s hard muscles were pressed against your back.

“You gonna be a good girl and take what I give you?” his gravelly voice gave way to how much your little show had affected him.

You nodded. “Yes! Yes! Just please fuck me! I need you. Please!”

“Good girl.” Kakashi’s lips sucked on your neck, eliciting a throaty groan before his teeth sunk into the outstretched column at the exact moment when he guided his tip to your soaking entrance.

You whined for him, “Please!”

That was all he needed, immediately thrusting his hips into yours with one harsh buck of his hips. His hard length stretched you so much, a high-pitched yelp escaped you in the most delightful way. Kakashi set a brutal pace, quickly drawing his hips back before slamming into you with all his might until he was buried so deep inside you, you were sure you were going to pass out. The sensation of his hips crashing into you only accentuated the sting in your ass, and his balls were slapping against your clit deliciously. You were doing your best to hold onto reality when your bodies collided, but you couldn’t help yourself when he found that little spot inside you. Your back arched impossibly more while your toes curled.

Your soul felt like it had left your body while white hot pleasure overtook you with every drag of Kakashi’s shaft against your insides. He was so deep you could hardly tolerate it. With your eyes rolling back into your head, and your walls clamping around Kakashi’s length, your entire body was in a dizzying spiral towards orgasm. All you could do was take it all and enjoy every moment of the senseless pleasure consuming your body. When you felt yourself getting closer, you noticed Kakashi’s pace begin to quicken the slightest bit, only interrupted when his hips stuttered every once in a while.

“That’s it, love. Take it all like the needy little slut you are. Come on, you can do it. Cum on my cock like a good girl. I can feel you getting close.”

You cried out senselessly again at Kakashi’s dirty words, muscles beginning to shake and give out the more the flames consumed you. The elastic in your lower stomach was gradually tightening with each time Kakashi pushed into you and pulled out. You were a writhing mess, unable to hold on when the knot snapped, and your throat cracked with a cry of pleasure. Your muscles all tensed while you screamed, and the feeling of your high overtook you. You saw white. There was no other feeling in the world than pleasure. There was nothing else in the world but Kakashi animalistically fucking you on his desk.

The sensation of you squeezing him so tight had him releasing into you with a cry just as loud as yours, his hips bucking erratically when his balls tightened, and his length twitched inside you. His warm white seed shot into you, causing you to release a choked sob at the sensation. Both of you quaking with your highs, muscles giving out, and riding out the pleasure until you both collapsed atop his desk.

When you both fully came back to yourselves, neither of you could form words. The only sound in the Hokage’s office was your combined panting. The room smelled like a mix of sex and sweat, and you prayed nobody would notice. You noticed your throat was dry and tired, and it made you wonder exactly how much noise you had made. You found yourself flushing even more at the thought that somebody had heard, but Kakashi was quick to quell your fears while releasing your wrists.

“If anyone asks,” his voice sounded as hoarse as yours felt, “I’ll just break out my lightning blade.” The sweet kiss he planted across your shoulder was less than comforting, though.

“Please,” you laughed at him, “You’ll probably brag.”

You could hear the smile in Kakashi’s voice when he retorted, “Well, can you blame me? Have you seen yourself? I’m not gonna hide the fact that I’m the one who gets to fuck you like this.”

You simply laughed at the dork who was still sheathed deep inside you, and your heart glowed when he joined in. You really did love him.

#cherry's 100 follower celebration #naruto imagines #kakashi x reader #cherry has ideas sometimes #hi. i’m cherry queen of the sin bin.#100 #cherry posts about ninja nerds

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

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Gryffindor Extensive Dating Neville Headcanons:

A/N: Y’all keep finding and requesting the characters I’m so soft for. Here’s my baby Neville who is an absolute sweetheart of a character and should be appreciated more. Requested by @maybenotjellytot (and it’s not letting me tag you, curse you Tumblr)

You know the drill, this is super long and super cute

You meet on the Hogwarts express. He’s stammering and clinging to Trevor for dear life

He’s so shy and blushing and tripping over his words that you can’t help but giggle and introduce yourself

“Neville. Me. I’m. Yes. Leville Nongbottom” You giggle again and he’s bright red.

“Nice to meet you Neville,” you smile brightly.

You sit together on the train ride and it’s sort of awkward but a good awkward. He starts to open up a bit about wanting to learn magic and that his Gran is expecting a lot from him.

You can sympathize with your overbearing well meaning pure blood grandfather

Then you’re both sorted into Gryffindor and it’s nice to have a friend. You find friends in the Golden Trio as well, but you’re always partial to Neville because he’s the first one who had the courage to say hello to you

Since you’re in the same house it means you have all of your classes together. Potions is rough for both of you and Snape just terrifies Neville—sure he was creepy but you didn’t really understand it. You still defended him though, even if it ended you in detention a lot

“You really don’t have to do this,” he stammers, meeting you after detention. “I don’t mind,” you smile and so does he.

You love Astronomy and he loves Herbology and you two are the biggest dorks. He knows everything about plants and you know everything about the stars

Soon you’re learning to ride brooms. It comes easy to you and Neville breaks his wrist. You take him to the infirmary flipping Malfoy off as you walk away sure Hooch took five points from Gryffindor for it but it felt good. The little prat

“There’s always one,” Pomfrey sighs and resets Neville’a wrist. You stay by his side all the while, reassuring him that he was amazing anyway.

“I can’t do anything,” he groans. “Some Gryffindor I am. I don’t belong here.” “Neville that’s not true,” you frown. “You belong in Gryffindor as much as Nifflers love gold.” You both blush at your sudden defense of him.

And honestly it’s nice to have a friend. When the weather turns colder and you’re freezing Neville gives you his gloves and tells you not to worry about it.

You study for exams together. It takes some time but Neville finally catches on to Potions when you (re)teach him the lessons. Snape doesn’t bother you like he does Neville you always want to ask him about it but never find the courage. Some Gryffindor you are, you think

The Christmas Holiday comes and you both hug each other goodbye, promising to write to another and his grandmother and your parents catch sight of the interaction and they tease you both about it all the time

“Mum he’s just a friend!” You whine. “Gran she’s just a friend! That’s all!” Neville dismays. Neither guardian is convinced.

