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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

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---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Spare Room

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: On a lazy Sunday morning, you and Draco paint your spare room.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: mild angst, self doubt, fluff, kissing

You awoke to the clock chiming far too close to ear shot for your liking, laying in a position that was rather uncomfortable if you must admit it. Rather, you were more so in a tangled heap as you lay crammed in the tattered leather recliner with the very love of your life. That was more like it.

When you peek open an eye, you open them completely with a sigh at the sight before you. Sitting crooked and near broken on the very tip of Draco’s nose were the glasses he so rarely wore to read, said book on the brink of slipping and falling from his fingertips. You swiped it from his hand before it could clatter to the floor unceremoniously, tossing it on the couch not far from you. The lamp just behind you had yet to be turned off from its use the night before, it’s glowing light a bit too bright in the windows reflection as the clock rang a seventh and final time for the next hour.

Despite the lack of space to allow such things, he engulfed you in his embrace nonetheless, his chest rising and falling against you. His fingers remain loosely entwined with yours as they had been all night you assumed, his breath puffing warmly just under your ear in a way that tickled if you thought too long on it. His hair was an absolute mess of platinum that stuck every which way it had pleased, dark lashes splayed across pale skin as his legs dangled over the arm of the chair. The flannel blanket once laying over you both had just about fallen on the floor completely by that point. You can’t imagine he’d slept for long, not with the way he’d been caught up in his own mind for quite some time. For that reason, you hated to do this, but you felt as though you might just remain permanently in that dreadful position if you don’t stretch.

You release his hand and do so, a soft hum of utter relief leaving your lips at the ever so blissful feeling pulling at the tension in your body. A hum that sure enough caused him to stir from his light sleep; that, paired with your obvious jostling. His grip on you tightened then, his newly book-less hand coming up to rest just under the sweater of his that hung from your shoulders in ruffled heaps of black yarn.

“Good morning,” he mumbles half-heartedly, the coldness of his hand seeping into your skin as it rests further up on your hip.

“Good morning,” you start, squirming at the undesirable shiver it gave you, a frown on your lips, “And just where do you think you’re putting your hands?”

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, darling ,” he murmurs just behind your ear with closed eyes, though his hand splays and lays flat across your stomach now as his laugh tickles against your cheek, any traces of warmth quickly leaving you.

“Draco!”

When you try and wriggle from his grasp your attempts rapidly become futile as you fall back to his chest, trying desperately to stifle your giggles because he most certainly did not deserve the satisfaction. His sleepy smile was immediate as he looked at you, blue eyes tired but full of adoration nonetheless. It was then that you give in and laugh, shaking your head at him.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed slightly.

“You know, for being twenty-four, you’d think you would remember to take your glasses off before you go to sleep on the very rare occasion you decide to actually wear them,” you say, plucking the brown tortoise colored frames from the tip of his nose. You toss them on the couch to join the book laying there. “How very irresponsible of you.”

He narrows his tired stare at you and your wit, a frown tugging on his lips. Lips you immediately kiss with a soft smile, his halfhearted frown disappearing instantly. A sleepy hum sounded against your parted lips, his hand settling on your cheek. When you pull away all too soon his lips press to the corner of your mouth, finding himself chasing after you for more.

He sighs in dramatic exasperation, tugging you closer and tangling his legs with yours in an effort to get you to stay, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he lays his head back against the chair. You bite the inside of your cheek, holding your laughter at his antics.

“Dray, we’ve got plans today,” you say, tracing your fingertips over his chest. His brows furrowed as he continued to try and sleep.

“Do remind me, darling, just what would they be?”

“We’re painting the spare room, remember?” You kindly inform him, sitting up a bit more in your haphazard position. “You promised you’d help.”

He peeks an eye open as he stills your hand from dancing across his chest any longer, enveloping it in his own as he drops his head to the crook of your neck. You knew what was coming.

“Can’t we just enchant some paint brushes? It’s quite easy really,” he suggests in a groan, his lips pressing tenderly and tiredly up the skin of your neck, the warmth of his breath ironically giving you shivers. “I’ve got much better plans of my own.”

“To what, go to bed?” You counter, laughing softly.

“Precisely,” he agrees, the single word pressing into your skin just below your ear. “With you, might I add.”

You find yourself melting into his embrace, into the kisses proving to be far more intoxicating than you had hoped they’d be. Kisses that moved warmly from your neck to your jaw, from your jaw to your cheek, and perhaps the most delicately to your lips. They were soft and languid, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek. The feel of his lips paired with the warmth of his arms was nearly far too comfortable and spell binding for you to want to do anything other than what you had been doing. But the excitement of your plans quickly overshadowed that in that very moment.

You break from him with another peck, his lips kiss swollen and pink, dropping to a slight frown at the action. More so when you reluctantly make your leave from his arms. “This room isn’t going to paint itself.”

“Love, it most certainly can!”

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss him once more. “Get up, Dray.”

—

With a lot of complaining and yawning on Draco’s end, you’d finally gotten him to get up and help with the promise of kisses. That always works. He’d tried to enchant his paint roller on more than one occasion but you had insisted to do it by hand, it was far more meaningful that way.

Over the course of the hours you spent, the hardwood floors had since been covered in every piece of newspaper you could find in your home, scattered haphazardly and crinkled. After the first hour, you were convinced there was more paint on yourselves, on anything other than where it should be. Countless spells were used when it inevitably seeped through the paper beneath your feet and smeared over the floor. The record in the player Draco had pulled in the room had spun every song on it at least two times over, and a good thirty minutes had been lost when Draco had taken you by the hand for just one dance, as he put it. One turned to two, and two turned to three with the addition of a myriad of paint smudged kisses pressed on flushed skin and breathless laughter.

The room now smelled of fresh paint and the chilly spring breeze that had filtered in through the open window. Nearly the entirety of the four walls were painted a soft sage green, as well as the splotches smeared across Draco’s cheek in payback for the ones on yours.

You swept the paint across the last bare patch of the wall, turning to Draco with a beaming smile as you set the brush down in the tray.

“What do you think?” You ask with a triumphant yet defeated sigh, twirling in the near empty room with open arms.

You hadn’t twirled so much as twice before his hand grabbed a hold yours, tugging you close to him. He had yet to change from his pajamas, miscellaneous smudges of green mingling with the pale freckles smattering sparsely across his chest.

“I don’t think it’s quite green enough,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear with a playful smirk. “Not the right shade.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from his touch, fighting to stifle your laughter and contain your smile. But the moment you looked at him again, at the softening smile gracing his lips and the hair falling down in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t possibly refrain. “You’re terrible sometimes, you know that?”

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, soft and tender as his laugh puffs against your skin.

“I do know that,” he starts, fingertips trailing down your arms before interlocking with your own. A softer smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his blue gaze bounced around the room. “It’s perfect.”

It truly is. It may have just been a simple matter of painting four walls of a spare room a color that you’d been dreaming of since the day you’d moved in. It may have been a simple moment on a lazy Sunday morning. But it was perfect and something he never thought he’d be fortunate enough to have.

He knows he wasn’t the best person, he knows he wasn’t even remotely so as a child and the teenager he once was. He knows he’s not even the best person now either, not with the memories still taunting and weighing heavily on him. What he also knows is that he hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps, nor had he done what was expected of the only Malfoy heir. There were no intentions of living in the Manor and throwing fancy soirées, no desire to live within a larger than necessary estate composed of the same gray walls and dust covered shelves, sparsely decorated with expensive furniture and paintings. As much as Narcissa wanted him to continue on the family inheritance, and as much as he loved her dearly—he did not want that for himself.

Now, he’s got a wonderfully sweet cottage tucked away in a neighborhood where no two homes are the same. He lives in a home where every room is painted a different color that didn’t necessarily match from one to the next, where every room feels cozier than the last. He lives in a home that feels lived in, that radiates a kind of warmth and love he could have only ever dreamed of his entire life. One that houses a culmination of each of the things that matter the most to the both of you.

He lives with the love of his life, someone who he felt he didn’t deserve the affections of but received them regardless. He lives a life of matching coffee mugs and 2 am slow dances to a melody unheard. With bookshelves lined with shared tastes in literature crammed together and the occasional picture frame with the two of you captured within it. In a home surrounded by untamed wildflowers and borderline unkempt lawns with deep maroon shutters by each little window. All of it encompassed by a matching wooden fence with an iron latch, the numbers of your address engraved in an old metal slab.

His parents might have frowned upon his choice in living arrangements in noticeable comparison to the luxury of their own, but he no longer cared about their opinion. It was merely that; an opinion.

“What are you thinking of?” You ask after a little while, your voice pulling him back to the current moment as you brushed the platinum strands away from his eyes.

His gaze shifts to you, smile soft and beaming as the breeze sweeping into the open window sifts through your hair. As the late afternoon sunshine glimmers across your skin. "Stay here with me. For the rest of our lives. Stay with me.”

He watched as your expression filled with a delighted confusion, one so adorably curious he wanted nothing more than to kiss you for the rest of the day. You laugh softly, smile bright and eyes sparkling as you took in the loving sincerity of his words spoken so freely, so meaningfully. What he hadn’t known, however, was the butterflies fluttering around relentlessly in your stomach and the racing of your heart. You had known of such things already, but to hear them spoken was something else entirely.

“Painting our spare room really has made you sentimental, hasn’t it?” You jest, your squeal ringing out when he lifts you in his arms and twirls you in retaliation.

Your hands settle on his shoulders as your laughter fills the room, his lips pressing to the column of your throat. He knew you’d say something along those lines, he absolutely knew it. He sets you down but keeps you just as close, his lips continuing to press upon your neck as you continue to giggle at his mercy. He moves to your cheek and bumps his nose against yours, foreheads resting on one another as your dwindling laughter mingles in the space.

“I mean it, darling,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at your expression fully. He looked at you carefully in the close proximity, hopeful of your answer as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

It was then that the corner of your mouth quirks up into a grin. You bring your arms up to rest on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the very tip of his nose. “For the rest of our lives,” you repeat softly with a widening smile, just to hear how it sounds. “I quite like the idea of that.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh, kissing you again and again, his arms tightening around you as he engulfs you in his embrace so much so he nearly lifts you off your feet once more. But soon there was muffled laughter and a gasp, your gazes traveling to the floor as you’re met with adorably large blue eyes and ever so sweet purring. Ivory.

Her once clean paws were doused in paint after walking freely through the tray without a care for much else, tracking it across the newspaper set across the floor, perfectly tiny paws pressed upon your feet in little sage-colored prints as she walked on you both. You sigh as you bend down and scoop her up, a delighted meow escaping her at the attention she was aiming to receive. It was immediate that she nudged Draco’s nose rather roughly, the action aggressively affectionate as she stood her front paws on his chest. He scrunched his nose at your laughter of the footprints left behind on his skin.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” He says lightheartedly to the feline, using your earlier words as he scratched under her chin. She responded with another nudge, whiskers brushing over his lips.

He smiled fondly, one that was soft and true.

“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes shifting to you once you set her down, a gust of the spring breeze blowing his hair back in his eyes, a shimmering blonde in the sunlight. “I love you in every possible way.”

You smile, cheeks staining a soft pink as your arms wrap around his neck once more. “And I love you,” you whisper, leaning on your toes to kiss him, gentle and sweet. “In every possible way.”

Draco Malfoy lived a life entirely decided by himself for once, and he was destined to make better of it than it once was. He was perfectly content with the one he made for himself now; one with the love of his entire life and the precious little kitty he’s come to love. The three of you stood there, enjoying the simplicity of just merely basking in each other’s company.

He found himself excited to decorate yet another room with your things and his combined. It was more than just a spare room; it was a piece of your home, of a life your own.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @anchoeritic @hahee154hq @amourtentiaa @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft

#draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco x you #draco fluff

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 2

First part

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades

Tim wheeled his bike into the alleyway nearby and set the alarm to call him if someone messed with it beyond the normal ‘must touch cool thing’ instincts.

Once he was sure that his bike couldn’t be easily stolen, he turned back to where Marinette was waiting for him.

She struggled with her phone with her gloved fingers. His lips twitched into a grin and he took a moment to school his face into a neutral expression before he started over.

After a second, her head turned to look at him and she flashed a wink, pocketing her phone.

“Cheers!” She chirped, flashing him a wave.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her behind his domino mask. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s a British thing.”

He could only see the top half of her face, and yet he was sure she was pouting. “Kwami, this is Canada French all over again.”

“Canada --?”

“They speak the language all wrong,” she said, as if that made it make more sense.

“I feel like you’re implying that I speak English wrong.”

“Would you rather I say it outright? ‘Cheers’ is a cute word and it sucks that Americans don’t use it.”

“Is this really a hill you’re going to die on?”

“Not just a hill I’m going to die on, it’s the hill.”

He scoffed lightly at that, then turned to get the door for her. The moment they stepped inside they tensed. The silent stares pressed in on them on all sides and he felt Marinette shuffle just the slightest bit closer to him as they took their place in line. The Gothamites continued watching them -- no, they were watching her -- warily, and of course they were (new people in costumes usually meant pain for them).

Well, he could assure them she was safe, at least.

He slowly, carefully, threw his arm over his shoulders. Marinette’s hand twitched towards the arm on instinct to throw him off, but otherwise she didn’t give much indication that what was going on was weird. There were a few more tense seconds before people turned back to what they were doing, visibly relieved by the fact that she was apparently on the good side. Chatter started back up.

Marinette relaxed slightly under his arm and he gave her shoulder a little squeeze in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Kwami, I forgot how much being a new hero sucks.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected her absently.

She rolled her eyes. “At least try and make it sound like you’re not a cop with a bird theme.”

He sputtered, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest. “Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!”

She rested her hands on her hips.

“We break laws!”

She snickered. “So do cops.”

Tim… didn’t have a retort for that. Luckily, he didn’t need to have one, because it was their turn to order. Neither of them hesitated and within a minute they had their drinks and were out the door. They waved for the few cameras pointed at them on their way out, false smiles lighting up their faces, and then quickly ducked back into the alleyway to have their drinks in privacy.

“I’m going to start going places as Red Robin more often since it seems to mean I’ll get served quicker,” joked Tim as he leaned against the wall.

She gave him a puff of laughter and then pulled the bottom of her mask up to take a sip of her caramel frappe. He watched her expression for a moment and then decided that it must have been good because she didn’t instantly recoil. He pulled his coffee to his lips and took a confident gulp, only to choke.

“Shit,” he hissed, fighting the urge to spit it out.

Now that he knew what to look for he could see the pain behind her eyes.

“It’s really bad,” she informed him, purposefully just a moment too late in her warning.

He huffed a little, looking at the cup in his hand. It’s an iced coffee! How do you even mess that up?

There was a beat as the two vigilantes considered their options, before giving each other shrugs and downing their drinks. It may have been bad, but at least it was caffeinated. Marinette, lucky her, had an easier time of it because she’d gotten whipped cream with hers. He was tempted to snatch the drink from her hands to have something to wash down the cup threatening to sully the good name of coffee for him…

But he didn’t have to. She smiled and offered him the last of her whipped cream. He squinted at it suspiciously as if expecting it to be poisoned. After the coffee incident just a moment before he wasn’t about to take any chances.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s actually good, promise.”

“If you’re lying I’m taking back vouching for you to Batman,” he told her.

Her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“I’m serious! If it’s terrible I’m marching back to the Batcave --!”

“All the way back?”

“Yes! All the way back to the Batcave! And I’m going to revoke my vouching!”

“Oh noooooo, not the vouching!” She said, bringing her hands to her cheeks in mock terror. When he continued to ‘glare’ at her she snickered and assured him that: “It’s fine, I’m pretty sure it’s from a can.”

He squinted at her, because canned whipped cream was still far below his normal standard, but he did end up taking it. It was… okay.

“See? Not poisoned.”

“Very suspicious thing to say unprompted but okay.”

She grinned, reaching over to swipe some cream off his nose. “You’ll die in exactly four hours”

He rolled his eyes. “Hm. I guess I should go home and work on making an antidote, then.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that. I’ll see you later.” She leaned forward and pressed her mask to his cheek in a sort of kiss before heading off.

He watched her leave, smiling to himself. He leaned back against his motorbike absently, thinking.

Well, he supposed he didn’t need to watch her to make sure she was safe anymore. She was Ladybug, she could take care of herself in a fight…

But then a thought occurred to him: she couldn’t detect him when he had been watching her earlier. He bit his lip anxiously. Sure, he was trained to evade detection but did he really want to chance it? In a place like Gotham the ability to tell when you’re being watched is an absolute must.

Okay. Fine. He’d watch her just a little longer…

Marinette frowned when her phone rang while she was doing some late-night work.

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, M’lady?”

A wide grin stretched across her face and she fell back in her bed. “Chaton! And here I was thinking you would never call!”

Adrien laughed. “Well, our time zones don’t exactly match up and I forgot that your sleep schedule is less of a schedule and more of a suggestion.”

“Fuck you, too, then.”

He laughed and she could hear him shifting around on the other side. She heard him zip something up on the other side and she lit up. “When’re you coming over?” He sighed and that was all it took to let her know that he had bad news. The momentary silence afterwards as he tried to figure out what to say was a good indication, too.

“I can’t, unfortunately. The Son of Hawkmoth moving away right after he gets jailed isn’t a good look. The United States Government isn’t that eager to have me, either.”

She wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Just steal the horse miraculous from Fu and come over illegally.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no, straight up disappearing is even more suspicious, thanks.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed that made sense…

She pulled her cat plush over so she could rest her head against it. “It’s so boring without you.”

“You’re making new friends, right?” He questioned, concerned. “I saw on the news that you’ve met the other vigilantes already.”

“Yeah, I guess… but they clearly don’t trust me.”

“Well, did you trust me when we started out?”

“No…”

“So give them time. They’ll realize you’re the best person on Earth soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, obviously. They’d have to be blind not to notice that.”

“Well, one of them is called Batman --.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

He laughed at her and she smiled as she burrowed into her plush.

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“Anytime. Now, go to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up on him without promising him anything.

He leaned against the concrete of the roof, head on his arms to prevent scratching up his chin as he watched her through the window. He kind of worried about her having the blinds open like that, anyone could look in at her, but at least she closed it at night.

Still, he couldn’t deny that it certainly made things easier for him. She did most things by window light -- to save electricity, he theorized -- so he didn’t have to work all that hard to keep track of her.

Currently, she was working on stitching some pieces of an outfit. Her tongue poked out of her mouth a little when she concentrated, he had learned. A tiny part of him wondered if she did that as Ladybug, too, and he just couldn’t see it under her mask.

He kind of wished he could ask. Maybe one day he would (if they ever got close enough for him to reveal he’d been watching her without her knowledge, of course).

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts, and he groaned to himself as he synced his earbuds and picked up.

“Yeah, B, what do you need?”

Listen, Marinette liked her job. She had the privilege of designing most of the outfits she did and that was a lot of fun -- certainly more fun than working solely on commissions -- but… sometimes she just wants to be told what to do. Artist’s Block is real and it fucking sucks.

Thankfully, Gotham gave quite a bit of inspiration. The difference between Gotham and Paris was striking. Paris was pristine; lots of tourists meant keeping the city in a constant state of newness, all bright colors and surfaces so clean you can see your reflection in them. Gotham, on the other hand, felt exceptionally lived in; graffiti, decaying buildings, cracked sidewalks…

She found a nice vantage point that overlooked the city and looked out over the horizon. That was another difference between the two: the height of buildings in Gotham was far more varied than those of Paris. It was more interesting to look at, she thought.

(It had been a point of annoyance at night as she could no longer jump from rooftop to rooftop with ease, but that’s not the point here.)

Maybe she could do something inspired by all the different heights. Audrey would probably like a dress like that.

She smiled walking to a nearby gargoyle. Red graffiti dubbed them Charlie, and who was she to not use his preferred name?

“Hello, Charlie, may I sit on you?” She joked quietly.

Charlie did not answer, not that she really expected him to.

She perched herself on the gargoyle’s back and pulled her sketchbook from a secret pocket in her leather jacket. She hummed tunelessly as she sketched out the shape.

Layers of different lengths -- and different colors, too, of course, she thought as she pulled out some colored pens (what’s the point of different layers if you don’t make it rainbow?) -- and oh it definitely had to trail a little in the back for the drama…

Artist’s block hit her like a too-high wall on patrols as she stared at where the bodice needed to be. What should she do? Obviously it needed to be relatively simple otherwise she risked the dress being an eyesore but…

It was just her luck that the moment she came to a decision about what to do for the bodice and accessories is the moment the first water droplet hit her sketchbook. She pulled her gaze to the sky and noticed the storm cloud overhead.

Shit, it was starting to rain.

She looked back down at her sketchbook, irritation spiking under her skin.

Option one: tough it out and continue drawing so she doesn’t risk forgetting the idea she’d had.

Option two: don’t risk her outfit (or her health, she guessed) and just head inside like a sane person.

… Marinette chose option one. She wouldn’t be herself without the occasional bad decision.

She drew her jacket over her head and hunched over her sketchbook as she continued sketching out her design.

Except, after a few minutes, she didn’t feel the beat of the rain on her jacket. She blinked a few times because she could still hear the rain nearby and she started to wonder if she had died somehow before she caught the sound of someone moving just out of her seeing range.

She turned her head to see a man holding an umbrella over her head, her jacket falling back to rest on her shoulders.

She gave him a once over. It was a little paranoid, she could admit, but she was in Gotham; it paid to be cautious. He was wearing a thick trench coat and gloves, which was a big red flag. He also had open posture -- more open than was natural, actually -- what with his slight slouch and hands spread wide in a somewhat placating gesture. The only good thing was that he was keeping a respectful distance, even standing a bit in the rain in order to avoid crowding her.

… well, he had an umbrella, at least.

She gripped the gargoyle tighter with her legs just in case he decided he wanted to try and push her, then turned to face him more.

“Hi,” she said carefully.

“You know, it’s illegal to be up here,” he said, flashing her an almost blindingly white smile.

She grinned. “You’re breaking the law, too, then.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”

She reached a pinky out and, after a second’s hesitation, he returned the gesture.

Deal made, he wiped some of the water away with gloved fingers and took a seat beside her.

He clearly trusted her more than she trusted him, even allowing his legs to hang over the side of the building. She wondered why, vaguely, but she couldn’t exactly go and ask...

So, instead she smiled and said: “Thanks for the help. Water stains are a bitch to get out of leather.”

“You’re welcome, but I really can’t believe you went out without an umbrella in this city of all places.”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m a little new here, to be honest.”

She watched him carefully out of the corner of his eyes. The man frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by her laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m not stupid enough to genuinely tell someone that. I was just going for the Manic Pixie Dream Girl aesthetic.”

His shoulders relaxed in a way that would have been imperceptible if she hadn’t been trained to check body language. She let herself relax her grip on the gargoyle a little as well; he had been concerned about her right then, he was probably pretty safe. Safe enough to not strain her legs too much, at least.

“Well, I do like your aesthetic,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “The Manic Pixie Dream Girl stuff, my outfit, or what I’m drawing?”

“All of it. But mostly the outfit.”

She felt a faint blush rise to her face but she brushed him off with a: “Yeah, thanks, but I’m not about to start taking fashion advice from a guy in a trenchcoat.”

He gasped and brought his free hand to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, this is peak Gotham fashion!”

“It’s shady, that’s what it is.”

“That’s what Gotham fashion is!”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes harder if she tried. And she did try.

Her gaze fell back to her work and she sighed as she pulled out her pens and started working on finishing up her sketch.

“So, what’re you up here for?” She asked because she didn’t want to risk him getting bored and leaving with the umbrella.

“Hm? Oh, I do photography in my spare time. Figured I’d scope out some new areas.”

“Know all the best places in Gotham?”

“You have no idea.” The man flashed her a grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone in person, though, so I figured I’d get some update shots.”

“Well, if we both need to go sightseeing around Gotham for our things, why not do it together?”

He raised an eyebrow at her but she could see the way his lips twitched downwards with concern. “Trust me that much already? We’ve just met.”

“Well, you seem like a nice guy...” She smirked. “And I could totally beat your ass.”

He scoffed and unbuttoned his trenchcoat to prove to her that he did, in fact, have muscles hidden beneath all those layers and she laughed before she noticed the shirt he was wearing.

Holy shit. She’d made that shirt. He was wearing one of her shirts. She could see the gold stitching partially hidden beneath his collar, and fuck maybe she was concerned about all the wrong things.

Her eyes narrowed in on him just slightly. He clearly wasn’t actively hiding the shirt and didn’t seem concerned that he had shown her, which meant he:

a) didn’t know she was MDC,

b) saw her as just another artist,

or c) was showing her on purpose so she could make an informed decision about being his friend.

So… he didn’t seem to be a threat to her.

Maybe she could do some checking up on him, though, just to be safe.

She smiled. “I realize I never got your name. Probably would be a problem if we’re going to be spending more time together from now on.”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone if you don’t even know their name. I’m Tim Drake.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, watching his expression carefully.

