#i really had to squint and wait for the light to catch on those tiny sticks in order to see em | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veronicaphoenix · 28 days

Text

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Epilogue | Words: 16.4k

Author's note: Get yourselves a few cups of coffee ready (or tea, for those who are more into it or have an addiction like myself) because this is super long and it's full of sweetness, fluff, and horny men utterly in love with their girl.

This takes place a year and a half after part 3.

Tags & trigger warnings: polyamorous relationship, three people totally in love with each other that go on a very-much-deserved vacation, a bit of implied angst at the beginning, but mostly kinky men, men tied-up, sexual content including p in v (unprotected), oral (both m. and f. receiving), face-sitting, accidental biting, light choking, implied anal sex, dirty talk, praise kink, (a lot of kinks actually, if you start squinting), and probably another bunch of things that I'm forgetting because this epilogue is really long, so forgive me.

This is dedicated to @blessedwithabadomen because without her, half of this fic would probably not exist. Thank you for your constant support and love on this work, and for helping me sort out the writing for the last parts of this story, and for your reassurance whenever I was drowning in self-doubt 🥹 Also, please, if you haven't, go check out her story: In love with the mess. You will truly not be disappointed, and it's just about to get so so so good! Couldn't feel more blessed and thankful for the effort and dedication she's putting into that work ✨ Thank you, L. 🤍

A year and a half later

London, United Kingdom

Heathrow Airport was buzzing with activity when our plane touched down from LAX in the late afternoon.

Noah and I had purposely booked a night flight to ease our jetlag once we hit the UK. It was one of those rare times we were traveling purely for some well-deserved vacation, a break from the hectic schedules of work and touring with Bad Omens. But despite spending the night in the plane, Noah was desperate to unclip his seat belt, get out of the airport with a strong coffee in hand, get to the hotel, and throw himself on the bed. Trying to catch some sleep on the flight was always a struggle for him with his long frame squished into those tiny seats. And I wasn't exactly well-rested either; but I was too excited to see Oliver.

Our last time together —the three of us— had been nearly two months back in the US at a festival where Bring Me The Horizon and Bad Omens were playing. Even though we were all committed to the relationship and always managed to make time for each other —traveling back and forth whenever possible—, those chance encounters were always a bonus and we enjoyed them all the same.

We were still figuring out how to deal with the distance. BMTH had been around for a while, so Oliver had more freedom to move from one place to another, hence why we had been talking about him moving over to the States. We had, in fact, checked some houses in different neighborhoods a while ago, but we hadn’t decided anything yet, beginning with the fact that we had a budget and the houses we saw exceeded it, especially the one I fell in love with. Moving to the UK ourselves wasn't really on the cards, not with Bad Omens still climbing their way to the top and Noah’s and I’s residence being in the America.

For the past couple of months, we'd been counting down the days until we could see Oliver again. Noah wasn’t very vocal about it, but he was just as eager as I was. Right now, however, he was probably just thinking about grabbing the hotel room key and crashing out in bed for a solid night's sleep. The streets of London could wait for us until next morning.

Despite how good things were now, there had been tough days, of course.

When the UK NextGen tour ended, Oliver wasted no time in buying a plane ticket to join us for the last week of Bad Omens' tour across Europe. However, once the end approached, the farewell was imminent. Noah and I were eager to return home. He was obviously more exhausted than the rest of us. He lacked hours of sleep, and his body was beginning to feel the strain.

The farewell was bittersweet. There were tears and hugs that lingered too long. What hurt the most was witnessing the final embrace between Noah and Oliver.

During the time we spent together in Europe, their relationship had grown significantly. The fact that the three of us were in a polyamorous relationship played a big part, but it also seemed like they had found each other after a long time as friends. On one occasion, during one of Bad Omens' day off in Europe, I found the two of them napping in the hotel room when I had slipped away to the nearest Starbucks for a Caramel Macchiato. The sight of them lost in their dreams, cuddled up next to each other in bed, was so tender that it felt like my heart would burst. I kept a picture of that moment stored safely on my phone.

Nevertheless, however peaceful that moment was, there were hard moments that had to happen for us to be where we stood right now. There was jealousy, of course. While I never stopped feeling loved by both of them, even when they had their moments and spent hours away from me, focused on their work and making music together, the feeling wasn't the same for Oliver and Noah. It was inevitable because an ocean separated us, and at some point they started feeling that I spent more time with the other. Their heated argument in Oliver’s house the previous summer had thankfully resolved this issue, regardless of both ending up sleeping on the sofa. The good thing about that week in Sheffield was that the drop that spilled the cup killed two birds in one go, resolving the tension that had been building between Noah and Oliver because they refused to acknowledge that they wanted each other the same way they wanted me.

The image of both of them angry was not a pretty one. Seeing them unleash those demons on stage could be very fun and exciting, but when it was at home, it wasn't pleasant at all. Luckily, we were in a much better place right now and that was part of the past. After that heated fight that nearly got physical, things got so much better. During that trip, we canceled the plans we had for the few days we had left in Sheffield, and decided to spend them holed up at Oliver's house, focusing on resolving our issues, insecurities, and fears, and making up for the lack of affection from the previous days. The reconciliation was so effusive that every time after discussing doubts and possible conflicts that might arise and the solution to these, we ended up having wild sex, and by the time our time together came to an end, we had blessed every corner and nook of Oliver's house, we had used up three boxes of condoms, and we had left the marks of our hands and knees on glass, furniture, and windows.

This time, a year later, the plan was to embark on a road trip to the Lake District, where Oliver had booked a chalet. Sheffield was on the way, so we would make a quick stop to pick up Luna. But first, we were to stay in London for three days. I had booked tickets to the Jack the Ripper Museum and to the Harry Potter studios, and I wanted to get to know the city a bit better, so I had planned a route along the Thames and through Camden Town.

The moment I spotted Oliver standing right outside the arrival gates at the airport, his smile widened, mirroring mine. Leaving Noah with the luggage, I hurried over to him, and he caught me in his arms. I wrapped my limbs around him, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth and every other thing offered by his sole being.

“Hi, love,” he greeted.

“Hi,” I responded, giving him a gentle kiss. “I missed you.”

“So have I,” Noah chimed in from behind, his voice sounding a tad annoyed as he maneuvered the trolley laden with our suitcases. “I’m the one that needs to be held, by the way.”

With a laugh, I disentangled myself from Oliver and watched as he closed the distance to Noah. Their embrace was tight, their kiss passionate, and I couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“Long flight?” Oliver inquired.

“Just like every other time, but it’s not the flight that’s the issue,” Noah replied.

“It’s the long legs,” I interjected.

“We’ll book you a masseur once we’re at the hotel,” Oliver suggested, wrapping his arm around Noah’s shoulders.

I furrowed my brow at the suggestion.

“Noah doesn’t need a masseur,” I stated, feeling offended. Stepping back slowly as we started to move towards the exit, I kept my eyes on them. They both seemed to find my reaction amusing, their grins widening. I couldn’t help but soften, a smile betraying my feigned offense.

Oliver reached out and tousled my hair, which I didn’t mind. After the long flight, I was already a mess. I sidled up next to him, tilting my head to kiss his jaw as the three of us made our way out of the airport.

As soon as we stepped into the hotel room in London, Noah dropped his bags and collapsed face-first onto the extra-large bed. Following suit, Oliver removed Noah’s shoes from his feet, which dangled over the edge of the bed. It always struck me how Noah managed to make everything seem small in comparison.

Oliver removed Noah’s socks and began massaging his tired feet, paying no mind to the fact that both Noah and I desperately needed a shower. Despite offering to make him coffee or order food, Noah declined, already on the brink of sleep. Before drifting off, however, he mentioned that I must be hungry and suggested Oliver and I go out to eat while he took a nap.

With that, Oliver and I left Noah to rest (ensuring to hang the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door) and set out to find a nearby spot for a quick meal. Despite the weariness of our journey, the stroll was a welcome relief for my legs. As we walked, Oliver would occasionally reach out to take my hand, his touch sending a warm flutter through me. He would also point out little details of the cityscape that he knew I would appreciate while filling me up with updates from work and about his family.

Eventually, we settled for a vegan cheese roll with falafels from a quaint street vendor. As we sat on a bench, heleaned in close, brushing a strand of hair away from my face with gentle fingers. The simple act sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but lean into his touch, feeling the weight of the journey melt away in his presence.

By the time we finished eating, my head was resting on Oliver's shoulder, and I could feel myself drifting off, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city. We felt like carefree teenagers who had just escaped from class but weren’t quite ready to head home yet. Despite the usual surge of excitement that swept over me whenever the three of us were reunited in the same city, my body felt drained. No matter how hard I tried to summon energy from within, each bite of food seemed to weigh me down further, and Oliver’s constant attentiveness, his arms wrapping around me at every opportunity, only intensified the sensation.

“How is he doing?” He asked suddenly, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of my skull. He was referring to Noah.

In an instant, memories flooded back, a torrent of emotions crashing against the walls of my mind. Bad Omens was on a deadline to get their new record ready before summer’s end, and the pressure had ensnared Noah in a relentless grasp. Consumed by his passion, as typical of him, he had neglected his mental health, and us. Noah had moved into my apartment during the summer before, but the moment he started working intensively in new music, he had practically moved back to the confines of the house he shared with Jolly, Jesse, and Orie. What began as weekday absences soon stretched into weekends lost, then an entire month slipped through and we hadn’t spent not even one night in each other’s arms. He was going to the gym and keeping track of his diet, but the problem was that he was not taking a break. Of course, we were having sex, but sometimes it felt devoid of passion, as if it was a job that had to be done and left me adrift in a sea of longing. He had also started to miss Oliver’s calls, especially the ones after I had talked to Oliver myself and I had cried over the phone, asking him to please come to Los Angeles or get me on a flight to England.

“Much better,” I murmured, drawing in a breath heavy with the weight of the obstacles we’d had to overcome the previous months.

Memories of the night in which I couldn’t hold it any longer flooded my senses. I had been in Noah’s house, waiting for an hour for a date that he had obviously forgotten about. When tears started cascading down my cheeks, Jolly and Jesse intervened and got his ass out of the studio. Noah’s eyes were red and his hair greasy.

“I guess seeing me having a breakdown did something to him. He looked shaken. Scared, even. And after that…” I sighed, relieved. “He's trying harder now, focusing on everything else that also matters.” Us. “He talked to his therapist and he’s managing things in a different way. He’s going to be okay. And we’ll be ok, too.”

Looking into Oliver’s earthy eyes, I could see his relief. He had been absent most of those difficult times, and he’d been worried about Noah and about me, his concern also getting the worst of him at times. At some point he’d been this close to dropping his own job stuff and getting on a plane to come be with me and give Noah a good spanking. Thankfully, it never came to that. Things got better. Now, we were reunited again, the three of us. We were better, trying every day, and supporting each other through our imperfections.

As we made our way back to the hotel room an hour later, I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of Noah’s favorite coffee. I hadn’t been able to resist a few sips, the familiar taste being a comforting distraction from my fatigue.

Noah was awake and fresh from a shower when we entered the room, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a towel that barely covered him from the waist down, his damp hair clinging to his temples and forehead. Even though I had witnessed this sight countless times before and could conjure it up in my mind whenever I pleased, it never failed to stir something primal within me.

“I brought you coffee,” I managed to say, my throat feeling suddenly dry as I handed him the cup.

“My angel,” he replied, his lips curling into a grateful smile as he took the Starbucks cup from my hand and brought it to his lips.

His gaze shifted to Oliver as he sipped the coffee. Oliver approached him, passing by me with a mischievous half-smile, and ran a finger down Noah’s chest, trailing down to his navel. Before he could say anything, Noah’s free hand shot out, gripping Oliver’s wrist, preventing him from venturing any further.

“Let me finish my coffee first,” Noah murmured, his voice low and husky.

Oliver responded with a throaty laugh, the sound sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through the room.

I couldn’t find rest until nightfall came. Despite my insistence that Noah and Oliver let me catch some much-needed sleep in bed while they entertained themselves on the sofa in the room, they conspired together to convince me otherwise. They argued that it would be better for me to expend the last of my energy and then enjoy a more restful deeper sleep.

As if our first night together each time we reunited was ever a night of rest, of course.

How naïve I was to entertain such notion, considering that I always allowed them to have their way with me both before and after dinner.

The first day in London was a whirlwind, leaving Noah and me feeling drained and struggling to regain our footing. The subsequent days, thankfully, unfolded at a gentler pace. We indulged in the luxury of sleeping in and enjoying breakfast in our room, accompanied by tender moments of cuddling, sweet kisses, and the occasional lustful touch.

While I briefly talked to my brother on the phone the second morning, Noah took out his MacBook from his bag and started working, which caused Oliver to scold him because we had all agreed that this vacation would be work-free. I couldn't help but shoot Noah a disapproving look, too, which quickly transformed into a gentle shoulder rub and a heartfelt conversation. I couldn’t stay mad at him for too long. I reminded him that he didn't need to be so hard on himself and that it was perfectly acceptable to disconnect from work for a while. Nothing would happen.

I understood, though, that part of Noah’s reluctance to let go stemmed from his deep-seated fear of everything that he had built crashing down the moment he stepped away from his responsibilities. For months —even years— I’d been trying to help him to get rid of this fear, but Noah’s stubbornness matched his dedication to his work. Bad Omens was everything to him. When he had nothing, he had the band. I knew I wasn’t the perfect role model in this regard, but I was making an effort to help him let go, offering some reassurance that morning in London as I massaged his tense shoulders and tempted him with the multitude of activities we could do during our time in the city.

I’d been to Camden Town before, but spending the day with Oliver and Noah proved to me much more fun and memorable. We lost ourselves in the maze of market stalls, where eccentric vendors tried to sell their stuff with infectious enthusiasm, and stumbled upon a booth selling quirky hats and accessories, where we tried on an assortment of those, collapsing into fits of laughter as we admired ourselves in the mirrors.

But the highlight of that day came when we stumbled upon a street performer—a magician with gloved hands and a twinkle in his eyes. He made us stop by pointing towards me insistently with a finger. I would have ignored it weren’t it for Oliver, who pulled me, and per consequent, Noah, who has holding onto my other hand, to stand in front of the man. He took out a deck of cards from his pocket, and without uttering a word, he made me choose one of them. I couldn’t see them for they were facing down. I didn’t take long to choose one and flip it around to be met with a card called the Ace of Pentacles. I raised an eyebrow, for I had no clue what it meant, and by the look on Oliver and Noah’s faces, they didn’t know, either.