You get Neville a Herbology book and spend time drawing a few of his favorite plants perfectly for Christmas and he gets you a monocle that works like a telescope and shows the night sky any time of day

You go to Quidditch games together and you both put in the same amount of effort into Gryffindor spirit but something is always slightly off to you about the house system that you don’t really tell anyone

You sneak up to the Astronomy tower most weekends and one time Neville catches you saying “you shouldn’t be here you’re going to get in trouble” you take his hand and pull him up the tower and let his hand go, marveling at the stars

“Aren’t they wonderful?” You sigh. “So many stories are written up there Nev, and every night they smile down on us,”

Neville doesn’t understand your passion for the stars but he loves the way you talk about them, like you knew each of the characters in the stories that the stars told

One night you find Harry and Hermione in the Astronomy tower and you’re surprised. Now thanks to Malfoy you all have detention.

In the Forbidden forest you’re paired with Neville and Hagrid and you both set off, terrified. Neville hated the dark and you hated not being able to see the stars. You hear a noise from behind you and jump into Neville arms.

You’re both blushing and awkward. As you apologize and he stammers something about not worrying. Gee some Gryffindors you two are

You’re the one who finds Neville after Hermione immobilizes him and after you undo the spell, you two go straight to McGonagall. Again, you take his hand and pull him through the halls on the way to McGonagall. When he explains what happened, you beam because of course he’s a Gryffindor how can he not see that?

At the End of Year Feast he’s awarded the ten points that causes Gryffindor to win and you hug him without a second thought and now you two are blushing and awkward again and everyone laughs at the two of you.

You write to him over the summer and it’s really nice to have him to talk to. He’s a bit more honest in his letters than he ever was actually talking and laments quite often about his grandmothers expectations and that he’s afraid of failing everyone—especially his parents.

That threw you off guard because you didn’t know anything about his parents and he clammed up about the matter whenever you brought it up so you dropped it a long time ago. You still didn’t ask because well, you figured he’d tell you when he was ready. You also tell him that he could never fail you

You send him a photo of the little garden you’ve started because maybe listening to him talk all those nights made something actually stick and you weren’t half bad at gardening and a bit of Moon Lace (a flower that only blooms under the full moon) for his birthday.

Boy does his grandmother ship you two so hard “Ask her out Neville! Be a man! Treat her with respect! I’d always knew you’d find some lovely girl,” “Gran we’re twelve,” “Nonsense dear boy. When you find a girl like that you don’t let her go,”

Now Neville’s worried about being around you because he feels pressured and maybe he does actually like you but he’s sure you only see him as a friend and he doesn’t want to lose you because his grandmother is right, he doesn’t want to let you go

You meet him on the Hogwarts Express again and you two sit together and all of those worries seem to fade because you weren’t just his friend you were his best friend and he wouldn’t trade that for anything

You’re also sitting with another girl—Luna Lovegood. A first year who has her head in the clouds who then gets sorted into Ravenclaw and you three become the “Silver Trio”

When every girl is enamored with Lockheart, you roll your eyes and scoff and Neville feels slightly satisfied at that.

Neville can tell that you’re saddened because you don’t have Astronomy this year, so he tries to cheer you up by sneaking you to the Astronomy Tower whenever he can manage

You spend those nights telling him stories about the ancient gods and heroes that the stars hold, and he gets lost in your words wondering what it would be like to live back then

When the Chamber of Secrets opens you’re a bit more scared than you let on. The only one who knows that is Neville.

When students start to get petrified, you’re hardly seen away from Neville because you don’t want to be next

Malfoy teases you about it and boy does Neville go off on him surprising everyone even you a bit because you knew he was brave but standing up to Malfoy was a different matter that bordered stupid and you’re a goner because if you doubted your feelings for him before you didn’t now

Neville isn’t the best with comforting people so he normally just ends up getting you plants/flowers. You have a small garden on your bedroom window filled with anything and everything and you care for and name each of them

Third year comes and this time you’re enamored with the new DADA teacher and Neville doesn’t get it and neither do you really. But there’s something about Professor Lupin that just draws you in. Of course you have no idea yet that he’s a werewolf and thereby connected to the moon and stars of which you adore

You love Lupin a little more when he teaches the Laughing Spell and makes a fool out of Professor Snape on Neville’a behalf

But now you’re sort of really worried because why in the world the thing Neville fears most Snape?

When your boggart turns into a mirror Neville worries too because what in the world is that supposed to mean?

It’s a late night in the Astronomy Tower that has you both blurting out “why is that your boggart?”

You both look down, scared to admit what’s deep inside. Neville gives in first and begins to explain.

“Snape was one of You Know Whos most trusted in the first war... my... my parents were—”

“Neville you don’t have to tell me if you’re not—” you quickly cut in

“No, I trust you. And... it’ll be nice to have someone understand,” You take hold of his hand and listen earnestly while he tells you about his parents and how they were driven to insanity by Death Eaters and that Snape reminds him of that every day because all he sees is bravery of his parents that he can never live up to and the one who forced it upon him

You pull him into a hug and just hold him close. You had no idea, but now that you did, it out the world into perspective for you a bit more.

“What about you?” He asked softly. “Why...?”

“The mirror,” you sighed. “I... I hate my reflection. It... it reminds me that I’m never enough. I’m not enough for my parents... or my grandparents... or other people. That I’m not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, brave enough...” you hug your knees. “Nobody wants someone who’s broken. No one wants a freak,”

“I do,” Neville’s words are sure and confident. “You’re more than enough for me. You’re... you’re perfect...”

There are tears in your eyes and you wrap your arms around him.

Now when you by the off chance catch your relflection in something, Neville is normally right beside you and all your fear and worries about not being enough fade over the next few years

The Fat Lady’s portrait gets attacked and you take Nevilles hand without thinking because it feels secure and safe. You side by side with Neville in the Great Hall that night and you’re thankful for the night sky that’s projected on the ceiling

You can’t sleep so you watch the faux stars. Neville sits up with you and asks you to tell a story because it calms him and you and now there are a bunch of students and some professors listening to your stories.

You’re absolutely outraged when Snape steps in to reach DADA but you quiet down when Neville shakes his head, silently pleading not to draw attention to yourselves. You sulk and dive into the lesson because it’s very close to the lore you’re used to reading.

Then you almost drop your quill because you realize why Snape has you reading up on werewolves. “Hey, what’s Professor Lupins first name?” You ask stammering. “Uh, Remus, I think,” Neville frowns. “You alright?”

You nod and rush out of the room as soon as the bell ring and Neville is chasing after you because you’re normally not this skiddish/flighty

You grab a book from your personal library—a book on classical mythology—and flip through the pages. “I knew it!” Then you hear a crash and a yelp. “Oh stars, Neville,” you realize because you know for a fact he’s forgotten that the girls dormitories are enchanted. You race down and find him sprawled out on the common room floor.