He remained impassive. She wasn’t sure what that meant -- or if it meant anything at all, for that matter.

She pulled out her phone and offered it to him, taking the umbrella so he could type his number in with both hands. That done, she stuck the phone back in her pocket and smiled up at him.

“I’m stealing your umbrella, by the way,” she informed him, grip tightening on the handle in case he tried to take it back from her.

He grinned and made no move to do so. “If you must. Can you at least walk me inside the building before you run off with it?”

She giggled. “I guess I can do that, yes.”

It had been a long time since Tim had fanboyed this hard.

If he was any younger, he would have fallen back on his bed and squealed like a person in those old movies. As it were, he still wore a dopey smile.

He had MDC’s number! And not her work number, because he’d already had that, this was her real number!

And, even cooler, she might just let him go with her to get inspiration! Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to watch one of their favorite artists do their thing?!

… oh, yeah, also the protection thing, obviously. That was the whole reason he was doing this, after all.

It would be so much easier to protect her if he went out with her on these excursions. Just being around men tended to ward off potential assailants. It was perfect!

Which meant he wouldn’t have any reason to follow her for her own protection anymore…

Wait, what about when she needed to go out for chores like groceries? She’d still need to be safe for that! Gotham is a scary place! What if someone tried to follo -- what if someone tried to mug her or something dangerous like that? No, she still needed his help!

Yeah, no, he has to do this. It’s for her own safety.

#haha this took forever dont @ me #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #maribat #stalker x stalker

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

i deserve better

wordcount: 3.5k

_____

The rest of the drive was quiet as Rafe turned the radio up and tried to ignore her leg jittering anxiously and how she kept switching her ring from finger to finger, a constant nervous habit of hers. When he pulled into the driveway at her house, he reached out again and stilled her leg. “Sophie.”

“You didn’t say a thing.” She murmured to herself, not looking at him.

“What do you mean?” He frowned and reached out to take her hand.

Sophie pulled back a little, but turned to look at him. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m glad it went well with your dad.”

“But…”

She leaned forward and gave him a short kiss and a smile to match, shaking her head. “You said it yourself, we have to go pack. Come on.” She got out of the car and didn’t give him a second glance backward as she strode into the house.

Rafe sat there and watched, dumbfounded and unsure of what he’d done.

“Sophie!” He called after her, scrambling out of the car once he came to his senses. “Sophie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Rafe, clearly it went well for you!” She called back, not looking over her shoulder as she stormed through the house.

He sighed, quickening his pace so he caught up to her just as she strode through her room and caught the door just before she slammed it. “Baby, if you want to talk about something let’s just talk about it -”

She whirled around and he was surprised to see a few tears welling up in her eyes. “Leave me alone.”

“Is this about fall break? The Bahamas house? I was going to ask you about it soon, I swear -”

“Seriously, Rafe?” She shook her head, shocked at how oblivious he could be sometimes. “No. It’s not about the fucking Bahamas, though it would have been nice to have a heads up for whatever that is. Can you leave me alone for a minute?”

He frowned and stepped closer inside the room, shutting the door gently behind him. “Clearly you’re upset, Sophie, so let’s just talk about it. Please?”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe it.” She told him in a low tone, eyes blazing as she stared him down.

Her dad knocked on the door a moment after, sounding cautious. “Sophie? Rafe? Something up?”

Sophie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, swiping the back of her hands over her eyes quickly before moving past Rafe and opening the door. “We’re fine, Dad.”

He wasn’t fooled, of course, and looked her over with concern. “How did your lunch go?”

“I don’t know, Rafe, want to tell him how the lunch went?” She asked in a challenging, sarcastic tone as she turned to Rafe with arms crossed.

Rafe seemed to shrink under her gaze, still lost. “I thought it went okay?”

“Really? Because you said it wasn’t bad at all. I’m glad you didn’t see a single thing wrong with the entire conversation -”

“Sophie.” Her dad interrupted sternly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Can I talk to Rafe for a minute?”

“Sure. But this is my room.” She stood her ground, shrugging him off as she ignored Rafe right beside her.

Jeff nodded calmly and glanced at her messy suitcase on the floor. “Alright. You need to pack, I’ll have to take you two to the airport in a few hours. Rafe, can I meet you in the guest room?”

“Yes sir.” He nodded quickly, carefully grazing Sophie’s arm as he stepped past the two of them and made his way down the hall.

Once he was gone, Sophie’s bold facade crumbled as she let a few hot tears spill down her cheeks and her voice cracked as she spoke. “Dad, I -”

“Did he hurt you?” Mr. Flint asked firmly, looking her over again before drawing her into a hug.

“No! No, he would never.” She replied quickly, shaking her head. “He just - god. His stepmom, Rose. She was fucking awful.”

“Language, Soph.” He chastised with a small smile but held her a little tighter. “What did she say?”

“I don’t even want to repeat it, Dad. It was like she was looking down on me.” She told him with a small frown, knowing her dad worked incredibly hard for their family and it was a sense of pride for him. “It was like -” She took a deep breath to center herself before going on a rant. “Rafe didn’t even notice, he was too focused on how nice his dad was being for once.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, honey. I’ll go talk to him -”

“Be easy on him.” Sophie immediately interrupted, rubbing away more tears. “He’s sensitive. He’ll hate that I told you that but you have to be careful with him.”

“Okay. We’re just going to talk.” He nodded. “Breathe, Sophie girl. You know yelling won’t solve a thing.” She nodded solemnly and bit her wobbly lip hard so she wouldn’t start crying again, her hands balled into fists, and her dad gave her a small smile. “You look just like you did when you were seven and Carter stole your bike all the time.”

“It’s more important than that.” She protested with a spark in her eyes, and her dad raised his hands in defense before she could get too upset. “Alright. Clean up this mess, Soph, let me go talk to him.”

“Be nice.”

“I will, I will.” He left the room and strode down the hall to the guest room, where Rafe had been anxiously pacing for the last ten minutes, and knocked firmly. “Rafe?”

Rafe opened the door right away, guilt written all over her face. “Is she okay? I can go talk to her, if she needs to yell at me or something that’s fine, I wasn’t -”

“Take a breath, Rafe.” Her dad had to resist a smile at how alike the two were, immediately going to defend each other even in an argument. He stepped in the guest room and closed the door behind him, opting to lean up against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “Take a seat.”

Rafe did immediately. “I think I know why she’s so upset.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about it. My, uh - my dad’s wife, Rose, she was really rude, she’s kind of a bi - um. Sorry.” He cut himself off before he could curse, apologizing quickly. “She looks down on people. Sophie especially. And I messed up, I didn’t stand up for her.”

“Rose, she’s your stepmom?”

“No.” Rafe scowled, crossing his arms. “Well, yes, but only by definition of the law.”

“Hm.” Jeff nodded. “Why?”

“I was nervous about how my dad was going to be…” He trailed off, glancing up at him. “She’s told you what he’s like, right?”

“Yes, she has. I’m sorry about that.” Jeff kept his face impassive, although he felt like he knew more about how Ward treated Rafe than Rafe realized - Rafe had used the golf lessons as a pseudo-therapy session half the time, while Jeff just gave a listening ear.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it. He was just so...so different. Nice, for once. I got caught up in things.” Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, standing. “I need to go and apologize.”

“Alright. Sophie, she’s…”

“She’s mad, I know. I deserve it.” He nodded with a frown.

Jeff laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, but that’s not what I was going to say. She takes a lot of pride in herself, what she’s done. Where she’s gotten herself to. Someone insulting that...that’s insulting her whole character.”

“I know. I know better.” Rafe combed his hand through his hair, sighing. “Thanks for not yelling at me.”

“I wasn’t going to - Rafe, I wouldn’t yell at you unless you did something to warrant it. You’re a good kid, I’m proud of you for accepting your mistake.”

He gave her dad a sheepish grin, tugging at the ends of his hair. “Thank you, Mr. Flint. I’m not sure you know how much that means to me.”

Jeff stepped forward and pulled him into a short hug, clapping his back once. “Go talk to her.”

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this. Your support.” He held onto the hug a moment longer than necessary, then pulled away with red cheeks.

“Of course. Go.” Her dad opened the door and gave him a little push forward - Rafe nodded and hesitated for only a second longer before walking down to Sophie’s room.

He paused before knocking on Sophie’s door, although she knew his footsteps by heart now. “Soph? Can I come in?”

She took a breath and stood, smoothing her palms over her shorts before she opened the door, expressionless. “Have you packed?”

“We’re not leaving for seven more hours. I want to talk. And I need to apologize.” He stepped inside without an invitation and shut the door behind him, regarding her carefully.

She just raised her eyebrows with arms crossed. “Okay. Go ahead.”

He sighed softly and nodded. “Look, I’m sorry that Rose was rude to you. I know money stresses you out, I get it -”

Sophie set her jaw and she frowned, stepping closer, but kept her body language completely closed off to him. “No. Rafe. Listen to me. You don’t get it, and I don’t think you’ll ever fully get it. That’s fine. But those shitty comments Rose made were way too much, and you didn’t say a damn thing. I can’t stand up for myself because I don’t want your dad to hate me even more than he already does -”

“Sophie, I swear he doesn’t hate you -”

“Listen.” She pointed her finger in his face, making him shut up right away. “If you want me to support you at family things like that, you have to stand up for me. She made me feel like shit, Rafe, implying I’m only with you for your money. Do you know how many fucking times I’ve heard that?”

He frowned, shrinking away from her. “She said that?”

“Yes, that’s - fuck, that’s exactly the problem, Rafe!” She threw up her hands in exasperation, pacing away from him. “Every single thing she said to me was a backhanded insult, did you seriously not hear?”

Rafe stepped back to take a seat on the edge of her bed, starting to feel sick from the guilt. “I heard what she said about the lighting...what else did I miss?”

“She said that, she was rude to you about getting a different job after graduation. She said my major was cute - fucking cute - and implied that I wouldn’t be making any money so it was a good thing I was with you. She said I wasn’t used to any luxury like your Bahamas house so I’d enjoy it.” Tears were streaming down her face now but she kept her voice, steady, controlled. “She doesn’t know me, Rafe, and she’s saying all this shit about my family and our money situation and I’m supposed to just sit there and take it?”

“Sophie.” He whispered, reaching out for her and was relieved when she didn’t yank her hand away.

“You can’t just sit there when they’re saying that, Rafe. I deserve better than that.” Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and she nearly stomped her foot like a child, not used to breaking down in front of someone.

“You do.” He pulled her down to his lap and into a tight hug, wrapping his arms securely around her, and rubbed her back as she cried, melting into him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmured, pressing kisses into her hair.

She took shallow breaths, trying to calm herself down as she nodded. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He kept rubbing her back and kept his eyes trained on hers, unwavering.

“When you were talking about the golf lessons, in Rome, it reminded me. When your dad canceled those lessons, my dad lost out on you as a client but a lot of your friends too. He had to cancel a flight for my parents to come visit for parents weekend because we needed the money.” She bit her lip hard again. “I don’t expect you to know all that, but I need you to realize how different of a position we’re in.”

“Fuck.” He breathed out, frowning, as a wave of guilt washed over him. He never realized how much his family’s situation affected hers. “I’m so sorry, Sophie, I was a total dick earlier.” He swiped his thumb over her lip. “You’re bleeding, baby, stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

She released her lip from between her teeth and rubbed her eyes hard, making them even more red. “I just need you to understand. When your family says something, or Brooklyn, or whoever, either I say something or you do. And we both know it’s taken way more seriously when it’s you saying something.”

“Okay. You’re right. I’ll - I’ll call my dad, tonight.”

She paused as she combed her fingers through his hair. “You’d do that? Really?”

“Yes, Soph, if it’s important to you I’ll absolutely do that.” He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his head into her touch. “I love you. I need to show it.”

“You do show it. I know you love me.” She protested quietly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I just - this is different.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, Sophie, I’ll do better.”

“Thank you.” She replied, resting her head on his shoulder and pressed another kiss to his neck. “I really want to kiss you more.” She mumbled, loosely looping her arm around his neck.

Rafe laughed quietly despite himself. “Yeah. I know. Will you stay at my place tonight?”

“Our friends are gonna think we have attachment issues.” She murmured, cuddling closer into his lap.

“I do though. I can’t sleep right without you.” He confessed, leaning back into the pillows with her so she was lying on top of him, a comforting weight.

“You need to fix that. What if I’m away again?”

“What do you mean? I don’t want you to leave me again.” He frowned, playing with the ends of her hair.

She was a little too slow on her reply for his liking. “...I meant for a weekend.”

“Hm. I’ll get James to cuddle with me.” He didn’t press her hesitancy, just grinned when she rolled her eyes and shoved at his chest.

“Idiot.”

“I know.” He had guilt written all over his face as he secured his arms around her. “I know.”

“Your dad kind of was nice to you tonight. Wasn’t he.” She asked, posing it as more of a careful statement than a question.

“Yeah, he’s nice when he’s around other people.” Rafe frowned, thoughtful. “Makes it easy to forget when he’s not.”

Sophie pressed kisses across his cheeks, palms on either side of his face. “I love you. I’m sorry your dad is like this, you deserve better, Rafe.”

“It’s okay. It is how it is.” He shrugged, nudging her to the side and sitting up a little.

“It’s not okay. He shouldn’t treat you like this, it’s manipulative.” She insisted, sitting up too. “I hope you know that my family is yours, baby. When we’re together -”

He frowned, reaching for her. “We are together -”

“I mean permanently.” She cut him off with an intense gaze. “My family will welcome you with open arms, Rafe, I mean it. They already do.”

He blushed, giving her a small shy smile. “When you’re mine for real?”

“I’m already yours. You know that.” She instinctively twisted the Cartier ring that never left her finger nowadays and he took her hands, intertwining their fingers and kissed her knuckles before speaking again.

“When do you want to get married?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of where exactly the conversation was going. “I need a job first.”

“Sophie. You’ve never thought about it?”

“I didn’t say that.” She replied, worrying her lip between her teeth until he reached up and made her let go. “Have you thought about it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, sure. “After graduation, of course.”

“And then some more.” She added, regarding him carefully.

“Mm.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Sophie Cameron. I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? How about Rafe Flint-Cameron?” She challenged, getting in his face and shoving his shoulder lightly.

He just laughed, leaning in to kiss her once. “Don’t start something in your childhood bedroom. Please?”

“Please?” She mimicked, grinning. “So whiny.”

“Okay. Nope.” He rolled off the bed abruptly, going for the door. “You can’t talk like that.”

“No, Rafe, wait.” She shook her head, sitting up fully. “You don’t have to call your dad.”

“But I…”

“I mean it. It’s okay. Just, if he says something again, call him out. But I’m not gonna make you go out of your way.”

He paused, scanning her face for any expression that betrayed her otherwise. “You’re sure. Because I will, I mean it.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded firmly, then got up to cross the room and give him a sweet kiss. “C’mon, let’s go eat. Dinner.”

“We’re okay?” He cocked his head, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

_____

When they went downstairs, hand-in-hand, Sophie’s dad caught her eye first. She gave him a small smile and he nodded, satisfied. Rafe made a point to pull Sophie’s chair out for her - she gave him a weird look at the formality, but her eyes crinkled in the corners anyways.

Dinner was filled with small talk, uneventful, until Sophie’s mom changed the topic as she brought out dessert. “Sophie, Rafe, I’d like to talk with you two after dinner.”

Sophie paused with her fork midway to her mouth, wary. “About what?”

“I’d just like to talk, don’t get up in arms.” Her mom shot back just as quick as Sophie had spoken up.

Rafe glanced back and forth between the two of them, unsure, and nudged her knee under the table with his. She didn’t back down, raising her eyebrows at her mom. “If we’re just talking then I’d like to know what we’re talking about.”

“Fine. Rafe, you know sex before marriage is a sin, yes?” Her mom asked point-blank.

Sophie looked absolutely mortified, like she wanted a pit to open up below her and Rafe and swallow them both. “Mother.”

“I asked him a question.”

“I - I’m going to go clean up, Alice.” Her dad excused himself quickly, sending Sophie an apologetic glance before he left the room.

“Uh - I - um, I wasn’t exactly raised in the church, ma’am, I’m not sure I believe in that.” He offered politely, and Sophie resisted cursing under her breath and settled on squeezing the life out of his hand instead. Wrong fucking answer.

“Sophie, you’ve told me -” Her mom started and Sophie shook her head quickly. “We’re not. I really don’t think this is necessary to talk about, mom, you’ve gone over this with me a bunch of times -”

Her mom cut her off abruptly with a pointed look. “I think it is necessary. Rafe, in our church, we talk about temptation often, do you know what that means in a religious context?”

“Like...if you want a cookie before dinner but don’t want to ruin your appetite?” He tried, pretty sure his cheeks were flaming red.

“Yes, exactly. It’s a similar thing, the overall experience is much more enjoyable once you know you’re with your committed partner for life.” Her mom told them with a nod, dropping the smile once she fixed her eyes on Sophie. “I have a few pamphlets I’ll send with you two from our church, so you can do more of your own research into it.”

“Right. Thank you, ma’am.” He gave her a quick nod and ignored Sophie’s cringe besides him.

“Of course, dear. I understand the temptation is hard, but sins are forgiven if you’re baptised, you know. You are baptised, aren’t you?”

“Uh...I’m not sure. You’d have to ask my mother.”

“And your mother is…?”

“We don’t need to talk about that, Mom.” Sophie stood, unable to take it any longer. “That was totally helpful, definitely not anti-feminist at all. Rafe, c’mon, I heard my dad call for your help by the grill.”

Rafe stayed firmly planted in his seat, a little afraid to move. “I don’t think I heard anything.”

“You’re free to go help, Rafe.” Her mom gave him a smile and that was the permission he needed, standing quickly and letting Sophie drag him into the kitchen. The two just glanced at each other once before bursting into giggles, Rafe breaking first and immediately shushing her with a grin.

He clapped his hand over her mouth, laughing quietly. “She thinks you’re a virgin?”

She tugged his hand away. “No! She found out I wasn’t after sophomore year. Oh my god, she dragged me to church for a month before I got a job that had shifts on Sundays. She sat me down before college and told me she loved me no matter what but I had to be careful about those college boys.” She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“Do you think I did okay?”

“No. You did terribly.” She rolled her eyes. “Where did you expect that conversation to go, talking about your mom?”

“I...I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning up against the counter. “Thought I could redirect the topic, maybe?”

“That bad?” Her dad strolled back in with the extra food from the grill on a plate, glancing between the two of them.

“Yeah, thanks for the backup, Dad. Really appreciate it.” Sophie narrowed her eyes at him and Jeff chuckled.

“You know I don’t do that church stuff.”

“Neither do we.” She scowled. “You can still drive us to the ferry, right?”

Her dad nodded, drawing her into a short hug. “Sorry, Soph, you know I can’t argue with your mom. I can, you two ready?”

“Sounds familiar.” Rafe muttered under his breath, giving Sophie a sheepish grin when she gasped and shoved at his shoulder. Jeff just laughed, shaking his head.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #queue

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 34

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Smut, fluff

; Warnings: Anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, protected sex

; Word Count: 4.1k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: The final smut chapter of Flower! It’s not too long, and probably not as hot as you’d anticipate but I hope you all enjoy it anyway lol please reblog if you do and let me know what you think :D I mean...I know it’s smut so it’s going to be hard to actually talk about it but still, I like to hear what you think about Flower. I haven’t proof read cos I only finished this about...fifteen minutes ago lol

; Flower Masterpost

“Ahh, Hoseok.” You whispered eyes tightly closed as a particularly hard thrust from him has your body jerking up the bed slightly more. Tightening around him without even realising it, he responds with a quiet moan of his own and you smile, running your hand along his back to play with the short hair on his neck.

It makes him shudder, his whole body quivering above you and goosebumps rise on his arms. He was surprisingly ticklish, so it came as no surprise that even in the middle of sex he ended up giggling from the sensation. Opening your eyes to watch him, you bit your lip in amusement at the sight of his beautiful smile.

His response to that was just a roll of his hips that had you gasping, pleasure shooting through your body. Almost two-and-a-half years together and sex still wasn’t boring or dull with him. You weren’t sure if it was because you were madly in love with him or if it was just because he was good at sex. All you did know was that you enjoyed it a lot.

“Do we have to do it? Can’t we just keep going with this?” The question makes Hoseok pause in his movements, shifting until he could look at you clearly without causing himself any strain. Brow furrowing, his lips twist in confusion and you have to bite back the urge to poke at them.

“I mean...we don’t have to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it then we won’t do it. Just finish off like this. I will point out that this is your fantasy though.” A sigh leaves you at that, causing you to nod before you rub at your face. Hoseok doesn’t move, just staying where he is and watching you.

“I know, I know. You’re right. And we’ve already prepped. I just...what if something goes wrong? Or it hurts? You’re not small and...you know.” Your voice has a whine to it, causing him to smile. Or try to hide his smile, but it doesn’t work.

Tracing your fingers along his the tattoos on his chest, you waited for him to comfort you. You’d never really thought of yourself as a needy person before, but you found it nice to have Hoseok reassuring you. It wasn’t necessary, but you got the feeling that Hoseok liked to do it as well. Probably liked the feeling of being wanted.

His response is to push himself up with a grunt, the muscles of his torso working in a way that had you clenching around him. Until he slipped out of you, his cock glistening with your wetness and the lube he’d used earlier. Thanks to his vasectomy a few months ago, the two of you had decided to forego the use of condoms during sex now.

There was a pack in the drawers just in case it was needed, like the situation that was soon about to begin, but otherwise, you both thought it was just a waste of money. You’d gotten tested and Hoseok officially had no sperm showing in his semen, so he couldn’t get you pregnant.

It also helped that him orgasming in you had been one of your fantasies that you’d wanted to experience. You hadn’t been disappointed, even if it felt slightly gross from how wet and thick his cum was in comparison to...well anything else that had been there. Still, you’d enjoyed it. And the look in Hoseok’s eyes when he’d seen it the first time had been pleasing.

There weren’t many things that you’d been able to be the first of for Hoseok.

You still weren’t entirely used to seeing his cock bare though, and it was oddly arousing. Was that normal? Or was it just because you were mid-sex and you found everything about him ridiculously attractive right now? The way his skin contrasted against his colourful tattoos and how each heavy breath made the definition of his stomach more obvious.

It was only when Hoseok gently trailed his fingers along your inner thigh, tapping occasionally with a bemused grin on his face that you realise you’d become way too invested in checking him out. Not that he was opposed to it if the twitching of his cock had anything to say about it.

“Oh, hey, there she is. Back with me. You had that lusty look in your eyes,” Smirking, he rests a hand on your knee and rubs at it almost reassuringly. “Right, serious talk. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable or happy with. So if you’re still too worried then we don’t do it. I’m perfectly fine no matter what.”

Body heating in embarrassment, you squirmed a little and looked away from his intense gaze. His lips were a little swollen and flushed in colour from the earlier kissing and gentle biting, made even more enticing when his tongue swipes across them.

“No, no, I want to try. You’re right, it’s my fantasy. I’m just...worried. You know me.”

“I do know you, which is why I know that you’re probably thinking about this too much. I know that you’ve researched extensively on how to do it safely, on how to try and do it cleanly as well. We’ve prepped as well as we can, you’re pretty comfortable with where we’ve got to. If you’re unhappy then just tell me, okay? Trust me, I’ll stop.” Staring into his dark eyes, you felt his care so strongly.

It helped to soothe the worry in your soul, to let you know that you were in capable hands. You did trust him. More than anyone else in the world right now. The very fact he was knelt there, with your naked body on full display for him and there were almost no worries about your appearance going through your head was proof enough.

There were other worries this time though.

“But what if there’s...you know. Like when you’re in there. What if you get...stuff on you?” Hoseok sighs softly, it’s almost not audible but you heard it. The knot in your stomach was still tight, but you don’t feel embarrassed.

“Meeps, I’m going to be in your asshole. I mean...it’s not made for a dick, it’s a poop chute. So if I happen to get some on my dick then I do, I can’t complain about it. It’s what I get for going in there. Please don’t stress over it.” He’s stroking along your thigh, each movement reinforcing that he cares for you and only has you in mind.

“You promise?”

“I promise. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable at any point, please. Go straight to red if you’re hurting. I’d rather stop if it’s hurting a lot, especially as it’s your ass. Probably not a good sign.” Frowning slightly, you reach out for his hand and half link your fingers together.

“You won’t stop completely right? If I say red then we can just do normal sex?” The last, and only time, you’d ever called out red to him had been during your last experimentation with fantasies and kinks. You’d wanted to know whether you’d enjoy being tied and blindfolded during sex and Hoseok had obliged.

Only you’d discovered that having your hands tied to the bedframe so you couldn’t move properly combined with being unable to see had triggered a huge panic attack. All you’d been able to focus on was that you were exposed, with all the parts you didn’t like being visible and you couldn’t see a thing. Even though Hoseok had been right there, you hadn’t been able to push past your fear that he might just leave you in that compromising position and you’d been begging him to let you go, spitting out ‘red’ over and over until you were free.