For the first time, the magician spoke with a grin on his face.

“Something new will be offered to you, young lady.”

“Something new?” I repeated automatically.

Noah let go of my hand. When I turned to him, he was glaring at the man with a mix of suspicion and disbelief. The man moved his eyebrows up and down as he stared at Oliver and Noah. I followed the movement of his eyes, expecting either one of the boys to say something to me.

But they said nothing. Oliver handed the man a few coins and pulled me away from him. “What was that about?” I asked as he hurried me through the people crowding the alleyways.

“Just some street magic,” Oliver replied, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying a hint of unease.

Noah, still struggling to keep pace with Oliver’s determined strides, wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Yeah, just a gimmick,” he chimed in, his voice a soft murmur against my hair.

“He was definitely trying to tell me something.”

Oliver glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s just a street performer, love. They say things to entertain.”

“He was probably just trying to keep the act interesting,” Noah added.

“That’s why you’re both trying so hard to dismiss his words?”

“That’s what you think we’re doing?” Noah replied.

“You’re being blatantly obvious.”

Oliver shared a look with Noah and then shook his head. I slapped his chest, demanding his attention. He replied by wrapping his arms around me and muttering his next words between gritted teeth.

“Just let it go, babydoll. Don’t be so stubborn and let things be.” They were definitely hiding something, but it was also obvious that they were not going to say anything. “How about we grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

The idea of food was a welcome distraction, and I nodded eagerly in agreement.

Together, we weaved our way through the maze of food stalls, the tantalizing aroma of various cuisines wafting through the air. We settled in when we found a free spot, and the tension seemed to dissipate.

But try as I might, I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that the cryptic words from that man had a meaning, maybe something that somehow involved Oliver and Noah, and perhaps even me. I had more reason to believe that when I caught them talking about it again after they thought I had wandered to a vintage toys stall in the underground area of Camden Town.

“That was some creepy shit back there, man,” Noah said to him. “How the hell did he know?”

“He didn’t know anything,” Oliver retorted, trying to sound confident in his words, but he failed miserably, and he knew it.

“Dude,” Noah replied, insistent. “I saw the look on your face.”

“Well, I prefer to ignore it, or better: let’s get her s—…”

I couldn’t grasp the rest of the conversation because a group of teenagers accidentally pushed me and pulled me further from Noah and Oliver, dragging me to the opposite side of the shop with useless apologies and giggles. I sent them a sullen look and made my way out, looking for my boys.

I found them after a few minutes, coming out from a packed shop in a corner that was surrounded from every corner, top, bottom, and sides, by merchandising from different movies, series, and bands.

Noah was putting his wallet back in the front pocket of his jeans while Oliver carried a quite big box. I raised an eyebrow.

“What did you buy?” I asked when I was in front of them. The three of us moved slightly to the side to let the tourists move through the narrow alleys.

“Something for you,” Oliver said. “Noah told me you’ve spent the last couple of weeks watching Chucky so…”

“We got you a Tiffany,” Noah finished as Oliver faced the front of the box to me.

I blinked as the replica of Tiffany Valentine stared back at me with her singular smile. She was dressed in her wedding gown and a biker’s jacket, and she looked just as malicious as she was in the movies.

“Oh, my God, guys,” I held the box, keeping it at a fair distance to examine the details of the doll. “This must have costed a fortune. What were you thinking?!”

“That crazy guy back there said that something would be offered to you so… I guess he was right, after all,” Noah replied.

I licked my lips and looked at them with a face that said, “seriously?”. But how could I neglect the joy at the fact that they had thought about gifting me a collectible of this magnitude?

“Where are we going to keep her? In the room? You’ll both get freaked out in the middle of the night if you get up to go to the bathroom.”

“We’ll go together, holding hands,” Oliver joked.

And with our laughs mixing with the sounds of the market, we moved forward.

Come evening, we made our way back to the city center and enjoyed a warm copious meal in a restaurant in Covent Garden.

The next day, walking along the banks of the Thames, hand in hand with my boys, the whispering breeze brushing against our skin, we sipped hot chocolates. I was holding Oliver’s hand while relishing in the drink when I noticed Noah walking angrily at a certain distance. I let go of Oliver’s hand, earning a shocked look from him.

“You can’t both hold one of my hands and still expect me to hold a cup of hot chocolate. Don’t be so dramatic.”

With our voices mingling with the voices of other tourists and pedestrians, we walked the long way from Westminster to the Tower Bridge, sharing stolen kisses. While in London, we also hopped on the Jack the Ripper tour,shivering with excitement and clinging to each other as we delved into the city's darker past. Then, to lighten the mood, we ventured to the Harry Potter Studios, where Oliver couldn't resist teasing Noah relentlessly, suggesting how good he would look with Harry Potter’s glasses and a tunic, with nothing underneath. Noah's flushed cheeks and playful slaps on Oliver's chest only fueled the laughter that echoed through the magical halls.

The day we left London in Oliver’s Range Rover had me feeling a bit jittery, especially after we made our pit stop in Sheffield for lunch and to pick up Luna before heading to Cumbria.

While I busied myself with packing groceries that Oliver had in the fridge and that would expire soon, I overheard the boys chatting upstairs. Being the naturally curious (and maybe slightly nosy person that I was when it came to those two), I had the intuition that they were discussing something they didn’t want me to hear. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d done that, after all. Plus, I still remembered that one time they argued and roared like lions to each other in this very room, accusing each other of hogging all my time.

I climbed the stairs, Luna trotting faithfully behind me with her tail wagging happily. When I peeked into Oliver’s study —a spot where he and Noah often locked themselves to work together—, I found them both bent over the computer screen, looking all serious. But as they noticed me, Oliver quickly closed his laptop.

“Is something wrong?” I inquired casually.

“Nothing,” they replied simultaneously, their responses lacking conviction.

Noah brushed past me, planting a quick kiss on the crown of my head before smoothly transitioning to ask about our trip preparations. It was clear that he was attempting to steer the conversation away.

“What were you talking about?” I pressed.

“Work,” Oliver replied tersely, his tone final. “I’m sorry. That was the last of it. We’ll stay away from all of it during the trip.”

You better, I wanted to reply.

However, I wasn’t entirely convinced, and not in regards to this last statement. Perhaps they were simply hashing out some night scenario that involved sex toys and all those things they liked to use when the three of us were in bed. The thought momentarily eased my apprehension, though a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hiding something.

The trip to Cumbria took about two hours from Sheffield. We made a brief stop in a rural village to allow Luna a chance to stretch her legs while we refueled the car and enjoyed a cup of coffee and a snack.

Arriving at the chalet by Ullswater Lake just after five in the afternoon, the warm glow of the summer sun still lingered, promising us a few more hours of daylight to enjoy. After receiving the keys from the chalet host and familiarizing ourselves with the property, we decided to take a walk by the lakeside and play with Luna, who seemed even more static than the three of us at the prospect of spending a few days away from home.

The serenity of the countryside quickly enveloped us, offering a respite from the hustle and bustle of our lives in the city. While Oliver and Noah unloaded the luggage, I decided to stay on the porch, basking in the new surroundings and peaceful ambiance. All I could hear was the birdsong, the rustle of leaves, and the gentle lapping of water against the shore.

“Doll, you comin’ in?” Oliver’s voice broke through my moment of enchantment as he enveloped me in his arms.

“Yeah,” I replied with contentment, leaning into his touch.

“We’re going to have a good time here,” he mused.

I hummed in agreement, savoring the intimacy of the moment and wrapping my arms around my middle, where his kept me securely pressed against his chest.

“Especially our pretty boy back there,” he teased, casting a playful glance over his shoulder towards the inside of the house, where Noah was.

“Thank you for doing this for him,” I acknowledged.

“I know he needs it the most, but this is for all of us,” he explained, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his voice as he recalled the challenging months leading up to this moment. “We haven’t had proper holidays the three of us together since… forever.”

“We’ve been dating for a year and a half,” I reminded him, unable to suppress a smile at his melodramatic flair.

He responded with a mock growl, his actions sparking laughter between us.

“Come on, let’s go in. You’re going to love the bedroom.”

He led the way inside.

The interior of the house had a rustic charm, with wooden planks adorning the walls and ceiling. The sofa faced the towering windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, offering an uninterrupted vista of the swaying trees and the tranquil expanse of the lake, its surface shimmering in the dappled sunlight. There was also a stone fireplace (not that we would use it, but it added to the coziness of the house). Adjacent to the living room, the kitchen lay open and inviting. Noah had left the food bag on the countertop, next to a water-filled vase that held a bouquet of white flowers that the host had placed right that morning, as a welcoming sign.

There was one guest bathroom and, inside the suite, a main one with a bathtub. The suite had a grandiose plush bed dominating the space. Either Oliver or Noah had placed the Tiffany doll box in the middle of it, propped against the bunch of pillows that were calling to me.

Noah was crouched by the tall windows on the far end, taking out some stuff and clothes from his bag when Oliver and me made our way in.

“It’s practically begging you to dive in, isn’t it?” Noah chimed in from the floor, gesturing towards the bed. Opposite the bed, a large mirror hung on the wall, the reflective surface capturing the play of light and shadow that danced through the room.

Beside Noah, there was a cozy long divan. For an innocent instant, I conceived the idea of laying there with a book in my hands and a steamy cup of tea next to it, totally unaware that I would be propped there in all fours with no book nearby in less than twenty-four hours.

After the evening walk, we entertained ourselves preparing a light dinner meal that would suit everyone’s tastes. Balancing Oliver's vegan diet and Noah's muscle-building goals wasn't always easy, but we managed. I wasn’t too picky myself, so I was happy with whatever was on the menu.

With dinner done, we headed out to the porch overlooking the lake. Feeling witchy, I prepared a pot of lavender tea and served us a cup each. By eleven o’clock we were comfortably settled, wrapped in hoodies and blankets in the chairs provided. Noah was snug in one of his hoodies, but Oliver was barefoot, though. We talked for a while, going over through the activities that we would do while in Cumbria. The moment I noticed that the talk was steering back towards work-related topics, I brought back the talk about the house. We’d been thinking about moving in together and find a place in Los Angeles, and even though we had gone house hunting a few times, we couldn’t seem to agree on one house, and I had the nagging feeling inside of me that maybe Oliver and Noah were still not ready to take that step, even if we would spend half of the time away from each other with their tours and Oliver having his family and most of his life in England.

As the night deepened, our chatter gradually subsided, giving way to a peaceful silence that allowed me to take in the things I should be grateful for.

With a contented smile on my face, I looked at my boys one last time before allowing sleep to take over me. One of them lifted me into their arms and guided me into the house and to the bed. It didn’t matter which one it was. They both felt like home whenever I was tucked against their bodies.

They were home.

It was ten thirty in the morning when I came out from the bedroom, where I had been rummaging through my clothes looking for the swimming piece I had recently bought. My heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and concern as I found Noah seated on the sofa, his brow furrowed in a deep frown as he stared intently at his MacBook screen. I told him so many times to leave the laptop back at Oli’s house, but to hell if he would ever listen when it came to these things… Without a word, I approached him, my fingers finding his back and gently starting to massage his tense shoulders. A soft sight of contentment escaped his lips at the touch, but it was clear that the burdens weighing on his mind ran deeper than simple muscle tension.

Outside, the joyful sound of Oliver’s voice drifted in through the open door, accompanied by Luna’s excited barks as they played fetch by the water. Through the windows, I watched as Oliver, shirtless and with his hair all over the place, tossed the ball into the water, Luna running after it without hesitation and jumping into the lake.

A minute later, Oliver was in the water, too.

“Let’s go,” I said to Noah with encouragement, releasing his shoulders.

He turned his head to me with a dramatic pout. I just gave him a look and proceeded to lift his MacBook from his lap, placing it on the coffee table before taking Noah’s hand and guiding him towards the door.

Finally outside, Luna’s eager bark greeted us from the water. She emerged from the shore and trotted to us, her wet white fur glistening in the sunlight as droplets flew through the air. I reached out to pet her head, feeling the cool moisture against my skin, while Noah crouched down to squash her cheeks and shower her with affectionate whispers.

I shed the thin beach robe I wore and left it draped over the armrest of one of the wooden chairs that Oliver had moved to the deck earlier that morning. With my hair cascading down my back, I made my way to the edge, oblivious to the lingering stares of the two men, one behind me, the other one already in the water. I dipped my hand into the water before diving in headfirst.

As I submerged beneath the surface, the weight of the world seemed to lift from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of weightlessness and freedom. I swam further from the deck, distancing myself from Oliver. My limbs moved in harmony with the rhythm of the water. In the distance, the silhouette of another house peeked through the trees, a solitary boat resting on its landing. The only sounds were the distant barking of a dog that wasn’t Luna and the gentle rustle of leaves.

Just as I was about to start swimming back to where I had last seen Oliver, I found him and Noah already in the water, their smiles radiant in the sunlight as they swam towards me.

Noah dipped his head, and as he came back to the surface he shook his head, causing water from his hair to splash in my face. I shielded my face with my hands, laughing. In no time, he had me wrapped in his embrace, peppering my neck with kisses. I hugged him tightly with my arms and legs around him. Moments later, Noah gently nudged me towards Oliver, who pulled me close with a perfect smile.

With his hair being longer, Oliver's locks cascaded around his face. I lovingly pushed them back, tucking them behind his ears, and I couldn't help but laugh at how different he looked with his wet hair slicked back. He said something as he raised an eyebrow, but his words were drowned out by Luna's leap from the dock. With a tennis ball clutched in her mouth, she swam over to us. Noah grabbed the ball and threw it far, prompting Luna to paddle after it will all her might. For the next hour, we played with her, reveling in the simple joy of the morning. After the tumultuous year we had endured, both personally and professionally, this vacation felt like a much-needed oasis in the desert.

I felt a swell of pride, not just in myself, but in the two incredible men I was sharing my life with.

After a while, I found myself in Noah's arms again, letting him rock me side to side in the water, my head resting against his shoulder, my skin wrinkling from all the time we'd spent in the lake. Noah and Oliver were talking about a festival anecdote from the previous year in Milan, while Oliver absentmindedly toyed with Luna’s worn tennis ball. She was lounging lazily in the sun on the deck. But the boy’s conversation eventually dwindled into silence, a quietness that I only noticed when I felt Oliver’s chest against my back, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder. I smiled, nestled against Noah’s body.

Suddenly, Oliver’s hand, which had previously been resting on my waist, slid down to the seam of my bikini bottom, making me gasp. Noah was observing my reaction with a mischievous grin. Two seconds later, he deftly located the strings of my bikini top and skillfully untied the knot.