“I’ll tell you,” you help him up. “Tonight,” then you’re at war with yourself because you don’t know how safe it is to be out in a full moon but you trust Dumbledore and Professor Lupin enough that later you and Neville are up in the Astonomy Tower

“A werewolf? You think Professor Lupin is a werewolf?” Neville asks skepically. “Yes,” you confirm and you’re about to go into it again when Neville intervenes “No, no I trust you. I do... but what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” you whisper. “It wasn’t his choice... and he hasn’t hurt anybody...” “shouldn’t we tell someone?” Neville asks. “And out him? It’s not exactly easy to be a werewolf Nev.” you two just sit looking at the stars. The Neville reminds you that you both have an essay due for DADA for Snape.

“Oh! That wretched Snape!” You jump up. “Merlin! He’s making the entire class write how to kill werewolves for Lupin to read when he gets back!” You are absolutely seething and Neville has to stop you before you go and hex the stars out of Snape but Merlin does he love you for it

You refuse to write the essay. Instead you copy down all your notes about Roman mythology and Romulus and Remus and the She-Wolf Lupa and how all great heroes of Roman mythology start under the care of the She-Wolf

Remus is about having a nervous break down when he gets to your paper and now he’s sobbing because he’s reading your paper about heroes and wolves

You get full marks on the essay and Lupins deepest respect

Anyway

Neville stumbles through an invitation to Hogsmeade and again you laugh and accept and then before you know it it’s not just you two but an entire group of third years and you two can’t help but feel a bit disappointed

He followed you around the book shop as you pick up books and flip through them and you watch him marvel at the plants in a nearby shop. He goes back and buys you the book you were looking at and you buy him the vine plant. For Christmas. Obviously. As friends.

The holidays come and you’re both hesitant to say goodbye because of the fear lingering over Hogwarts but you part ways

You don’t spend a day without thinking of Neville is okay over the holidays and you send him letters constantly. He’s always worrying about you

When he visits his parents that Christmas he sits down and tells them about a girl he met who’s full of courage and stories and how kind she is and stubborn and brave and how they would adore her

His grandmother over hears and doesn’t tease Neville about it, but she has a deeper respect for you because you really have captured her grandsons heart

Malfoy is being Malfoy one day and you’re about to punch the git in the face but Neville grabs your arm. “It’s not worth it,” he whispers, “he can be wrong, but I know you and you’re not like him. Don’t stoop to his level.” and Merlin if you don’t melt on the spot and somber up

You figure out that Neville has the biggest sweet tooth after catching him in Honeydukes and you ask your (muggle) dad to send you Muggle candies and sweets for Neville to try. He always shares them with you and prefers sweets that don’t have an air of danger to them

You meet fourth gear on the train and your heart skips a beat because he’s grown about half a foot and his hair is shaggy and a mess and perfectly Neville and he still has Trevor and it makes you smile

He’s also freaking out internally because you’ve grown a lot over the summer and you’re in a muggle tshirt and jeans with an MP3 player and he’s just... wow. You two listen to music on the train ride this year and end up falling asleep on each other

At this point everyone including you is waiting for him to ask you out and become an official couple and every time you think he tries to ask you he stammers and freaks out and doesn’t because you’re just so perfect and pretty and popular and he’s not and he’s sure that you like someone else and he’s not much

He finally asks you to the Yule Ball... sort of.

“He’s been practicing dancing alone all month,” Rom jeers. “Must be some girl,” Neville is absolutely red and you can’t seem to look away from your dinner because you think he’s doing it for someone else because why wouldn’t he just ask you to practice dancing? You were best friends anyways, of course you would help him

You ask him who the girl is totally not jealous at all and he goes red and quiet again and you’re really worried now because you don’t want to lose him as a friend if he does like someone else

He finally admits that it is you that he wants to go to the ball with and you just stare at him not expecting that at all because you were convinced he liked someone else but no it’s you. Then it hits you. MERLIN HE LIKES YOU

He’s fumbling for an explanation and that it’s okay if you don’t want to go and a thousand other things and you just pull his tie and press your lips to his to shut him up. It’s awkward and uncoordinated but a perfect first kiss

You both can’t stop smiling the next few days because you’re finally together and there aren’t any walls between you anymore and it’s just nice to have your best friend back who is now also your boyfriend

Oh and you’re also going to the ball together. You smile about that too.

“It’s... it’s not much,” you flush looking down at your dress. “And it’s a bit muggle...” “You’re perfect,” Neville cuts you off and for once you believe the words and him practicing dancing really pays off because he’s bloody marvelous. You two spend the whole night laughing and dancing

Though everyone is staying on campus for the holidays because of the tournament Neville asks you if you want to come with him to visit his parents on the holiday. You smile softly and take his hand, nodding

You formally meet Neville’s Grandmother this time, not just passing by at a train station. She starts to scold Neville about doing something, but sees you clench your fist and take his hand and she pauses.

You’re nervous and it’s written on your face and Neville thinks that it’s because of the entire situation and that his parents are well... but you quickly blurt out “What if they don’t like me?” Both Neville and his grandmother gape at you. His grandmother recovers first “a sweet brave witch like you? How can they not my dear?”

You can see that Neville’s smile falls the father you walk into St. Mungo’s, so you take his hand and smile. He doesn’t smile but he doesn’t look so upset any longer. His gran leaves you two alone as you walk into the long room

“Mum? Dad? This is the girl I was telling you about,” And your heart just breaks for the one holding your hand. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom,” You smile and introduce yourself. “You have a wonderful son, and should be very proud,” and you realize just how brave Neville is for the first time in knowing him and Neville realizes that he never wants anyone but you by his side because you make him feel the bravest

You do visit him this summer. He lives in a downtown flat in the outskirts of London with his Gran. He’s got a garden in the small space out back and it’s filled with the most beautiful plants the moonlace you sent him is in a window box outside his bedroom

he’s got a jar of old candy wrappers sitting on his dresser and you give him a questioning look. “They’re from my mum,” He admits “I... I don’t want to toss them but I don’t know what to do with them,” “May I?” You ask and he nods, looking slightly worried.

You take one of the wrappers and easily fold it into a tiny origami butterfly. “My dad showed me how... we used to fold our gum wrappers...” soon each wrapper is folded into a little butterfly and placed into the jar again.