Hoseok hadn’t re-engaged in sex after that time, instead just focusing on coddling you and making sure that you were okay. Your vehement reaction had convinced you both that while you were okay with being either tied or blindfolded, you couldn’t cope with them both.

It made you feel too vulnerable, even with Hoseok.

But you didn’t want him to stop completely this time. If you were uncomfortable or hurting from the anal then you just wanted him to stop and have normal sex with you. There was no reason in your eyes for the fun to stop just because something had been a bust. Not this time.

“If you’re okay with continuing, then yeah. We’ll just do it normally. But only if you’re comfortable with it, alright? You have to be honest.” His index finger on his free hand is gesturing to you, his expression stern and you can’t help but smile as you nod. It was hard to take him entirely seriously when he was naked as the day he was born.

“I promise. We should do it. Now, while I’m feeling a little confident. Do we need to do anything else?” He’d already spent a good half an hour earlier getting your ass ready for him; using a small range of butt plugs that increased in size to try and make it as easy as possible for you. You figured with the size of the last one he’d used on you that you could probably take him. He wasn’t small but he also wasn’t a porn star either, thankfully.

“You sure? I think you’ll be good, just let me know.” Nodding to him, you watch as he grabs the foil packet from the bedside table and carefully rolls the condom on. Neither of you wanted this particular sex act to be bare and you’d forgotten how weirdly attractive it was to watch him put one on.

Next, the bottle of lube was used to squirt generous amounts onto his cock. One large hand, the fingers long and elegant, coats it evenly along his shaft in firm strokes. You knew that you were incredibly horny right now because just the sight of it had you shivering, a quiet moan leaving you without meaning to.

“It’s really hot when you jerk yourself off.” It’s only when Hoseok laughs that you realise you’ve just said that out loud. But it’s a testament to how much you’ve grown into your personality with Hoseok that you don’t feel embarrassed about it. Instead, you just give him a bold look with raised brows that has him grinning, looking away from you first.

“You’ve mentioned that a few times.” He’s muttering it though, his cheeks flushed with rose from shyness now and not from anything sexual. It pleases you though that he doesn’t stop his movement, instead gripping himself a little firmer and almost showing off with each slow stroke.

Biting your lip, you sighed to yourself as you watched him for a few seconds. Each move of his arm had the muscles in his bicep flexing, the weights he’d been lifting at the gym lately making themselves well known beneath the colourful tattoos. Your boyfriend was a masterpiece of nature who had only been improved with human talent and skill.

The knowledge that it was all yours was more than a little heady, and suddenly your worries dissipated a little as you whined at him.

“Hobi...come on, please.”

Now it’s his turn to chew on his lip, considering you carefully before shuffling himself a little forward. His thigh muscles tighten from the movement and his position, looking thicker than normal and you whine softly. Would you ever get to a point where you didn’t consider this man to be the most attractive person in the world?

The tip of his cock rubs against your clit slowly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Sighing, you lift your hips in an attempt to encourage him downwards. It surprises you how much you want him there, despite your earlier worries. But you hadn’t hated the prep earlier, hadn’t loved it either but this was something you;’d always wanted to try.

And something you’d always been way too embarrassed to ask for. Hence why it had taken you almost two and a half years to finally experiment with this with Hoseok. You trusted him though. Trusted him to take his time and most importantly, to take care of you and love you.

“If it hurts-”

“Yes, yes, if it hurts then I’ll let you know. Just...go slow, yeah?” Nodding at you, he finally moves down until he’s pressing against your asshole. There’s resistance to him as he pushes, an uncomfortable sensation that has you wincing slightly. The toys you both had didn’t quite go up to his size, so there was still a tiny bit more stretching to do, but you’d felt that you could cope with it pretty well.

Still, it’s not the most pleasant feeling and you let out a breath of air in a rush, eyes widening as you feel a burning sensation when he finally manages to start entering you. A deep groan escapes you as he keeps going, the blunt head of his cock the biggest part of him at the moment and you know that once that’s in, it should be a little better.

It’s just getting there.

Hoseok uses his free hand to rub your stomach gently, the movement something that would’ve horrified you years ago but that is reassuring now. Like you can feel comfort from the touch rather than revulsion and horror.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

Nodding to him, you take a deep breath to try and regulate yourself. It’s more discomfort than pain right now, thankfully, but you just try to relax. You’d read plenty of sites that said relaxing would help to make it a smoother experience, and the last thing you wanted was to cause yourself unnecessary pain.

“Yeah, yeah. Just...go slow, ya know? It’s a little burning but I think you can push a bit more. Just...slow.” He acknowledges your words with a smile, moving to grasp your hand with his while he moves a little deeper. There’s an almost painful sensation that has you whimpering out loud but then the tip of him suddenly manages to make it past and an inch or so of him accidentally slips in too.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry.” He blurts out, looking a little panicked as you squeeze his hand tight without even realising. Thankfully, he’s paused and you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself as you let them back out slowly. After a solid minute or so, you finally feel yourself relax once more and smile at him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s good, you’re in. Just...give me another minute or so, I’ll let you know when you can move again. Slow, still slow.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Did I hurt you?” You know he’s not going to let go of this anytime soon, so you squeeze his hand softly.

“A little, but we both knew it wasn’t going to be sunshine, right? Like you said...it’s not meant to take a dick.” He snorts at that, the movement causing him to jerk ever so slightly inside you. There's another burn but it’s more manageable now, the sensation not painful anymore and you give him another smile of encouragement.

“Okay, try a bit more.” This continues for probably ten minutes, Hoseok going as slow as humanly possible. To the point that you’re worried his erection might be becoming painful from how long he’s had it. But the two of you work together, slowly moving until you finally feel comfortable enough to start having some form of sex.

Though not the kind you normally have, you doubt you could handle him going fast right now. But there was something strangely erotic about having him somewhere that was still considered a little taboo. And you liked the feeling of him there. It wasn’t pleasurable obviously, but you were enjoying it more than you’d thought that you would.

Reaching down between you both, your fingertips found your clit with relative ease and you let out a small gasp as pleasure burst inside you. The sensation made your hips jerk upwards, causing his cock to slide out a little and your gasp turned into a moan quickly.

Wow, okay. That wasn’t expected. Brows rising, you glance down before looking at Hoseok in surprise.

“That felt good. Like...better than I expected.” Now Hoseok looks intrigued, glancing down to where his cock was buried inside your ass to your fingers which are lazily rubbing at your clit. Pursing his lips, he looks at you with an intrigued expression with more than a hint of mischief before pushing his hips forward slowly.

Inch by inch, his cock slides back into you, the lube he’d added making his movement smooth. The intense way he stares into your eyes has you inhaling sharply, his movements achingly slow but just enough to make you shudder and keen.

“Oh...oh, you like that,” Hoseok murmurs, lips quirked into a smirk as he watches you play with yourself in fascination. “Meeps...do you like getting it in the ass?”

He’s teasing you, the light tone to his voice telling you so, but you just nod your head. Closing your eyes, you keep up the same rhythm on the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs, occasionally pausing to add more of your sticky excitement to make it smoother. Hoseok is right, and it kind of surprises you.

You like getting anal. Even though you’d been the one to want to try it with him, with it being your fantasy, you hadn’t expected anything from it. Maybe just an okay experience that you’d do again occasionally with him if he wanted it, but you genuinely liked this.

The actual act itself didn’t feel as good as vaginal obviously, but there was something that was causing you to get a different kind of pleasure. Almost like the very knowledge that you were having it was making it feel so much better than you’d anticipated.

Which is why you’re beyond surprised when the build-up of pleasure seems to be slow at first but then it bubbles over quickly, a pressure you hadn’t even realised was there bursting and ricocheting through your body violently. Moaning loudly, each sound almost guttural from how intense the orgasm was.

It’s bizarrely helped by the sensation of Hoseok moving in you, his strokes still slow and steady. Even though you know logically that you’re not getting any pleasure from there, if anything there’s still that uncomfortable sensation, it almost seems to intensify the sparks inside you.

To the point that your body almost rises off the bed, back bowing violently while your thighs tighten around Hoseok’s waist and your toes curl. You can’t ever remember an orgasm this intense, which is odd as you get the best ones when you have some vaginal penetration as well. But this seems to get you going.

By the time it finally finishes, it seems to go on far longer than normal, you’re left exhausted on the bed. Limbs twitching while your chest heaves for breath, you don’t see the dumbstruck way Hoseok stares at you.

“Did you just...after...I mean...I barely did anything!” He finally exclaims, causing you to open your eyes and watch him lazily. “You really just came after like...a few minutes of me in your ass and a bit of clit action! I can be in your pussy for half an hour and nothing happens!”

You can tell he’s not angry or annoyed, instead more amazed. It makes you giggle at him, the endorphins rushing through your body after a good orgasm making you feel even more loving towards him. Reaching forwards, you tug him down until he’s almost laid on top of you, his cock shifting inside you as he moves but not slipping out.

“Oh...oh, someone’s being loving too. Damn meeps, you like getting it in the ass, huh?” Humming, you ran your fingers through his hair repeatedly and pressed kisses to his shoulder. A graze of your teeth on the soft skin there has him shivering, hips jutting forward automatically and you sigh in contentment as he moans.

“Your turn,” Whispering into his ear, you trail your nose along his cheek before kissing the strong line of his jaw. “Probably not going to enjoy this as much but I want you to feel good.”

Hoseok nods slightly, a strangled gasp leaving him when you experimentally squeeze around him. It’s not comfortable to have him thrusting when you do that so you relax again, encouraging him to start a very slow and steady rhythm. Not nearly as fast as you both would normally enjoy, but it’s as much as you can handle without it getting painful or too uncomfortable.

So you try and help in other ways, dragging your nails down his back and playing with the small hairs on the back of his neck. Tiny nibbles of his jaw before pulling him into a deep kiss, shifting slightly to make the position a little better for you.

It works, mainly because you know all the little spots that do it for Hoseok. Which is why it’s only minutes after that he’s pressing into you, his face pushed into your neck hard as he lets a loud grunt while his body quakes above you. Smiling, you kiss his shoulder and contemplate for a moment how different it feels to have him orgasming there instead of in your pussy.

You can still feel his cock jerk inside you with each spasm, ejaculating into the condom. It’s not like normal though, like the sensations are almost dulled. But it’s still hot as hell and you feel a little pride, grinning as you kiss along his jaw and murmur softly to him.

It’s probably silly, but you always feel an intense amount of pride every time Hoseok cums in you. Almost like you’re proud of the fact he found you so attractive that you could satisfy him sexually. Although he probably didn’t need that much to get going, it was still a boost to your confidence.

Finally, he shifts until he can look at you properly. There’s exhaustion written all over his face but it’s bad, instead, it’s that exhaustion from a good time. He has that lazy look in his eyes, that one he always gets after a good orgasm.

“Good?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. I mean, I don’t wanna do this every day but...I want to do it again. Did it feel different?” He snorts, letting his weight rest on you for a moment. It’s heavy and a little stifling from the heat but you relish it, wrapping your arms around him. If it was weird to be so affectionate after anal sex then so be it, he’d given you a damn good orgasm so he deserved it.

“I mean...I liked it. Felt tighter but only really at your actual ass, after that, it’s kinda weird. I prefer your pussy, for definite. But I’m down for this more, especially after how hard you came. Damn, who’d have thought my shy, awkward girlfriend would be so into that?” He pokes your side gently, causing you to smile.

“Surprising to me too. Anyway, come on, let’s go clean up. I don’t even wanna know what it looks like so...I’m gonna close my eyes and you can go get rid of the condom. Then we’ll shower, get all nice and clean.” Hoseok hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Okay, sounds good. Love you.” Smiling as you close your eyes, you gently poke his shoulder in response. A soft chuff of laughter lets you know he understands before he’s pulling out carefully, a wince on your face until he’s out.

“Do you need anything? Need me to go anything?”

“No, it’s okay. Just...go, start the shower. I’ll be there soon. I enjoyed it.” He acknowledges you quietly before getting up off the bed. There’s the sound of him peeling off the condom carefully before he puts it back into the foil but you don’t bother to move. Instead, you lay there for a moment with that boneless contentment that comes from a good orgasm and some good sex. It constantly amazed you that you’d come this far in yourself, feeling confident enough to open up about the fantasies you wanted to do.

Sighing happily, you can’t help but snort as you hear Hoseok yelp from the bathroom.

“Kasumi! No! My dick is not a toy, ow!”

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

"you've always been strong for me. let me return the favor." Angelina 2 to William 🥺

To say William woke up feeling refreshed would be the most obvious lie of all time.

His first thought in his painfully groggy head of his was of his location. From what he could sense, it wasn’t familiar. The beds felt cheap, nothing like the royal silk sheets he had gotten used to at the palace.

His second thought was of Lena. He couldn’t feel her presence, which caused him to snap his eyes open and look for her.

This third thought was remembering what had happened.

Freeing Wakko. Hurting his arm. The attack.

He tried sitting up but a wave of pain shot through his whole body and he was forced to sit back down. However, he looked across the room and saw her.

Lena was in a bed across the room from him, and it hurt his neck to look at her, but he couldn’t look away. He had never seen her with so many bruises and bandages around her in his life. It broke his heart.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of his childhood best friend, Helloise Nerz, spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? Almost every inch of his body ached and hurt, his wife somehow appearing worse than him, and he was miles and miles away from his children, who he already missed terribly.

“Right... poor question,” She apologized. “How much do you remember?”

He thought a moment.

“Last thing I remember is passing out on your doorstep,” He said. She nodded.

“Good, because that was the last thing that happened,” She said.

“So... what’s wrong with me, doc?” He joked a little. Helloise chuckled.

“Nurse. Scratchy is the real doc, I’m just the assistant,” She remarked.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Helloise. I’m sure you could run this place if you had to,” He said. She snorted.

“You’ve got a terribly sprained arm that I noticed was already bandaged, but you’ve made much worse, I presume from carrying her highness. You also have a torn ligament in your right ankle, minor frostbite, and numerous pulled muscles throughout your legs,” she read off of a chart.

“And Lena?” He asked.

“Broken rib, a minor concussion from what we can tell, fractured fibula, severe bruising on the face, minor frostbite, and blood loss from a severe wound in the right shoulder we cleaned and stitched up.”

William looked at his wife again.

“How long have we been asleep?” He asked.

“Three days,” She said. William blinked.

“Th-three days?” he asked.

She sighed. “William...” she sat on the edge of his bed.

“The whole kingdom thinks you two are dead, and honestly, you two are lucky to be alive.”

“What? Why? How? What about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they alright?” He tried sitting up, but the wave of pain reminded him not to.

“Well, her majesty the queen threw a funeral two days ago. They said attackers stormed the castle in the night and killed the two of you,” She explained.

“But what about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they okay?” He asked.

“I haven’t heard any news of the three of them, so they should be alright with the queen.”

“If you could consider being with the queen alright,” he muttered.

“Right... She wasn’t the best mother, right?” She remembered. He shook his head, sighing. Just then, a low grumble came from across the room, and Lena began to stir.

“What... where... Will..?” she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened and she took in her surroundings. William wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, but the numerous injuries Helloise had informed him about kept him where he was. Instead, the good nurse went over and started evaluating and explaining the situation to her.

“D-dead..?” Her face went pale as a ghost. “That means... They’re with... we have to go. Now,” She looked at William, and started climbing out of her bed, nearly collapsing immediately if it hadn’t been for Helloise catching her.

“Your highness, you can’t. You need to recover,” She said, laying her back down.

“I can’t leave them with her- I can’t,” She shook her head.

“Lena...” He said softly. She looked at him for a moment, before lying back down and looking away, her expression mostly unreadable. Just then, the doctor came in.

“Oh goodie, you two are awake,” He said, but he quickly read the room.

“Er... how are you two feeling?” He asked. William shrugged, while Lena remained silently looking away.

He then pulled the nurse back outside to talk for a moment, promising it wouldn’t be long. William nodded and let them go, and his eyes went to Lena.

She wouldn’t look at him, even when he said her name. Something was deeply, deeply wrong. William wished he could read her mind, though he did have a few guesses. For one, the kids.

William knew they were resourceful and clever, but he honestly had no idea what Angelina was going to do to them now that they were out of the picture- especially if she thought they were dead.

It sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it...

“So... your highnesses... what can you tell us about the attack?” The doctor reentered and asked.

“Oh god... where to start?” he chuckled nervously.

“If you aren’t ready, it’s totally fine,” Helloise sat on the edge of his bed. “We just... well... the people are curious. You are supposed to be dead after all.”

“Of course,” William said, before taking in a deep breath and beginning.

.o0o.

It had been a tense week. William had been mad at himself when he had sprained his arm. He was a knight, dammit, he was supposed to be trained to be better than that. Now it meant he had to postpone any of his own mini training lessons he was giving Wakko and Yakko until later, which he knew Yakko would be suspicious of. He always had a habit of picking up on their anxiety and carrying it with him like it was his responsibility too, which was upsetting for multiple reasons.

Some of Angelina’s lessons were extremely difficult to try and undo.

At least Wakko was trying to be optimistic about things. After he had broken him out of the tower, Wakko was spending a lot more time with them as a family, suddenly talking to them a lot more than he used to, which William took as a good sign, seeing as he desperately wanted something to look on the bright side about.

Dot was happy too, of course, as she was just glad to have Wakko back too. She could hardly tell everyone else was anxious, she was only four after all.

When the first window broke, William had been up in a flash, and despite his injury, he grabbed his sword anyway.

“William? What’s the matter?” Lena had asked.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll handle this,” he kissed her head, leaving their bedroom.

He walked through the halls, surprised at just how silent everything was. Still, he kept his guard up, not allowing himself to relax for even a second.

“...this castle is huge! Even with the map she gave us,” a disgruntled, not-too-far off voice said. William ducked behind a curtain for cover.

“It’s a quick mission though: grab the king, grab the queen, and grab the kid if there’s time to spare,” A lower voice shrugged, and William felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Immediately, he burst out and attacked one of the men, and they quickly began a sword fight.

Unfortunately, William found himself evenly matched by his opponent and realized he was surrounded by allies, some that were even taller than him.

He was kinda screwed.

Still, he fought and parried and swung and blocked with a valiant effort, though the pain in his arm burned more and more and it was evident he was becoming weaker. His opponent saw this, and got behind, and he brought down the handle of his sword onto his arm, and William dropped his sword and fell onto the ground, growling in pain.

“Remember, queenie said no blood on her carpets or tapestries,” The tallest reminded his attacker, who was now pointing his sword at his face. “Tie him up. With the strongest removed, we can work on getting that queen and the middle boy,” He ordered, before taking a few and leaving.

Wakko.

William growled, and swiped his feet out from under him, causing his attacker to fall to the ground. William then began fighting with his bare fists against the men who tried jumping on and fighting him next.

However, the numbers were too large, and before William knew it, his wrists were tied and he was captured.

“Alright, move it, princey,” one of the men kicked him. William gnashed his teeth, but they planned for that, as two of the men held him down, and a third quickly put a muzzle around him.

“There, now that should get you to behave,” He grinned, pulling William up, and the three men forced him out of the castle, and into the back of a carriage, where he was locked in and left.

He tried kicking the door open, but it must’ve been solid wood because he got nowhere, and all he ended up doing was exhausting himself.

William was alone for quite an amount of time, and he tried everything he could to break free of his restraints but nothing was working. He cursed his stubbornness that caused him to sprain his arm- if it hadn’t been for that he was confident he would’ve been able to take down the six men. He was a knight for god’s sake- he was supposed to be able to protect his family.

He was supposed to be able to protect his family.

After a long moment of silence and stillness, the door opened and Lena was thrown in next to him, and William caught a glimpse of the outside and noticed it was snowing lightly.

He didn’t dwell on that, his eyes falling onto Lena, who looked horrible. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, slowly and painfully crawling her way over and lying against his chest. William did his best to hug her with his hands tied.

Neither of them could say a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling, and they did their best to embrace and comfort each other.

Then, the carriage began to move.

They didn’t capture Wakko.

Despite everything, William sighed a breath of relief.

Silently, the couple rode for hours, not knowing where they were being taken or why or who was behind any of this, though they had a few guesses.

William was just glad he still had her... even if it wouldn’t be for much longer.

He loved her with his entire being, nothing would ever change that, not an evil queen, and not even death.

However, his mind quickly went to his kids.

Wakko was alive- at least, he hoped. The attackers said they couldn’t get blood anywhere, hopefully, that meant they just ran out of time to find him and he was okay.

But if they were killed, William had no idea what Angelina would do to them. They would have no protection from her now. They could be hurt, or worse...

William hugged Lena a little tighter.

After an hour or two of riding, the temperature inside the carriage got notably colder, the snow outside picking up.

William prayed for a miracle.

They continued riding on, William even drifting to sleep at one point, when they were suddenly jerked awake. there were shouts from out of where they were, and William and Lena sat up best they could, though Lena was in a lot more pain. Suddenly, the carriage lost control, and started to skid and slide, though William and Lena had no idea what the cause was- but it didn’t matter because not before long, it crashed into a tree and everyone was thrown into the air, and landed with a crash and crack.

William winced at the sound, closing his eyes but when he opened, he saw it-

The doors were busted open.

Quickly, William scooted out, gesturing for Lena to follow, but she was closing her eyes and cringing in pain, and William realized she had injured her leg in the fall. Knowing they didn’t have much time to run, he carefully got her out, having her arms go around him with the tie, and having her hold herself up best she could with her remaining upper body strength as they ran into the woods, as far away as they could manage, also while looking for something they could use to untie their hands- and also a hiding place for when the attackers began to search.

Luckily, William was well trained in tracking so he did his best to make sure his footprints in the snow made zero sense and were misleading at best, praying they wouldn’t be able to follow, but he didn’t know who or what they were, so it was hard to be certain.

Eventually, William and Lena made it to a cave and they hid in there for a while, With William finding a particularly sharp rock he used to untie his hands, remove his muzzle, then untie Lena, and remove her muzzle.

“William,” she said with teary eyes.

“Lena,’ he replied, becoming overwhelmed with the desire to hug her, but noting her injured state, he instead just pressed his forehead against hers, and she did the same, placing her soft hand against his face as she cried softly.

“We can’t stay here for long- a bear probably lives here,” she said.

“Just for a moment, we need to rest- figure out where we are, and what our next move is,” He said.

“We’re so far from home... how are we going to get out of this?” She asked.

“I... I don’t know, Lena,” He admitted. “But we will, I promise.”

They stayed hidden for quite some time, having only one close call when one of the tracker’s voices was close enough for them to hear, but William was ready with the sharp rock in case he got too close, but he never did, so they were alright.

Well- alright, considering everything that just happened.

Eventually, the sun started to rise in the woods, and it slowly dawned on William that the coast was clear, and they were free to go.

But... free to go where? They had no idea where they were- were they even in Warnerstock? They could be in foreign lands for all they know- a place where they didn’t even speak the language and they could be killed for sneaking in and-

Wait. Lena was the Princess, and knew all the languages of the neighboring kingdoms, and would likely be given aid. William was panicking over nothing.

However... Lena was looking rather weak. She lost a lot of blood, and her injuries were only pilling up.

“Where do we go?” Lena asked as he was looking at her.

“Well... I don’t think we can go home... as something tells me your mother was behind this...” He stroked his chin.

“You’re telling me,” she huffed, before wincing in pain.

William snapped. “I know a place where they can’t refuse us,” he grinned.

Lena blinked. “William... Acme falls is in the middle of nowhere and perhaps one of the first places they’d go looking for us if we were missing,” she frowned.

“Well- not unless your mother wants us to be dead. Then she wouldn’t have to or want to look anywhere,” he said. “It’d be just like it was when we had just gotten married.”

“When we just married...” Lena trailed off into the memory, a look of sad nostalgia written on her face.

“Look... I’m going to go and try to figure out where we are, so we can head to Acme. Will you be okay if you stay here?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she tried to joke, but William knew she hated it. He kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” He said. “I won’t be long.”

“I love you too, Wiliam,” she replied, and William ran out of the cave.

It took about an hour, but eventually, William discovered that yes, they were still in Warnerstock, and found the direction they were to go to if they wanted to go to Acme Falls. It would be quite the trek, especially if this snow continued to fall, but he had determination on his side.

He was not going to die here, nor was he going to let Lena. He would carry her in his arms if he had to, simple as that.

.o0o.

“So... yeah. We hiked for hours to reach here, the strains and pulled muscles and frostbite are from trekking through the snow, and that’s how we got here,” William finished his tale.

“Oh William... that’s terrible,” Helloise looked at him sadly.

“That does explain a lot... you two should really be getting rest now, yah?” Scratchnsniff remarked, reading over their charts one more time.

“Rest, yeah...” he nodded slowly, though sleep was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go back to the palace asap, and kill Angelina, and get his kids back. He was confident Lena felt the same.