My questions about what they were doing went unanswered.

A wave of panic surged within me when the two pieces of clothing were removed from my body and I was suddenly naked in the water. I looked over my shoulder to Oliver only to find him swimming back towards the deck. Panicking, I looked at Noah. I was about to tighten my grip on him when he disentangled my limbs from his body, kissed me on the lips quickly, and also started swimming away from me.

“Guys?”

No reply.

“Guys!” I screamed, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure we were alone.

With no preamble, they got out of the water, meeting on the deck with my bikini pieces in hand, exchanging amused glances before turning their attention towards me, floating in the lake with wide eyes, trying to understand what the purpose of this was. Laughing, they headed towards the chairs, Oliver pausing at the outdoor shower to cleanse himself. Before turning on the water, he tossed my bikini bottom to Noah, who caught it in a swift movement of his arm.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered to myself as I watched Oliver enjoy his shower and Noah have fun examining my bikini with an interested look on his face, as if it was something he had never seen before.

Nervously, I kept glancing around me, aware that if someone decided to come out from those houses in the distance or some people in a boat drove past this place they would see me, for the water was clear enough to reveal my nudity.

This wasn’t fun. Or at least not until I realized they had no intention of returning my swimming suit. The spectacle was too engaging for them to give it up so soon.

I licked my lips in a nervous attempt at sorting out my options. As much as I enjoyed letting them do these things, they were pulling on my strings, and you know that saying ‘two can play at a game’? Well, three can play, too.

So, I swam my way back to the shore and climbed the ladder, letting the water cascade off my body, down my breasts and my legs. I stood at the edge for a moment to sweep my hair back, relishing in the stunned expressions on their faces as their eyes scanned my bare body on display.

Yes, they had expected me to stay in the water and beg for my bikini.

Without sparing them a glance, I walked confidently back to the house, grabbing my towel on the way and wrapping it around me. As I entered the house, I looked back one last time to see their mouths agape.

I stuck my tongue out at them and headed towards the shower in the bedroom’s bathroom.

It had not even been twenty minutes since I stepped into the bathroom to wash myself. While drying my hair, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, sporting a naughty smile. The dirty girl in me was just waiting for the provocation to pay off.

What took me by surprise was how quickly the anticipated scenario unfolded the moment I opened the bathroom door.

I wasn't even given time to look forward to the night.

Oliver and Noah were standing in the doorway leading to the bedroom, each casually leaning against one side, still wearing their trunks and their hair still slightly damp. They looked at me expectantly, wicked smiles playing on their lips.

It looked like a scene straight out of a movie, really. These things rarely happened in real life.

Knowing that minutes of pleasure awaited us –or perhaps hours (I was allowed to be optimistic)–, I provocatively slipped a finger into my mouth, teasingly nibbling on the tip while fluttering my eyelashes a couple of times.

Oliver's eyes traced a path up and down my figure, lingering on the expanse of my legs where the hem of Noah’s white t-shirt I had borrowed ended. Little did he know, I wasn’t wearing any panties, just like the time we attended my brother’s Jack engagement party. My mind had truly turned into a perverted thing. Just thinking about what we had done during that evening made me shiver with anticipation, imagining what could unfold today.

“Get on the bed.”

The command didn’t come from Oliver or Noah, bur from my own lips. The startled expressions on their faces made the courage it took me to assert myself like that in their presence totally worth it.

Noah arched an eyebrow.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” I replied, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto my face despite the efforts to maintain an air of determination and dominance. The situation was electrifying, fueling an adrenaline rush that promised to leave me grasping for air.

Oliver was the first to comply, albeit with a hint of reluctance, his gaze trailing me from the doorway to the expansive bed. He settled against the headboard, but I shook my head, silently motioning for him to lie down. Then, my attention turned to Noah.

“Noah?” My eyes met with a look that suggested he had a different idea of how things should unfold. I nearly rolled my eyes.

“Noah, could you please get on the bed?” I emphasized the ‘please’, hoping to appeal to his cooperation.

“Now that’s more like it,” he responded, finally acquiescing.

As I turned to retrieve something from the dresser where we had kept some of our stuff, I did roll my eyes. You might not be able to take the Dom out of Noah, but I was more than ready to keep trying, if only for the fun of it.

In the back of the top drawer, I found what I was looking for: two pairs of handcuffs. A smile played on my lips as I examined them before turning to face the guys.

They were both lying on the bed side by side, their heads slightly raised to watch me. Confusion tinged their expressions as they observed me standing there, the pair of handcuffs dangling from my fingers.

“What do you think you’re going to do with those?” Noah questioned as I approached him, taking his left hand and guiding it towards the bars of the bed’s headboard.

“It’s about time we turned the tables, don’t you think?” I replied, securing the first cuff, noticing how Noah’s expression was becoming strained.

“Baby, you don’t want to do this,” he protested.

“But you’re letting me, aren’t you?” I softened my voice, sweetening my tone.

Noah pursued his lips, a nervous twitch appearing in his jaw.

“I’d let you do anything. That doesn’t mean you have to take advantage of having me at your feet,” he argued.

“Don’t you think I deserve a little payback for you leaving me naked in the lake?”

“You didn’t seem too upset when you came out of the water, doll,” Oliver interjected, lounging back to enjoy the interaction between me and Noah.

“A woman has to learn to govern herself, especially is she’s with two perverts like you two.”

“I’m not a pervert,” Noah protested again.

Click. With both wrists now secured to the bed, from my position at the foot of the bed, the image looked tantalizing. But it was evident that Noah wasn’t comfortable not being the one in control. While my initial intent was merely revenge, I began to consider that perhaps this could end up helping Noah relax and let go. He was a control freak and a perfectionist, qualities I benefited from, but which could also burden him.

Noah tested the strength of the restraints, growing more frustrated as he realized his attempts were futile. The handcuffs were sturdy; they weren’t freaking toys.

I wasn’t too sure that Noah would withstand what I wanted to do to him without starting to plead for release, but it was worth a try.

“Dude, you are a perv,” Oliver said.

“Just because I enjoy sex and having fun during it doesn’t make me a perv,” Noah defended.

“Are you sure about that?” The other man challenged him.

“Absolutely. Call me whatever you want, just not a pervert.”

“Kinky lover?” I suggested.

“Hm. Yeah, that works for me,” He finally agreed.

Oliver’s laughter at the interaction ceased abruptly when I seized his wrist, securing his left hand alongside Noah’s right.

“What?” I spoke. “Did you think I was only going to tie up Noah? You took off my bikini bottoms,” I pointed out.

“Who’s laughing now, bastard?” Noah grunted.

Unlike Noah, Oliver submitted to being tied more readily, without making grumpy faces and pulling at the handcuffs. He simple observed with particular attention as I bound him.

To secure his left wrist, I had to climb onto the bed and pass one leg over his lap, kneeling over his shorts.

“Are you not wearing any underwear?” He suddenly exclaimed.

Immediately, Noah’s eyes also dropped to the space between my legs.

I hurried to fasten the handcuffs, then stepped off the bed, pulling the shirt down to cover myself.

“Are your trunks still wet? I better take them off,” I suggested.

“Yeah,” Oliver whispered, impatient and wide-eyed. “Take them off,” his words were accompanied by the not-so-subtle movement of his hips.

Noah, at his side, was growing increasingly hot and tense. He remained silent, only lifting his hips slightly when I indicated for him to do, allowing me to drop both their trunks to the floor.

To tease them a bit more, I stayed still for a moment, admiring their bodies, relishing in the sight of what they had between their legs.

Yeah, those were mine.

I licked my lips, alternating my gaze between the two. With the intensity of my stare, Oliver’s cock twitched slightly.

“Don’t move,” I instructed as I walked backwards towards the luggage.

“Is that some kind of joke?” Noah questioned, irritated.

I retrieved a tiny light blue lingerie set from my suitcase. I hadn’t planned on wearing it until the last night, but it seemed like debuting it now could be fun. I rushed to the bathroom and locked myself in to change.

I didn’t spend more than five minutes there, but Oliver and Noah were growing so impatient.

When I opened the door, I was nervous, but at least, seeing them both securely tied to the bed alleviated some of it.

Their complaints dissipated the moment they saw me. As much as I would have loved to revel in a delicious torture and watch them fight against the restraints, watch their cocks grow harder and harder just by watching me, and thinking of what they might do to me and what I was going to do to them, impatience was already taking its toll on me, and the butterflies in my stomach were dancing anxiously.

I climbed onto the bed and positioned myself between the two bodies, placing my hands on their thighs. I caressed them, warming the skin of their legs as well as the skin of my own hands.

I initiated the warm-up by kissing Oliver, a little reward for behaving. He responded hungrily, his roar muffled by the intensity of our kiss. Tracing my lips along his jaw and down his neck, I savored the sensation, eliciting withheld moans that mingled with the sounds of Noah’s struggles against his handcuffs.

I may have had only one mouth, but I had two hands.

I slid over to Noah, offering him a smile before pressing my lips to his. As I kissed and nibbled, my right hand trailed down Oliver’s chest, tracing the patterns etched into his skin from memory, reveling in the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. When I placed my palm face down, I could feel his heart racing.

Noah’s contentment, however, surprised me.

I had expected him to beg in a hoarse, choked voice to let him go, unable to bear being at my mercy, so mine was the surprise when instead, he asked me to touch him.

I repositioned myself, glancing at Oliver before complying with Noah’s request.

“Touch him, doll,” Oli said.

My left hand moved down Noah's chest, past his navel and through the dark pubic hair before reaching his throbbing member and encircling it with my fingers. Noah let out a sigh that held all the air he had been holding inside. I tugged at him at the same time that my mouth descended through his neck until my lips landed on one of his nipples. He sucked in a breath. His back arched a little, and I took that as a notice to use my tongue to toy with his nipple, nibble at it and suck on it, just the way he loved doing with mine.

“Fuck…”

That was a glorious sound.

I settled at the foot of the bed, and leaned down to caress the tip of Noah’s cock with my tongue. He tilted his head back, eyes closed. He was hard as a rock.

Beside him, Oliver wasn’t in much different condition, but his eyes were open, and he watched with lust and a fierce hunger the movements of my tongue, lips, and fingers on Noah's cock.

“Watch,” I told him, “because everything I'm doing to Noah I’ll do to you next.”

I loved Noah’s taste. It was a potent blend of masculine essence with a tinge of salty and earthly kick. A surge of pride swelled withing me each time I witnessed how deeply I aroused him. That look of total pleasure on his face? I did that.

With my mouth on his cock, Noah’s moans filled the room, resonating through the walls. The art of sucking him off was a dance I had mastered long ago, a rhythmic symphony orchestrated by the movements of my lips and tongue, the occasionally scrap of my teeth and a tortuous suction, guided by the music of Noah’s vocalizations.

However, I could sense he was holding back. A furrow appeared between his brows; his struggle evident as he strained against the handcuffs. After a few minutes, a vein in his neck began to swell. Next to him, Oliver muttered a curse, his own erection hurting for being neglected while his eyes couldn’t wander away from my ministrations on our pretty boy.

Soon, when I felt Noah tense in my mouth, on the brink of release, I withdrew.

“No!” He shouted, lifting his head in a rush. “Babe, what are you doing?” His tone was desperate, evident in the rapid rise and fall of his breath.

Running a finger across my lips, I moistened them before shifting my focus to Oliver. “It’s Oliver’s turn.”

“But— I didn’t come.”

“And you won’t. Not in my mouth. Not now.”

His brown eyes widened further as he watched me descend, mouth open and tongue out, towards Oliver’s cock, which was already glistening with precum.

“Goddammit, yes…” Oliver mumbled, smiling as he finally rested his head on the pillow, more than ready to succumb to the pleasure I was going to give him.

But as much as I wanted to recreate myself on him, and given that I’d assured him that I would repeat the same steps as I did on Noah, it was impossible. The spectacle I had put on with Noah’s cock had already pushed Oliver to the edge. If I were to repeat the same seductive dance with him, he would come in my mouth in less than a minute.

And I didn’t want that.

Oliver was more vocal than Noah, less inhibited in his desires. Louder. He welcomed me with complete abandonment.

He hadn’t yet fully engaged with the suction of my mouth when he strained against the handcuffs. As I lifted my head, I noticed that both he and Noah had their eyes closed and they were holding onto each other with their hands clasped together on the headboard.

How sweet.

When I pulled away from Oliver, I remained kneeled between them at the foot of the bed. They were covered in a layer of sweat, their flushed cheeks and erratic breaths emphasizing their captivity—they were tied to the bed, and they were mine.

I felt stupidly happy.

“That’s it? You’re not going to let us come?” Noah queried.

I shrugged, my hands on my knees.

“Maybe if you play your cards right…”

“You know we always do,” Oliver declared with a certain roughness in his voice, now tugging at the restraints.

“I’m going to release you,” I said to Noah, positioning myself over him and stretching my body so that my still covered chest hovered above his face. “But only if you promise not to pounce on me like a lion as soon as you’re free.”

In response to my warning, he playfully pretended to want to bite me, lifting his head and opening his mouth before closing his jaw. The gesture made the three of us laugh.

Releasing him, Noah’ didn’t lunge at me; instead, he grabbed my head to bring our lips together.

“One of us is still tied. This isn’t fair,” Oliver complained, tugging on the handcuffs for emphasis.

Raising an eyebrow with one of Noah’s hands still on my cheek, I retorted, “Don’t talk to me about what’s not fair when I spend half of the time tied to the bed and at your mercy.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we should do now,” Noah interjected. “What do you plan to do about this, huh?” He asked, gesturing towards his reddened erection.

“I’ll take care of that,” Oliver declared, “if this feisty kitten decides to let me go.”

I muttered a playful ‘whiner’ as I moved to Oliver’s lap, unfastening the handcuffs, and letting them fall onto the bedside table next to the keys. In a swift movement, Oliver pushed me onto the bed, eliciting a small yelp from me. His hands swiftly went to my underwear, starting to pull them down.

“Are these new?” He noticed.

I nodded.

“This is fucking sexy. This color looks so good on you,” he complimented as he ironically slid down my panties, tossing them onto the floor. “I’m sure Noah is having the time of his life, aren’t you?”

Indeed, Noah’s eyes were roaming over my chest. Being a man who had a particular interest in the underwear I wore, he admired the details on the design of the lacy bra before leaning in to pull the fabric covering my left breast down. Then, he placed his mouth atop of the peak of my breast and licked.