Fifth year seems like a total fiasco between Umbridge and the ministry but you and Neville both love DA

You know he loves it because he feels like he’s finally making his parents proud. “You do that just by being their son, I don’t care what your gran says,” You whisper one night, looking at the old photo of the Order of the Phoenix

You and Neville both get very good at defense spells and though you can’t sneak away to the Astronomy Tower that year, you do go to the RoR on quiet nights by yourselves and it’s just a huge greenhouse with a glass roof and walls where you can sit and watch the stars and maybe have midnight picnics

okay i’m calling bullshit on JKR again neville has a corporeal patronus

It’s a lion, let’s be honest

When he does cast the patronus you let out a yell of victory and so does he. Then you’re hugging and the charm falls but he doesn’t care. Your patronus might be a five foot butterfly but its fine and terrifying

You steal his sweaters all the time even though you think they’re god-awful but they’re always warm and smell like him and soft and you like people including your reflection knowing that you’re his and he wants you and chose you

Neville only gets caught by the Inquisitorial Squad because Draco throws you to the ground and Neville breaks his nose a-la-muggle then helps you up

At the Ministry you and Neville are a force to be reckoned with against Death Eaters and he saves you from Bellatrix because damn if he’s letting anyone else he loves get hurt by her

But you’re one step ahead and jump in front of Neville just as Bellatrix sends the Cruatius curse at him and furious, Neville sends one right back at Bellatrix before lifting you into his arms

You’re not awake but you’re breathing. “Stupid brave girl,” He cries, holding you, carrying you away from the fight as the rest of the Order shows up

He stays beside your hospital cot and refuses to be looked after himself by Pomfrey until you open your eyes. “Nev?” You rasp. “Stars! What were you thinking!? Running in front of me like that!?” He yells, pulling you into his arms. “Couldn’t let her hurt you too,” your voice is shaky and broken and he finds himself crying because he loves you. “I love you too Nev,” you whisper out

Then proceed to yell at him about refusing treatment and he laughs, wiping away your tears and pressing his lips to yours. It’s caked in dirt and blood, but it’s the best kiss and he refuses to let you out of his sight

That summer you go over every Sunday for family dinner and to just hang out with Neville. His gran hovers the first few weeks, but boy is she smitten with you because you remind her so much of Neville’s mother

He comes to your muggle and magic home and is amazed at the farm house that you live in in the middle of nowhere and finally understands where your love of stars comes from because out in the country he could see everything

He loves your cat Moxy and asks why you don’t bring her to school and you explain that she’s not a familiar, she’s just a normal house cat. And he swears that you and the cat have a language of your own and sees you two have full on conversations and arguments and just smiles because he loves you

Your parents love him so much and adopt him into the family on the spot. You show him some muggle flowers and plants that are your favorite (sunflowers, marigolds, loquat trees hydrangeas). You two spend forever binging Disney movies because he’s never seen any and you’re not having that and despite the war looming overhead, it’s a moment of peace

Sixth year when Neville gets the invitation for Slughorn’s lunch on the train you practically have to shove him out the door because “We always ride together, I can’t just leave you, I’m not going.” “Neville I swear to the gods go!”

He comes back, slightly sulking and you ask. “Just wanted to know my for who my parents are,” You dislike Slughorn on the spot. “Or maybe he wants to know you because you’re a hero,” You brush his hair from his eyes. It’s not hard to get the smile back into his eyes and on his lips

Sixth year is relatively normal for you and Neville, despite all of the fear and rumors spreading about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You are aware that the Golden Trio and the “chosen one” are up to something but for the moment you just want to go to Hogwarts, kiss your boyfriend, and pass your N.E.W.T.s

And maybe you worry about Draco Malfoy a bit because you know he’s a prat but he just looks like death this year. Neville can’t deny that you’re right and aids your efforts to try and reach out to the Slytherin

Then Dumbledore dies and everything changes. Part of you regrets not doing something more, but part of you is grateful that you enjoyed the moments before, while you still could.

Again you just want to punch Bellatrix in the face because at this point she’s frankly just annoying

You and Neville go to the funeral and you’re both stoic but gripping the other’s hand tightly.

“It’s up to us now,” Neville whispers one night while visiting his parents, a common thing for you two recently. “Harry isn’t coming back next year.” You’re furious with Harry for skipping out on Hogwarts, but you know Neville is right, the school needs hope still

You two reopen DA and you start a support group on campus under Snape’s nose for the younger kids who need to feel safe and protected. The first years just break your heart because they’re so young and it’s just not fair that they have to go through their first year of Hogwarts like this

The Room of Requirement becomes a safe haven for anyone and everyone but especially you and Neville who really can’t seem to catch a break. You’re rarely apart when you can help it and have been sleeping curled up with another since the first week

You defend first years ruthlessly from the prats in Slytherin and still try to get through to them that it didn’t matter whose side they were on, this isn’t right and maybe Draco and a few others let you go a few times scot free

You and Neville still watch the stars whenever you can manage and story nights with you become a commonality amongst younger years who really just need a hero or fairytale to believe in and Merlin it does something to Neville when he sees first years curled up in your lap hanging on to your every word or fast asleep

You two are sort of honorary parents that year and all of the professors who still believe in the cause are on your side and giving you two anything you need to give to the younger kids

Patching each other up after “detentions” you decide somewhere along the way that if you ever make it out of this alive you want to do two things: marry Neville and become a Healer because you’ve got a knack for healing spells and potions

The Battle of Hogwarts finally comes and you both are more than ready for it. After helping the first years to safety you and Neville join the fight hand in hand. You’re terrified but you can’t help but smile at him because you remember a shy dorky kid from first year and now he’s a leader and everything you knew he could be

When Harry is pronounced dead Neville looks at you, despaired and kisses you. It’s desperate and fast then he kisses your forehead and runs out of the crowd to face Voldemort alone and you don’t know if you love or hate him in that moment

Luna catches you and boy is she string because you can’t shake her grip. “Watch,” She whispers softly. “He’ll be alright. He’s got a fighter’s spirit,” You want to argue and run out after him, but she’s right, he’s bloody brilliant on his own as you watch through tears

As soon as you realize that Harry isn’t dead you throw Luna off, call Neville’s wand to your hand and you’re back to back fighting off Death Eaters while scolding him about never doing that again “Yes dear,” He laughs.

Then Nagani coils around your feet, making you fall and scramble back, wandless. “Neville!” You scream, terrified. He looks around panicked for you and then at the ground. The Sorting Hat was inches from him, a silver handle with red rubies presented.

He draws the sword and roars, killing the snake. You’re both panting and staring at each other. He helps you up and you pull him into another kiss before there’s an explosion behind you two. “We should...” “Yeah...” you chuckle and take his hand and dash off into the madness again.

The fighting seems to stop as Harry and Voldemort face each other down. You and Neville watch side by side, clinging to each other

As soon as Voldemort is gone you scream in victory and Neville takes you in his arms and you’re kissing again and for one moment everything is okay, because you’re both alive and free and it’s going to be okay.