Though... they wouldn’t be able to do much good in this state... especially without a plan.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone... you’ve been through a lot,” Helloise said.

“Thanks,” he gave a weak smile, which she returned.

His eyes then went to his wife, who still wasn’t looking at him, staring intently at the ground and wall.

“Lena, my love, what’s the matter?” He asked. Lena snorted.

“That’s your first question?” She snarked.

Okay, that was on him. That was a pretty dumb question.

“What are you thinking about?” he tried again. Lena crossed her arms.

“It isn’t fair...” she said. William sighed.

“I know it’s not fair that-”

“I’m not talking about my mother o-or the attack- I-i’m talking about you,” she snapped. William paused.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Lena sighed, wincing at the pain.

“Damned broken ribs...” she muttered.

“I meant... It’s not fair. Time after time after time I end up hurt or crying or abused- it isn’t fair. You’re always so strong William, it pains me. When is it my turn to be strong for you?” she said, wiping away tears and trying her best not to cry.

“Lena...” William reached out to her as much as he could, his arm nearly touching her pillow. Lena continued to look away.

“I’m serious. No matter what happens, you’re always so strong and so brave and comforting. I just- I feel so inadequate,” she whispered.

“Lena, you aren’t inadequate,” He said softly. “You’re just...”

“Damaged?” she said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t pretend it isn’t true- I know what my mother has done.”

“Lena, I don’t care. I love you,” He said.

“And I love you- but... I just... you’ve always been so strong for me William. I want to return the favor, just once...” She looked at him.

“Lena, we’ve both lost so much... this shouldn’t be something we measure or keep track of,” He said, and Lena placed her head where his hand is on her pillow.

“I miss them, William,” she whispered.

“I miss them too, my love,” he whispered back. Lena kissed his hand.

“We’ll get them back, Lena. I promise,” he said. Lena nodded, kissing his hand again and closing her eyes.

“I promise too. No matter what it takes, we are going to get our babies back.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

#my fics #angelina 1 lives au #queen angelina ii #william warner #angelina warner #hello nurse #dr scratchnsniff #tw blood #tw kidnapping #tw muzzles #angst #feels #long post

93 notes · View notes

fragileizywriting · 3 years

Text

locker talk (chapter three) is out now!

pairing: Luka / Marinette (Viperion / Multimouse) word count: 9,846 / 26,058 (in total) chapter: 3/3 rating: E summary: Her fingers are in his hair again, somehow, and she grips him tenderly to not hurt and pull at him— but, gooseberries— it’s so much— she’s not even sure how long it takes for her to come back to reality and blink away the stars from her eyes. He kisses the inside of her thigh. “How are you feeling, Mousey?” “I’m—” Her eyes don’t want to focus. She doesn’t even know what she wants to look at. The ceiling? The blanket? Him? “I’m feeling fucked-out.” That gets a laugh out of him. “Cursing twice in one night? I must be doing something right.”

AO3 | Start Here | Chapter One Link | Chapter Two Link | You Are Here!

Thank you everyone for being so patient! And thank you for all the love you've given me and this fic! You're the best!

She’s never tasted the bitterness of come before.

Okay— she’s read about it. Extensively. She knows that it makes people’s faces pinch, sometimes, when they taste it for the first time because it’s an acquired taste— that for lots of people, the first time tasting it, it’s… strange. Some people don’t mind the taste, she knows— some people love it. She’s spent countless hours scrolling on the internet reading about it on her laptop that somehow has its fans on full-blast at all times, curious as to what it’s like— curious as to what people think about it and how they describe it and if they enjoy it or not— countless of hours of watching videos of people giving blow jobs and moaning afterwards as come spills out the sides of their lips.

Everyone has a different opinion about it.

She’s seen it all— or at least, she’s tried to, being self-conscious about a noisy computer never helps when it’s late at night and she feels like the walls are paper-thin— practicing her techniques on her silicone toy she wipes furiously clean afterwards, hoping that she doesn’t come off as naive when the time comes to actually go down on someone. She’s read, reread, and overread everything she could get her hands on— trying to prepare herself for this ever-elusive fluid that every single person on Earth seems to have an opinion about.

Because that’s what she does, isn’t it? She reads— makes plans— lives in her head making strategies and plans and overprepares. In every single point in her life, Marinette wants to be ready and impress those around her— desperate to live up to expectations. She wants to be prepared. She doesn’t want to be left behind or considered naive for not knowing something.

Multimouse is never unprepared. Multimouse always has a plan. She always has a trick ready up her sleeve— she always has an objective that she squeaks out in Viperion’s general direction when it’s time to defeat Akumas— she always can keep ahead of the curve and be ready.

So she reads. And researches. And learns.

She hasn’t done nearly as much research for something she already has— so even though she’s looked up tutorials on how to give blow jobs, and what it’s like— she hasn’t technically gone out of her way to properly learn how to give oral to what she has between her legs. Obviously she knows how to please herself— and can use that knowledge on whoever, should they be interested— but no one’s really shown up.

She kind of… fell in love with Luka before anything else.

How could she not?

Still, though, she’d poured over all the magazines she could find about the art of pleasing someone— she’s had crushes on all different types of people, even if Luka always came first. She wants to be prepared— she doesn’t enjoy being completely blind when she tries something for the first time in front of other people. She’s not sure if it’s because of her reluctance to show weakness— maybe it’s a mouse thing, who knows— or maybe it’s a form of perfectionism.

Whatever it is— whatever it was— its accompanied her for many curious and many long hours during the nights where she’d take out her toy and please herself and find out every single pleasure point she enjoys. She’s gotten used to the solo action in her life— she’s gotten used to the signs that her body makes when she’s on the verge of orgasming— or when her body craves more.

She wants to be attentive to everything for her partner. She wants to be knowledgeable, so she doesn’t flounder— the last thing she needs is to freak out or go into something blind— she wants to be attentive and helpful and ready and educated before doing it.

Which is why all of it is a surprise to her when there’s come in her mouth because she forgot to pay attention to Luka’s signs that he was ready to come.

“Holy shit,” His lashes flutter as she relaxes her jaw again to let him slip out of her mouth safely without getting her teeth on him. He’s thicker than her toy— warmer, too— but definitely more forgiving with the back of her throat than hard silicone when she relaxed her gag reflex. It’s good to know that he’s sensitive to the way she presses softly at his thigh and his balls with her fingertips— it’s good to hear that bit of a sharp inhale he gives when she makes eye contact with him while she licks him clean at his reddened head.

She’s so happy that she was able to make him come— she almost grins at him, and then remembers that there’s come in her mouth and it’ll spill. There’s a string of it that bridges the side of her lip to the tip of his cock— she breaks it with another swipe of her tongue, still not breaking eye contact with him, giving the base of his dick a soft squeeze.

“Holy fuck.” His eyebrows start to pinch, almost like he can’t make up his mind on what to say to her. He breathes heavily regardless, peeks of his chest rising and falling underneath that wide shirt of his. “Mousey— that was good. Are you— and you’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

His praise feels like fire all over her body— she gives a little nod, looking up at him through her lashes, trying not to catch flame from how feverish she feels.

“Come on, let’s get you to spit that out in the bathroom—”

She swallows when he reaches for her wrists.

Oh.

So that’s what it tastes like.

She understands now— oh, yes— she wants so much more.

Luka’s eyes widen when all she does is blink up at him with her quaint little smile. Time seems to stop for the two of them— and while she can make so many jokes about it and how although Luka never manages to get caught off guard, given his miraculous is about intuition— he looks completely stunned, reaching for her chin and gently wedging a thumb in her mouth to peer inside. “Marinette— did you—?”

“Uhm, yeah— sorry.” She lets him pet at her tongue, even if it tickles— she’s completely pliable between his fingers. “Did you— did you not want that? Or?”

Something flickers on his face— a combination of humor— of shock— of whatever else that she can’t exactly read. “What?”

“I meant—” She can barely squeak— her voice sounds so fucked— she hides her embarrassment by pulling away from his fingers and pressing kisses up and down his shaft. He doesn’t soften in her hands like she imagined he would— she’s not sure if that’s because of stamina or just arousal, but he’s still thick in her palm. She mouths against his skin when he groans. “Did you not want me to do that?”

“Not what I meant— I just— I didn’t think you would—” He sighs, sitting back into the pouf, and— wow, isn’t that hesitation in his voice so good? He’s weak to the way she cups his balls with her palm— she feels how his muscular thighs twitch under her forearms— how addicting. All of this is so addicting. She tucks him back in his underwear with a smile and a bite of her lip when he makes an effort to still her hands with a soft grip on her wrist. “Are you going to make it a habit of keeping me on my toes?”

She tilts her head just barely to the side, trying her best not to pinch her brows together and bite her lip. “Oh. You don’t like that?”

“I love it.” He’s breathless when he laughs, filling her with excitement again. “Every time I think I’ve got ahold of your true personality, you just keep showing me up. Come here— you’ve got some left on you.”

He kisses her.

She wasn’t sure that he’d be into kissing her after he’s come in her mouth— she’s certain that she hasn’t swallowed all of it— but all he does is groan. The hand at the back of her neck is gentle— but firm— keeping her there as he licks languidly into her mouth. She fists his shirt— her other hand against his necklaces and fisting them, too— sighing when he lets her go and nips at her jaw.

“Sit on my bed, I want to take a better look at your clothes and what’s underneath.”

“But you already know what’s underneath,” But she does anyway. She bounces a bit on his mattress once she settles down, smoothing out a little wrinkle on the well-loved blanket underneath her thighs. She feels a tiny bit bashful when he slips his fingers under the hem of her kitty section tee— and tries her best not to giggle or laugh when he tickles her sides.

“You only gave me a peak,” It’s the closest thing to a frown she’ll ever see on his face, but her world is suddenly turned upside down in the literal sense when he flattens his palm right at her diaphragm and eases her onto her back. She does her best not to kick a leg when he kisses her thigh— nips at the inside of her knee— and she helps him pull up her shirt to reveal her bra that matches with her panties. She’s soaking wet from her previous orgasm, it’s true— but the way he looks at her almost makes her come on the spot again. “Oh, so you were planning this, weren’t you?”

Okay.

So it’s not the most expensive outfit out there.

She didn’t go out of her way to buy the most alluring outfit— when she’d gone to the store, she’d fought tooth and nail against Alya’s pulling hands that tried to lead her to the more sensual of outfits. Instead, she’d spent time in the more colorful section of the store— the ones with soft pinks, dark purples, even pretty reds that are just a shade too bright to be considered sexy but just fun instead.

She’d found what she’d wanted after much internal debate with herself— a matching set stamped with pretty little blue flowers. She’s not sure what flowers they are— maybe lilacs, but she’s not sure lilacs come in a blue color— she’ll honestly put down money for them being lilies, in all honesty— but either way, they’re benign and small enough to almost look like dots on the bra unless she actively pays attention to the design.

There’s a little bow in the middle, too— and it seems like his brain is starting to short circuit the more and more he looks at it, smoothing one of his hands up her side along the ribs so he can pet at the ribbon with his black fingernails.

“Is that what you were trying to check for?” She giggles.

“Intuition,” He winks. She really tries her best not to kick out when he presses his flat teeth against her stomach. His necklaces jingle as they hit against each other— and then pool onto her hip— she squirms against the cold metal resting against her skin. Oh, oh— it’s enough to make her eyes roll to the back of her head— she lets a mewl escape from her parted lips. “I just wanted to see if I was right.”

She’s not sure she has total motor control of her lips or tongue at the moment. “What if I just wanted to match?”

“Little mouse, I’ve lived my entire life with two women on this boat. Three, if you count Rose, who’s practically made her house here other than you.” He sits back up, folding her legs over his thin hips. She can feel that sculpted adonis belt underneath her thighs— such wonderful, loving muscles that she wants to hook her legs around for the rest of her life. The brow that disappears behind his bangs makes it all the more obvious that she’s been caught in the lie. “They may be Couffaines, sure— and Rose has certainly adopted the last name for herself— but I’m sure they have some things in common with other women, right?”

She purses her lips, trying not to blush, and definitely trying not to giggle when she hears him mutter the words ‘please tell me I’m right’. “But what does—”

“Rose made me sit down and told me all about it a couple of years ago.” There’s exasperation on his face, as if he’s still overwhelmed by it after all these years. “She made it very clear that people do not match their underwear, and other things, unless they’re trying to impress.”

All she can offer is a very weak ah noise, trying not to blush down to her toes.

Caught her, he had.

One of the many reasons why she hadn’t picked to go full-blown seduction— other than the fact that, in case he’d rejected her, she wouldn’t feel ashamed to look at herself in the mirror when she went back home and detransformed. She’d pulled and pulled at her hair while trying to come up with a solution, even if Mullo kept telling her that nothing would go wrong.

Playful and cute had been her choice to wear— she’s thankful she wore it.

It makes her look soft, she’s sure— instead of trying too hard. The last thing she wants is to give the impression that she’s spent days and days thinking about something obsessively, even if that’s the actual truth. Mullo was going to go crazy if she had to watch Marinette chew through her nails again.

“You’ve never shown up at my house so late before, either— you’ve stayed for a long time during the night during movies, sure— but never showed up this late. Horny little mouse, aren’t you? Showing up in the prettiest outfit I’ve fucking seen.” It should be criminal to look at her that way while slipping his fingers under the band of her panties to tease at her skin. “Poor Mousinette— all drenched with no one to take care of you like you need it. It’s a good thing you came to me, isn’t it? I’ll treat this cunt of yours so well.”

“Vai, don’t be crass—” It’s just instinctual for her to say the phrase at this point, and it makes him smile wider at the wrong nickname. Her scolding dissolves in her mouth when he presses his cock against her thigh— tilting his head to the side just enough to make it obvious he’s challenging her to make him stop while getting distracted.

The hickies on his neck glare purple and blue, almost blending into his hair as it slips partially over his face— it’s shaggy, and long, but curling just the slightest bit now that it’s air drying— so some of the hickies practically disappear. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

She hides her steaming cheeks behind her hands as pressure continues to build and build and build right between her legs at the thought of her putting them there. His neck is littered with them— she was the one to cause it. “Oh— sugarcubes—”

“Is the night turning out the way you expected it to?”

Her breath freezes when two dexterous fingers rub against her clit— a gasp escapes her open mouth. “Vai—”

“Come on,” He teases, “I want you to answer my questions for me.”

“Yes— yes—”

He hums low, a noise of approval that makes her body feel like it’s starting to cook. “Oh, good. What did you plan on doing when you got here?”

“Plan?”

“You always have a plan,” There’s something in his eyes when she meets them again. “And I’m sure you had one when you got here, didn’t you? What did you want to happen tonight?”

She gapes, trying her best to focus while he rolls her clit between his fingers. She takes a pause just long enough that she has to wait a bit to remember what the question even is, and she punches out her words out of her mouth before all she can do is whine and cry. “Oh— I— uhm— I came here to— to tell you the truth, Luka.”

“Did you?”

“And— and other things,” She tacks on when his teasing gaze refuses to leave hers. Is he actually going to interrogate her while doing this? Oh— the thought alone makes her feet twitch. “Maybe kiss you—”

His eyes look almost liquid from how blue they are, looking at her with a soft kind of amusement, like he knows she’s not entirely telling the whole truth. “Just kiss?”

“Uhm— I—” She bites her lip. “M-maybe more.”

“More?” He tilts his head when she doesn’t answer, too busy steaming and blushing red. Something in his gaze darkens as he licks at one of his canines. “You can tell me, little mouse, can’t you? Just like you did before you sucked my dick like you were born for it?”

She’s prey.

He’s toying with her like she’s prey.

The thought makes her suck in a breath so quickly that it hurts— trying her best not to mewl in excitement and jitters.

Yes. Yes. Yes yes yes.

“I wanted more than just to kiss. Much— much more. I wanted to continue— with you? I wanted to continue what we’d done in the closet— uhm— just like we promised.”

His face softens, like he’s realized what he’s doing— like he’s afraid to continue treating her like that. Such a boyish look on his face as she looks up at him from beneath her eyelashes— god— she doesn’t know which version of Luka she likes the most. “Good. How long did it take you to cave?”

“Cave? I don’t understand—”

His voice feels like a fever on her skin from how it buffs and soothes her with its rumbliness— he kisses the inside of her knee and it makes her shiver all over. “How long did it take for you to want to come back to me?”

Oh, this man just wants to hear everything, doesn’t he? He needs such wordy reassurances— it’s as if he doesn’t believe her unless she says it out loud— is that why he never understood just how desperate her crush was until she’d actually said it with all of her words in the closet?

“The moment we left the closet,” She confesses easily. He rewards her with a firm press of his thumb pad down, swirling in circles for a good moment— just enough to make the familiar coil of heat stir heavy— bringing her to the edge, but not enough to get her over it. She stiffens at the sensation— grits her teeth to stop herself from crying out from how delirious it feels when he slows back down. “Vai— please, I— I need—”

“‘The moment we left the closet’, huh? Thank fucking god I’m not the only one— I was about to start an Akuma myself on the Liberty if I didn’t see you again soon.” The smile that pulls at his lips is enough to remind him that he has the ability to mouth and teeth at her skin— so he drops his head back down, and nips at all of the skin available to him. She gasps at the pain that starts to blossom on her stomach— her ribs— her diaphragm. “Pull you into my room and ignore anything Hawkmoth attempted to throw at me, just to keep that perfect little ass of yours to myself.”

“Oh—” She gasps, sucking in a breath. “Oh my—”

“That’s it. Keep making those perfect little noises and you’ll get your first treat.”

She pinches her eyes shut enough to see white stars behind her eyelids.

“Take off your bra for me.”

“What?” She snaps open her eyes, sounding a little breathless.

“Please?” He smiles slowly at her. “I want you to undress yourself for me.”

She scrambles to hook her hands behind her back. The clasp is simple to take off— but she can’t do much of actually taking it off because she still has her shirt on— and her miraculous is in the way, too— god damn it— so he pulls back enough so that she has enough space to slip her arms out of her bra straps and pull her band shirt off with a shimmy and a squirm. He braces a hand next to her head when she lays back down— the snake tattoo glittering blue and gold and she’s certain it’s moving against his skin. “Uhm— w-where do you want me to—”

“Leave it there.” He’s completely distracted, definitely not meeting her eyes— and soon enough, she is, too— her hands grip his damp hair as he makes quick work of the new skin presented to him. His tongue feels hot against her chest— swirling around her nipple and she cries out— he introduces his teeth, too, and it’s enough for her to actually kick out one of her legs and her eyesight to go a little crooked.

“Luka— please— oh sugarcubes—”

“You promised me you’ll get to four,” He reminds her when he pulls his lips off of her enough to respond. Her skin pebbles at the cold trail he’s left behind— chilly as he exhales against her skin. “You’ve already done one, so you have three left— is that enough for you?”

“Yes— yes— it’s enough— more than enough— please, Luka—”

“All of the pleasure you want, little mouse— whenever you want, just breathe and let go. I know you can do it— you’re so good at listening, right?”

“But I can’t—” She squirms, sucking in another breath at his reminder. “Not— not just like this— I— I need— I need more—”

It’s never enough to just have a finger there on her clit— she knows this— because she’s the one who’s spent the last six years learning every single pause and flicker of her body. She knows that it isn’t enough— and yet— and yet— she gasps when he presses down firmly again.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Are you positive that’s true?” There’s a challenge in his voice, she recognizes it instantly— but can barely hear anything else when he moves his thumb at her clit again enough to make her entire core squeeze. He swirls and swirls and swirls— and the stars behind her eyelids are starting to warp and haze into nothing. “Such little faith in yourself. Go on, Mousey. I want you to come.”

“But—”

“Right now,” He nods, as if that was the question she was asking. “I want you to come right now.”

It’s almost a shock to her when she starts coming even before he’s finished talking.

“Oh— my—” She grips his hair harder, trying to keep herself still— trying desperately to listen to the praises that spill out of his mouth and onto her skin as he continues to suck and bite and make good work of her pallid skin and her other nipple. He uses the sides of his teeth to bite on sensitive skin, emulating his fangs when he’s suited up, and oh— it feels so good to have his teeth on her, just like she’s always imagined.

Not even fingered— but she’s so aroused by this man that she’ll do anything his man requires of her if it means he’ll continue— gasping and crying the whole way.

She keeps her voice as soft as she can, knowing that Sass and Mullo are close by and she doesn’t want to disturb them. Sass is a sweet kwami, he truly is— and she doesn’t want to upset the little snake with her noises.

But it’s hard— so difficult for her to keep her voice down when Luka seems to take that as a challenge too, nipping her hard enough for her to yelp and gasp and make noises she never knew she was capable of.

“Good job. Good job.” His voice is low and decadent when she’s done twitching and batting at his thumb to stop. He uses his clean hand to smooth her bangs back, and pet behind her ear— she’s filled with a type of ecstasy that she can’t exactly shake off. Every drag of those necklaces against her chest when he pulls on her legs for her to get closer— every single drag— makes her lashes flutter, her thighs flex, and her walls seize on empty air. “I told you that you could do it.”

She doesn’t exactly have the strength to respond, but forces herself to speak anyway, her chest heaving from her world being turned sideways. “T-two more?”

Oh, isn’t that grin of his arousing?

“Two more.”

She kisses him almost uselessly, her body feeling more liquid than ever— her tongue slow and gentle against his when he slips open his mouth. She helps him take off her panties at mach speed but also infinitely slowly— she’s not sure which direction he slings it off to, but she blinks and it’s gone from his hands— and there are fingertips ghosting against her slit, gathering as much moisture as possible, giving her some brevity on being stimulated on the clit.

A finger slips inside of her.

And it doesn’t take much for a second one to join.

There’s a bit of a squelching noise when he does it— and she steams red to the point where she can almost see it reach her toes— but she throws her head back to appreciate the view of his ceiling instead of dawdling on it too much. She feels the curve of his fingers— insistent and firm, curling to find the place that makes her sing.

Her chest heaves.

“You’re so perfect,” He groans, like he’s the one getting dragged into another building orgasm— like he’s the one experiencing an entire rewrite of everything he’s ever known about his own body. He watches her with those wide blue eyes of his, as if he can’t believe that she’s underneath him— as if he’s completely taken aback that she’s in his bed at all. “That’s it, Mousey. Fuck my fingers real good.”

This body isn’t hers— it can’t be— she isn’t this fast with going again and again. It takes her at minimum twenty minutes to get another orgasm out of herself, and she’s never gone to three before on her own, always so exhausted to keep her fingers between her legs— but Luka’s never been one to stop himself from trying over and over.

Curse of the snake miraculous, isn’t it?

She’s completely at a loss as to why it’s so easy for her to shift her hips and grind down onto his palm— something she would never do if she were in her right mind— but she can’t help it. She can’t stop herself from wanting more and more— sighing softly to the point it’s almost mute in her mouth, letting him coerce her into a third orgasm for the night.

He follows her neck with his mouth— skims her collarbones with his teeth— ribs— stomach— hips— he’s charting something with that smile of his. She’s completely liquid— a certain kind of magma underneath her skin— one that heats to the point of hurting and overflowing when his lips find the center between her legs.

The world tilts for her when she’s licked for the first time.

Oh.

Oh, no— how could she have waited for so long for this? All the articles she’s read about this had tried to explain just how wonderful the feeling is, but, honestly— nothing ever written down would’ve ever prepared her for this.

She wants more. So so so much more.

She jerks at the sensation of his tongue against her cunt, eyes wide and mouth in a perfect circle, her hair spilling down her collarbones. She can’t make up her mind on where to put her hands— but she ends up hiding her mouth behind one of her palms, the other uselessly pawing at the blanket underneath her, hopeful that she doesn’t tear something so very much loved and old. He moves one of her knees over his shoulder, meeting her eyes for the final time before forcing her to pay attention to his tongue and fingers instead.

And she does.

“Oh—” She curls in more— feeling her hard-earned stomach muscles strain in an attempt to keep her up and not flat on the bed. It almost delirious that he manages to push her back with just his palm at her collarbones— like even with her core strength she’s nothing compared to the strength in his left arm— and it burns to know that. This man could fold her— easily keep her pinned wherever he wants her— snatch her and keep her— and the thought makes her body start to prickle.

Because Luka’s strong, isn’t he?

Even with almost ten years of constant dedication to keeping Paris safe with him, Marinette’s not as strong. She’s fit and lean, sure. Loyal to her craft, making sure that she’s always prepared for the next fight. She knows self-defense— she’s gone to classes for it, has certificates and colored belts that prove that even if her miraculous powers are stripped from her, she can still defend herself.

She can easily move out of his grasp if she wants to— even with his strength, with his size, she’s mastered the art of weaseling out of people’s grasps and using their weight against them in order to getaway.

But… but it’s good to lay back and let him push her back down onto the bed with barely any use of his actual strength. It feels wonderful to have him move her and maneuver her in the way he wants like she’s completely caged in by him. Squeezing and hypnotizing her and constricting her just to eat her whole.