A moan escaped my lips.

“Always so sweet…” he murmured against my skin, “and so responsive. It only adds to the pleasure.”

Yeah…

Just as with any of their touches, the sensation was intoxicating, and I didn’t want Noah to stop, but Oliver interrupted to insist my bra was unnecessary and I should be naked, always naked. Noah readily agreed, wasting no time in attaching his lips to my breasts again as soon as I was as naked as they were.

“I know she’s delicious, but I told you I’d take care of you,” Oliver reminded Noah, “so get on your back.”

With a pleased smile, Noah complied, kissing my lips one last time before laying down next to me.

“He doesn’t have to say please?” I teased, raising an eyebrow at Noah.

“Don’t be so jealous,” he said to me, extending an arm to grab my forearm. “Come here.”

I thought he wanted me to kiss him while Oli sucked him off, maybe cuddle him, and perhaps watch him as he came undone, but then he said, “Sit on my face.”

Even though it wouldn’t be the first time, the proposal always made me flush. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hide my excitement, a fact that Noah was quick to notice, a big grin spreading across his face as I shifted on the mattress.

“You love sitting on my face, don’t you, baby?”

I straddled Noah’s inked chest and leaned forward, feeling his hands grip my buttocks as he helped guide me.

“Wait a sec,” Oliver stopped us, causing Noah to glance from the side and above my thigh and prompting me to turn my head.

Oliver trotted towards the door, where Luna stood, undoubtedly confused by the scene before her.

“You shouldn’t see this, pretty girl,” Oliver said to her. “This one here is already corrupted, but you’re still a pure soul, so I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to close the door.”

Like the good girl she was, she didn’t say anything.

Oliver closed the door and took a moment to open one of the windows on the right side of the bedroom, given that the temperature was quickly escalating indoors.

Noah’s laughter rumbled against my thigh as he placed a kiss before refocusing his attention on me.

“Hold onto the headboard if you need to. Or pull at my hair, I don’t mind.”

I took a deep breath and gripped the headboard. I felt his breath between my legs. I closed my eyes momentarily to savor the sensation of his hands enveloping my thighs, pressing me down on him, and the anticipation of what was to come.

When I glanced down for a moment, I caught him softly murmuring a tender ‘I love you’ before his mouth found my center.

And I melted.

Already floating on cloud nine, Oliver kneeled at the edge of the bed and grabbed Noah’s ankles, pulling him towards him. In response, Noah tugged at my legs, prompting me to extend my arms so I could still brace myself against the headboard.

“What a fucking glorious view,” Oliver muttered, and I could only imagine. But my thoughts were quickly replaced when Noah’s lips and tongue worked fervently on my clit. By the way his fingers dug into my skin, I knew that Oliver finally had his mouth on him.

Even with a window open, the temperature in the room was rosing up steadily, matching the pace of my increasing heartbeat. Noah’s tongue moved with precision, expertly teasing and tantalizing me. He knew exactly how to play with me, using the tip of his nose to rub against my clit before letting his tongue snake out and wander between my folds.

As our moans intertwined, Noah’s movements intensified. His focus on me unwavering even as Oliver perpetuated a delicious torture on his cock, which caused a symphony of pleasure and curses to fill the air. The momentum kept building up, with Oli taking him deeper and deeper with every bobbing of his head and scrap of his teeth. Noah pressed me down harder to his face, and the pressure and suction on the spot between my legs was growing increasingly maddening.

It never led to madness because at some point Noah’s teeth trapped my clit in between and a sharp cry of pain escaped from my lips, breaking the haze of our pleasure.

The reason: Oliver had sucked his tip in a way that nearly made him lose his sanity. In response, Noah accidentally bit my clit.

“Baby. Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

His hands gripped my waist and pulled me down onto his chest, his eyes searching my face for signs of distress as I kept a hand between my legs, my eyes closed shut and my teeth scrapping my lower lip.

“What happened?” Oliver asked.

When Noah explained, Oliver burst into laughter, causing Noah to scold him before he shifted a bit to check my face again.

“Baby?”

“That was… not nice,” I managed to say, though my gaze softened as I opened my eyes and looked at Noah, his face adorned with pink swollen lips and traces of my arousal.

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry, it wasn’t on purpose,” he apologized, his hands stroking my arms.

“It’s ok. I’ll be fine,” I reassured him.

I reached out to touch his cheek and wipe away some of my arousal from his chin. He looked so beautiful like this, though. But I was suddenly lifted from atop Noah’s body by Oliver’s strong hands.

“Let’s see what all this pretty boy’s fuss is about.” He laid me down on the divan by the large windows overlooking the lake. His chest was glistened with sweat, and his scent mingled with mine, surrounding me in an heady embrace.

I took a deep breath as Oliver spread my legs open and inspected me closely.

“She looks pretty fine to me,” he said.

“I’m okay,” I muttered, feeling a twinge of shyness at the way he was observing me.

Noah came to stand on my side. In all honesty, they were a bit terrifying hovering over me while I was laying down. They would have made me tremble if it wasn’t for Noah’s concerned face.

“She’s wet and… very hard,” Oliver noticed, running his thumb up my clit, causing me to bite my lip and inhale sharply.

Noah bent down, running a soft hand through my hair and kissing my forehead.

“Doll, tell Noah you’re okay, otherwise his erection is going to turn into a withered flower.” Oliver’s joke made Noah roll his eyes as he stood up.

Instead of reassuring him verbally, I lifted myself on my elbows and directed my attention to his still-hard cock. With my eyes locked on his, I Indulged in tasting the tip once again, teasing him with my tongue.

“You sure you’re okay?” He struggled to say, losing focus.

“I’ll be better when I have you in my mouth and Olive between my legs.”

His expression shifted from concern to disbelief and then amusement. Yeah, he still hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact that he had me. He had me in every possible way. And he had Oliver, too. They both had me and I had them.

With one hand, I took Noah’s length into my mouth, pumping him until he groaned, his head falling back in a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. His hands remained clasped together behind his back, emphasizing his muscular form.

Meanwhile, Oliver’s lips trailed a path of kisses up my thigh. Usually he was one to nibble, but it quickly dawned on me that maybe he was concerned, too, about Noah accidentally biting me, and he opted for keeping his touch soft and gentle.

“Do you have any idea how fucking good you look when she’s blowing you?” Oliver’s words to Noah were a seductive whisper, who made the young one struggle to swallow under his intense gaze. “Next time we’ll get her on her knees, and you will stand before her, with a full-length mirror in front of you. You will see your reflection while she tortures you with that sweet hot mouth, and there I’ll be, right behind you,” Oliver murmured, planting kisses on my legs, his green eyes fixed on Noah as I continued to suck him off. His words weaved a spell around him, Noah’s throat tightening, leaving him momentarily breathless as a drop of sweat slid down his temple. “I’ll get my hands on that fucking tight ass of yours and give you whatever you ask for. How does that sound?”

A heavy breath suffocated Noah. His reaction prompted Oliver to laugh at how easily he got both of us in this state.

“Hold her head,” Oliver instructed Noah, displaying again that face that said ‘let’s get to work’.

Not that Noah wouldn’t have done it. They were so considerate that they even worried about my hair breaking if it got stuck under our mess of limbs or pillows or whatever that was around.

Noah’s hands found the back of my head. He moved my hair to the said and positioned himself closer to me so that my head was nearly resting atop his thigh. I lifted a hand to reach for his cock and stroke it as Oliver kissed my chest and dipped lower until he reached my navel. He stopped. He used his thumb to trace a circle around it, and reverently, he kissed it and licked it, fondling that area of skin and cherishing it as if it was his favorite part of my body.

I found myself gradually descending into the depths of subspace, utterly captivated by Oliver’s every move, unable to tear my gaze away from the ministrations he was performing on the skin of my stomach.

One of Noah’s hands found the side of my face and gently caressed my cheek.

“Do you like it when he does that?” His deep voice was soft, tender.

“Yes,” I managed to breathe out, my heart racing, my mind filled with cotton.

I couldn’t really describe the feeling. Noah was keeping me secured and comfortable against him while Oli pressed kisses on my lower tummy, which felt another level of intimate when they were placed on my navel.

“You love it when we’re all sweet and nice with you, don’t you?” Noah continued, trailing strands of hair behind my ear.

Oliver answered for me.

“She loves it.”

I mirrored Oliver’s grin of satisfaction.

My boys.

“But you like us feral when we’re inside of you,” Noah’s voice dropped, and it didn’t matter that we were already naked and touching each other: a shiver ran down my spine.

“She’s so receptive to everything we do or say,” Oliver remarked, some sort of amazement in his voice. “She’s fucking perfect for us, man.”

And they were perfect for me.

Oliver stepped back, standing up. He lifted my legs, while Noah extended his arms to reach for my ankles, spreading me open for Oliver. As Oli positioned himself at my entrance, he rubbed his cock between my folds, teasing me. Meanwhile, Noah was about to stretch back to retrieve a condom from the nightstand and pass it to Oliver when I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “I want to feel you. No barriers. Just your skin on mine.”

Oliver’s eyes turned a shade darker.

“What did a motherfucker like me ever did to deserve you?”

“If you have to ask that question maybe I’m not doing a good job at showing you how thankful I am for your love and affection…” I teased.

Oliver clicked his tongue and bent down to kiss me hard and passionate.

“Look at her,” he said then, directing his words to Noah. His voice tinged with desire. “So needy.”

The observation wasn’t a tease; it was a simple acknowledgment of the truth. I was indeed needy, overwhelmed with ecstasy at the realization that this was my life, my men, and that we were all totally happy and satisfied with each other, in every aspect possible.

Noah took hold of one of my wrists, securing my arm against his thigh, allowing me to use the other to his pleasure.

“She’s soaked, isn’t she?”

“A complete mess,” Oliver concluded, “which only makes… this… smoother,” he finished huskily as he slid his cock inside of me, one inch at a time.

The delicious stretch made me let out a moan from deep withing me and dig my nails into Noah’s thigh, seeking to anchor myself. I wriggled, trying to adjust to Oliver, yearning to feel him as deep as possible, to claim him as mine one more time. With a lift of my hips, I impaled myself on the last of his rigid length, gasping as he seared me with his heat.

Oliver eased back, teasing me with the almost withdrawal, each movement causing a fresh gasp to escape my lips, my moans growing louder with every thrust. Every nerve in my body tingled with awareness, every cell attuned to the rhythm of his movements as he pushed in and out.

“Faster, please.”

“Yeah,” Oliver roared in response, his hands firm on my hips as he guided me to his desired pace.

My entire body responded to him, just as it did to Noah’s whenever he was inside of me, performing the same intimate dance.

“Your mouths are wonderful and all that, but man,” Oliver’s voice was strained, “there’s nothing like being inside of her.”

“I know. I know…” Noah moaned as I stroked his cock and attempted another long lick the best I could, given my strenuous position.

It took him less than a few moments to gather himself and tell me not to stress my neck, but Oliver’s intensified thrusts stole my breath, making me scream in ecstasy.

“That’s it, doll,” he encouraged, his hands urging my thighs open as they trembled under the force of his movements and the intensity of the sensations cursing through my entire being. “Get all tight on me.”

Oliver looked breathtaking as he pounded into me, driving me closer to the edge. The colors of his tattoos appeared more vibrant, accentuated by the sweat covering his body. When I glanced up, I found Noah smiling at the sight, as if he cherished every moment of Oliver taking me to the brink.

His hand found my left breasts and squeezed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re about to come,” his voice trailed off as his lips found my ear. “I never thought I would enjoy the sight of another man burying his dick deep inside of you, but seeing Oli fuck you does things to me.”

“Noah,” I whimpered in response.

“Yeah, princess. I know exactly what you need.” His hand traveled up to my neck. When his fingers tightened around it just the right amount to give me a new type of high, I thought I could die right there right then. “Is he fucking you good, kitten? Talk to me, come on.” His grip eased just a bit, enough to allow me to answer.

“Yes. God, yes. It’s so good. Please, more. I want more. Everything.”

“You’re like a fucking renaissance painting,” Oliver said amid his struggle to form words, his breath heavy with desire, his body covered glistening. “Both of you naked, disheveled, you in Noah’s arms, holding onto him, his hand around your neck… He’s fucking thrilled to see you coming undone while you’re drowning in the pleasure I give you.”

When Oliver slowed his movements to get one knee on the divan and leaned forward, —to pull Noah into a kiss— I whined for not being able to move and share that kiss with them. I was trapped underneath the cage of their bodies, but oh if this wasn’t a sight to behold. I felt blessed and completed. We were a mess of love and lust and passion, and we couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Take her for a ride,” Oliver offered Noah, pulling away from me. “I can’t stop looking at that pretty mouth and those swollen pink lips and I’m going to die if I don’t get my cock in her mouth in the next ten seconds.”

In less than ten seconds indeed, Oliver maneuvered me onto my hands and knees on the divan. I wasn’t sure if my limbs would hold me, but I had no other choice. Noah stood behind me, bending to shower kisses on my shoulders, back, and butt, while Oliver circled to stand in front of me, his gaze just as hungry. As he indicated for me to open my mouth, I complied because I was, after all, a good girl. But first I had to trace his stomach with my tongue, licking every tattooed inch of his torso and savoring the electricity of his body. Only when I reached the beginning of his happy trail, I put him in my mouth.

The intensity in his eyes mirrored that of a predator, hungry and primal.

His weight on my tongue was deliciously overwhelming.

“The sight of you taking me like this always drives me insane,” Oliver confessed, his hands tangling in my hair. “But you know what tops it? Seeing Noah take you from behind.”

As if his words worked magic, Noah slid inside of me, his hands gripping my hips as he pressed against me. “Kitten…” he murmured, holding himself back. “Fuck. You’re damn sure you don’t want a condom on?”

I shook my head as best I could, for Oliver was occupying every corner of my mouth and cancelling my ability to speak.

“Look at him, baby,” Oliver took his cock out of my mouth so that I could look back over my shoulder. I couldn’t really maneuver as much as I would have liked to, but it was enough to see Noah’s contorted face of pleasure, his struggling smile filled with adoration and desire.

His thrusting started a second after, his movements becoming more fervent with very passing minute, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge of bliss.

“You should see his face, baby,” Oliver said to me, holding my chin, “the way he’s pulling his hair back because you’re taking him to the edge. I’m not sure what to do, man,” his last words were directed to Noah. “I’m torn between taking your place and finish her off, and taking you and making you scream until you can’t sing until your next life.”

“Fuck, man. Shut up. I won’t last long,” was Noah’s reply.