Then you quickly go around mending and healing those who need it, not stopping until Neville pulls you away from the infirmary and sets you down on a cot.

“They need me,” You mumble into his shoulder as he takes a look at your wounds. “And they might appreciate it if you live long enough to help them,” There’s a soft smile on his lips as he patches you up and presses a soft kiss to each of your wounds.

There are too many funerals and too many tears and too many nightmares, but he’s always there beside you. And you’re beside him. You both expect to wake up in the room of requirement with Voldemort still alive, but it never happens.

You and Neville go and visit his parents again and together you tell them both what happens, together, because even if they’ll never understand the words spoken, it’s a reassurance to you and Neville that it happened and everything is over and that you’re alright

Neville still stammers through his proposal to you and you’re laughing and crying and saying yes because Merlin you love him to the moon and back

You’re visiting his parents alone the day before the wedding and for a shining moment, his mother takes your hand and you see a light in them as she whispers “thank you,” then the light is gone and she’s back to her spaced out look

The wedding isn’t much, just school friends and professors and some family. Neville is in a sweater and you’re barefoot in your backyard with a bouquet of moonlace getting married under the stars

You speak on behalf of Draco at his trial and convince Harry and just about all of your friends as well, because Draco was a victim like the rest of you were

You decide that you want to open a place for all the kids at Hogwarts who need a summer/holiday home because it’s not safe at their homes or they don’t want to go home. Neville kisses you when you suggest it and starts looking into places to make your dream happen

Harry offers Grimmauld Place and you cry and hug him because it’s perfect and soon all of the alumni from your year are working on fixing up a the place because they agree, there needs to be a safe haven for these kids

When he starts teaching at Hogwarts, you become a part of the staff as a therapist/Healer/on-hand mother figure to anyone and everyone. You don’t want kids like Draco or Neville or Harry to slip through the cracks, and though you can’t take down the house system, you can help kids while they grow up

You and Neville go out and see every new Disney movie in theaters, even before you have kids (and eventually you make your way to America to go to Disney World. It becomes an annual tradition)

You and Neville can’t have biological kids because of your injuries during the war so you adopt: first a little boy Perseus Frank Longbottom, then a little girl a few years later, Persephone Alice Longbottom.

Every year on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, you and Neville stop classes that day and tell all of the students the story, hand in hand. Everyone gathers in the Great Hall as the Storyteller and her Hero paint a tale of love and loss and hope.

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severetimetravelnerd · 4 years

Text

We’ve got this (ft. G Dragon)

Your’s and Jiyong’s journey welcoming someone into your family.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

Taglist:

@unabashedturkeytreeslime

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast

@kwonnansi

Word count : 5501

If there is anyone else who would like to be tagged, you can comment or leave me a message :))

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

This is slightly angsty, but is mostly an overload of fluff. It’s also to celebrate 150 followers!! Thanks you guys!:)) Please continue to support me :)) Always grateful:)

Features appearances from Taeyang and Hyorin.

Warnings: cursing, pregnancy, smut, fingering, unprotected sex(use protection y’all) .

————————————————————————–

“Jiyong? Babe? I’m home. Sorry I’m late. Youngbae called for help with picking tampons and it took a while to get him to calm down. Where are you?”

You walked in, looking for your boyfriend. You were a little grumpy because he was leaving for a tour the next day, you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him, and your time with him was getting cut short. You wouldn’t be seeing him for five months. You had just entered your kitchen when you felt his hands cover your eyes. His lips were so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Shhh love. Relax. I’ve got you.”

You did not relax. There were goosebumps all over your body. No matter how long you had been together, Jiyong always had that effect on you. He led you to your bedroom, removing his hands to leave you there, with only a box and a small handwritten note for guidance. Smiling, you picked up the note.

“I got you a little something. It’s your favourite colour :)”

Excited, you opened up the box to find some beautiful maroon lace lingerie. It was scandalous, but so oh beautiful. Buried in them was a note you found saying,

“Go look at the mirror after putting these on.”

Blushing, you turned around and found a small post it stuck to the mirror.

“I knew you’d look stunning in these.”

Still with a smile you knew would not leave your face for the night, you went back to the box and found a gorgeous black dress. It was floor length and sleeveless, with a plunging neckline, and in classic Jiyong fashion, perfectly accessorised from head to two in tones of gold and maroon. At the bottom of the box, there was another note.

“When you’re done, follow the fairy lights.”

Feeling emotional already, you opened the door and found fairy lights leading you towards the balcony. Wiping away a tear of happiness, you followed them and nearly cried when you saw Jiyong standing there with his arms open, a perfectly laid out table and the rest of the balcony lined with fairy lights stuffed in glass bottles behind him. You were so overwhelmed. Only when Jiyong walked up to you and lifted your hand to kiss it did you snap out of it. And when you looked at Jiyong, your knees nearly gave way then and there. In perfectly snug black slacks, an oversized maroon shirt showing an unholy amount of his chest and collarbones and all the right earrings, he left you breathless. Sometimes, you just couldn’t believe you were dating that man. Out of nowhere, music started playing and Jiyong wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying along to the music. You wrapped your arms around him and looked up at him smiling with that gummy smile.

“What is this Jiyong?”

Twirling you around once, he placed a light kiss on your lips before saying,

“Well, I know I’m not the best boyfriend in the world, but I wanted our evening to be perfect tonight.”

You were melting. He was wrong. He was definitely the best boyfriend in the world. You pulled him down by the collar into a deep kiss, wanting to just stay there in his arms and freeze that moment in time. He pulled away after a while, with his eyebrows raised.

“Wow. If you loved that, wait till you see what I’ve cooked.”

You laughed.

“You? Cooking? Ji, are you sure you didn’t just order some pizza?”

He beamed at you.

“Nope. I didn’t. I took the day off, facetimed your mom and got your favourite food right.”

You gasped.

“Ji, are you saying-”

Grinning, he said,

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And it tastes fucking amazing.”

“Oh Ji…”

He smirked.

“Yes, I know. I’m amazing.”

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t disagree.