“Luka— please, please— oh—”

He’s everywhere, it feels like, licking hot stripes over and over and over— boxing and caging her in like she’s nothing but a tiny animal. She’s polite enough not to squirm as much as she wants to— staying as still as possible to enjoy his tongue and his mouth and his teeth and him, but the desperation is almost too much to handle. His free hand is overloading her body with touch, his palm huge against the small of her waist, or curling up to pinch at her nipple— even soothing her with a gentle pet to the ear and combing through her hair when she cries out.

There’s something a smidge feral in the way he moves his tongue against her, like he’s just as desperate as she is— he’s not gentle with her as he closes his lips around her clit and makes her moan, he’s not gentle with her as he flattens his tongue against her and she can do nothing but exhale, and he’s definitely not gentle with her when he spears his tongue into her, joining his fingers inside of her.

He’s enjoying this as much as she is, no doubt.

But. But but but.

She’s the one that ends up crying behind her hands when he scrapes the side of his teeth against her swollen clit.

She’s the one that squeaks and breaks her promise to keep quiet when there’s a particular curl to his fingers inside of her that find that spot as he pistons his fingers down to the knuckle— that type of curl that makes her breath leave her body with a gasp that is just a touch too loud to be comfortable.

She’s the one who instinctively squeezes her thighs together— putting up a genuine good fight with the strength of his arm to close all the way to his ears. He smiles, of course, nipping the inside of her thigh as punishment when she feels the strength in her legs starts to disappear and fizzle out, letting him win— hiding her face behind her hands.

She comes on his tongue.

She comes on his tongue while crying out his name.

There are tears in her eyes as she registers the fluttering of her walls, as she registers his hums of appreciation, as her body finally lets go of the coil of heat that had been desperate to rebuild and crest like the previous two orgasms hadn’t happened. Her fingers are in his hair again, somehow, and she grips him tenderly to not hurt and pull at him— but, gooseberries— it’s so much— she’s not even sure how long it takes for her to come back to reality and blink away the stars from her eyes.

He kisses the inside of her thigh. “How are you feeling, Mousey?”

“I’m—” Her eyes don’t want to focus. She doesn’t even know what she wants to look at. The ceiling? The blanket? Him? “I’m feeling fucked-out.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Cursing twice in one night? I must be doing something right.”

He leans over her again, massive— huge— still petting at her face with an expression she can’t exactly read, given that she can barely keep her eyes open. She melts into his hand that pets at her cheek— desperate for more contact— desperate for the way he uses his thumb to massage at a pressure point at her neck. She feels floaty— not exactly there— but grounded with the way he pets at her side and collarbones and shoulder.

“That feels wonderful,” She finds herself saying, letting out a sigh.

“Breathe, Marinette,” There’s that boyish smile of his again. “Come back to me, won’t you? You’re drifting off— I don’t mind it, but, I want you here with me for just a little longer.”

If only meditation felt this good. She takes deep, hopeful breaths, trying to wrangle her brain back from the sated paradise she feels herself casting away to.

She pulls him down by the front of his shirt just when he lowers his guard.

He flattens his hips against her thighs with a muted noise, staring down at her curiously. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She wipes his lips clean with his shirt, fighting back a flushed smile, but failing miserably.

It’s a little difficult because of his necklaces— there’s a bit of a struggle— but he just watches her silently as she pouts to herself, wiping his face clean. Parts of his jaw are slick with her from when he moved his head to bite at her thigh, and she cleans that, too. His necklaces clink together softly as she moves them around so she can wipe him dry, but she’s determined to make him look more presentable.

“You promised me four,” She whispers when she’s done, cupping his cheek.

He takes a good, long look at her, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in her head. If only he knew that there’s nothing but him. Has been for a long, long time— just him him him. “You’re not overwhelmed?”

She tilts her head enough to the side to make it apparent she’s confused. “Do you want me to be overwhelmed?”

“No, no. You’re just looking the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you, Mousey.”

“You’re always so good at doing that to me,” She murmurs, her eyes batting slowly from how lethargic she feels. “You always make me feel so calm. And wanted.”

“I’ve always wanted you. Ever since we first met.” He moves his lips in a way that indicates he’s thinking about it. “I feel like I’m going to end up breaking you if we keep going.”

A whine rips out of her throat when he shifts, trying to pull away from her and settle down next to her instead. “No— no— stay, Luka— come on— I still want more— please stay—”

“I’m not leaving you, you cuddly little mouse,” He laughs into her neck when she pulls him down more with all the strength available to her. It’s hard for her, because she feels like she has no bones left in her body— and Luka still is so massive, and much stronger than her if he really wanted to fight off her grasp, but in the end, she’s able to keep him exactly where she wants him. His erection is stiff against her thigh as she wraps her legs and arms around him, smushing her face into his shoulder, hugging him like she’s trying to cling to him like a full-body pillow. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to not crush you. Are you always this cute?”

“I— I have no idea. I’ve never had someone to hold after coming— pillows, sure, but it’s a little depressing after thinking about nothing except you or Vai or both when doing it.” She mumbles into his shirt when he finally settles back down and she wins the proverbial wrestling match to keep him right where he is.

He makes a noise that makes it obvious he’s interested. “Vai? Both?”

“Make fun of me, I dare you— I now know that you love the mouse suit, and I will use that against you the next time there’s an Akuma.” She attempts a frown, but it comes out more of a sigh, and she just sinks with it, nuzzling into him when all he does is laugh and laugh at her weak threat. “Mmmm. I never knew I could get so handsy and grabby—”

“And cuddly.”

“And cuddly during sex,” She smiles, giggling into his collarbone. “I hope it doesn’t bother you.”

“Are you kidding? Absolutely not.” He kisses her face to prove his point. Cheeks, the closest ear, her temples— her forehead under her bangs, too— he kisses everything. “Nothing you could ever do would bother me. You’re the love of my life, Mousinette— you have absolutely no idea how long I’ve wanted to cuddle up into you like this. And, god— Marinette— not to even mention how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

She blushes when he cups her face with his giant hands on either cheek. “Oh— don’t say that after you’ve been between my legs, Luka— I don’t want to go shy again just as soon as I’ve started being brave.”

He pulls back just enough to look at her, but not enough to pull away and make her whine again. He looks cute with all those stars in his eyes. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“That last orgasm knocked a few self-conscious thoughts out of my head,” She giggles. “I’m feeling very brave now.”

There’s a challenge glinting in his eyes again. “Are you?”

She demonstrates by pulling up his shirt to take it off of him. He follows easily, his eyes greedy as he watches her pull by the hem. She’s quick to duck when they almost bump their foreheads together— him caging her in, matching her by only having his necklaces hanging off his chest. “Your pants, too. Take them off?”

“I like this bossy version of you,” He nips at her wrist when she curls a finger through his damp hair. He doesn’t want to get up, it seems, because he shimmies around, pulling down his sweatpants and trying to kick them off along with his underwear and socks. She attaches herself to his shoulders when he’s done wrestling himself out of the fabric, also completely naked.

She’s thankful that the porthole’s curtains are closed. But it’s too far in the back of her mind as she feels his sturdy weight on her. They’re skin-to-skin, shoulder-to-shoulder, and chest-to-chest. Wonderful and smooth and comforting— his weight feels absolutely perfect against her.

“Am I crushing you?”

“Do you have your weight on your arms?”

“I might,” He kisses her face. She feels the way his thighs clench in order to stop himself from humping her side— she can’t help the way she sighs into his ear and traces his back with her nails. “The last thing I need is to snap your ribs in because of my weight.”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Luka.” She sighs contently, watching him drop his clothes onto the floor with one of his arms. “I’m capable of not dying, thank you very much.”

“I know that— it’s just— I really did take it the wrong way, Mousey. I really didn’t think you liked me at all as Viperion.” He hums. There’s a certain kind of sweetness to his face. “I know that it isn’t true anymore.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats. “But I don’t want to give you the impression that I’m scary.”

“I am most definitely not scared of you.” She shifts enough for him to hiss and groan. Oh, this poor man— if she wrapped her hand around him, how many times would it take for her to pump him before he’s spilling once more?

“Okay, okay— hold on, hold it. I need to get a condom right now or else I’m going to jizz— if I reach over to get it, will you let me go or will you make more cute noises again?” Something about his eyes gets a little clearer when he watches her open her mouth to stop him. “Holy shit.”

“Well,” She begins, but has to pause because she ducks her head, a bit embarrassed.

“How— what in the— oh, fucking hell, Mousey.” He laughs. “How long have you been planning on fucking me?”

“You’re cursing again,” She manages to pout.

“Marinette,” He’s exasperated. “You can’t expect me to— at least let me curse one more time— you’re not pulling any punches tonight. Let me react earnestly.”

She taps her chin in thought. “Hmm.”

“Unscripted, at least.” He combs his fingers through his hair— once again, Luka looks completely stunned. It’s hard to see Luka completely out of his element— he always has an air of humility that always translates to him feeling calm and collected in front of other people.

Except right now, of course.

“Fine, fine. One more.” She lifts up a finger as she giggles. “Any more than that and I’m biting you.”

“Okay. What in the absolute fuck.” He laughs hard enough to shake his shoulders. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeves?”

“I do not have any sleeves on, so I do not have any more tricks,” She grins.

“You better not. I don’t think my heart would be able to handle it— knowing that the girl of my dreams is just one-upping me in everything. I should’ve known better than to fall in love with a girl who plays mental chess for fun— is this why you have perfect grades?”

She scrunches her nose at him. “You are so mean, Vai!”

“Little nerd,” He teases, pausing enough to smile adoringly at her. “I love hearing you call me Vai.”

“It sounds like you’re making me say it on purpose,” She grumbles, pursing her lips into a little pout.

“Okay. Answer this question: how long have you been wanting to fu— uh— I mean—” He watches her arm fall back onto her chest as she narrows her eyes at him, uncurling her hands from the flick she was going to give him to his arm if he finished cursing. “How long have you been on birth control?”

“I’ve been wanting to get on it for a long time as a precaution— but I’ve only had my implant for two years, so…” She’s feeling a little bit bolder when he just shakes his head, muttering to himself about how she’s always three steps ahead of him. She’s full of laughter and charm when he kisses her cheekbone. “You don’t need a condom, if you don’t want to.”

“You’d let me have that choice?”

She nods her head hard enough for it to hurt. “Whatever you want to do, Luka.”

He looks at her.

Really looks at her.

She has no idea what’s going on in that head of his, whatever he’s thinking or planning— all he does is continue to blink at her slowly, like he’s trying to give her a chance to chicken out. She continues staring back, looking just as confident, smoothing her palms down his biceps that have her trapped on either side of the bed.

He kisses her again.

It’s not a deep one— just a kiss that’s cheeky enough that she complains when he pulls away so quickly— and it’s enough to get his body to start working, apparently, because he slips his hands under his bed for a shoebox that stores what looks like to be a bunch of condoms, and smiles at her in a way that makes her heart stutter.

“Flip over,” He says, having made his decision.

She somehow manages to almost trip over her legs as she flips over, trying to face the other way— even though she’s not even standing— and Luka snickers when her ankles make a clicking noise when they hit each other and she groans from the pain.

She hears the wrapping of the condom slide open. “Don’t hurt yourself, Mousey, as much as I want to just stare at that ass of yours—”

She glares back at him with a warning. “Luka, you promised!”

“Ass doesn’t count as a curse word, I’m calling it now— don’t— don’t kick me. I’m not as tough-skinned as you think— I will cry. You have thighs for days, and I have seen it with my own eyes how you have kickboxed your way out of Akumas trying to grab you.” He laughs. “Besides, like I was saying: give me a second, you horny little mouse— and try not to hurt yourself while I’m busy putting this on.”

“I’m not trying to hurt myself,” She sighs, letting her hair fall over her shoulders and coat the sides of her vision like a curtain when she looks back to the headboard with a little humming noise. She wants to watch him— but she also wants to feel it like a surprise— she’s on the fence of what she wants to pick. “I think I’m a little too excited.”

“I am, too.” He kisses her shoulder.

It’s so easy for him to start slipping his way into her.

She’s never had sex before, it’s true, but it’s easy for him to slide in from how wet she is. She’s soaking— her inner thighs are sticky from how humid she is and how strands of her come bridge between her soft thighs— and she’s always had the help and use of a toy to keep her company when the yearning got too difficult to bear, so it’s not like she doesn’t know how to adjust.

“Good?”

There’s barely any need for him to pause and let her relax, because she’s perfectly fine and content— her walls stretching with barely any pain when he slowly fills her to the brim.

So she shifts her hips and pushes back into him, all the way down to the base, much to his worry. It’s a tight fit, even with how wet she is— but that makes it all the more enjoyable as her core squeezes and squeezes, stinging from how stretched she feels.

He moans.

“Oh, gooseberries— this feels good—” She makes a noise when he presses the heel of his palm onto the center of her spine, curling it for her and raising her hips up to meet with his. The angle feels weird, now— his cock pressing up against her in a certain way that she’s never done before with a toy— she feels fuller. Much, much fuller— now this has some pain to it. “Oh! Oh! What in the— how did—”

“You look hotter with your ass up and curled spine, Mousey— I mean, that’s just my preference. That’s better, too, isn’t it?” He groans, keeping one hand at the small of her waist to keep him anchored as he snaps his hips against her.

“Yes, yes— much better. Holy sugarcubes.”

It’s hard to keep her sighs of appreciation in when all he does is continuously snap his hips over and over into hers, making it feel like she’s punching out her breaths with every lineup with their hips. She feels like a whirlwind— completely flexible and totally boneless as he fills her again and again, hitting the back of her thighs with the front of his. It’s an easy position for them to fall into a simple rhythm— and the two of them being partners for so long in their lives, it’s not hard for the two of them to figure out how to get each other off and how to take it.

She’s in love with the way he moves his hips.

But…

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” She manages to gasp out when he just barely meets her ass with his hips.

“Yes I do.”

“Vai,” She groans. “Stop being scared and fuck me like you want to— I promise I won’t break. Get as aggressive as you want. Please.”

The next snap of his hips has a bit of actual strength behind it.

Their skin meets with a hard slap that is so lewd— so obviously disgustingly hot that she would’ve burst into flames at the noise— but instead all she does is sink further into the blanket underneath her. Her knees ache from this position— being forced to stay the way she is as Luka uses his weight against her, but she can’t flatten herself on the bed because she’s busy snaking a hand around her front and rubbing herself with her fingers.

She manages to cup one of her breasts, teasing and plucking at herself to the point where she finds herself curling her toes. She sounds desperate, because she is— threading her fingers with his hand that supports him as he fucks and fucks.

It’s delicious.

Oh, it’s so delicious.

“You are going to be the death of me,” He groans against her shoulder.

“That’s not part of the plan,” She breathes out, and she’s happy that it pulls out a breathless laugh from him.

The hand at her hip travels to her clit and starts to roll it between the pad of his fingers. She makes a need, filthy noise, nearly losing all of her strength at her knees right there and almost folding herself in— instead, she lets go of her breast to fist at the blanket underneath her as she’s taken to the edge for the final time tonight.

She’s so close.

She’s so, so close.

“Luka—”

“I don’t— I don’t want to come— before you do,” He answers the question she wasn’t asking. “But I’m still a lot closer than I should be.”

“You can come whenever you want—” She can’t finish her sentence because he flattens her shoulders against the bed with his chest.

“Not a chance.”

“Vai—”

“Not happening,” He laughs. The proceeding slap of skin is enough for her to start seeing stars. “I’m going to— retain some upper hand against you— you little minx.”

He slows down— and she’s close enough that it almost makes her growl at the back of her throat, feeling her inch so closely to the edge and not get anywhere close to it. Instead she groans, desperate, feeling unsatisfied even as he continues to swirl his fingertips against her. “Please, please— stop teasing me— I’m so close, Luka—”

“I want you to come like this.”

“What?” No— no— not this again— she’s not prepared to come like this— “Luka—”

“You can do it, can’t you?” He kisses her shoulder. “Come. Right now, Mousey. You can do it.”

And she just— she just— oh, gooseberries— the coil in her snaps.

Of course he goes back to his brutal pace when she’s finally coming.

She’s exhausted, him still pounding away— him still worrying her skin between his flat teeth, sucking in blacks and blues all over her shoulder without a care in the world— him still somehow swirling his pointer finger over and over and over against her clit.

She’s fried.

She’s completely and totally gone, her body flooding over and over with heat and pleasure, feeling like she’s finished an Akuma battle— her walls squeeze to the point it must be pleasurable for him, because Luka loses the tempo he’s kept in his head.

“That’s it. Good— good.” He groans against her skin when she cups his giant hand with hers, trying to pull his hand away from such sensitive flesh. “Thank fucking god.”

She has enough energy left in her to jokingly nip him on the wrist, scolding him for cursing like she’d promised she would— but squeaks when his hips stutter and he makes a noise that’ll keep her awake for the rest of her life, and he’s— oh. He’s coming.

He groans low and hard enough to make her eyelids flutter— she can feel him twitch, and pulse, and she’s a tiny little bit upset at not being able to feel him leaking between her legs, but the kisses and teeth against her neck and his weight against her back are relieving enough.

Maybe the next time she’ll be brave enough to ask him— but until then— all she does is flatten her hips down on the bed while he tosses the condom away and groans into the blanket when he comes back to wipe her clean of residue and stickiness, and latches onto him for cuddles the moment he has his guard down, not letting him resurface from his burrow of a bed for the rest of the night.

He’s so thankful that he manhandled her octopus-like cuddling body under the covers with him last night.

She’s sound asleep, curled into his shoulder, completely gone and completely useless against him in bed. He feels floaty, and wistful— fuck— three orgasms in one night isn’t something he’s done in a long time. Had he known that Marinette was going to show up the night before, he wouldn’t have wasted his time masturbating in the shower.

Had he known that she’d come over, he would’ve at least gotten his bedroom ready. There are no laundry piles in his room, thank god— but he’s not sure when the last time he’d washed his blanket. Or sheets. At least pushed the amps against the wall instead of the middle of the room like he has it— well. It’s too late now.

There’s a poem just nagging at him to be written down, so he’s slapped his hand around next to the box he uses as a nightstand for one of his journals and a spare pen, scribbling away against the lined sheets of paper as he looks at her while she sleeps.

He hides his face into his notebook when he pauses for more than a second to think about last night.

God. Jesus.

He’s a complete and total sap of a person.

An entire sap.

But nothing that he’s writing down in his notebook even remotely fits his vision of what he wants the song to look like— he’s simultaneously frustrated and full of ideas. Every word that he writes down is from the heart, but nothing he writes is anything good enough whenever he looks back down to Marinette sleeping.

The rhythm of the poem isn’t right— and it’s bothering him that he can’t get it down. He thinks about it for a couple of minutes, letting sunlight filter in through his closed curtains, listening to how quiet the Liberty is for the few moments longer before Juleka, Rose, and his mother come back.

He’s so thankful Marinette is under the blankets with him.

She’s covered up— he’s begrudgingly put a shirt on the both of them— given her underwear back even though, honestly, if she wanted to be naked with just a shirt on, he’d beg for it for the rest of his time— including all of the second chances he would have to keep doing for the rest of his life during Akumas.

This is all just in case Rose was to burst through the door, which is a strong possibility.

The plus side is that it’s one of his shirts, and it’s so large on her that the necklines nearly falls over one of her shoulders if she doesn’t adjust it every so often. He can see all of the hickeys he’s given her against her neck and shoulder every time the shirt slips— she’s an entire canvas of it. The downside is that he wishes he could keep her naked for as long as she wants to be— but knowing his household, the answer is a firm no.

Unless she’s willing to deal with his mom barging in on them both with no regard for privacy.

Unless she’s willing to deal with Rose barging in on them both with no regard for boundaries.

Juleka’s fine. But she’d have to open the door if she wanted to communicate with him, so long as it isn’t through text message— but at least it isn’t because of lack of boundaries.

Still though. He’s so thankful that there’s a lock in the bathroom. His mother is a riot. And doesn’t seem to understand that teenage boys— and now young adult men— have urges.

He has no idea where she went last night— somehow his sister had genuinely been able to convince her to disappear from the Liberty. He owes Juleka about a quarter-million favors, now, and it worries him on how she’ll cash it in— but looking back down at Marinette and how she fists his necklaces on his chest in her palm as she sleeps— he’s so sappy he feels like the smile on his face won’t ever come off.

He watches her doze a little longer, and shifts the bangs out of her eyes. Marinette is a cuddler— and latched onto him for warmth and snuggles throughout the entire night. His heart feels swollen in his chest the more and more he thinks about her desperation for heat and warmth and him— to the point where he’s apprehensive to even keep the notebook and pen in his hands in favor of going back to sleep with her.

She’s so cuddly.

And cute.

In the end, he loses against Marinette, even if she has no idea she’d been trying to convince him in the first place. He drops the notebook off onto the pouf next to him, and makes sure to tuck his shoebox of condoms back far underneath his bed before his mother bursts in on the two of them and makes him— not to mention Marinette— feel scandalized. He hides under the covers with her, shimmying back down and making sure that she doesn’t accidentally choke him with such a powerful grip on the silver cords he has around his neck— and tucks her head under his chin.

He tries not to groan when he hears his mother yell out his name and tell him and ‘ the lassie’ to wake up before she pulls the covers off of the two of them because she needs help moving stuff out of the deck.

AO3 | Chapter One Link | Chapter Two Link | You Are Here!

#vipermouse #pro lukanette #pro lukamari #lukanette endgame #viperion #multimouse #fragileizyfic #fragileizyoneshot #fragileizywrites #fragileizylukanette

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de-profundis-ad-astra · 3 years

Text

One, Two Punch

Pairing: Ben Miller x Reader, kinda. Flirtationship more than a relationship Rating: Somewhere between T and M? Summary: After knowing Ben for barely two months, you’re invited to attend one of his fights. Length: ~2k words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, vague descriptions of legally sanctioned violence, vague mentions of masturbation. Taglist: @firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @the-bird-suit @mapache-lector @skylyknightly (let me know if you want to be +/-) Note: For the anon from yesterday. If you see this, I love you and if you want me to keep posting old fics, please let me know.

The day you’re invited to watch one of Ben Miller’s fights, it feels like a rite of passage.

The boys go quiet when he drops the question. So quiet, in fact, you wonder if you mistook the invitation for a marriage proposal. Suddenly extremely interested in their respective drinks, they sneak glances in your direction in the moments following. Ben’s eyes, clear and bright and… have they always been that blue? They root you to the spot, pinning you without him needing to lift a finger.

“Sure,” you say, shrugging off the odd looks and your own uncertainty. “Sounds fun.”

The fight isn’t for another three weeks, but Will practically has to drag Ben out of the bar by the collar whilst claiming that prep starts now. Once the door is soundly closed behind the Millers, Santiago and Frankie take turns explaining that Ben has never invited anyone to his fights. Well, not for a while, at least. They run you through what you’re sure is an abbreviated version of their last experience with this.

Long story short: he invited one of his previous flings to a fight, she left before the match ended with nothing more than a text letting him know that she didn’t think it would work, and they never heard from her again.

You swipe a finger down the glass–it’s started sweating condensation since they started talking. You rub the moisture between your fingertips, then take a sip, welcoming the burn as the tequila warms its way down your throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s a big deal,” Santiago says. “A big fucking deal.”

You get it, they’re more than friends to Ben. They’re his teammates, the people he trusts more than anyone in the world to watch his back. You suppose that’s precisely what they’re doing, now. You suspect that if you were to bail out like the previous girl did, they wouldn’t let you off so easy.

Not that you would. It’s just… a lot to take in.

“I get it,” you say with a smile. “I break his heart, you break my neck, right?”

Frankie lifts his glass in a toast. “I knew you were a fast learner.”

–

The following Tuesday evening finds you knocking on Ben’s door for your usual burger run. It’s probably too early to call it a tradition, but you’re relationship with Ben, thus far, is comprised primarily of spontaneous adventures such as this. Every Tuesday for the past three weeks you’ve gotten together to eat greasy foods and talk and laugh together. So it’s worth a shot, right?

Except when Will opens the door.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says cordially, if not a bit bewildered.

“Y/N!” you hear Ben’s unmistakable voice call from further within. “Come in!”

Will steps aside, vacating enough space for you to pass. You step over the threshold, your eyes immediately landing on the small dining table to your right. And the… grain bowl he’s eating?

“I see you’ve already got dinner taken care of,” you note with a small laugh. You’re more entertained by the sight than you are upset by the fact that burger night will have to wait.

Ben’s face falls, and his fork clatters to the table. “Shit,” he scrambles to pull his phone from his pocket. “Shit.” He unlocks it, hits a few buttons, then slides it back into his jeans.

A few seconds later, your own phone’s screen lights up with an unread text. You open it and read:

have 2 take a rain check on burgers 2nite. wills got me on this ‘clean eating’ diet before the fight.

You hold up the phone for him to see, “Got it.”

Ben says a bit sheepishly, “Forgot to send it. Selective memory. Sorry.”