As Oliver’s hoarse laughter reverberated in my ears and Noah’s powerful thrusts shook my entire body, I summoned the last reserves of my strength to reach out and grasp Oliver’s cock. With trembling fingers, I guided it back into my eager mouth. I sucked him off for a long minute, tracing with the tip of my tongue the thick veins protruding from his length, licking the top as if it was candy.

Noah’s next thrust was hard and bordering on pain, but pleasurable all the same. I let go of Oliver to scream, the sound ripping through my vocal cords. Noah’s hands found my hair and he gathered all the messy strands to pull me towards him, tilting my head back until I was left with no choice but to stare at Oliver with watery eyes, my chin up and my lips parted, the saliva dripping from the corner quickly wiped away by Oliver’s thumb. In that moment, I felt completely exposed, vulnerable yet exhilarated by the raw intensity of the experience.

“Fuck,” Noah groaned.

“Yes,” Oliver roared in return, grabbing my face with a hand and pressing his fingers into my cheeks. “You look so beautiful on all fours, letting Noah fuck you hard and deep. You’re so, so good for us, doll. And we love you so fucking much, you know that, right? We fucking adore the good girl that you are.”

I was a wreck. There was nothing I could do. I was done for. My heart was going to explode and so was the rest of my body.

Despite my helplessness, a prideful smile played on my lips, and Oliver kissed me through it, his touch a blend of amusement, desire, and profound love.

“Noah, you should definitely see her like this. She can’t stop smiling while you fuck her. It doesn’t get any better than this. We’re some lucky bastards.”

Noah’s response came amidst his relentless thrusts, his words spoken with conviction and tenderness. Leaning over me, he enveloped me in a hug, his warm breath against my ear, one of his hands sliding down to my clit. “You’re perfect for us, kitten, so take what we give you, yeah? We’re all yours. Everything we have to offer is for you.”

I was surrounded by their love and desire. I felt truly cherished and consumed by ecstasy. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and my orgasm was going to swallow me whole.

The air was thick with the scent of our worked-out bodies. Our desperate and raw moans filling the room, echoing off the walls as every nerve in my body ignited, higher, harder. Each touch, each thrust, pushed me to the brink. Every tingling sensation escalating, every sensation in every inch of my body was constantly awakened and pushed to the edge of feeling. My entire body tingled, the electrifying sensation turning into ache that crazily enough kept me thrusting back against Noah in pleas for more as I welcomed Oliver’s hot and frenzied release inside of my mouth, driving me to arch my back and press into Noah’s body, yearning for his release, too.

I wanted it all.

In the end, I didn’t even need much more than Noah’s movements and Oliver’s words. Their tempo had been a tortuous dance that had promised to send me over the edge, and I was just

about

fall

right

over

it.

“Eyes on me,” Oliver commanded, grabbing my jaw again. “I want you looking at me when Noah makes you come.”

“Come on, baby,” Noah urged. “It’s right there. Just right,” one more thrust, “there.”

It was there, and I took it with screams and trembles until my head fell on the divan, my body unable to hold itself, my legs spasming as Noah’s growls filled my ears and his cum spilled over my buttcheeks and lower back.

A day later — Early morning

Noah's laughter shook his body, causing a ripple effect that had me giggling and squirming against his chest, where I was lying diagonally with my hand extended towards Oliver.

Oliver was sleeping face down. He had drifted off after a morning session of lovemaking in which Noah had taken me while I slept in his arms and Oliver had taken him—a chain reaction that had us falling one after another like a line of dominoes.

Noah and I hadn't been able to fall back asleep, and now we laid intertwined in each other’s nakedness while Oliver’s breathing drifted intermittently above our hushed voices.

Being in a playful mood, Noah and I decided to tease Oliver, making comments about how much he snored. Oliver responded with a muffled grunt into his pillow.

Later, I found myself idly toying with Oliver’s curls until he grunted again and shifted away from us, turning his head in the opposite direction. That’s when my eyes fell on his nipples, and that’s where I teased him next.

Oliver swatted my hand and opened one eye. “Stop,” he ordered. “Why don’t you annoy your other boyfriend? That’s why there’s two of us.”

I hummed in disappointment and then sighed as I rested my head on Noah’s chest, still looking at Oliver’s sleeping face for a few moments. The softness of his features eased my spontaneous frustration, the comforting touch of Noah’s hand running through my hair also helping.

“Did you sleep well?” Noah asked with a soft voice, careful not to disturb Oliver too much.

“Hmm,” I murmured, nodding as I rubbed my head against his chest. Shifting, I turned to lift my head and look at him. “You?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “except for the time I had to get up to pee and the damn doll kept staring at me until I disappeared into the bathroom.” His finger pointed towards the boxed Tiffany on top of one of the drawers in the room, likely placed there by Oliver on purpose.

“So, Oli didn’t get up to walk hand in hand with you, huh?” I teased.

“Does he really look like he would get up in the middle of the night to ease my fears? He’s totally passed out,” he remarked.

“Not really,” Oliver chimed in from his pillow. “Not anymore, anyway, but I’m knackered.”

“Knackered,” Noah repeated, a hint of confusion in his tone. My fingers played with his brown strands of hair. The haircut he wore these days was my favorite. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

I giggled softly.

“You should know by now, love,” Oliver added, still speaking with closed eyes, one hand resting beneath the pillow.

“Worn out, tired,” I whispered to Noah. Then, I leaned in to straddle him and planted a kiss on his jaw, feeling the stubble under my lips. He’d probably decide to shave today, and I couldn’t wait to watch him, maybe even Oliver, too, standing together in front of the bathroom mirror with blades in hand. There was something incredibly attractive about watching not just one, but two men shaving.

I sighed loudly, feeling like I was still in a dream.

My lips traced the curve of Noah’s jaw until I playfully nibbled on his earlobe. Sensing my playful vibes, he turned my face towards him and planted a gentle kiss on my lips, his eyes locking onto mine with intensity.

“You were fantastic yesterday morning.”

His words made my cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling a warm glow spread through me.

“You know…” he began, “I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” his tone turned somber as his fingers tucked strands of hair behind my ear. “During those months when we were just having fun and having sex every so often… I was terrified of what I was feeling every time I had you in my bed, in my arms, and I told myself I couldn’t afford to fall in love with you; that I was not good for you. By the time I decided I had to stop fucking you, I realized I had fallen in hard long ago,” he took a deep breath, his index finger tracing the line of my nose. “Now, I don’t regret a single minute I’ve spent with you, any of the steps that have brought us here. And I wouldn’t want things to be any other way. You, me, Oliver. Sex, love, arguments; the sun, and the rain. Everything. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything in the world.”

His words melted my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes.

Before they could spill over, Oliver’s voice cut through our moment of tender honesty.

“You two are really cute, seriously.”

Noah relaxed with resignation, rolling his eyes. I slapped Oliver’s bare shoulder, but my body sought his with desperation when I saw his beautiful eyes shine under the morning light streaming in through the windows, accompanied by his radiant smile.

I had everything anyone could ever ask for.

We left the warmth of the bed nearly an hour later, after a tickling match and some cuddling.

I took longer in the shower that morning, thoughts of the day ahead and memories of the previous day’s activities mingled with the steam around me. I pulled my hair up in a bun in front of the dresser, and with my bikini on and a well-worn t-shirt that I had long since taken ownership of (and could no longer remember if it had belonged to Oliver or Noah), I walked into the bright openness of the kitchen and went straight to make myself a cup of iced green tea.

Through one of the windows, I spotted Oliver and Noah playing outside with Luna.

After pulling a few ice cubes out of the freezer, Noah's loud laughter drifted into the house through the door and open windows. I caught sight of him doubled over with mirth, hands on his knees while Oliver, not far off, lay sprawled on the grass, laughing as Luna affectionately licked his face.

Witnessing their happiness never failed to reassure me that all was right in the world, in our world. The nights when Noah’s health was a concern seemed distant now, replaced by a sense of well-being and contentment. Any lingering doubts Oliver may have harbored about this relationship or his place within it had melted away. We were a team. We were bound to each other. They loved me, they loved each other, and I loved them.

An incoming call on Oliver's iPhone snapped me out of my trance, forcing me to draw my attention away from the window as I reached for the phone resting on the kitchen island.

Seeing Amelia’s name flashing on Oliver’s phone screen, the same real estate agent that had guided us through potential homes for our future together as a trio a few months ago, caught me off guard. Memories of our discussions about the charming two-story house in a serene Los Angeles neighborhood, close to the house Jack and his wife Sylvie had recently purchased after getting married, flooded back. Noah hadn't been very decisive about it; He had a preference for other neighborhoods. But the main problem was that the house I fell in love with was way out of our budget, so we had ruled it out. Then we decided to leave house hunting activities for another time, maybe after summer and after their crazy schedules turned less chaotic.

That’s why I didn't understand why Amelia was calling Oliver.

Nevertheless, I answered the call. Amelia’s warm greeting reminded me of our prior interactions. When I told her that Oliver couldn’t be put on at that time, she seemed pleased to speak with me instead.

She started talking about paperwork and payments, which left me baffled.

“As I indicated to Noah and Oliver, after receiving the missing paperwork and the main payment, we would have the keys available in a matter of a couple of weeks. So, I was calling to let you know that you can come by the office to pick up the keys to your new home at a time that works best for you.”

What paperwork? What payment?

The keys to my new home?

I had no clue what she was talking about.

“Our new home?”

“Sure,” she didn’t catch my astonishment, how lost I was in this conversation. “The one with the spacious living room and with the garden in the back, in the cul-de-sac. I still remember your excitement when you saw that room upstairs and shared your plans of turning it into a library. That was a fantastic idea!”

I blinked, frowning even harder, and looked through the window for Oliver and Noah.

“The house Noah and Oliver revisited when you were working,” Amelia added.

It couldn't be.

Amelia repeated my name a couple of times when I didn't say anything.

I shook my head.

“Yes, yes, I'm here. Sure,” I forced myself to say, because I didn't know what else to say. “Um, we're on vacation right now. I guess when we get back next week we can stop by and pick up the keys.”

“Perfect. We've sent a copy of the signed papers to both Oliver's and Noah's email. If you have any questions or need anything else, please don't hesitate to give us a call.”

“No, of course. We will. Thank you.”

My hand was trembling as I placed the phone back on the counter. My mind was racing with thoughts, grappling with the implications of Amelia’s words—the sudden reality of a house, our house, in Los Angeles, already paid for.

In that moment of disorientation, a fresh morning breeze made its way into the house, followed by Oliver’s radiant presence and the sound of his laugh. Noah wasn’t far behind. They were dressed in their swimming trunks and simple white t-shirts, exuding a carefree energy and carrying with themselves the scent of nature, their hair moving swiftly with the wind.

They appeared almost ethereal, like angels descending into the room.

The morning light filtered through the windows as Oliver stretched his arms towards me in greeting, his graceful features illuminated momentarily before dropping at the sight of my expression.

“Hey. What’s with that face?”

“Did something happen?” Noah asked, sensing something amiss, too.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I just got off the phone with… Amelia,” my gaze flicked towards Oliver’s iPhone resting on the counter. “She said that we can drop by her office anytime to pick up the keys of the house.”

After a moment of silence, Noah cursed under his breath.

“Shit.”

Oliver took another moment to reply, his shoulders sagging as he licked his lips and placed a hand on his hip while sharing a quick concerned, disappointed look with Noah.

“You were not supposed to find out about the house until we were all in Los Angeles,” he admitted.

I frowned because there were no plans of being the three of together in los Angeles any time soon. That’s why we had planned this trip to Cumbria as soon as our days off coincided.

“We don’t even know when that’s going to be,” I said.

Considering their packed schedules, this short vacation was the only opportunity for the three of us to be together before our commitments to work pulled us apart again and Noah and Oliver drowned themselves in work. I also had to return to my job. I wished I could be on holiday for longer, but unfortunately, the demands of everyday life kept me tied to my mundane job in L.A.

“Yes, we do,” Oliver corrected. “I’m flying with you and Noah back to L.A. next week.” He allowed me a moment to take it all in. His words carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation that was contagious, but my confusion and disbelief at the recent revelation were bigger. “I have a month off, and I planned on spending it with you two so that we could go through the moving-in process together and get everything sorted before I have to come back here for work. We thought that a month would be time enough to work on whatever needs fixing in the house and maybe make some changes. Painting the walls, work on the garden, converting that room with the garden-facing windows into the studio you mentioned wanting, and…”

“Wait. Wait, slow down,” I interjected, raising a hand and feeling a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me. “This is… I don’t understand.”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Noah suggested.

Taking his cue, I sank into the soft cushions of the sofa, folding my legs beneath me. Oliver settled beside me while Noah remained standing, always unaware of the effect his long frame had on everybody else, especially on those who were sitting. But I could feel his nervous energy as he paced a little. However, despite both their worries, there was an undeniable spark of mischief crossing their expressions every other second.

“I thought you had work to do because you’re already over a year delayed on the release of Bring Me’s new album, and you,” I turned to Noah,” your schedule for next month is packed with photoshoots, interviews, and other meetings and stuff.”

“Well, yeah,” Noah acknowledged, “but one more month isn’t going to hurt anybody, is it?”

“I’m sure your fans will have something to say about it,” I chided them lightly.

“We all have personal matters to attend, so if things have to get postponed, they get postponed. Period,” he concluded. “This is more important.”

This. Oliver, me, him.

“And it’ll be just a month, so that we can finally settle down,” Oliver added, his voice filled with determination and hope.

The phrase ‘settle down’ echoed in my mind, confirming that this was not a joke. I blinked repeatedly.

“So… Did you really— You bought a house?”

“We bought you a house, yeah,” Noah confirmed with a smile, his brown beautiful eyes reflecting the depth of his affection.

A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips, disbelief mingling with gratitude.

“You don’t just buy a house like that. Especially not that house. It was way out of our budget and…”

“We made some adjustment to the budget,” Oliver clarified, his tone firm yet gentle. He draped an arm on the back of the sofa, his fingers finding a lose lock of my hair. “You really loved that house when we visited it a few months ago, and we thought… after everything you’ve done for us…”

“What have I done for you?” I asked, feeling so utterly overwhelmed and undeserving of this.

“Doll, are you kidding?” Oliver said, a hint of offense creeping into his voice. “You have to start giving more credit to yourself or we’re going to have a problem here.”

Ignoring his scold, and unable to shake off the sensations flooding me, I repeated, “You didn’t buy me a house.”