You and Jiyong had an amazing dinner. He was right. He had made your favourite meal really well and you were mind blown. You tried not to think about how you wouldn’t see him for the next five months, but he did a good job of making sure you weren’t dwelling on it and were happy. At the end of dinner, he pushed the table out of the way, filled two wine glasses up to the brim, started playing music and held out a glass for you with a smirk on his face. Jiyong’s playlist was pretty innocent, but your thoughts were anything but. As the two of you playfully danced around to the music, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and drew him closer to you, taking a few minutes to absorb that familiar scent and feel. He hummed along to the music, gently taking both your now empty glasses and put them down on the table and came back, wrapping his arms back around you. He smiled gently at you and slowly swayed to the music. You let your hands slide down to his chest, playing with his chain for a while before finally unbuttoning his shirt a little more. Immediately, his smile was replaced by that sinful smirk. You knew from that moment on it was about who would give in first and you were determined to make him. He let his hands slide down from your waist, letting them rest upon your butt. You suppressed the moan rising in your throat and rested your head against his chest, letting your lips rest against his collar bones. He pulled you closer, allowing you to feel the bulge against you. You smirked. He had made a mistake. You pressed yourself into him, with your boobs flush against his arm and your hips rocking against his now prominent bulge. You heard him hiss but he persevered. One of his hands came up to play with the one knot holding up your dress as he leaned down to whisper,

“Come on Y/N. You know you want this.”

You moved your lips to his ear.

“Don’t act like you don’t Ji. You’re a bad liar.”

He pulled you even closer, pressing his erection into you, but that backfired, because you couldn’t hold on to that moan any longer. You let out a long, breathy moan of his name against his ear and with that, he lost it. He picked you up and kissed you, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moved towards the bedroom.

You wanted to laugh and gloat, but you couldn’t, because he had you in his arms, wrapped in a deep, toe curling kiss, and very soon, you lost the ability to think at all. You wanted him. He threw you on the bed, pushing off the box haphazardly. He smirked at the flushed, breathless you he had left on the bed. He stripped and climbed on top of you. His hands reached for your face and he held you gently, kissing you yet again, memorising everything about you. After a few minutes, his hands finally strayed down, undid the knot by your waist and threw the dress off you. And when he saw you, he had to stop for a minute. He had stopped everything and was just staring at you, drinking in the sight of you. You squirmed feeling his hands leave your body, but after that, you felt a little shy. Blushing, you asked him,

“What are you doing?”

Not taking his eyes off you for even a second, he replied.

“You’re just so goddamn beautiful.”

Leaving you speechless, he dropped down to your belly, dropping light kisses there, slowly making his way upwards, letting his hands wrap around your thighs and draw you closer to him. He gently traced patterns onto your thigh, slowly making his way up, enjoying the way you were squirming. Not wanting to let go of you for even a second, he reached around and kissed your back before unhooking your bra with his teeth, making you gasp at the cold air. Your nipples were already hard but he couldn’t help it. He flattened his tongue against your right nipple before swirling his tongue around, making your nipple harden even more. He switched to the other, the cold air on your wet nipple making you gasp and grab his hair. He played with your nipple until you were begging him and writhing beneath him.

“Jiyong please.”

And he finally listened, coming up to pull you into another kiss. His hands slid your panties off and he gently dipped his fingers into your folds, smirking when he realised how wet you were. He let his lips trail over your neck, murmuring,

“Oh love, all this for me?”

before latching down on the spot above your left collarbone and sucking. At the same time, he let his fingers circle around your clit, gently tapping on it. Your back arched and his other hand came up to play with the nipple you had so helpfully pressed against him. he looked down at you. God, you were beautiful. He had to memorise this. With that, he let his lips trail further down to just beneath your boobs before sucking down there. His fingers gently increased the speed and moved closer to your clit. He slowly increased the pressure he was putting on your clit and that was it. You were close. So close. And when he lightly spanked your clit before rubbing down on it, you came. You let out a breathy moan, pulling Jiyong close and collapsing. He looked at you, a flushed moaning mess with marks blossoming all over your chest and neck, smirked and collapsed next to you, pulling you into his arms, getting ready to snuggle when you interrupted him.

“Ji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I want you in me.”

Surprised, he turned to look at you.

“Princess, I wanted to make this all about you tonight.”

You turned to look at him smiling, but with a tear running down your face.

“I know Ji, but I really, really need you in me.”

Your lip was trembling, but before that dam could break, Jiyong kissed you again, gently moving on top of you. He pulled away for a second to cup your face.

“Y/N, I love you. I love you so much.”

Still a little teary-eyed, you kissed his hands and replied.

“I love you too Jiyong. So, so much.”

Jiyong pulled you back into a kiss and entered you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding on to his arms and back for support. He also had tears streaming down his face while he thrusted into you, slow and steady, both of you taking your time to savour every second. The two of you continued like that for a while, both pressed flush against each other, enjoying the intimacy. You came first and a few minutes later, with one long thrust, so did Jiyong. He slowly lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you and you snuggled into his chest, as close as you could get. Your voice was a little shaky when you said,

“I’ll miss you.”

He rubbed your shoulders, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I know love. So will I. But I will be back. It’ll be over before we know it.”

Both of you knew that wasn’t true but neither of you wanted to say it. You broke the silence.

“I love you Jiyong.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

And then, he turned towards you, pulled you even closer, wrapped both his arms around you and kissed you lightly. You snuggled into his neck, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his arms. The two of you fell asleep like that. And when he left early the next morning, both of you pretended like you were asleep. You just let him press a light kiss on your forehead and leave, not wanting to let him see you cry and Jiyong left, not wanting you to cry.

-----

One month later, you were staring at your doctor in disbelief. You froze and then you burst out laughing.

“Ah, good one Unnie. Nothing popped up on my report, right?”

She smiled at you, let your laughter subside, and with that same calm smile, she said,

“Nope. I’m not kidding Y/N. You’re pregnant. Congratulations!”

Your head was spinning. You were pregnant. You were pregnant?! What? Oh. That’s a lot to take in. You slowly started to smile. You were pregnant. You were finally starting a family with Jiyong. There might be a mini you or a mini Jiyong in you. You were so, so happy. You were a little nervous, because you knew Jiyong loved kids, but you weren’t sure whether he wanted them right then, but you were pretty sure he’d be happy. You sat there for the next five minutes with a stupidly happy grin on your face before your doctor snapped you out of it to make sure you’d listen to all the important stuff about pregnancy.

As soon as you stepped out of the clinic, you called Hyorin and Youngbae. You were so excited. A little nervous. But super excited. They both picked up at the same time.

“Why’re you calling both of us at the same time Y/N?”

“I have news. But, and this is specifically for Youngbae, you cannot tell Jiyong. It’s a surprise. Promise.”

Hyorin immediately agreed. Youngbae seemed unsure.

“I don’t know Y/N. Does it have to be a surprise?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

He groaned.

“Fine. I promise I won’t tell him.”

“I’m pregnant.”