As much as you want to be sad that your night out has been postponed, you’re more touched by the fact that of all the things on his mind, that was one of them.

“He needs to get into work mode,” Will fills the silence as Ben shovels a heap of quinoa and chicken into his mouth and makes a show of gagging on it. “Gotta keep him focused on eating better and training.”

You think about the pack of beers you’d bought and stored in your fridge. “I take it that means no alcohol, either.”

“Nope,” the brothers answer in unison–Ben with notably more disdain than Will.

“I was winning fights before you put me on this diet, you know,” Ben grumbles around his food.

“Doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t be taking care of yourself when your putting that much wear and tear on your body.” Will points at his younger brother. “Eat.”

“You’re worse than mom.”

“Eat.”

Ben groans and heaps some more food into his mouth. “I’m not worried,” he says half to himself.

You see it then. In his eyes, he’s focused and somewhere that isn’t quite here. You look at the hard lines around his mouth and suddenly wish you could take your thumb and run it across his lower lip, card your fingers through the unruly hair he dutifully keeps under the protection of his hat. One look at his face, and you know his mind has wandered somewhere similar.

Want, need, desire, call it what you will. All that and more churns in your gut.

Will clears his throat, pulling you two back from where you teeter on the edge of the gutter and back to the present. “We’ll worry about it when it’s time to worry about it. There’s nothing we can do right now except prepare. It’ll turn out how it turns out. And if Ben does what he’s supposed to, it’ll turn out well.”

“Win that fight, Benjamin,” you tease, turning back towards the door. “And we’ll get those burgers.”

You feel his eyes burning into your back long after the door shuts behind you.

–

You don’t feel ashamed of the moment you and Ben shared. That nagging in your chest is a far cry from shame. You’d outgrown that long ago. The look you’d shared, the thoughts you had and knew he had were mild in comparison to what you knew you wanted.

You knew the look in his eyes, that unspoken promise for something more–something you completely, unabashedly craved–and your carefully placed tethers would fray and fray and fray until there was nothing to hold you back. He didn’t need distractions right now, you wanted to respect that.

That didn’t make it any less miserable.

It only takes three days before it grows so unbearable that you take matters into your own hands.

Overheated and nearly frantic, you toss and turn in bed that night until your tank top and short clink and chafe against your slightly sweaty body. You try counting the minutes until sleep takes you. But minutes turn to hours with no sign of relief.

Need crawls over you, slithering under your skin. It doesn’t take much to imagine his face, that it’s his hands on your skin, inside–

But that release only leaves you hollow–unsatisfied.

You make a point to keep your distance for the remainder of that week. Until the day of the fight, actually. By then, the tether is pulled so tight that you fear it might snap at one wrong move.

Later, you remind yourself. That unfinished business will come later.

–

The air is thick with the mingled scents of liquor, body odor, and several variants of cheap cologne. And it’s so hot. People move around you in groups, and the floor beneath your feet is sticky from some spilled drink that hadn’t been properly cleaned. The heavy beat of a rock song slam against your chest, and as you look around you think you see more tattoos than skin, more leather than jeans, and more filled cups than empty hands.

You’re not scared. Far from it, actually. The energy of the crowd feeds your own, the music heightening your excitement as you follow Frankie and Santiago through the crowd and squeeze yourselves into an open spot right in front of the cage. One of them, you can’t tell who, shoves a drink into your hand and tells you its on them.

You hold the beverage, but don’t partake as the referee begins to announce the next fighter. The first thing you see is a flash of red shorts.

Perhaps it’s for show, watching Ben make his way from the door to the cage, swaying his shoulders with each step, his eyes locked on it and nothing else as heavy metal blasts around you. You don’t exist to him. Not right now. Regardless, heat pools in your stomach.

He takes is sweet time peeling off his shirt and stretching his shoulders. He turns away from you so Will can help him into his gloves, allowing you a full view of that gloriously muscled back. You admire each line of muscle, each movement he makes as he turns and enters the ring. To hell with all the people around you. You want that. You want that over you, under you, all around you. You could touch him everywhere at once and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you–

His eyes find you in the crowd, and he winks.

If it was socially acceptable to swoon, you might have.

Maybe you did, anyway.

–

The fight itself doesn’t last long. At one point you set your untouched drink down, then promptly kick it over when you leap to your feet to cheer.

Even then, you can’t help but clinch every time someone lands a hit, skin reddening and bruising, breathing labored and shallow until a hand is being lifted in the air in victory. It’s Ben’s.

–

You wait outside the lockers with the guys. Santiago is weaving a tale from his days in Brazil that you’re only half paying attention to. You remain standing off to the side, sipping a lukewarm water, watching.

It takes a while for Ben to come out. The blood has been cleaned from his face and, remarkably, the only lasting mark is a purple-blue bruise above his cheekbone. But he’s grinning ear to ear, and he pulls first Santiago, then Frankie into a bear of a hug. You see his face over their shoulders, how hie eyes still veritably glow with the same energy you’d seen in the ring.

You push yourself from the wall you’re leaning against, and step up to them. Ben’s eyes meet yours as if by gravitational pull.

You’d felt drawn to him since the day you’d met. But this is like meeting him for the first time. A dim hallway. The crowd slowly draining out from the gymnasium. You, holding a cup of piss-poor excuse for water, and him.

The boys quietly let Ben know that they’ll catch up with him later, and melt into the meandering crowd.

The shift in his expression makes it achingly clear what Ben wants. His gaze lingers, now. His shoulders seem broader as he steps towards you, his gym bag over one shoulder, his other arm extended for you.

“Let’s go.” His voice is different in the aftermath of the fight. You can see the adrenaline still pumping in the way his eyes lock on you.

You find your way to his body, and let him guide you outside. His hand sneaks around your waist and under your shirt, his fingers digging into the skin above your hipbone. He guides your steps with a fierceness, and as soon as you make it back to his car, his hand wanders lower, lower.

He tosses his bag into his car, refusing to let you go. Another swift motion has you pinned between the heat of his body and the side of the car.

He’s in front of you, caging you in, his fingers lingering at the waistband of your leggings, his shirt damp from the shower he just took, hair dangling over his forehead. You clamp your hands down on his biceps, digging your fingers into skin and muscle and him.

You barely have time to register it all before his lips crash into yours, and the empire of your longing comes crashing down.

Yes, you could stand to be with this for a little longer.

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #ben miller #benny miller #ben miller x reader #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fanfiction

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saeran-imagines · 3 years

Note

Did you see the birthday chats from 2019? Specifically the one where Saeran (as "Unknown") invites you to come eat ice cream and watch Netflix with him? Since Saeran's birthday is coming up again, could you write what if MC had taken him up on his offer and gone to meet him? (Jindere has a video of the chats on youtube if you haven't seen it/want a refresher!) I'm obsessed with the idea of this happening and I love your writing so I'd love to read this from you 🥰

Heya! I remember those birthday chats omg, I just had to buy the picture that went along with them when it became available! That and the 707 version are just so pretty, I had them as my desktop background for a good while 🥰

I made this longer than I meant omg! I wanted to get it done in time for his birthday, which, HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAERAN !! (and seven too but this blog ain’t about you ❤) I have a bias for the soft Saerans so I didn’t think I’d like writing for Unknown as much as I did, but I had a lot of fun with this 😊 I hope you all like it!

You fiddle with your phone, the broken looking chat room open to “Unknown’s” messages. That hacker… what kind of person is he? There’s no doubt he’s up to no good, but he’s never done anything that would put you in danger. Quite the opposite, actually. You have a feeling he’d rush to your rescue if you found yourself in a bad situation. “It’s my birthday today. Meet me outside the building at 8 and I’ll show you a great time.” Coming from anyone else it’d sound creepy as hell, it should sound creepy as hell, he’s a complete stranger who hacked your phone, but… the feeling of dread you imagine would come before getting axe murdered just isn’t there. And more than that, there’s something in the way he typed, in the long pauses between messages that seemed… lonely. You look at the clock- 7:50. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself up, pull on a coat, and take the elevator down to the first floor. You wouldn’t be able to stand not knowing what might have happened if you didn’t go meet this mystery person. And hey, it could very well be a great time.

You take up a position right outside the building and look around- nobody seems to be here yet. The sun has started its trek downwards, the shadow on the building long enough to reach the other side of the road. It’s a little late to be out. What does he have planned? You take another deep breath and try to relax, worrying won’t do you any good. You check your phone- 7:53. Has it really only been 3 minutes? It feels like you’ve been waiting here for hours. Footsteps followed by a figure rounding the corner next to you cause you to perk up, but another person follows shortly after and you quickly look back down again, dejected. The couple shoots you a suspicious glance, keeping enough distance from you that they end up walking on the road as they pass you on the sidewalk. You must look strange, you realize, fiddling with your thumbs and glancing back and forth in the dark shadow of a building. You sigh, this is a little ridiculous. Just as you’re considering going back inside and forgetting about this whole evening, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, doll,” a smooth low voice sounds from where your shoulder was tapped, and you whip around to see the source. “You actually came.” You notice his eyes first, a striking minty blue that almost glows in the dim light. Then you notice his white suit that matches perfectly with his hair, pink accents and all. Aren’t hackers supposed to be subtle? The only things about him that match your mental stereotype are the dark circles under his eyes and the mask covering the lower half of his face. Neither detract from his allure, though. He looks like you could find him on the cover of a fashion magazine. He chuckles at your stunned silence. “What, liking what you see?”

“Ah! Uh-” you stutter out. “You just… weren’t what I was expecting.” You can’t see his mouth under the mask, but you know he’s smirking anyways.

“Oh?” he teases. “And what did you expect?” You try your best to regain your composure. This isn’t the time to be making googly eyes at strangers. God, it’s been way too long since you’ve interacted with someone. You haven’t had the chance to after temporarily moving into that apartment.

“I don’t know, some weirdo in a ski mask?” you joke, making him chuckle again. You feel yourself starting to relax. He seems like a kind enough person, despite the teasing, and talking to him is comfortable. This night might turn out better than you expected. “So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Well, I hope you like ice cream. My favorite parlor stays open late, I figured I deserve a birthday treat. You know, since I’ve been such a good boy recently,” he laughs. It’s a giddier laugh than you expected from him, he must have been looking forward to this for a while. He holds out his hand for you to take. “Shall we?” You pause, looking down at his gloved hand. You can feel that this is the last chance you have to change your mind, to take the elevator back up to the apartment and forget about this interaction. Taking hold of his hand would form a contract that binds you to his side for the rest of the night. After a moment of deliberating you grasp his hand, perhaps a bit too tight. You’ve already gotten this far, your curiosity won’t let the night end until you learn more about this strange man. You flash him the most convincing smile you can muster.

“Let’s go.” He weaves you through the city, taking more than a few sketchy shortcuts through alleyways and unexpected detours. He must have to be careful to avoid detection in his line of work, he’s walking as if he’s trying to confuse anyone who might be tracking him. He makes some small talk along the way, prying you for your thoughts about various RFA members and asking you about your life outside the messenger. You learn that he has a bit of a soft spot for Jumin, seeming to appreciate his cold honesty and business oriented mindset. From the short walk you’ve had with this stranger he seems to be the type to prefer fun over work, but you suppose you’ve only seen one side of him. So far, that is.

You arrive at your destination after around 20 minutes of walking. It’s a small sweets shop painted white and baby blue. A chalkboard sign shows the flavors of the day through the window, around half crossed out due to the business day nearing its end. You feel a light squeeze around the hand that you nearly forgot was being held by the hacker. When you look up at him you can see sparkles in his eyes. When he notices your stare he looks away, is he embarrassed? “Sorry if I startled you, darling.” He apologizes for his sudden excitement, letting go of your hand “My flavor is still in stock,” he says with a smile. “Shall we go inside?” He holds the door open for you and you thank him, walking inside and losing yourself in the sweet scent.

“Welcome!” the chipper cashier calls out. “Do you two know what you’d like?” Your partner wastes no time in calling out a practiced order, something with mint and a waffle cone that you don’t quite catch as you scan the overwhelming array of colors and flavors. Not wanting to spend too much time gawking, you throw out a fast ‘I’ll have what he’s having’ and make your way towards the counter.

“Good choice,” your partner of the evening says with a grin. You stop him as he starts reaching towards his pocket. He tilts his head at you with a questioning stare.

“It’s your birthday, right?” you state more than ask. “My treat.” You pull out and swipe your card before he has a chance to protest. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, not expecting this act of kindness, but he quickly recovers with a laugh and a thank you as he takes his cone. “Where to?” you ask once you both successfully make it out of the shop with delicious looking chocolate dipped mint chocolate chip ice cream cones. You want to see how it tastes, but a deep rooted birthday etiquette that lives inside of you forbids you from taking the first bite. That’s reserved for the birthday boy, after all!

“Just up there,” he points to a nearby hill. “You can see the stars really well.” You smile and nod before starting the trek. It’s a cool evening, luckily, so your ice cream only barely starts to drip on the way up. Talking to the mysterious hacker seems to get easier as time goes on. Any leftover anxiety you had fades as you make light conversation and tease each other. It feels like you’ve known him for years. You attribute at least some of it to the ice cream, his speech has become a lot more bubbly and a lot less guarded after he got his hands on his cone. You never thought you’d call the person who broke into your phone cute, but you can’t help but smile at how happy he seems.

You reach the top of the hill before you know it. A blanket is already laid out at the very top, and he guides you to sit beside him on it. It’s not a huge blanket, your shoulders are nearly touching. Which is NOT something to blush about, you tell yourself. He pulls his mask down for the first time tonight, leaving you to stare at him for a bit longer than you would have liked to. He was definitely handsome, but there’s a layer of familiarity that you can’t quite put your finger on. His pretty lips turn up in a smirk.

“What are you staring at?” You almost miss it, but his hands fidget slightly as he asks the question. Maybe he’s a bit more insecure than he lets on? You try to get past some of your shyness for his sake, if he’s worried about his looks you’d like to reassure him.

“Nothing much, I just think you look nice,” you smile, feeling just a bit of heat creep to your face. “Now-” you quickly change the subject. “You have to take the first bite of your ice cream so I can have mine. Birthday rules, and all.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say, doll,” he chuckles. He takes a bite, trying to catch all the ice cream that threatens to drip off. “There.” You grin and have a taste, too. There’s something about small shops that make everything taste a thousand times better. It’s the sweetest, creamiest ice cream you’ve ever had.

“Good, right?” he asks, already knowing your answer from the big smile on your face.

“Yup!” you exclaim. You finish your treats in a comfortable silence. The stars really are beautiful from the top of this hill, they appear so much bigger and brighter without the light pollution from the city. You glance to your side to see him looking back at you.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks. He’s closer than you remember.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “The stars are beautiful.” His eyes are shining like stars, too. The darkness has made their unnatural color stand out even more, it would be so easy to get lost looking into them. You force your gaze back to the sky, trying to ignore how fast your heart is beating. “Are you? Enjoying yourself, I mean? It’s your birthday, after all.”

“Yeah, I am,” he says without missing a beat. “It’s not often that I get to go out like this.”

“Because of your hacking job?” you ask.

“Yeah, something like that.” He sighs and leans back, looking up at the stars once again. What kind of life does he have? It’s hard to get a read on him. You can talk to him like an old friend but you don’t even know his name. You get the feeling he wouldn’t tell you even if you asked. Better not to, then. You’re satisfied with the little snippets of him that you’ve gotten today, and if he wants to reveal more you’ll let him do that at his own pace.

“Well, I’m glad I came out to meet you then.” He looks over at you again, studying your face. Almost like he’s waiting for you to take it back, or turn it into a joke. You don’t.

“Yeah, me too.”

#saeran #saeran choi #saeran x reader #mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger x reader #mysme #unknown #saeran birthday #awawa writing this made me like unknown more #aaHhhhHH I'd ramble in the tags like I usually do but I gotta rush to get ready for something eheheh #I was gonna edit this last night but I was so tired AAAA #so I'm rushing this morning for his birthday I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT #andddDDd if you read this far #have a great day :>

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eddieeatsass · 3 years

Text

On the Edge of an Avalanche

Summary: Graduation was upon them and Eddie Kaspbrak was eager to leave Derry behind. His one last hurrah would be the senior ski trip, earning him an escape from his mother and the looming stress of college admissions. It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, until he got slated to look after resident pain-in-everyone’s-ass, Richie Tozier. Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak Rating: E Chapter: 4/5 Read Chapter 3 Here / Read on AO3