“Okay, put it as you wish because technically, it’s our house now,” Noah said. “It’s for the three of us, so, if it sounds better to you, we bought us a house.”

I had a knot in my throat and butterflies in my stomach.

“But I didn’t… I couldn’t… I can’t afford it,” I finally protested, my voice trailing off.

“Who said you have to pay anything? This is a gift from us to you, because we love you and we want to have a place to call our own,” Oliver silenced my objections with a finger. “You threw a huge birthday party for me last November, Jurassic Park-themed,” he continued, a soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory. It had, in fact, required weeks of work to set everything up as I wished. Oliver was a fanatic of the Jurassic Park movies, and I thought it a great idea to celebrate his 38th birthday with dinosaur animatronics and a whole venue decorated as if it was a jungle. “And you were the one who managed to convince Nicholas and Jolly not to prepare anything for Noah’s birthday because he hates celebrating it. Instead, you took him to an escape room, then out for Mexican food, and finally to see the stars from Hollywood Hills because sometimes he’s soppy like that.”

Noah giggled at his comment, his eyes sparkling. The honesty and warmth of their words enveloped me, dispelling any doubts.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d still be going to bed alone,” Oliver continued, “thinking that I’m too much of a weirdo for someone to love me. And Noah would probably be locked in the studio, ignoring the growing headache in that big head of his.”

Noah responded to his comment by punching him in the shoulder, but Oliver’s response was to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, then gazing deeply into his eyes before turning his attention back to me.

“You love me despite all my bullshit,” Oliver said. “You’ve given me a reason to find the purpose that was missing in my life. You brought Noah into my life.”

“You brought the three of us together, baby,” Noah added with a soft smile.

“We would be a train wreck without you, so the least we could do was to get you the house of your dreams,” Oliver concluded.

At this point, tears streamed down my face, my whimpers mixing with laughter of joy. The overwhelming love and appreciation that filled the room leaving me breathless with emotion.

“You also bought me that really expensive replica of Tiffany Valentine” I commented. “How much more money are you planning of spending on me?”

“Our entire bank accounts if that’d make you happy,” Oliver answered, pursing his lips to show that that was the least of his concerns.

“You know money is not what makes me happy,” I answered, shaking my head. “I just care about being with you, building a life out of moments like the ones we’re spending here.”

“Then, there’s no point for this talk,” he added. “We got a house. We’re moving into our new place next week.”

“We’ll sleep in mattresses on the floor until you select the furniture you want for the bedroom. We’ll let you choose,” Noah announced.

“Oh, my God.” Reality sank in. Noah crouched down in front of me to wipe the tears for my face. “Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You bought a house. We have a house. This is nuts. It’ll take me a while to process it. I have to tell Jack; he’s going to be strangely happy about this. He’s going to give you both a pat on the back and finally be totally convinced that you love me for something more than just my pussy,” I joked

“Already did,” Oliver said.

I frowned, realization dawning on me.

“Don’t tell me Jack already knew about this.”

Both nodded, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to just wrap them both in my arms or throw a pillow to wipe the grins on their faces. They had this planned all along…

“You have to promise me something,” I said, turning serious.

“You name it,” Noah said.

“What is it?” Oliver asked.

“You’re going to quit this bad habit of making decisions without me.”

Even if I always benefit from those.

“Oh, baby, but you love our bad habits.”

And it had been far too long since I had willingly fallen down the abyss of those.

Well, this is the end, but not the last time you'll be reading about them. I have a second bonus scene pending to post which I haven't finished yet. It takes place between BONUS SCENE I and THE EPILOGUE, and it focuses on the reader's brother's engagement party. There are some hints at what transpired during that evening in this epilogue, did you catch them? 🤭

And again, thank you so much to every single one of you that took the time to read this, reblog, and comment. It's been a wild ride.

#noah sebastian #oliver sykes #noah sebastian x oliver sykes #bad omens #bmth #bring me the horizon #oli sykes #noah sebastian fic #oliver sykes fic #noah sebastian fanfic #oliver sykes fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bmth fanfiction #oliver sykes x reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x you #oliver sykes x you

128 notes · View notes

le-amewzing · 2 years

Text

waiting for first light

And, sometimes, you just gotta revisit an old ep to fix smthg about it. XD *Note: This is set during s7e22, "Borderland." This was also a request by Tweeky on FFN, asking for McGee not to make the mistake of drinking the local water while he and Abby were in Mexico. ;)

Fic: "waiting for first light" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Abby Sciuto/Timothy McGee

Rating: light T

Words: ~2,050

Additional info: romance, slight AU, 3rd person POV

Summary: McGee and Abby discuss the mystery of their meeting Paloma Reynosa. But, this time, Abby pipes up before McGee makes his biggest mistake that night.

"Being invited down here certainly feels like much more than an invitation," Abby remarked as she changed into her pajamas in the middle of the tiny room Rivera had set aside for her for the forensics seminar, not expecting NCIS would've sent McGee tagging along.

McGee scoffed from the other side of the bathroom door, where he currently was changing. "Yeah. I don't think Rivera liked seeing my face when we arrived in Mexico together."

Abby quirked an eyebrow. "I meant crossing paths with Paloma Reynosa, Tim," she corrected. She paused folding her clothing long enough to straighten up and catch McGee's bashful expression when he cracked the bathroom door open and peeked around it.

"…oh."

She tried stifling her smirk. "Yeah, 'oh.'" But, just as quickly as McGee had made her smile, thoughts of Paloma Reynosa made her frown, and Abby finished tucking her things away. She picked at a loose thread by one of the skulls printed on the hem of her pajama top. "Honest, Tim?"

McGee emerged from the bathroom and set aside some of his own things. But he paused in his nighttime routine to give Abby his undivided attention. "What, Abs?"

She wrinkled her nose at the thought, but… "Paloma. How she spoke to us—to me. If it weren't for the men she arrived with, decked out with guns and who knows what else… It was almost pleasant, you know?" Abby made a so–so gesture with her right hand. "Kinda polite? As if she really wanted to talk to me. Like. Paloma specifically sought me out." Abby chewed on her bottom lip. "I just can't put my finger on why."

"Yeah, I can see that…" McGee couldn't cover for that trademark, bewildered McGee squint of his. But he smiled when he next caught Abby's eye, and he placed a hand on either of her upper arms. "But, hey, it's probably nothing. At least nothing that'll come back to bite us, right? That bullet she tossed you is probably some—some evidence she's just trying to plant, from a cartel rival. I wouldn't even run it, if I were you."

Abby gave him a semi-shrug, not committing to anything. Even if Rivera hadn't commented on the old Hernandez case and implied Abby might not have the skills to get any useful information from the evidence, she couldn't admit that she wasn't the least bit curious. But being curious down here did seem like an extremely foolhardy thing to be, considering Abby's curiosity and determination had led them right into cartel territory to start…

"Our current dilemma," McGee declared, releasing her as he turned to glance around the room, "is sleeping arrangements. Since they didn't account for me staying here—" He scratched his head as he eyed the tiny "couch" (if it could be called that) and the equally skinny bed. "Heads for the bed, tails for the couch?"

"McGee, are you really going to make a lady flip for the bed?"

He laughed, but it was more of a nervous chuckle under Abby's penetrating stare. "Well…no. But, c'mon, Abby…! If we share this bed, you know I'm going to look like Quasimodo in the morning," he whined.

"You forgot two main points in that story, Tim: Quasimodo comes to accept himself, but he finds those who accept him, too," Abby commented as she fluffed the pillow on the bed.

McGee eyed the couch with a frown before heading to his overnight bag to rummage through it. "To think even Tony and Ziva managed a shared room just fine, yet they get along like cats and dogs…"

"Well, duh. Because Ziva took the couch."

"No, Tony did."

Abby locked eyes with McGee, who narrowed his. "…huh."

"…maybe I heard him wrong," McGee said. He shook his head and pulled his toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag. "Anyway, final task of the evening, then lights out."

She nodded, chuckling at how they still hadn't come to an arrangement about the bed versus the couch… But then Abby whipped her head up when she heard the sound of running water. "McGee, wait!"

He froze at the bathroom sink, brush in hand and two inches from the tap's stream. "What now?!"

She stared at his brush and then at McGee. "Please tell me that didn't touch the water."

"Not yet."

"Bottled water while in Mexico, Tim. Always bottled, even for brushing teeth."

He reddened at the obvious error and jerked the handle to turn it off. "Oh. Yeah. I, uh— That was— A, um— Thanks," he blustered. He ducked back to his bag for a bottle of water and quickly finished up.

With one crisis averted, Abby sat on the edge of the bed and wondered once more if she ought to be brushing off Paloma's presence and delivery, the way McGee had suggested. McGee's bag was parked on the floor over beside the couch, but Abby's sat in front of her on the small table just inside the door, and her mind dove inside to the pocket where a certain evidence bag lay in wait, containing one sniper's bullet… The mere thought of its mystery and Rivera's arranging this forensics seminar had Abby itching to get to the lab in spite of the fatigue from today's mini hike that weighed her down.

McGee emerged from the bathroom, tossed his things in his bag, and shuffled closer to Abby. "Hey, Abby? Everything all right?"

"Mm…yeah." She stood and toyed with the end of her ponytail for two seconds before grabbing the spare blanket she'd packed with her own things.

"Want me to hit the lights?"

"…sure."

He shuffled past her and flicked the switch by the door. But when he returned and made way for the couch, McGee stopped, caught when Abby tugged on the back of his t-shirt. He faced her and offered her a small smile, a barely there but ever friendly expression even in the dim moonlight filtered through the thin curtains by the window. That smile turned to surprise, however, when Abby turned him just enough for her to sink into his arms. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "You know, if you really wanted the bed, all you had to do was ask, Abs. No need to flip for it, I swear."

She did know. That made her smile against his chest, briefly. "Honestly, Tim? I'm not certain I could've come down here by myself—"

"Well, we wouldn't've let that happen—"

Abby squeezed his middle. Then she peered up at him. "—and I don't want the bed. Not to myself. Not tonight."

McGee's mouth hung open in a tiny "o," as if he had something else to say. But, if he had, his train of thought vanished once he heard Abby. His eyes widened, not quite probie-in-the-headlights stunned, but just long enough for him to comprehend the situation. He frowned, a little, to himself as he reached up and cupped Abby's cheeks.

But she smiled in return and leaned in to his left hand, knowing he needed encouragement, as well as evidence that he wasn't dreaming.

Luckily for her, Timothy McGee was excellent at following another's lead. He leaned in, hesitating at the last second, resting his forehead against hers instead. Still, their noses were close enough to touch.

"Please, Tim?" she whispered.

McGee moved his hands away from her face and kissed her right cheek, by her dimple.

Abby stayed put, hands still warm against his back, through his shirt.

Their noses brushed as he kissed her left cheek, also chaste and friendly.

She utilized her stockpile of patience, willing herself not to squeeze him again, knowing he needed to get there on his own…

…and he did. Standing this close—even setting aside all the ups and downs from the past year, all the past feelings—now felt good, felt familiar and yet ever electric. And McGee was drawn back to Abby's electric charge. This time, when he kissed her, it was properly: on the lips, for much longer than two seconds, and with his hands resting on her hips.

Abby grinned against his lips in response, but it was relief that flooded her, less so desire, though she couldn't imagine being with anyone except McGee in this moment. Of course McGee still knew how to kiss (was she imagining things, or had he gotten better at this?), but more importantly he knew how Abby moved, and he anticipated her actions. That was why Abby could reach up and cradle his face in her hands without worrying about leaning back and toppling over, because one of McGee's hands moved to the small of her back, keeping her steady.

…or, at least, he could try. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Abs," he spluttered, partly breathless, once his mouth was free as Abby was busy leaving marks along his neck. He caught her as she leaned down to nip his collarbone, and McGee had to lace his fingers to keep her from falling backwards. "Um, how about we, ah, move a little so we don't end up with marks we can't explain?"

Abby raised her eyebrows.

McGee took one of her hands in his and rubbed his neck with his free one. "All right, any other marks." He pushed aside the blanket Abby had dropped atop the covers and sat down. Then he held his arms open for her.

Her heart thudded a tad harder in her chest at the sight. Abby ran her fingers through his short locks and rested one knee on the mattress, between McGee's legs, before kissing his nose and kissing his lips once more. However, this time when McGee's hands rested on her hips, they sat above her waistband; all it took was one little tug by Abby, hiking her shirt up a bit, and his fingertips rested on bare skin.

He audibly swallowed a lump of nervousness but stunningly stayed put. Even when Abby popped the first of her top's buttons, and a second, and a third…

She honestly couldn't imagine being with anyone except McGee right now. Sharing a tiny bed like this was easy for them, and this—this was a comforting, familiar sensation, as well as the only thing that could remotely make her feel safe right then…

…being in McGee's arms.

Thin curtains that let in moonlight at night let in a whole lot of sunlight first thing in the morning, Abby learned.

She squinted in the intense brightness that filled the room, but…it wasn't so bad, she supposed. She didn't hate the sun, despite what her goth aesthetic made plenty think. She enjoyed the warmth of sunshine on her skin like any other person. But she also enjoyed the warmth of another person pressed flush against her—in particular, McGee.

Abby had woken before him, still in his arms. Despite last night's fun and comfort, it truly was a miracle, the both of them fitting onto this petite bedframe, neither falling off so long as they remained entwined.

She smiled while McGee continued to doze. Even while asleep, McGee wore that quizzical, "I'm halfway to solving this puzzle" face she found so amusing. …actually, there was a lot that this morning and last night had brought back to mind. For one, Abby imagined McGee likely had reacquainted himself with several of her hidden tattoos in the moonlight. But, to be fair, she'd counted a few familiar beauty marks no one usually got to see, so.

Those musings aside, Abby watched McGee and listened to his steady breath, forcing herself to relax until her breath matched his. He really had helped her to get through a crappy night—helped and then some. Still…

Her mind wandered to the files she'd been handed down here in Mexico. Files waiting to be reviewed, along with evidence waiting to be processed.

Abby hugged McGee to her. Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek and got up, picking her clothing off the floor and selecting what to wear for the day before heading to the loaned lab before he woke.

Abby trusted McGee's advice, and she trusted him to protect her in every which way. But she also knew the importance of discovering whatever else they and the rest of the team would need protection from….