You pulled the phone away from your ears a little, anticipating both Hyorin and Youngbae yelling, which did happen. You interrupted their questioning.

“Wait you guys. I’ll drive over to your place right now. We can talk there. I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

Hyorin squealed, but you could still hear Youngbae deadpan,

“Please don’t.”

-----

Jiyong was walking down the street in Paris, lonely, but still enjoying the weather and the vibe. But fate had other plans for him. as he was walking down the street, something in the window caught his eye. It was a flashy, ostentatious ring. Gold band studded with diamonds throughout. But he wanted it. Not that specific ring, but at that moment, he knew the first thing he had to do when he got back home was to ask you to marry him and take you ring shopping. It was time to pick an engagement ring.

-----

Four months later, and you were getting big, and fast. As you sat there watching Jiyong’s old performances, your mind wandered. You hated the new pregnancy diet you were on. You really missed your wine and your tea. The morning sickness and the constant aches and pains were really bad. You had a headache that was increasing with every second. None of your clothes fit right. You were nervous about telling Jiyong. But most of all, you missed him. You wished he was with you, helping you when your back hurt too much or just cuddling with you when you got sad, but not only did you want to surprise him, but you also knew that he would be miserable that he couldn’t be with you. You rubbed your belly, smiling.

“It’s just you and me for now, tiny.”

You quickly glanced at the clock.

“But appa will be here next week, so don’t worry. I know he’ll love you.”

You stretched behind you to get the bottle of water when you saw someone open the front door. Jiyong slowly walked in, wheeling in, or at least trying to wheel in, his suitcase quietly. He looked up when he heard you drop the bottle. He smiled sheepishly.

“I was hoping you’d be asleep so I could surprise you properly in the morning. Why’re you up so late anyway?”

You couldn’t process what was happening. Jiyong’s smile widened and he opened his arms.

“Surprise!”

Finally, things began to sink in. You smiled too, slowly getting up and holding your belly.

“Surprise, Ji.”

His eyes widened and before you knew it, he was next to you. His voice was shaky when he said,

“Y/N, you’re pregnant?”

You started tearing up. You nodded, and gently guided his hand over to your belly.

“Meet tiny, Jiyong.”

You leaned closer to your belly.

“Tiny, that’s appa.”

He was teary eyed when he asked,

“So I’m going to be a father?”

“Yes, Jiyong. Yes, you are.”

He left his hand on your belly, being very gentle when he pulled you closer and kissed you. He pulled away, letting his forehead rest against yours as he whispered,

“I love you Y/N.”

You held his face and gently wiped away the stray tears.

“I love you too Jiyong.”

-----

Later that night, the two of you lay curled up in bed, all wrapped up in a blanket. He had his arm around you as you rested your head on his chest. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, unable to believe the news he had just received. He stroked your hair and kissed your hand before asking,

“When Y/N?”

“The night before you left.”

“So, it’s been five months?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known?”

“Four months.”

“Who else knows?”

“Just Hyorin, Youngbae and my sister.”

He pouted.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You smiled and kissed his nose.

“Because I wanted to surprise you with good news when you got back. Also, you’d have wanted to come home but wouldn’t have been able to and that would have killed you.”

Jiyong looked so heartbroken.

“But I missed so much!”

You hated that he was feeling that way. You took his face in your hands and said,

“Listen to me Jiyong. I know this is awful but even if I had told you earlier, there’s nothing you would have been able to do. I knew you’d feel this way, so…”

His eyes lit up.

“You’ve planned something?”

“Open your drawer. You’ll find flash drives full of pictures and videos from every month of pregnancy in there for you.”

“God, I love you. Y/N, will you marry me?”

Suddenly, you felt both emotional and annoyed.

“Are you serious? You asked me to marry you when I’m bloated and pimply?”

He quickly kissed you before replying,

“Yes, because no matter how bloated or pimply you are, you are always going to be the most beautiful woman in the world to me and I’ll always want to be married to you. Now will you please stop me from panicking and answer my question?”

All your annoyance and anger dissipated. Nodding happily, you replied,

“Yes, yes I will.”

You went ring shopping the next day. Both you and Jiyong picked pale gold rings with a single, clear emerald in the middle.

-----

A week later, the two of you were sitting at the table, glaring at each other suspiciously. You cleared your throat and began.

“Okay, so let’s start the negotiation.”

He nodded.

“First off, I want you to do the pregnancy diet with me.”

“What?! Nooo.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s horrible.”

“Yes, it is. But I’m doing it. And who got me here?”

Sounding so awfully resigned, he said,

“Me.”

“So, you’ll do it then?”

“Can I break it if you’re not around?”

Your eyes narrowed.

“Pregnant women don’t get to break it Jiyong.”

He shivered under your gaze.

“God, you’re scary.”

He mumbled later, almost as an afterthought.

“Is it weird that I find that hot?”

You winked at him.

“We’ll see about that later. Now your turn.”

He took a deep breath and started.

“I want Youngbae and Hyorin to be tiny’s godparents.”

“Agreed.”

“I think so because-Wait what?”

“I agree.”

“Oh okay. Great!”

And he grinned a stunningly disarming grin at you, making you grin back unwittingly. You shook your head, brain clouded with thoughts of Jiyong and his stupid, charming grin, and said,

“I want to get married after the baby.”

He paused and nodded.

“Okay Y/N. Why?”

“I don’t want to make too many changes at once. Let’s have our baby, get used to everything and then get married.”

He took a few minutes to think about it.

“Okay. Let’s do that. I’m happy with that too.”

He paused to hold your hand. He could tell you were nervous about how he would react to that.

“Listen Y/N. I meant what I said. I will always want to marry you and it doesn’t matter if it’s a little later as long as we’re together.”

You squeezed his hand, grateful that he was in your life. He continued.

“Okay. I want to make the pregnancy public.”

You were shocked. Your relationship wasn’t even public. You weren’t married. And you knew what kind of reactions things would get. Jiyong saw the look on your face and squeezed your hand again, reassuring you.

“Y/N, this is big. And you know how the media gets. They’ll find out anyway. It’s better if we tell them that we’re expecting and then keep things private.”

“Ji, but the backlash, the hate, how are we going to handle that?”

“We will tell them we want it to be private and my manager will handle the hate. This is our life. These are our choices. And they don’t get a say in them.”

You still looked kind of unsure.

“Y/N, trust me on this.”

You looked at him, staring at his determination for a few seconds before giving in.

“Okay fine. I trust you. We can do this.”

You took a deep breath and started.