Richie’s room was nicer than Eddie’s, way nicer. It’s not that Eddie’s room was bad, in fact he’d spent a good amount of time admiring it earlier, it’s just that Eddie’s room was like the discount version, and Richie’s was designer. Where Eddie’s room had gotten tall windows, half of Richie’s wall was taken up by a fireplace. Eddie supposed it was a trade, someone who preferred a nicer view might say Eddie’s room was the winner, but there was something undeniably romantic about your own fireplace. Richie’s room also seemed to have a newer TV, mounted on the wall across from their bed. The TV in Eddie’s room was older and hid behind two panels of wood in a cabinet. Simply put, Eddie was very glad Richie had decided to bring them here. Richie flopped on the bed immediately, overdramatizing how exhausted he was just from limping his way down the hall. Eddie hid a knowing smile and joined him. “Thank you for saving me, I was about five minutes away from dying of boredom.” Richie drawled. “Well, I can’t promise you’ll have any more fun here, but you’re welcome. ”Richie let his head loll to the side, regarding Eddie closely before speaking again. “No, I’ll definitely have more fun here. ”The insinuation was brash, Richie didn’t even bother trying to hide it behind a joke. It made Eddie’s gut clench in unusual ways. He brought his thumb up to his mouth, the habit of gnawing at his fingernails a hard one to kick, but was interrupted by his own gasp as his hand came into view. His knuckles were starting to bruise, tender to flex and even more tender to touch. He hadn’t noticed any pain earlier, too caught up in Richie to even think about anything else, but now that he was staring at his fist the ache began to echo under his skin. “You just notice that?” Richie asked gently, noting the horror in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie could only nod, his gaze fixed on the evidence of his breakdown. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at his hand, but when Richie’s entered the frame Eddie startled. He’d gotten a hand towel from the bathroom and wrapped some ice in it, which Eddie could only guess was provided in their minifridge. Richie guided Eddie’s hand down to his lap, placing the ice pack atop his knuckles gently and murmuring an apology when Eddie hissed at the sudden coldness. They stayed silent for a few minutes, simply sitting in each other’s presence as the ice dampened the cloth atop Eddie’s hand. Eddie was the first to speak, keeping his eyes downcast as he admitted his guilt aloud. “I’m not a violent person, you know.” He could feel Richie’s eyes on his face but didn’t give in to the lure. “Yeah, I know.” Richie reassured. “But Bowers is an exception-”“No, he’s not.” Eddie snapped. “If I sink to his level, I’m just like him.” Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie would get it. They had both been targets of Henry’s attacks, but Eddie never wanted anyone to feel the way he’d felt, not even Henry himself. Eddie’s mind was constantly replaying all the times he'd had his face shoved into the dirt, the way the gravel would stick to his wounds, the shouts he’d receive from his mother upon getting home. Henry was a god-awful human, but that didn’t mean he deserved to feel that same pain and sorrow. That wasn’t going to change anything; you can’t break the cycle with the same bullshit that fueled it. “I didn’t mean to do it.” Eddie whispered. “I just snapped.” Richie immediately scooted closer, an action Eddie wasn’t expecting or prepared for. He looked up and met bright blue eyes, tender and open and completely void of judgement. “You’re nothing like him; you didn’t want to hurt him. Bowers wants to hurt people. ”Eddie looked back down at his hand, flexing his fingers and watching as the makeshift ice pack slid off and landed on the sheets. “You know…” Eddie began thinking out loud. “I’ve felt the brunt of a lot of people’s insecurities. I don’t usually mind being projected on, it’s easy to see through the words and figure out what’s actually going on behind them. I’ve even gotten good at doing it with Henry, though he’s a bit of a different breed… But there was something about the things he said today... they felt more personal.” Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to spill out into the space between them, his vulnerability a tender wound. “Whatever, it’s stupid.” Eddie was quick to dismiss his own feelings, covering them up with a shrug of his shoulders that attempted to pass as indifference. “It’s not stupid.” Richie insisted. Eddie stared down at his uninjured hand as it picked at a thread on the blanket beneath them. “Listen, I don't know what Henry said, but you're not suddenly a super villain for fighting back one time. The first time I was called a fag, I threw a mug at the dude’s head.” Richie admitted aloud with a chuckle. “We were in a coffee shop and I was on my first date with a guy. I ended up having to pay for the broken mug and my backtalk. ”Eddie perked up like Richie had just given him a straight shot of smelling salts. All other sound in the room fell away as Eddie homed in on Richie’s voice, trying to discern if he was dreaming or not. “Safe to say it was not a very good first impression.” Richie laughed lightly, completely unaware of the way he was flipping Eddie’s world upside down. “Anyway, all I’m trying to say is you’re not the only one who’s lost their cool before. You’re human, you’re allowed to get upset when people treat you less than.” Eddie was sure Richie was making a good point, was sure what he was saying held some wisdom that could potentially help, but he was guilty to say he hadn’t processed a word of it. He was too caught up on the fact that Richie had dated guys before. Stan’s words echoed in his brain ‘You might want to consider the possibility that this isn’t their first time eating a hot dog’, fucking Stan was always right, even with that stupid metaphor. Richie had begun talking again, but Eddie didn’t hesitate to interrupt him, this new revelation too significant to pass by. “You like boys?” Eddie blurted out, all grace and subtlety left behind with his spiraling thoughts. Richie froze in place, his hands up in a gesture Eddie was sure had something to do with what he’d been talking about, but now looked comically out of place. Slowly, Richie lowered his hands to his lap and regarded Eddie with a new look, one that held enough cockiness to knock the wind out of Eddie. “Grinding my dick on you didn’t send the message?” Richie teased, raising one eyebrow and swiping his tongue across his teeth. Eddie suppressed a full body shiver, averting his eyes from Richie’s intensity. “I thought you were maybe, like, I don’t know-” “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.” Richie said with a twang that went straight to Eddie’s pants. He blamed Brokeback Mountain. “Well, it isn’t mine either.” Eddie defended instinctively. He watched as Richie’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up again, quick like a hummingbird and with all the same charm. “So, then what’s the issue?” Richie’s voice had lowered, taking on something much more intimate and sultry. It made Eddie’s heart rate spike. “I guess there isn’t one.” He breathed. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” Eddie barely had a moment to breathe before Richie captured his lips in a hungry kiss, his hand burying itself in the hair at Eddie’s nape to pull him in closer. The gesture almost made Eddie go limp, as if he were a cat being held by its scruff, submissive by instinct. He opened his mouth pliantly, allowing Richie in with a welcome of his own tongue. Eddie couldn’t believe that this was happening. Just a couple hours ago he was fisting his own cock, fantasizing about the way Richie tasted. Now he knew. Richie was a cold fire, stoking Eddie’s lungs with mint and cinnamon spice. He tasted like the frost outside, and the embers that kept you warm. It was comforting, enveloping in a way Eddie couldn’t describe. Eddie pushed against Richie, guiding him to lay down on his back so Eddie could climb atop his lap, resuming the same position they’d been in the night before. This time, however, there was clear determination between them. There were no longer hesitant touches or swallowed moans, every move was purposeful, made with intent. Eddie wasn’t shy to shed his sweater, wanting to move things along as quickly as possible now that they were finally happening. “Your body, god, do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you?” Richie grabbed Eddie’s bare waist in near disbelief, awe shining in his eyes. “Less than 24 hours?” Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes and his hips in tandem. Richie groaned and tightened his grip, stilling Eddie forcefully. “Try years. You think I didn’t notice you until Mrs. Harrow forced us to sit together?” Eddie flushed even hotter, his skin reddening to match the fire that Richie was stoking. Richie grinned at Eddie’s speechlessness, pushing forward. “I noticed you for the first time in sophomore year. You were trying out for the track team at the same time as Mike and we were in the bleachers cheering him on. I was gone the second you walked out onto that grass. I tried to be respectful, but I couldn’t stop imagining myself squeezed between those thighs that your tight little track shorts did a great job of highlighting.” Eddie tried to recall that moment, tried to visualize Richie in the bleachers with his floppy hair and lopsided glasses, but all he could remember was the adrenaline he’d felt going behind his mother’s back, too busy to notice anything else. “I never stopped noticing you after that, in fact I’m surprised you never caught me looking your way during class…” Richie moved his hands to begin trailing up Eddie’s thighs. “But the second time I really noticed you, was at the end of that school year. We had a heat wave and the AC broke, d’you remember that? The school had no idea how to deal with it, so they just chucked us outside and gave us popsicles from the freezer in the cafeteria, probably because they were going to melt anyway. But you sat there in the middle of the field sucking on your popsicle like it was the best fucking thing you’d ever tasted. You might have been miserable like the rest of us, but you were too focused on your treat to pay any mind to the weather.” Eddie’s throat was going dry, his head beginning to feel light and airy as he listened to Richie talk. “That night I dreamt you were sucking my cock, that same euphoric look on your face as if it were that damn popsicle.” Richie’s hands reached Eddie’s hips and traced the curve around to his ass, causing Eddie to stutter a breath as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones. “I’ve thought about fucking you for years, Eds, to see you cum on my cock and hear you cry my name. I would do just about anything you asked me to, just as long as I can make you feel good.” Eddie had never been this aroused in his life. Every single nerve in his body was buzzing like a live wire, his toes already curling just from Richie’s words alone. “What if I asked you to take your clothes off?” Eddie braved, his voice shaky. Richie sat up, bringing them chest to chest. “Anything. You. Asked.” Richie punctuated each word with a featherlight kiss to Eddie’s lips. The butterflies in Eddie’s stomach went wild as he watched Richie begin to strip off his shirt. He did it slowly, keeping his eyes on Eddie as Eddie’s own raked down the newly exposed skin. Richie's skin was pale enough to rival the snow outside, spattered with fewer freckles than Eddie’s, but enough to break up the milky complexion. He was thin but still held definition, especially as Eddie’s eyes reached the ‘v’ of his hips that dipped into his waistband. Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded towards the spot where Richie’s hands were already hovering over his waistband. Eddie had to swing his leg off Richie and move to the side to let him shimmy his pants down his legs, every new inch equally as mesmerizing. “Like what you see?” Richie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Not sure yet, I think I need to see more.” Eddie whispered back, tension thick between them. Eddie could see where Richie was straining against the fabric of his boxers, tenting them to an intimidating level. The way his mouth watered at the sight made Eddie feel absolutely depraved, lewd in a way that only added to his arousal, made him want to spread his legs wide and offer himself up whole. The moment that stretched between them as Richie pulled his boxers down felt like an eternity. Eddie lived, died, and got reborn all in the span of that second. Richie’s cock was heavy, springing free for only a moment before falling back against his stomach. Eddie could see Richie moving in his peripheral, getting comfortable back against the duvet after throwing his boxers to the floor, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off his dick. He felt fingers carding through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and finally Eddie tore his gaze away from the challenge that sat before him. Richie’s smile was smug, but his eyes seemed vulnerable. Eddie realized he was waiting for his next command, unsure how they’d fallen into that pattern but not opposed to continuing it. Eddie felt powerful as he raised on his haunches and moved to where Richie’s legs were spread. He watched Richie’s face, noted the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers twitched as he tried not to move. Eddie lowered his head so it was level with Richie’s cock, pausing just a few inches away so his breath grazed against it as he spoke. “Fuck my mouth.” Eddie directed, lust overwriting his usual nerves and replacing them with boldness. Richie’s breath shook as he let it out slowly. “Jesus fuck, Eddie…”Richie’s hands travelled back into Eddie’s hair, gentle at first and then gripping at the base. He guided Eddie’s head the rest of the way down and shuttered when Eddie finally took the head in his mouth. Eddie instantly felt intoxicated, like Richie was the strongest absinthe man had ever made. He greedily gulped it down, laving at the underside of Richie’s cock as it glided into his throat. Drool was already pooling at the corners of his mouth, but Eddie paid it no mind, his only focus on drinking in as much of Richie as he could. He knew right away there was no reality in which he could take all of Richie at once, at least not without a lot of practice, so he committed his mouth to the top half and his hand to the bottom. His fingers barely met as they wrapped around Richie’s shaft and gave an experimental pump. Richie groaned, and Eddie took it as a good sign. He repeated the motion with a twist of his wrist, tonguing the slit of his cock where precum was leaking out greedily. Eddie could feel Richie’s legs tensing where he had his free hand splayed across his thigh. Every time he teased the underside of Richie’s head that muscle would jump, and it almost became a game to see how quickly Eddie could make that muscle twitch, his tongue moving faster and faster against that sensitive spot and causing Richie's legs to vibrate. “Oh my god- fuck, ahhhh-h-how are you so good at this…” Richie’s voice was wrecked, raspy and low and breathy all at once. Eddie just hummed in acknowledgement, sending vibrations up Richie’s shaft that made him hump up into Eddie’s mouth. The action caused Eddie to gag and he reveled in it, moaning like a whore in heat. He was so far gone he barely noticed when Richie pulled him off suddenly. “Okay you’re too good at that.” Richie panted, his chest heaving. Eddie’s head was cloudy, the only conscious thought chanting ‘more, more, more’. He blinked a few times, trying to shift the room back into place. “Why did we stop?” Eddie asked dumbly, his words a bit slurred. “I didn’t want to cum yet. I sort of thought… maybe, if you wanted to, we could-” “Finger me.” Eddie blurted out, his senses coming back to him but not all gracefully. “I mean…” He cleared his throat, face beginning to flush. “…please." Richie looked liked he’d just won the lottery and been slapped across the face at the same time, a dopey kind of smile accompanying his features. “You don’t have to be polite about it, Eds. I’m kinda digging this whole dictator thing you’ve got going on, actually.” Eddie giggled adoringly, calmed by the way Richie was able to dissolve his nerves so quickly with such a disastrously dumb joke, even at a time like this. “Gimme a sec.” Richie leaned forward, catching Eddie’s lips in a chaste kiss before he was springing off the bed. “I know that bastard has lube somewhere.” Eddie watched as Richie began searching through what he assumed to be Bill’s suitcase, throwing things to the side in a frenzy. He finally came across a toiletry bag and ripped it open, rifling around for only a moment more and emerging with a small bottle of clear liquid. “Will Bill mind if we use it?” Eddie worried his lip between his teeth, not so much caring about the answer but asking anyway out of respect for his new friend. “Nah, he’ll just be happy I’m getting laid.” Richie winked and those damn butterflies acted up again. Richie crawled back onto the bed, setting the lube to the side temporarily. He returned his attention to Eddie, a renewed twinkle in his lust blown eyes. He crowded Eddie’s space, towering above him but lowering his head so their lips grazed against each other. “Let’s get these off, hmm?” Richie’s fingers stroked lightly at the waistband of Eddie’s sweatpants. “I thought I was the one giving orders.” Eddie teased back, voice barely above a whisper. Richie hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled, letting it snap back against Eddie’s stomach as he released it with a shuttering breath. “Alright Kaspbrak.” Richie let his body fall backwards, bouncing lighting as it hit the mattress. He brought his hands up behind his head and made a show of getting comfortable. “I am at your mercy.” That same emboldened feeling consumed him once again, a confidence only Richie seemed to instill in him. It was intoxicating, much like everything else about Richie. With a smirk, Eddie backed up off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. Eddie kept his eyes focused on Richie as he began to pull his sweatpants down, going painstakingly slow just to see Richie’s reaction. He saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed back his desire, a nearly imperceptible twitch making his cock jump in intrigue. Eddie kicked his pants to the side where they joined his long since discarded sweater, and then all his focus diverted to his neglected cock. All earlier thoughts of whether Richie would like his body were gone, he knew Richie liked his body, and he was planning on milking that for all it was worth. Eddie palmed himself over his underwear, letting his head fall back and his mouth drop open as he finally offered himself the stimulation he needed. He looked down and noted that the white fabric had gone translucent where his cock had been leaking against it, giving Richie a peek of the pink head underneath. He heard Richie whimper from the bed but paid him no mind, indulging in his own senses for a moment. He continued to tease himself through the thin cloth until he couldn’t take any more, finally allowing his hands to wander to the waistband and pull the underwear down his thighs. Richie was silent, watching so attentively that a pin could be heard dropping in the room. Eddie kicked the last piece of clothing off to the side and immediately let his hand wander back to his own cock, tugging it a few times and allowing himself to moan at the sensation. He heard the bed squeak and opened his eyes to see Richie crawling towards him. Gone was Richie’s passiveness and submission, replaced with a new hunger that made Eddie’s legs quiver. Richie reached his arms out and pulled Eddie in until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Even with Eddie standing and Richie kneeling on the bed, he was still a good few inches taller than him, and he used that to his advantage while crowding into Eddie’s space. “You can’t tease me like that.” Richie whispered into the shell of his ear, kissing right under it and beginning a path down his neck. “I didn’t mean to.” Eddie answered honestly, succumbing to the warmth of Richie’s lips and letting his head tip back once again. “Just felt so good…” “I can make you feel even better.” Richie promised, ghosting his hand down Eddie’s torso and just barely grazing his cock. Eddie moaned, arching into the faint touch and whimpering as it left. “Please…” Eddie’s jaw was slack, the word falling out without a thought. Richie continued making his way down Eddie’s body, sucking marks against tan skin as he passed. He paused at Eddie’s nipples to give them special attention and Eddie keened, grabbing at Richie’s hair in sudden desperation. Richie swirled his tongue around one bud, allowing his hand to pluck the other until he switched. He nipped lightly enough to cause Eddie to shutter and then sucked to soothe the reddening skin. He continued his trail downwards, licking along Eddie’s hip bones and kissing the juncture between his thighs and his pelvis, avoiding Eddie’s cock purposefully. Pleas were falling from Eddie’s mouth steadily now; his hands tugging weakly on Richie’s hair to try and guide him towards pleasure. Richie swiftly gathered Eddie in his arms, catching him off guard in his haze of lust. He moved back up the mattress and laid against the bed board, situating Eddie so he was laying across his body. “I bet your pretty little hole is just begging to be touched.” Richie murmured, reaching for the bottle of lube and hastily pouring a generous amount on his digits. Eddie moaned at the lewdness of the comment, his hips moving against Richie’s and causing their cocks to grind against each other. He could feel a wetness smearing against their bellies, similar to the wetness Richie was spreading between his fingers. He watched as Richie’s hand disappeared behind him and then he felt the warm press of a finger at his entrance. The feeling was somewhat familiar; Eddie had fingered himself countless times before, he wasn’t new to pleasuring his prostate. But this was the first time anyone else had ever touched him there. It was difficult not to focus in on every small sensation, to not grind up against Richie like a virgin being touched for the first time. Richie teased the pad of his finger around his rim and unsurprisingly, Eddie fluttered in response. He could hear Richie’s laugh reverberating in his chest where Eddie laid his head. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a bit wider, silently ushering Richie to continue. The first slip inside was uncomfortable. It always is, no matter how turned on you are, but it was also euphoric in a way Eddie was never able to make it for himself. Richie’s fingers were thinner than Eddie’s, but significantly longer, and soon enough Richie was already in to his knuckle. Eddie breathed steadily, allowing his body to get used to the intrusion. Richie followed his queue, stilling for a moment until Eddie nodded minutely against him, signaling him to continue. The next finger wasn’t too much harder than the first, and soon the discomfort ebbed away to make room for pleasure. Richie worked his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch Eddie open as much as possible before a third was added. It felt way better than Eddie had ever imagined it would. Richie’s fingers weren’t clumsy or unsure like Eddie would have thought, they were precise with their pressure and quick to find the spots that made Eddie melt. He went at the perfect pace, allowing Eddie his time to adjust but not waiting too long to lose their momentum. Arousal bubbled hot in Eddie’s stomach, searing his skin at every spot where they were connected. His breathing had become labored, and his hips had begun their own little rotation where he ground himself down into Richie. Every time he did, he felt Richie’s cock twitching against his, eager to escape the slot between them and burry itself inside Eddie. And in that moment, Eddie wanted that more than anything. “Fuck me, now.” Eddie demanded breathily, holding no more space for patience. “You sure you’re ready?” Richie checked, his own breath seeming to stutter. Eddie whined indignantly, raising himself up on shaky knees and grabbing both of Richie’s wrists. He pulled them away, deft fingers slipping out of him easily and falling to the pillow beside Richie’s head where Eddie pinned them. “Now.” Eddie repeated, grinding his ass against Richie’s cock and coating it with lube. “I’m gonna die here and it’s gonna be the happiest day of my life.” Richie rushed out, eyes squeezed shut and face flushed a blotchy red. Eddie removed one hand and reached down to grasp Richie’s cock, marveling once again at its size. He was sure he was going to feel a stretch, but he craved it at this point. With determination and just a little too much arousal for rational thought, Eddie lined himself up and began sinking down. The stretch was… a lot. Eddie let out a pained whimper as Richie’s head breached his rim, and suddenly there were hands all over him, cradling his face, petting his hair, steadying his hips. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Richie rushed to comfort him, kissing the spot between Eddie’s eyebrows where he hadn’t realized he’d furrowed them. “We can stop at any point. You want to stop?” Eddie was stubborn, he knew this about himself. He was aware that his stubbornness had gotten him into trouble in the past, but it had also earned him some of the best moments of his life. He didn’t want to end this prematurely and look back on his first time with remorse, but he also didn’t exactly want to rip his asshole open on a high school ski trip. Eddie decided he just needed a minute, so he shook his head and told Richie as much. Richie continued to rub his back, his hair, anywhere his nervous hands could settle. He seemed on such high alert Eddie wasn't sure how his dick wasn't flagging. Eddie winced as Richie inched down the bed carefully, lying himself flatter and pulling Eddie back down to his chest. Eddie closed his eyes and focused on Richie’s heartbeat, feeling Richie moving above him but paying it no mind. He jumped in surprise when Richie’s hand joined his dick, but his body relaxed instantaneously as he felt those soft fingers begin to massage extra lube around his rim. As the seconds passed Eddie could feel himself opening up under Richie’s touch, his muscles relaxing and his temperature rising. Richie was clearly feeling the heat himself, as he’d started to rock his hips gently beneath Eddie’s. The action was gentle, inching him further into Eddie in torturously small increments but not pushing him past his limits. It was beginning to drive Eddie crazy as his craving for more became overpowering, all the pain from before having subsided. Without warning, Eddie pushed himself back on Richie’s cock, feeling his fingers flutter around his hole at the sudden movement. He was quick to use his hand to steady himself at the base of his cock, holding it still for Eddie to fuck back on. Richie let out an elongated breath, swearing profusely at the end of it. It made Eddie blush and move faster, his hips taking on a rhythm of their own. Eddie was on cloud fucking nine. His body lit up like a live wire, electrifying him with every move he made. Richie appeared to be just as affected, his mouth stuck open in an orgasmic ‘o’, his eyes practically rolled back into his skull. Richie had been quick to match Eddie’s pace, thrusting up into him feverously, hands clamped on to Eddie's hip as tightly as Eddie was clamping around his cock. "You're so fucking huge." Eddie moaned, the statement coming out honestly despite sounding like a script from a bad porno. "Holy shit, you can't say stuff like that or I'm gonna blow my load." Richie responded, chest heaving. "I'm serious, it feels like I'm being split open, god Rich." "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble." Richie's thrusts were speeding up, becoming more erratic. Eddie almost felt like he was riding a bull, clenching his thighs in a desperate attempt not to be bucked off. "Then shut me up." The response was instantaneous. Richie flipped them over, pressing Eddie into the mattress as he pounded into him mercilessly. He brought one hand up to Eddie's mouth and shoved two fingers against his tongue, forcing Eddie to suck on the digits. Eddie gagged on them like he would Richie's cock, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth and mixing with the tears that had escaped without notice. He was completely fucked out, his brain unable to process anything besides Richie. "I'm gonna cum." Richie warned, his orgasm approaching rapidly after being so on edge for so long. Eddie didn't mind, his own release not far behind. "Cum inside me, please, want to feel you." Eddie begged, unaware of his desire until it was suspended right in front of him. "Fuck, unnnf- god, Eddie." Richie said his name like a prayer, bringing his hand up to stroke Eddie's neglected cock. The sensation was downright sinful, the best thing Eddie thinks he's ever felt in his entire life. It caused his toes to curl, most of the muscles in his body seizing up at the pleasure. Richie's hips stuttered a few times and then he was overwhelmed with a warmth deep inside him, Richie's cock pushing through it to press diligently into his prostate. Eddie came with blinding lights in his eyes, his body convulsing as waves upon waves of euphoria flooded his senses. He's pretty sure he screams, but he could have been completely silent and it would have sounded the same to his deaf ears. Eddie's not sure how long he lays there in fucked out bliss, his mind completely separate from his body, but when he finally tunes back into the world around him he's alone in the bed. He looks around to find Richie and spots him crouched on the ground by the fireplace, tinkering with the button to light it up. Electric flames suddenly burst alive behind Richie's silhouette, highlighting his long legs as he stretches back up and turns to regard Eddie. "Hey." His voice is gentle, not quite a whisper but close enough to one that the greeting still felt secretive. "Hi." Eddie matches his tone, his throat appreciating the low register after being abused not too long ago. "I thought I lost you there for a minute." Richie crawled back into bed, pulling the thick duvet over them. "I think you did." Eddie admitted sheepishly. "That was fucking... wow." Richie laughed at the advanced vocabulary Eddie was able to implement at that moment. "Wow is right." Richie agreed, welcoming Eddie as he crowded into his space. The silence fell upon them naturally, their bodies and minds too exhausted to bother with much else. It was a long while until Eddie pipped back up. “Was that your first time?” Eddie asked quietly, his eyes having drifted closed from the comfort of being satiated in such a new way. “Mm-mm.” Richie answered carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “First time was with Ally Mae Espin. It was a mess.” Eddie hummed for Richie to continue, too content to respond vocally. “It was in Bill’s garage in 8th grade. It lasted exactly two minutes and neither of us finished. I had blue balls for the rest of the night, but honestly, I didn’t even care. I’d realized as soon as we’d kissed that I wasn’t into her the way she was into me. I don’t regret it, but as far as first times it’s pretty anticlimactic. Literally.” Eddie giggled, nuzzling closer into Richie’s warmth. He felt fuzzy all over, invincible to the evils of the outside world. He thinks he could probably survive an avalanche right now, completely safe inside Richie’s arms. “What about you? How was your first time porking the hog?” Eddie scrunched his nose in disgust, peering up at Richie judgingly. “First of all, ew. Don’t ever call it that again. And also… this was my first time.” Richie’s eyes widened a fraction, an unreadable but unmistakable softness within them. “Shit, Eds. I wish you’d have told me, I would have at least tried to perform better.” Predictably, Richie was trying to hide his vulnerability with humor. Also predictably, Eddie could see right through it. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” Richie seemed to gnaw on the inside of his cheek, so Eddie continued. “Ten out of ten, would pork again.” That earned a surprised laugh from Richie, and Eddie considered his mission accomplished. He could work on Richie’s insecurities more later, but for now, at least he knew Eddie didn’t regret what had happened. They fell back into another stretch of silence, the crackle of the fireplace background noise to their steady breathing. Eddie had almost fallen asleep when Richie spoke again. “Did you always know you wanted to be a mechanic when you were younger?” It took a moment for Eddie to fully re-inhabit his body, wondering why his slumber had been interrupted for such a random question. “Huh?” “You know, kids are so indecisive. One minute it's 'I'm gonna be a doctor' the next it's 'I'm gonna be an alien superstar princess'. Did little Eddie have lots of dream jobs or was it always a mechanic?” Eddie took a moment to think, having to dig through all of the expectations and responsibilities that had piled on top of him over time, shielding his passions and replacing them with pragmatic plans for the future. "I always wanted to be a mechanic. Actually, I even wanted to open my own garage when I grew up." Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to continue. "My dad was a mechanic. I learned a lot just from watching him, and then when he passed away I continued learning under a guy named Isaac, until mom decided it was too messy and too dangerous for me to be in the shop. I always believed I would grow up, open my own place where my mom couldn't ban me from being, and name it after my dad." Richie's face fell at the mention of Eddie's dad's death and he cursed himself for bringing it up. People always felt uncomfortable at the mention of death, and even though Eddie had long since accepted that his dad was gone, he always had to suffer through people’s weird grief reactions that, more often than not, made him feel worse. However a few moments passed and Richie still hadn't said anything, so Eddie braved a look upwards. "What's your favorite car?" Eddie was taken aback, already in the process of mentally preparing himself to field the same old questions he'd long since memorized his answers to. He blinked a few times, a smile creeping up on him without his permission. Richie continued to surprise him at every turn, and Eddie was absolutely giddy about it. "You're gonna make fun of me." Eddie sighed, infinitely grateful for Richie somehow always knowing exactly what to say and when not to say. "I absolutely will." Richie nodded. "1966 Volkswagen Type 2." Richie seemed to contemplate it, nodding slowly before bursting into a side splitting smile and letting a little laugh go. "You’re right, that's hilarious." Eddie laughed along, but still slapped his chest playfully to at least act offended. He snuggled in closer, settling his head on Richie’s chest. "It's just that the hippie lifestyle doesn't exactly match the Eddie Kaspbrak I've grown to know and lo-" Richie cut himself off just as Eddie's heart skipped, both of them falling silent for a moment before Richie cleared his throat and marched onwards, his own heart beating rapidly in Eddie's ear. "I'd have guessed you were a smart car kinda guy." "Why? Cause I'm small?" Eddie challenged, trying (and failing) to return his heart rate back to normal. "Yeah. Small, compact, can fit a surprising amount in its backseat." Richie moved his hand down from where he'd been rubbing circles into Eddie's lower back and tapped one of his cheeks. "Careful! I'm still tender." Eddie pouted, unknowingly looking far too cute for Richie's fragile sanity. Richie kissed the top of Eddie's head and Eddie kissed him back between his collarbones, absolutely smitten with the way Richie handled him. "I like the freedom of it." Eddie admitted, picking the conversation back up. "I've always felt trapped in this town, it's comforting to think of owning something that can take me anywhere." “Technically anything with two wheels can accomplish that.” Richie pointed out. “Yeah, but with a van I don’t have to worry about where I’m gonna sleep. I can live out of it for as long as it takes me to get to my destination.” “Where is your destination?” “New York.” Eddie answered automatically, surprising the both of them. Richie’s arms tightened around Eddie, erratic laughter falling from his lips. “EDDIE!!!” “WHAT!?” Eddie was being jostled now, Richie’s happiness contagious even though Eddie had no idea what was happening. “NEW YORK IS MY DREAM!” Eddie finally connected the dots, realizing a little late what that meant. If Eddie wanted to move to New York, and Richie wanted to move to New York, then they could theoretically move to New York together. The notion made Eddie’s belly do flips. “Oh, yeah, I guess that is kind of perfect huh?” Eddie answered, far more bashful than he'd expected himself to sound. “We can get a little apartment downtown where you can open your own garage and I can work at whatever coffee shop will hire me while I practice my standup routine on the weekends! We'll be a dynamic duo, running the streets of New York together. It’s FATE!” Eddie couldn’t deny that it did feel like something cosmic was at play. Richie was this boisterous, loud, chaotic puzzle piece that somehow fit perfectly into the slot on Eddie’s board. He pushed Eddie’s boundaries, encouraged him to challenge his world and rethink the ways he’d been taught to live. Being around him was invigorating, but it also felt like home. Eddie realized with terrifying clarity that he didn’t want to spend another day without Richie in his life. He couldn’t fathom how he’d done so before; looking back felt like watching a black and white film in contrast to the technicolor movie magic he was living in now. Richie had lit up a spot in Eddie’s life that he hadn’t even realized had been dark before. Eddie trailed his hand up Richie’s chest and found the back of his neck, tilting his head down to face Eddie. He moved slow, bringing their faces close together so their lips barely touched. Richie’s skin was soft, his lips plump and inviting as they trembled beneath Eddie’s. They breathed each other in as Eddie nosed at Richie, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his brain took a backseat. Eddie hummed a nearly imperceptible laugh and finally slotted their lips together, lingering in place for just a second before parting. It was teasing, but not in the sense of arousal. Eddie left Richie with a million thoughts on his mind and nothing but big brown eyes as answers. “I think I passed out for a second there.” Richie breathed shakily, effected in exactly the way Eddie’d intended. “You’re going to take me to New York one day.” Eddie decided aloud. Richie was all shy smiles, dipping his head low to try and hide his blush. “I sure fucking hope so.” Richie responded quietly, looking back up at Eddie through inky curls. Eddie pushed his hair to the side, tucking it behind Richie’s ear and letting his hand fall back down to his chest. “You will.” They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms with thoughts of the future fueling their dreams. Eddie knew that nothing was guaranteed. Two days can’t rewrite your whole life, and once they left the resort and re-entered Derry, he was sure that all the expectations and pressure he’d superseded were going to come back full force. But somehow, he felt more prepared to face them. They didn’t hold the same weight as they once had, because now Eddie knew he had a whole world outside of the one his mother had built for him to exist within. That world might just be Richie Tozier, but it was a thousand times bigger and brighter than the solitude he’d lived in before. For once, Eddie was excited to live.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie smut #reddie lemon #my posts #my writing #OTEOAA

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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OkCryptid: Pevik Pikecarver (Goblin) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Goblin/Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, OkCryptid, Dating App, Goblin Content Warning: Adoption, Sex Words: 3159

A sweet commission for @mxnsterbabe! A woman uses the "Blind Date" function on the OkCryptid app, and is surprised by who she's matched up with. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

OkCryptid was becoming the most popular dating app on the market. It was free, easy to use, and had rave reviews from it’s users. There were no end to the happy couples, or poly relationships, that sang it’s praises. You’d never used an app to date before, but your recent disastrous attempts at dating had caused you to consider it.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted, honestly. You scrolled through the profiles with no real interest. You must have swiped through a hundred profiles before a graphic popped that said: “Can decide? Try the Blind Date Option! Click Here to Try!”