Oh, boy. XD Well! It's been eleven yrs since I last wrote a McAbby and didn't just imply them in the bkgd of another fic, but I liked rewriting that scene in s7e22. :') Some things I left in from the original scene/ep (his Quasimodo joke, their Tiva confusion), but the rest is by my own two paws…! *lol* I will admit, I was concerned writing this since I still ship them, but they've been kinda on the backburner for me for a long time, so I was thinking, "Egads, can I still write them??" But I'm actually p pleased with how this turned out, including the fade-to-black implied smexy times (as noted in A/Ns for other of my NCIS fics, I'm still warming to the idea of smut for my live-action fandoms; so far I've written strong T ratings, but I'm p comfy with T ratings for these ships). But just the thought of not only comfort but familiarity with that one person during anxious times…that sums up the end of s7 for me, rly. Oh, the OTP feels…! TTwTT Last thoughts: I rly do like the mental image of her tats having an analog in his beauty marks (esp bc his fair-skinned self is so likely to have them!). Also, *LOL*, I feel like an alternate title to this could [jokingly, dw] be "one little tug." XDDD So I do hope you enjoyed your request, Tweeky—it was a delightful exercise to tackle and to help me realize McAbby still charms me quite a bit!

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#ncis #mcabby #abby sciuto #timothy mcgee #fanfic #mew writes too much #requests #fun to write! c:

1 note · View note

violetjedisylveon · 2 months

Text

Ready Now

Eda Raises Two Gods AU Chapter 20🎉

Summary: Enzo goes to their first therapy session.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: therapy happens and there's some referenced trauma

A/N: in all honesty this chapter's first ~1200 words of set up and gushing over cute animals, ~1300 words of basically just the DSM-5 on PTSD, and then ~1500 of Enzo and Gailine (also King but ngl I forgot he was there for the majority of the chapter til the end) getting snacks.

Also I made a short video of some napping swamp kitties!

Eda Raises Two Gods AU Masterpost

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Enzo held onto Mama's hand tightly and ducked under her cloak as they approached the office. They felt safe with the soft fabric all around them, it was kinda like Papa’s fluffy fur. The owl lady paused at the door and glanced down at them.

“Are you still feeling okay, starshine?” Eda asked them softly.

“I don't know… but I think I'm ready now.” They said.

She just smiled at him and opened the door.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, they felt a little less nervous.

The space could only be described as peaceful, there were plants placed or growing everywhere, and lots of little waterfalls. The desk up front had a waterfall built into it that led to a little pool full of tiny water plants at the bottom.

A spider demon was busily typing away at the front desk. The top set of eyes glanced at them before she fully looked away from whatever she was busy doing.

“Hello, welcome to The Garden House, are you here for your first appointment?” She asked cheerfully.

“Yes, Clawthorne, I'm here for my kid’s first appointment.” Eda said.

It always filled Enzo with a special, bubbly kind of warmth when Eda called them her kid.

“Wonderful, you can take a seat and I'll let Miss Margay know you're here. She'll be with you quickly.” She told them.

Eda nodded to the demon and guided them over to an isolated pair of chairs by a small fountain. Once they were sitting, Nibs slithered out of her travel tube and curled around their arm. He gave them a few chin scratches and held her close to their chest, letting their purr rumble through his body.

They took another look around the waiting room. There was a shelf built into the front desk with some of those stuffed animals on it, and a couple of blankets with a sign saying something about them. He tugged Mama’s sleeve and pointed to the sign.

“What's that say?” They asked in a whisper.

Eda glanced over and squinted at the sign.

“Those are for sale, Saethrith makes them herself.” She told them.

“Who's Saethrith?”

“Her.” Eda pointed to the spider at the front desk.

“Oh.”

Enzo fiddled their fingers for a moment until Mama spoke up again.

“You can go check them out if you want starshine, she doesn't bite.”

Enzo glanced between the busy spider and Eda uncertainly.

“She won't be mad at me for bothering her?” He asked quietly.

“Nah, spiders are great at multitasking.” Eda said, giving them a light pat on the head.

He giggled and glanced towards the shelf again. Nibs hissed in their ear to go for it.

“Are you sure she won't be mad?” They asked.

“Yep.” She nodded and gave the a slight nudge towards the desk.

“Besides, she's been watching us the whole time, she knows you're coming.” She added.

Sure enough, Enzo glanced back just in time to catch one set of eyes flick away from them.

“Um… okay…” they mumbled and walked across the room to the desk.

They knelt by the shelf and started looking through the many soft things sitting there. He was keenly aware of the eyes on them, Saethrith kept looking away before they could really catch her watching them. She was trying to hide a laugh or smile.

“Which is your favorite?” She suddenly asked.

Enzo looked up and saw her leaning over the counter with her head resting in one of her hands, they could still hear one of her other hands working. Mama was right, spiders do multitask good.

“Uh… I like this one.” Enzo held up the stuffed toy that looked like a chubby long tailed bunny with a tiny mushroom on its head, a little cape of leaves and a happy sleepy face.

“Oh yeah, Bun Bun’s a good one.” She said while nodding.

“Bun Bun?” They echoed.

“I give each design names for inventory purposes, plus it's fun, and that one's named after a buddy of mine.” She explained.

“Oh.” Enzo nodded.

Their sister did that.

Her system was very complex. She would get really upset when the others dropped things on her without warning, or went through it without asking. Enzo had tried to help her, but they never really understood it either.

“Hey, wanna see Bun Bun’s best friend?” Saethrith’s voice shook them out of their thoughts.

“Huh?”

Saethrith chuckled and reached over into the shelf, grabbing another toy and showing it to him.

It looked like a fluffy pink cloud.

“This is Cotton. She's a spider sheep.” Saethrith said.

“She looks fluffy.” They said.

“She's so fluffy, you have no idea how fluffy she is. She's great for cuddles at night and she likes to sleep right on top of me with Bun Bun on her back.” Saethrith giggled.

“Wait, are these real?” Enzo asked.

“Yeah! They're my Bondlings! I usually bring them in but they had to go to the vet today, so my cousin is watching them for me” Saethrith said excitedly.

She grabbed her scroll with one of her other hands, showing him a picture of her with a fluffy pink sheep and the chubby bunny cuddling.

“Aww!” Enzo gushed.

“I know right? I based these two off of them, Cotton loves to snuggle with them. Bun Bun likes it too.” Saethrith told them, showing them another picture of all the fluffy little things cuddling together.

“That's so adorable! Why is it so cute?!” They exclaimed, smooshing their own cheeks as they looked at the adorableness.

“I don't know but it's adorable.” Saethrith said.

One of the doors suddenly opened and a vampire walked out, Saethrith sat up and went back over to the desk.

“Are you ready to pay, Mx. Philyra?” Saethrith asked.

“Yes.” They said.

Enzo tuned Saethrith out and focused on the vampire, they hadn't seen one in a long time, they hadn't been anywhere in a long time but still. This vampire looked oddly witch-like, even more than the normal witch-like vampires. They didn't have the bat ears or the little horns. The heavily tinted sunglasses were familiar. Vampires had very sensitive eyes.

Then they spotted a familiar pendant. A concealment stone to make them look more like a normal witch. They'd seen it before, vampires used it when they didn't want to be bothered.

They shrugged and kept playing with the cute little toys.

The door opened again and a Dhampir walked out on crutches. The dhampir girl looked a lot like her parent, the top half of her hair was a pinkish gray, the bottom half was dark, two toned hair was pretty common for vampires and dhampirs.

There was something off about the way she was walking, she was heavily favoring her right leg and using crutches despite nothing being wrong with either of her legs. One of them was giving off a weird sound. They flicked their concealed ears and listened closer to the soft clinking and humming coming from her leg. She noticed them staring and they quickly looked away.

The vampire and dhampir left together.

“Alright, Miss Margay will be with you in a few minutes.” Saethrith told them.

Enzo nodded and put the toys back on the shelf then sat down next to Eda again.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Gailine's mom came out.

“Hello Enzo, I'm so glad to see you here.” She greeted him nicely.

“Would you like to come back?” She asked them.

They glanced up at Mama for permission. She gave them a steady nod and ruffled up their hair.

He still held her hand as they followed Clover into the meeting rooms.

There was a big open room setup with lots of books, toys and games, and there were a few kids playing and reading in the room. They walked past it down a hallway with lots of doors, some were shut, some were open and empty and some had people doing work in them.

Everything was colored nice blues and greens and soft pastels.

It felt nice.

Clover guided them into a room near the end of the hall. One of the walls was only a few feet tall, the rest was a massive open window that overlooked the garden outside, the adjacent wall had a large circular window and a bunch of bookshelves underneath it. A desk sat in front of the bookshelves, there was a little playspace on the other side of the room, lots of toys and books and fun stuff, there was one of those standing painting things near the window. The ceiling was one big window.

And there were plants absolutely everywhere.

The room smelled like a cool afternoon in a forest or a meadow.

Clover sat at the desk and motioned for them to sit in the chairs across from her.

The chair was soft and had little flowers woven into the fabric.

They fiddled with their fingers while Clover did whatever she was doing.

“You're doing great starshine.” Eda whispered.

They smiled at her. Nibs nuzzled their cheek and purred softly.

“From what Edalyn has told me, you can't read or write, is that right?” Clover asked gently.

“Uh yeah, that's right.” Enzo nodded.

“Is that going to cause a problem?” They wondered.

“No, I have lots of patients who can't.” Clover said.

She set a stack of papers to the side of her desk and turned to them.

“Now, I know it's not the easiest thing to talk about,” she paused and glanced at Mama for a second, “especially when important people are present. So how would you like to do this?” She said.

“Uh, how does it normally happen?” he asked.

“There's usually some yes or no system, sometimes patients want their parents to leave because they don't want to worry them, but I think you'll benefit more from your mom being here.” Clover said.

“I do have a method that lots of patients like.” She opened a drawer in her desk and set a big, shiny box on the desk.

“It's the Yes-No box.” She said, pushing it over to them.

It had three big holes in the top for something, one was outlined in green, one was blue and the middle one was purple. Clover set a bin of shiny little balls next to the box.

“Here's how this works, I'll ask you a question, and you'll drop a marble into the green or blue side, blue means no, green means yes, purple is maybe or not sure. You can put it under your seat and answer without anyone seeing you.” She explained.

Enzo nodded, that sounded okay.

I trust Mama, but I don't want her to be sad. She always gets sad when I talk about stuff.

“Does that sound good Enzo?” Clover asked.

“Y-yeah… that's good.” They said.

The ocelat gave them a warm smile.

“Then we can get started, but we can take a break anytime you need.” She told him.

Enzo nodded again and set the box under their seat. He took the bin of marbles and sat them in their lap. The marbles were cool and smooth.

Clover had a paper on the desk in front of her.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“Yes.” Enzo grabbed Mama's offered hand.

“Have you ever been exposed to actual or threatened death, serious injury or sexual violence in one or more of the following ways; have you directly experienced death, serious injury or sexual violence?”she asked.

Enzo squeezed Eda's hand and dropped a marble into the green hole. It clinked when it hit the bottom.

“Have you ever witnessed death, serious injury or sexual violence in person as it happened to others?”

Blue blood splattered across the ground flashed through their mind, they flinched and dropped another marble into the green side.

“Have you ever learned of death, serious injury or sexual violence occuring to a close family member or close friend?”

Another marble went into the green box.

“Have you experienced repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of these traumatic events?”

They hesitated over the green hole before they dropped it into the purple one.

“Have you ever had one or more of the following intrusive symptoms associated with the traumatic events, beginning after they occurred; recurrent, involuntary and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic events?”

Green hole.

“Recurrent distressing dreams where the content and or affect of the dream are related to the traumatic events?”

Clink.

The marbles went in for the next three questions.

“Do you persistently avoid stimuli associated with the traumatic events, such as avoiding memories, thoughts or feelings about or closely associated with the events?”

Clink

“Do you avoid external reminders, such as people, places, activities, objects and situations that make you think about the traumatic events?”

They dropped another marble into green.

Clover put her paper down.

“You're doing great so far, do you want to take a break?” she asked.

Enzo shook their head.

“Alright, if you're sure.” Clover said.

“Do you have trouble remembering important parts of the traumatic experience?”

They dropped a marble into the middle hole, they weren't quite sure since they tried so hard to not think about it.

“Do you have negative beliefs about yourself, the world or others? Does the world feel unsafe, do you feel like you can't trust anyone?”

Everything felt unsafe since Papa.

Another marble in the green hole.

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?”

Enzo's head snapped up, meeting a concerned two toned gaze.

How is that even a question? It is my fault! It's all my fault!-

“Starshine?”

They glanced at Eda, she looked upset again.

“Are you okay there kiddo? You kinda froze up on us.” She explained.

“I'm fine.” They told her.

“If you are here, you're anything but fine.” Clover said.

“Do you want to stop?” She asked again, more seriously this time.

“No.”

The feline demon narrowed her eyes.

“Do you have a persistent negative emotional state, such as fear, anger, horror, guilt or shame?”

Blue hole.

“Do you have a diminished interest in activities?”

Blue.

“Do you have feelings of detachment or estrangement from others?”

Blue.

“Are you unable to experience positive emotions?”

Blue.

“Do you have irritable behavior and angry outbursts with little to no provocation?”

Blue.

“Do you have reckless or self destructive behavior?”

Blue.

“Are you hyper vigilant?”

Green.

“Do you have exaggerated startle responses?”

They were really jumpy all the time…

Green.

“Do you have problems with concentration?”

Green.

“Do you have sleep disturbances, trouble falling, staying asleep or restless sleep?”

Green.

“Do these disturbances cause significant distress or impairment of other important areas of functioning?”

Green.

“Are these disturbances coming from medicines?”

Blue.

“Do you experience depersonalization or derealization?”

“What're those?” Enzo asked.

“Depersonalization is feeling detached from your body or thoughts, like you're watching it all. Derealization is experiencing the world as unreal, dreamlike, distant or distorted.” Clover explained.

“Oh… I don't think either of those happen.” They said.

“Well then, that's the last question I have for you.” Clover said, setting her papers down on her desk.

“R-really? That was it?” He wondered.

“Yes, you've given me everything I need from you, now I'm going to talk with your mom, you and your brother can go to the garden or the playroom. Gailine should be somewhere here, she's been itching to play again.” She told him.

Enzo glanced at Eda. Mama smiled at them, ruffling up their hair.

“Go ahead and have some fun, you've done great today, starshine.” She said.

“We've also got some treats, Mx. Lyn is always cooking something up. Gailine can take you to the kitchen.” Clover added.

King woke from his nap at the mention of treats. He scrambled out of Eda's lap, flopping onto the ground in his attempts to get tasty treats faster.

“Treat! Treat! King wan treat!” He cheered.