“Okay, I need you to be in the room with me every step of the way for the birth. And I need you to attend all my birthing classes and do all of that with me.”

Jiyong looked shocked. He got up from his seat, knelt before you and hugged you.

“Y/N, why is that even a demand? Of course I’ll be there. I would never not be there. Why would you have to ask me?”

You bit your lip.

“Nothing. It’s just that in my family, no one ever did that. It was considered ‘unmanly’. I just needed to make sure.”

“Love, I will always be there, every step of the way. Fuck what they said about it being ‘unmanly’. That’s horrible. I could never let you do that alone.”

You smiled, feeling a weight off your chest. Jiyong hugged you and sat back down. He looked nervous, and when he opened his mouth, you understood why

“I want you to work for shorter hours.”

Immediately, you were on edge.

“Jiyong, I run my own event planning company. I can’t work less.”

“You know you can. You could just ask Natasha to take over for a while. You are partners.”

“But she does better with the finance of it. And I can work! It’s not strenuous or anything.”

Jiyong’s eyebrows shot up.

“Sweetheart, look me in the eyes and tell me that’s true. I’ve seen the way you pull all nighters and stress yourself out to get the perfect event. You always do, but you can’t risk messing up your health now. You need rest.”

You knew he was right, but you hated it. You pouted and got whiny.

“Nooo Jiyong.”

“Y/N, I’m not telling you to stop working completely. I’m just saying that maybe you shouldn’t undertake any new projects and oversee them personally for a while. Do what Natasha does. Check in from time to time and make sure the final product is good. You have some really great people working with you. They can handle this.”

You sighed. You knew he was right. once you started, you loved to deep dive into things. It was better if you stayed away from a bunch of projects for a while.

“Okay fine. You’re right. I’ll talk to Natasha tomorrow.”

He hugged you, bombarding you with kisses.

“I know. Now, you wanna go switch things up in the bedroom?”

And as you laughed, he carried you to the bedroom, whispering things into your ear that made you blush.

-----

You held his hand as you walked into the clinic together. It was Jiyong’s first visit to the clinic and you were going to find out the gender of your baby. He was so nervous and it was adorable. You had shown him all the sonograms you had but nothing ever truly explains it like being there in person. You were in the waiting room, amused, watching him freak out reading all the birth magazines there.

“Y/N, oh god. We’re not prepared. We’re not ready for this at all. Do we want a water birth? What is a doula? Why do I not know any of this?!”

You let him ramble for a few minutes before grabbing his face and kissing him.

“Jiyong. Listen to me. We’ve got this. We’ll figure this out. It’s okay.”

You smiled at him, watching his face relax into a smile too. It was just then that the nurse called you in.

You lay there, watching him with rapt eyes as the doctor showed him your baby. Tiny. Jiyong was hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time. And your eyes filled up with tears looking at the way Jiyong was crying. You reached for his hand, pulling him a little closer to wipe some of the tears away. Your doctor coughed softly, making both of you turn to look at her.

“Your tiny is a girl. Congratulations!”

Jiyong sat down next to you, crying as he rested his hands over your belly. He looked at you, wide-eyed.

“Our daughter.”

“Yes Jiyong, our daughter. Our baby.”

-----

You were hungry, you were grumpy and you felt like crying. You couldn’t see your feet anymore. It was 4 in the morning, you were waiting alone at home for Jiyong to get back. Why was he taking so long? All he had to do was get you your favourite crepes and come back home so that you could cuddle and not be hangry any more. You groaned. You were so annoyed. At the back of your head, a small voice reminded you that you did just wake up Jiyong at 3 and forced him to go get you, a terrifyingly pregnant woman, crepes from a place that was probably closed. Your anger melted a little and you started to feel bad for waking him up. So bad that in a few minutes, you were biting your lips and curled up in a bed under a blanket, a cocoon of sadness. You were about to delve deeper into your sadness when you heard him walk in. a tired, sleepy voice called out,

“Y/N, my love, I got you your crepes.”

As he walked into the bedroom with the crepes in one hand, you pulled him into a hug. Sounding very apologetic, you said,

“Sorry for this Ji. You must be tired.”

He ruffled your hair before starting to feed you the crepes.

“No no Y/N, don’t apologise. I should always be doing this. Besides, I would have been much more annoyed if the owner didn’t take pity on me and make me some crepes after all my begging.”

-----

You were now thirty-five weeks pregnant and everything hurt. Your stomach was huge. Your back hadn’t stopped hurting in months. Your feet were aching. And most importantly, your head was killing you. it hurt so much that you couldn’t sleep. When you tossed and turned for the millionth time, Jiyong finally sat up with a sigh.

“What’s wrong love?”

You could barely manage to mumble,

“My head hurts. A lot. Jiyong, would you mind speaking softly?”

Jiyong sighed again and got up from bed. Again, you managed to mumble,

“Are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

But he was too far away to hear. He came back five minutes later with a cup of peppermint tea. He gently helped you up and gave it to you, shooting you a tired smile.

“Drink it. It’ll help.”

You mumbled a grateful thanks but he could barely hear you. You were about to crawl back into bed to deal with the pain as usual, but he stopped you.

“Wait. Hold on, let’s try something.”

He climbed in first and helped you into bed, positioning himself just a tad bit higher than you so that you could curl into him. As soon as you got comfortable, he gently began massaging your head, easing the tension in your temples. Before you could mumble a confused bunch of questions, he rubbed your back, comforting you.

“Shhh love. I got this.”

-----

You were in the hospital, staring up at the ceiling while Jiyong held your hand, hissing through the pain of those damn contractions. Why, oh why did you not get an epidural? Oh yeah, you were scared of needles. There was ‘calming’ music playing in the background, a nervous move by Jiyong to try and make things better, which was only annoying you. Birds chirping was not calming if you had developed a newfound hatred for birds. And so much pain. Oh god, so much pain. You breathed heavily when they stopped, grateful for the small release. Just as you managed to calm down, they started again. You squeezed Jiyong’s hand so hard, it was white. You could see him wincing, but you couldn’t help it. When they stopped again, you were out of it. You felt Jiyong lightly wipe your forehead clean of sweat. You turned to him, surprised to find him crying.

“Why’re you crying Ji?”

“Because you’re in pain, love.”

“Aww Jiyong – Nope, they’re starting again. Jiyong, this is all your fault.”

-----

Seven hours later, you were exhausted, but you lay there with Jiyong standing beside you, staring down at the tiny bundle against your chest, her small hand holding his finger. You could barely move, but you turned towards Jiyong and your baby, your tiny, who was finally here. You and Jiyong looked each other and nodded. Jieun was home.

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