Why not, you thought? You clicked it, and it took you to a form page to put in days and times you’d be available for a date. After filling it out and clicking “Next”, it took you to another page that asked which locations you were willing to go to for this date. You picked out a couple of cafes and restaurants you liked, and clicked “Match Me.”

There was a loading wheel, then a message that said, “At the moment, there are no matches that have selected any of the times and locations you provided. We will send you a message with a date and time as soon as a match is available!”

Well, that figured. You closed the app and put your phone in your pocket, turning your attentions to other things.

It wasn’t until three days later that you got a notification, which you ignored at first since you were at work. It wasn’t until you got into your car and took a moment to check your email that you saw it.

“A date has been made for the 23rd, 6 PM, at the Rosemary Gardens restaurant. To accept, click ‘Date’. To decline, click ‘Pass’.”

There was no other information. After a moment of deliberating, you clicked “Date.” It was followed by a message that said, “Congratulations! Pevik will meet you at the Rosemary Gardens Restaurant on the 23rd at 6 PM!”

Pevik? That was an unusual name. You had no idea what to expect. You had to resist an overwhelming urge to Google the name and see what came up, or at least search OkCryptid for people with that name. The whole point of a blind date was to go in blind. Peeking was against the rules.

The 23rd was only four days away. You could wait. Maybe.

The day of your date with Pevik arrived and you had to admit you were a bit nervous. The not-knowing aspect of a blind date was always a little nerve-wracking. Should you be casual? Dressy? What if they were allergic to your cat and they had a reaction to the fur on your clothes? What if they went into anaphylaxis and died? Could you forgive yourself or your cat for killing someone?!

Okay, that probably wouldn’t happen…

But it could…Where was your epipen…?

Rosemary Gardens was a trendy place that required more presentation than jeans and a t-shirt, so you wore a simple sundress and cardigan, easy and cute. Light makeup, a bobby-pin or two, just to keep fly-aways out of your eyes. Nothing flashy or fancy, since you’d gone on disastrous dates before dressed to the nines and it had been a mistake, to the say the least. Red wine is virtually impossible to get out of silk chiffon.

You got there a little early, but when you told the hostess that you were going to be waiting for someone, she said, “Oh, are you here for Pevik?”

“Yes,” You said, surprised.

“He’s already here,” She said brightly. “Right this way.”

You followed the woman to a table across from the bar, and sitting there was a goblin. He had short black hair and long ears. His eyes were the typical yellow with slotted pupils and he had a cute little button nose. He had on black slacks and a blue button-up shirt on with shiny black shoes.

You managed to hide the fact that you were a little disappointed. You typically preferred men who were taller than you, and this guy was only slightly taller than your waist, at your best guess.

He was clasping and unclasping his hands over and over, but stopped and perked up as you approached, a smile spreading across his face. You could see small bottom and top tusks just poking out from his lips.

“Are you my date today?” He asked.

“I am,” You said, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself.

“Pevik,” He said. “Pevik Pikecarver.”

“That’s a unique last name,” You said as you sat.

“It’s Orcish, actually,” He said shyly. “I was adopted as a baby by orc dads.”

“Oh!” You said. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He looked up at you through his surprisingly long lashes. “I’m not exactly what you were expecting, huh?”

You shrugged a little guiltily. “I guess not.”

“I know. You were expecting me to have blue eyes, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Poor guy. You imagined he got a lot of rejection but still had a good sense of humor.

“I get it if you’d like to end this early--” He started, but you interrupted him.

“No, no! I’ll admit, I had different… expectations, but you seem really cool. Let’s keep it going, if that’s okay?”

His smile widened and he nodded.

He was a social worker who insured elder care workers were qualified to do their jobs, in both retirement facilities and home care. He enjoyed his job because it reminded him of his dads, who had adopted him very late in their lives. You were sad to learn they had both died recently, making him feel very lonely. Usually he spent most of his time at work and with his two cats, Jenga and Fifi, who he inherited from his dads.

He asked you about yourself, eager to learn about your life and hobbies. The two of you had a lot of things in common, including tastes in music and movies, although he thought the depictions of goblins in fantasy films was super racist. You had to agree.

By the end of the date, the two of you had been talking for hours and the restaurant was about to close.

“I didn’t realize how much time had passed,” He said, staring at his watch. “I should go, I’ve got a lot of paperwork at home that needs doing, but I had a great time.” He seemed to want to say more, but was hesitant.

“Me too,” You said. “Do you want to do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” He said, brightening. “Anytime you want! Just let me know when you’re free.”

You laughed again. “”Don’t sound so eager! Let me give you my number.” You held out your hand and he handed you his phone. You put your number in it and texted yourself. “There. I’ll text you soon, okay?”

“I look forward to it,” He said, walking you to your car. “Take care, okay?”

“I will,” You said, wishing him a goodnight.

You texted him when you got home, letting him know you’d made it safe. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to do so, but it felt nice. He responded he had gotten home as well and wished you a good night’s sleep. You went to bed feeling a little giddy.

You woke up to a good morning text from him the next day and smiled all through your morning routine for work. You didn’t expect this…reaction…from one date. Pevik was admittedly not your usual type, but there was just something about him that made you… feel good. There wasn’t an initial spark, sure, but after spending all that time talking with him had completely changed your perception. Maybe it was his unwavering attention or his sweet disposition or sense of humor. Whatever it was, you were looking forward to seeing him again.

Your next day off was Tuesday, and even though he was working ten hour days for the whole week, he still wanted to have dinner with you.

>Won’t you be tired? You asked him through text.

>Not if I’m with you, He texted back. >How could I be tired when I have you there to invigorate me?

>You’re so silly, You said, grinning at your phone.

>Hopefully in a good way, He replied. >My lunch break is over. I’ll see you tonight at seven. I can’t wait!

>Neither can I. Have a good day at work!

>I will.

He met you at a cafe that Tuesday still wearing his work badge on his button-up shirt.

“Sorry,” He said, taking it off and stuffing it in his pocket. “I came straight from work.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” You said. “We could have made the date a little later.”

“Nah, if I sat still, I’d have fallen asleep. Besides, I was excited to see you again and I didn’t want to wait.”

You could feel yourself blushing and tried to keep the smile off your face.

“I must seem like a weirdo,” He said, kicking his feet a little in embarrassment. “Being so happy to see you all the time, I mean. I know I should be kind of aloof and cool, but I can’t help it. I just feel like a puppy left alone for too long.”

“No, it’s really sweet,” You assured him. “Honestly, no one has ever showered me with so much attention before. It’s kind of nice. I expect guys to act aloof and disinterested at first, so it’s refreshing.”

He laughed self-consciously. “I’m glad. I’m always concerned that my enthusiasm is grating on people.” The two of you sat and ordered your coffee and treat from the waitress.

“I was thinking, actually,” You said slowly. “I hope this doesn’t seem forward, but I have the weekend off and was thinking of cooking for the first time in a while. Like, a full spread. I don’t often cook because it’s just me, but I’m pretty good at it. Would you like to have dinner at my house?”

He gulped but nodded. “Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet. My cooking is either incredible or horrifying nightmares, and there is no in-between. No guarantees which one you’ll get.”

He laughed again. “Well, no one’s perfect.”

After coffee, he was walking you back to your car when you saw a bench.

“Hey, can you stand up on here for a sec?” You asked.

He hopped up effortlessly. “Sure, what for?”

You pinched his chin in your fingers and kissed him. He took your face in his hands and pulled you in closer, and you could feel his small tusks between his teeth. It was exciting.

That Friday, you were in your kitchen, stirring red sauce in a saucepan, when there was a knock on your apartment door. Your heart rose up in your chest and you went to open the door. Pevik stood there with a really beautiful bouquet flowers.

“Not to be cliche, but,” He said, grinning. “For you.”

“Thanks,” You said, taking them and sniffing. “Let me see if I have a vase.”

You did not have a vase, but you did find a liquor bottle with a wide neck and used that to decent effect.

“I was praying you weren’t allergic to any of those. I couldn’t ask without being obvious, so I also got this,” He pulled a bottle of Benadryl out of his pocket. You laughed out loud.

“Very thoughtful,” You said, taking it. “It reminds me of just before our first date and my wondering if you’d have an allergic reaction to my cat’s fur and if I should bring my epipen.”

He laughed with you. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” He hopped up on one of the stools at the bar in your kitchen.

“Stuffed bell peppers with a spring greens salad,” You said.

“That sounds amazing,” He said. “I eat way too much take out, but I never have time to cook.”

“Well, maybe I can cook for you more often. We could even cook together.”

He smiled. “I love that idea.”

You pointed to a stepstool you bought recently. “Want to help me stuff my pepper?”

He snorted and struggled to keep a straight face. “Sure.” He grabbed the stool and stood up next to you, taking one of the knives from the block and cleaning out the peppers. On the stool he was only slightly shorter than you, perfect height to lean in for a sneaky kiss on the cheek, so you did.

He jumped but gave you a startled smile, returning the kiss. The two of you worked together to finish dinner, stealing kisses as you did. When his hands weren’t occupied, he lay one of them on the small of your back, stroking up and down your spine a little. It made you bite your lip and squeeze your legs together.

The tension between the two of you was getting thicker by the minute, and by the time you both had sat down to eat, you were throbbing between your legs and shooting him sultry looks. You ate in relative silence because you didn’t trust yourself to talk, but your unshod foot found it’s way up his leg and between his thighs.

Halfway through dinner, he couldn’t take it anymore and threw down his silverware, standing and coming around the table to kiss you roughly. You pulled him into your lap and began unbuttoning his shirt as his lips made their way to your neck and collarbone, palming your breasts through the fabric of your blouse.

“Bedroom?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh, gods, please,” He wheezed back, and you lifted him, carrying him to your room. He was heavier than he looked, but he was still light enough to carry a short distance. The both of you fell heavily on the bed with you on top of him. He pulled your blouse off just as you unbuttoned the last button and tugged the hem of his shirt out of his pants. He rolled you, straddling your legs as he undid your pants and helped you get them off.

Undressing each other took no time at all, and you lay back on your pillow as he kissed his way down your stomach. The pressure of his tusks pressed against your skin was like small charges, electrifying your body. His hands massaged your thighs and opened you up as he got lower, his long nails poking you slightly as he went.

“You’re okay with this, right?” He asked softly, his thumbs rubbing circles so very close to your swollen entrance. “I’m not moving to fast, am I?”

“If you’re moving too fast, I am, too,” You said. “It’s okay. Trust me, I’m perfectly happy with how things are going right now.”

He chuckled. “Just checking,” He replied before lowering himself down. His tongue licked one long strip from bottom to top before the pointed tip of it circled your clit, flicking it once or twice to make you whimper. Then he licked his thumb and used it to rub your bud up and down while he pushed his tongue inside you, moaning against the skin, contracting it against that sweet spot. You cried out and gripped his hair, rocking your hips back and forth.

Your breasts shuddered with every quivering breath that escaped your lips as he took his time pleasuring you. He was a little rusty, but he was more than happy to take direction, and your mind blanked as a rush of ecstasy washed through your body. You were completely unable to control the sounds that came out of you.

You lay on your pillow looking down at him as he got up on his knees, pushed your legs back, and lined himself up with your body, slowly pushing his cock inside, groaning and shutting his eyes.

“Oh, gods,” He whispered. “That’s so good. You feel incredible.”

“I could say the same to you,” You replied breathlessly. He wasn’t long, but definitely girthy and stretched you open pretty wide without being uncomfortable.

He opened his eyes and looked right at you, as if confirming that you wanted this. You bit your lip and fluttered your lashes a bit in a way you hoped looked appealing. He smiled and began to thrust, bending to kiss your belly and breasts. He gripped your hips hard and slapped his body against yours pretty hard with each thrust. It was exhilarating and you pressed your ankles into his buttocks to drive him faster.

He definitely took the hint, and your bedframe was smacking the wall with the intensity of his movements. Time completely blurred and it was as if the two of you were in a bubble in which nothing could enter in or leave until you both were sated. You couldn’t remember if any words were said from that moment on, whether by you or him, and fell into the fog of the best sex of your entire life.

You weren’t sure if you fell asleep or passed out, but there was definitely a moment were you simply weren’t conscious anymore. When you came back to the living world, a soft morning light was filtering in through the curtains of your windows. Pevik was asleep against you, his head on your shoulder and an arm around your waist. He looked adorable sleeping. You had thought to extricate yourself to start breakfast, but you woke him.

“Good morning,” You said as he began to blink blearily.

“It is a most excellent morning,” He said, smiling his toothy smile. “Last night was… beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I think you’ve spoiled me for any other woman.”

“Well, hopefully, you won’t be needing another one,” You said. “In fact…” You grabbed your phone from your bedside table and clicked open the app.

“What are you doing?”

“Uninstalling it,” You said. “I’ve got you now. I don’t need it anymore.”

His grin widened. “You know what? You’re right.” He retrieved his phone from his pants pocket and uninstalled the app as well. “It served it’s purpose. No point in wasting the memory space.”

You lay back down on the bed with him propped up on one arm, looking down at you.

“I’m glad you decided to give me a chance,” He said to you, kissing your shoulder.

“I’m glad I tried that blind date thing,” You replied. “It’s hard to believe that if I had clicked a different button, we may never have met.”

“Life is funny that way,” He said.

You smiled softly at him and gave him a sweet kiss. “Right now, life is telling me we need waffles.”

“It’s important to listen to messages when we receive them,” He said magnanimously, then chased you into the kitchen, tickling you as you went.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #OkCryptid #Goblin #Dating App #Monster Boyfriend #Pevik #Mxnsterbabe

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kiara-carrera · 3 years

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34. Having them as a background/lockscreen with Leah & JJ?

NO BECAUSE I WAS PRAYING SOMEONE WOULD ASK FOR THIS ONE SO THANK YOU FOR FULFILLING MY DREAMS

having them as your lock screen/background: leah + jj

By the time Leah’s eyes fluttered open, the sun was already beginning to set. The blinds on the windows weren’t shuttered fully, letting the last bit of evening light stream into the room, painting orange-y gold stripes across everything in its wake. Her body felt heavy, thick with just broken sleep, her eyelids like little lead weights struggling to function.

A few blinks and a half-stifled yawn were all it took for her to blearily peer around the room. She’d spent the day at the Chateau with JJ and now that she was able to pick out her surroundings as the pull out couch in the living room, she figured that she must have fallen asleep at some point.

They’d had plans to go surfing, their days off from work matching up for the first time in two weeks, but they’d gotten rained out before they could even leave. A bolt of lightning and a crack of thunder to follow had been the final nail in the coffin.

It hadn’t been all bad — John B was out working for most of the day, having picked up some oddball jobs around the island taking care of some Kook’s property. That had left the Chateau to just Leah and JJ and whatever they chose to get up to.

In no particular order, it had been complaining about the rain, raiding the fridge for snacks, a very intense wrestling match for the last cookie in the cabinet that had ended up with JJ making a crude joke about being pinned down, smoking the last of the weed JJ had gotten off his cousin Ricky, and a whole lot of making out. Leah couldn’t exactly what the last thing had been that led them to be passed out on the couch, but she was pretty sure it involved cuddling if the heavy arm draped across her waist had anything to say about it.

JJ’s face was nuzzled into the crook of her neck, half-buried in her hair as his short little breaths tickled the skin of her shoulder. She couldn’t see his face and didn’t want to risk turning back and waking him up just to look at him, but she could already picture the content little expression he’d be wearing. The thought made her smile a little.

He was always peaceful when he slept — well, at least, he was peaceful when he slept with her. There were numerous times over the years where she caught him fidgeting and turning over every five minutes when he slept alone, but he’d never been like that with her, sleeping soundly like a rock. Whether he was holding her or, the more likely option, she was holding him, he’d always sleep well, face free of the little wrinkle he sometimes got between his brows.

Sighing happily, she let her hand drift down to where JJ’s was slumped against her, slipping her fingers between his as she readjusted her position on the pillow. Leah was all for falling back to sleep, dealing with dinner and going home later if it meant getting more time relaxing with her boyfriend.

Just as her eyes started to slip close, a bright flash of light in front of her startled her back awake. Squinting a bit, she could see where they’d tossed their phones earlier on the couch beside them, JJ’s lighting up with a few notifications.

Yawning, Leah gently slipped her hand off of JJ’s, her hand patting across the bed for his phone almost blindly through her bleary, sleep-ridden vision. John B’s name was the first thing she noticed, a few new messages about how he was getting off early and was planning on bringing some pizza back home for the two of them, which was nothing out of the ordinary.

What did catch her eye though, just as she was about to shoot him a message to get enough for three and that she’d spot him some cash if he got some garlic knots as well, was the semi blurred image of JJ’s lock screen behind the notifications.

Leah wasn’t sure when JJ had changed the standard preset factory wallpaper, but she knew for a fact that whatever she was managing to make out behind John B’s texts was not it. The majority of the image was blocked, only the bottom half of a person in a bikini left somewhat visible.

What in the world ... she thought to herself, eyes narrowing in confusion.

She swiped her thumb across the screen, getting rid of the notifications with the intent to get to them later. When the last one was deleted, the full picture JJ had set as his lock screen was no longer obstructed or blurred. Leah wasn’t exactly sure what she had been picturing she’d find, but it most definitely wasn’t what she was met with.

A picture of herself that she’d never seen before was smiling back at her. Leah could recognize the marsh in the background and the back end of the Pogue where she was seated, dressed in her favorite yellow daisy printed bikini that had cost a little too much, a wide smile on her face as a can of Natural Light was held precariously in her hand. She wasn’t looking directly at the camera, the photo somewhat candid as she appeared to be laughing at something behind the person taking the picture.

The screen went black but she was quick to click it back on, once again staring at herself. Her cheeks felt warm as the reality of the situation set in, a pleasant flush that complimented the sudden fast pace of her heartbeat.

He’d made her his lock screen and she felt a smile threaten to break across her face at the pure surprise of it all.

There were things that JJ was and things that he wasn’t. A mild kleptomaniac, a fierce friend, a scrappy fighter, her best friend, and a damn good boyfriend if her biased opinion meant anything — those were things he was. But the kind of boyfriend that made his significant other his phone’s background? Yeah, that seemed like it bordered more along the lines of cheesy romcom shit that he’d make fun of.

Hell, they barely even took pictures together. There were the occasional Snapchats they’d take lying in bed goofing around late at night and there were some pictures in her bedside table from when they were younger, crinkled at the corners. And she had some pictures that Kie had managed to snap at the last second before either noticed, a few candids of them being “disgustingly adorable” as their friend had put it.

Any other photos she had of JJ were just of him. Some were of him doing stupid shit that she compiled over the years, sometimes with John B or Pope making cameos. Some were the Snaps he’d send her that she deemed either dumb enough or hot enough to be screenshotted (which was always followed up by a teasing text message from him that would get a prompt middle finger emoji in reply).

She wouldn’t be surprised if he had pictures of her on his phone, more than likely of her dumb Snapchats she didn’t want screenshots taken of (she knew for a fact he had the picture of her ugly crying to a Disney movie she watched a month ago because he’d started using it as a meme when texting her). But she wasn’t really sure how many pictures he’d realistically keep of her.

JJ wasn’t romantic in any traditional sense. Making someone their wallpaper just seemed very out of place in their relationship. So yeah, she was definitely thrown for a loop seeing herself on his phone, partially obscured by the clock displaying the late hour.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, though. Leah wasn’t anywhere near complaining. She was mildly confused, but it was a happy little surprise for her as warmth flooded her chest, another bout of pure adoration for the boy behind her at the sweet little gesture he’d done in secret.

Biting down on her lip to contain the wide grin on her face, she tapped in JJ’s ridiculous passcode (yes, it was 42069 for anyone wondering), replying to John B about extra pizza and garlic bread. A thumbs up was sent in response, leading Leah to lock the phone and toss it back beside her own where she’d found it.

Shuffling in JJ’s arms, Leah managed to gently nudge his head from her neck so she could turn herself around until she was facing him. He was still asleep, gentle little breaths escaping him. It was hard not to look at him and have her heart swell. Absentmindedly, her hand drifted up, fingers running through his hair as she silently admired him. She’d just found such a simple little thing that he’d done, but nothing was stopping her insides from melting and becoming all gooey over the boy in front of her.

That was just something so uniquely JJ, the ability to have her just become a puddle from the tiniest sweet gesture. Most of them were always unexpected — she’d been his best friend longer than she’d been his girlfriend and not once had she ever really imagined him being as soft as he was when it was just them alone, but she appreciated every second of it.

She’d looked happy and carefree in that picture on his phone and there was just a rush of emotions knowing he thought the picture was good enough to want to see it every time he went for his phone. It might have been dumb, but it made her feel pretty in a way she normally didn’t and adored in a way she’d only ever seen in fairytales or movies.

“Keep staring like that and it’s gonna cost you,” JJ mumbled suddenly, his tired voice startling her just a bit. One of his eyes was opened just a smidge, a sleepy smug grin spreading across his lips as he caught her eyeing him. “I’ll give you a discount for being hot, though.”

A laugh escaped her, eyes rolling as JJ began tugging her closer into him, head falling to her neck again as he pressed a kiss to the skin of her jaw.

“John B’s on his way home,” she whispered to him, gentle as she brushed back some of his hair from his forehead. “He’s bringing pizza.”

He paused in his ministrations, turning his head to peer up at her. “Did you tell him to get garlic knots?”

“The knots have been secured.”

An appreciative groan left him, another kiss pressed to her throat. “You’re the fucking best.”

She giggled again, happily squirming against him as he returned to kissing every spare inch of skin he could find on her neck and jawline. He was already a bit of an attention whore when they were alone, but sleepy JJ was a whole other level of cuddly and affectionate, a side of him that was reserved only for Leah.

They fell into silence, JJ still leaving little open mouth kisses on her skin, his hand drifting down to rub the exposed strip of skin between her shirt and shorts. The movement was comforting, her heart fluttering even more as she fiddled with his hair.

“J?”

“I know,” he mumbled against her neck, not stopping his movements. “No hickeys where your dad can see.”

“What? No — wait, actually yes, but that’s not what I was gonna ask ... when did you take that picture of me?”

He paused once again, although this time it seemed more like he froze against her. Leah pursed her lips together, trying her best not to laugh as he awkwardly asked, “What picture?”

Pulling herself back a bit, Leah gave him a knowing look. “The one of me on your lock screen.”

JJ groaned, eyes squeezing shut. The thing about JJ was it took a whole lot to embarrass him. He took most things in stride, letting everything roll off his back. More often than not, he was the one saying things to embarrass other people — usually Leah. Whether they were jokes or dumb innuendos, JJ was the one dishing it out and if something actually did manage to embarrass him, there was a fifty-fifty shot you wouldn’t even know.

But right now, Leah could see a rush of discomfort wash over him as he was caught red-handed being a softie. She thought it was cute.

“Kie took it a few weeks ago,” JJ replied after a moment of thought, slightly sheepish as he began fiddling with a lock of her hair. “Asked her to send it to me.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Saw her take it. I don’t know, you looked nice. Liked looking at it.”

His words were brief, but the simple thought behind it made her heart speed up again. JJ wasn’t good with words and emotions, something she knew from their years as just friends, something even he’d told her himself. He wasn’t good with words, but he was great with actions. There were hundreds of little things she could think of that were just purely JJ’s way of showing that he cared. This was one of them and while his reasoning wasn’t the most articulate, Leah’s heart felt like it was going to fucking burst.

“If it’s weird, I can change it.”

JJ’s words caught her off guard, her head shaking rapidly. “What? No, no. I don’t care. It’s sweet,” she told him. And then, almost as an afterthought, she softly added, “Makes me feel pretty.”

Even in his sleep-induced haze, eyes still not quite focused in the dim late evening sun streaming through the blinds, JJ still squinted at her in confusion. “You are pretty.”

Yup, there goes her fucking heart.

She smiled softly at him, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. Leah could feel him smile against her, his hand still twisting her hair around his finger.

They laid like that for another moment, before a smug little grin crossed Leah’s lips. “So I guess this means you’ve officially earned your simp card.”

JJ groaned at the ruined moment, rolling away from her to flop onto his back. Eyes narrowed, he firmly told her, “I am not a simp.”

“You totally fucking are,” Leah chided. Laughing, she shifted around the couch until she was sitting up. Swinging a leg over him, she promptly deposited herself in his lap, sitting on top of him while he continued to pout at her like a child. Teasingly, she added, “Looks to me like someone has a big fat crush on me.”

“I’m tossing your ass on the floor.”

“I’m sure you will,” she told him dryly, grinning as she swept her hair over one shoulder before leaning down to kiss him.

#asks #fluff prompts #mayson #seize the droid

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