“Is it okay if we have some?” They asked.

“Course kiddo, just don't let King make himself sick.” Mama said.

“I won't! Thanks Mama!” Enzo swore.

“Treat!!!” King shouted, scampering out the door.

Enzo chased after their gluttonous little brother.

“King! Slow down! You don't know where you're going!” They shouted.

King ran all the way to the playroom, skidding to a stop at the sight of all the new toys. The other kids that had been here before were gone now, the sun was significantly lower than before. It was mid afternoon when they went in, now the shadows were long as the sun slowly lowered to the horizon.

“Eso!” King chirped, tugging at his pants.

They glanced down, King pointed to the toys.

“Play?” He asked, his tail wagging.

“I thought you wanted treats.” Enzo said.

“But wanna play!” King whined.

“We can get treats and play.” they explained.

“Oh, are you guys getting treats?” Gailine’s voice came from above.

The ocelat was in some weird tube thing attached to the ceiling, peering down at them from an opening. She grabbed onto a rope near the opening, flinging herself out of the tube and onto a carpeted strip of the wall, she slid down with her claws dug into the wall carpet and made a surprisingly clean landing.

“That was insane!” Enzo shouted.

“Thank you.” Gailine said smugly.

Enzo glowered at the feline.

“I didn't mean it as a compliment.”

“I know.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“So do you wanna get some snacks?” She asked.

“Snack!” King screeched.

“Yeah! C'mon I'll show you the kitchen!” Gailine said.

She took their hand, half dragging, half leading them to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a cozy space with drawers and cabinets everywhere, cooking utensils, pots and pans hung from the ceiling and the whole room was painted a warm yellowy orange. There were a couple of ovens against one wall and a big oven in the farthest wall.

“Whoa, this is cool.” Enzo said, looking around the kitchen in awe.

“Yeah, Mam made Mama put in a kitchen when she started staying out super late working on stuff and not eating. Sometimes she comes down to check that Mama's eaten something since she forgets to a lot. One of my aunties came and designed it, she makes the coolest stuff. Mx. Lyn uses it the most. They bake the best treats.” Gailine said.

“Mx. Lyn! Can we get a snack?!” Gailine shouted into the kitchen.

“Can't we just go in?” Enzo asked, noting how she was standing just behind the kitchen’s tile floor.

“Mama says I can't go in without permission cause I'll burn myself again.” she said casually.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Enzo nodded.

“Kitten? Who's that you got with you?” A pale yellow face peered around the corner, fuzzy antennas swaying with the movement.

Their big, dark eyes landed on him and they smiled, setting down whatever they were doing to fly over to them.

They didn't look like any bee demon he'd ever seen before. They had the two big main eyes, but lacked the trio of small forehead eyes, and they had the usual four wings, creating a dull buzz as they hovered above the ground.

Their tail was the biggest difference, they had a long thick, hooked tail that ended in a barb, instead of the shorter rounded abdomen. Their lower half looked less like a bee demon's and more witch-like.

They giggled at his staring.

“Is this the new friend you've been telling me about?” They asked Gailine.

“Yeah! This is Enzo Clawthorne! They're my best friend!” Gailine proclaimed proudly, squeezing them with a tight side hug.

“Best friend”? I'm her best friend? Enzo wondered, glancing at Gailine with mild confusion.

They'd gotten her into a lot of trouble, probably caused a lot of problems… she still called them her best friend.

“Well it's very nice to finally put a face to the name.” Mx. Lyn said happily.

“y-yes! Nice to meet you too.” Enzo said hurriedly.

The bee(?) demon giggled again, buzzing back over to Gailine, ruffling her hair up with one set of hands.

“What snack do you kids want?” They asked.

“Oh, can we get some Boiling Lava Cakes, Blood Cupcakes, and Blossom Bat Fruit cobbler please.” Gailine requested politely.

Mx. Lyn frowned down at Gailine.

“Why so many sweets? Did something happen today?” Mx. Lyn asked.

“Enzo had their first meeting with Mama. His mama and mine are talking now.” Gailine explained before quickly adding “Mama said we could get some.”

“I guess I have to believe you this time.” Mx. Lyn said.

“You should, cause I'm not lying.” Gailine huffed.

“Does the little guy want anything?” They asked him, gesturing towards King.

“He likes red stuff that makes a mess, and meat.” Enzo said.

“Think he'd like a blood sausage?” they suggested.

“Probably, he's not very picky.” Enzo shrugged.

“I'll get that started for you three.” Mx. Lyn said, disappearing back into the kitchen with a happy buzz.

“They're really nice, right?” Gailine prompted them.

“Yeah… they look a little funny, I thought bee demons had-”

“Big butts?” Gailine guessed.

They stared at her.

“Uh… yeah, that.” They nodded.

“Oh they do. Mx. Lyn is just half scorpion demon. Miss Sae jokes that their top half is a bee, and their bottom half is a scorpion.” She said.

“That's cool!” Enzo said.

“Sometimes hybrids have issues that make it harder to live. Sometimes they make it. Sometimes they don't and they suffer. It's not good to let them suffer, so we intervene.”

“I thought we weren't supposed to do that.”

“Yes, we aren't supposed to intervene and change things, but these are cases where the end result is inevitable, and we can speed up inevitable things to end suffering.”

“Does that make sense, Nova?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Good, I'm sure it will make more sense once you're older. Our job is to preserve and protect all creatures.”

“Then why don't we just fix it?”

“Nova, we do what we can for them, but sometimes there's nothing that can be done. We don't change things like that. This is just the less happy side of our duty.”

“Oh. So there's really nothing we can do for them?”

“Sadly not, that is just part of existence, some things don't work out no matter what you do.”

Enzo shook their head, stubbornly shoving the ancient voice away.

“Does Mx. Lyn have any issues from that?” they asked.

“Huh? Oh, no, I don't think so. They act more like a bee than a scorpion.” Gailine said.

“Oh. That's good.” Enzo said.

“Isn't your mama a hybrid too? Does she have issues?” Gailine asked, turning her bright orange eyes onto them.

“Yeah, she is… and she does have problems…” Enzo admitted.

“Just don't tell anyone, I don't think Mama wants people to know.” They added.

Gailine snickered.

“Pinkie swear.” She said, offering her pinkie.

Enzo smiled and locked fingers with her. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” Gailine swore seriously.

“Did you see Miss Sae’s toys up front?” She asked after they unhooked pinkies.

“Yeah, I like the bunny and the sheep the best.” Enzo gushed.

“Bun Bun and Cotton are super cute in person, and they're so fluffy!” Gailine squealed.

“You're so lucky you get to see them so much.” Enzo said.

“Yeah, but Mx. Lyn gets to hang out with them all the time, so they're the real lucky one.” Gailine sighed.

“Why does Mx. Lyn gets to see them so much?” They asked.

“Cause they and Miss Sae live together. I think they love each other. That's what Mam and Mama said when I asked about the kissing thing they do.” Gailine explained.

“Do your moms not kiss much?” Enzo asked.

“No, they don't love each other like other parents do. They're friends. They cuddle cause we're ocelats and we like to do that.” She chirped.

“Miss Sae and Mx. Lyn kiss a lot.” She giggled, dropping her voice low.

“How many times do they do it?” Enzo asked, whispering as well.

“They do it whenever they see each other.” Gailine squealed.

“What are you two whispering about?” Mx. Lyn asked, standing over the pair of children.

“Nothing.” Gailine said innocently.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Kitten.” Mx. Lyn sighed good naturedly.

They held out cute little food baskets for each of them.

“I want you kids to eat the lunches I made before you eat your sweets. You'll make yourselves sick otherwise.” They said sternly.

“We will!” Gailine shouted, already dragging him towards the garden door by the kitchen.

“C'mon! I wanna show you my favorite pond! It looks the coolest at this time of day!” Gailine told them enthusiastically.

“Okay!” Enzo laughed.

They eagerly ran into the big, calm garden, laughing and playing with King and Gailine as she led them to the pond.

Despite the lightness in their chest, something stirred deep in the dark part of their mind.

You lied.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

1 note · View note

silver-weasel · 3 years

Text

Diving (Deku x Reader)

Pairing : Deku x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut • fem!reader (she/her) • best friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers • quirkless AU • p*rn with feelings (like. a lot of them) • public sex (more or less) • switching • hair pulling? • pining • Deku being flustered and an absolute angel what’s new • Reader being a teasing brat • It’s all soft and fluffy, I’m as vanilla as you can get 🤷‍♀️ • Happy birthday to the bestest boyyy I love him so much it hurts

Word count : 10 600 (Holy sh—)

A/N : Thank you @hoe-doroki my beloved and savior for beta-ing <3

Written for @rat-zuki’s collab in honor of our favorite birthday boy, The Deku Agenda Escapes no One. Thank you so much for letting me join! (go check out the other amazing writers and artists!)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The ground grinds repeatedly under your hiking shoes, some pebbles being kicked forward on your way. You’re way too deep in the forest to hear any cars passing by and during the two hours you’ve been here you haven’t run into anyone. The place seems empty, the only souls breathing the forest’s thick air being you, Izuku and the birds chirping all around you.

The afternoon is coming to an end, the sun sinking down on its way to hide behind the mountains. The remains of its soft light are filtering through the dense leaves all around and above you. You’re surrounded by green, lush and immeasurable greenery, every plant merging into another.

You’ve left the marked paths, now wandering deep in the richest, boundless part of a forest you both know like the back of your hand after roaming it all over innumerable times. All over, except for this part, in which you’re setting foot for the first time today. Your many previous hiking sessions were shortened by your questionable sense of organization, always arriving too late to explore further into the unknown.

Leaves brush against your knees with every single step you take as you follow Izuku on his heels. He’s moving at a steady pace, his hands holding tight the straps of his yellow backpack that he’s had for as long as you can remember. He’s always so organized, has everything you two could eventually need and generally never do. Two huge flasks of water, an entire meal he calls ‘little snacks’, with sandwiches, fruits, protein bars, even hard-boiled eggs. A first-aid kit with disinfectant, bandages, scissors and painkillers. Hell, you’re even wondering if he has any pads for you in there, in case of an unexpected period. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You giggle lightly when you see him stumble for the sixth time since you got here; he can’t seem to keep his curious eyes from drifting up and around, looking in every direction, probably retaining every detail and logging it in some impressive mental database of his. And he’s commenting on every little thing he sees too; he makes you notice things you never would have if it weren’t for his candid interest in everything.

“Oh! Look at that bird!” he exclaims, pointing at a branch over your heads. “Do you see it, right there, with the red mark!”

You turn your gaze to where he’s pointing and see a little bird, very cute, but so tiny you’re wondering how one could spot it without specifically looking for it. That’s probably what you like most about Izuku: his attention to detail. That’s the thing—nothing is too small for him, everything is worthy of interest. His eyes always light up with such curiosity, this child-like wonder and it was always one of your favorite things to witness growing up.

When he came over to your house at age six, he was always running around with some bug on his forearm, calling your name, yelling, “Look at this!”

Most of the time, it was a snail or a ladybug, and that always managed to catch your interest. Sometimes, it was a spider or a beetle, and he had you screaming in horror more than once, running to your mother’s legs with weeping eyes. Those times, he always watched you go with wide, sad eyes and a wobbly lip, because, “I would never hurt her, Mom! I swear I didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, yeah, I see it! It’s so cute!”

And it is cute, the way his huge green eyes go even rounder in amazement. You treasure these hikes for providing occasions to witness this. But as much as you wish this moment could last forever, the sun is beginning to set, you probably shouldn’t go deeper in the forest at sundown.

“We should probably head back to the car, Izuku. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Come on, it’s still so light—there’s no rush!” His lips crook a bit into an impish smile. “Scared that a bear is coming to get you?”

“There aren’t any bears here—we’ve been coming for five years.”

“Because if it’s the bears you’re afraid of,” he begins, ignoring you on purpose, “you know I’ll protect you, right?” he says, sticking out his chest like he’s some superhero.

“Against a bear? Right.”

“You’re underestimating me? That’s just mean.”

You chuckle at his antics, shooting him a look of yours that says, ‘Come on, please?’.

His eyes soften a bit, but he’s used to that look; it’s been years since it worked on him as well as you’d like it to.

“We can just keep going this way, then we’ll make a loop and head back to the car directly! It’ll be even shorter this way.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” you agree, and the smile it elicits from him makes something tingle deep in your stomach.

You move forward again, sinking deeper within the forest. It’s becoming harder and harder to walk, brambly branches and huge leaves blocking your way more and more with every step.

You’re a bit ahead of him when you catch sight of a sparkle behind the bushes. Just a glimpse of light, but you’re positive you saw it. Is there water here? You never really looked at a map of the place before—you just always went wherever you felt like and used the same tracks on the way back. You hurry up a bit, curious eyes fixed on that glimmer of light.

Soon enough the dense greenery comes to an end, and you’re finally out of the bushes, finding your way into a little clearing. You’re standing, speechless, in front of a pond: it’s about forty feet wide, catching the last rays of sunshine in a dazzling reflection. The water is surrounded by gigantic trees big enough to be home to an entire niche of biodiversity, and a half-sandy, half-stony shore with reeds rising from the water on both sides.

It’s all calm and quiet and massive trees, branches pouring, cascading above still water. The air feels cool, filled with a pure smell of dew and spring even though it’s the end of a hot day of July.

Izuku is close behind you and lets out a very cute, “Whoa,” ditching his backpack on the ground next to you in the middle of the cove. The both of you just stand there for a moment in complete silence, aside from the birds chirping. Izuku breaks it first:

“How come we’ve never seen this before? This place is amazing.” He sounds distant as he speaks, soaking up his surroundings like he always does.

“I guess you never know everything about anything,” you say mindlessly, without detaching your gaze of the wonderful view ahead.

He’s standing close to you, very close. You’re only noticing now that you’re coming down from the high of your discovery. Your arms are brushing, you can feel his body heat from how close you two are. It wouldn’t be the first time; you’re no stranger to being physically close to Izuku. You’ve been playing together since you were able to put one foot in front of the other. And you wish you could say it feels any different right now, but that would be a lie. Being close to him always felt the same. Always felt like the only easy thing in your life. The only constant.

Yet it’s not enough. No matter how close, it’s never enough, it never was. You hate yourself for feeling that way; you’ve never been the greedy, unsatisfied type. You have everything with Izuku. Well, almost everything.

But right now this place—this very quiet, beautiful place with no one in sight is doing things to your fertile imagination. Despite the sun just beginning to set, the summer air still remains thick with heat. You find yourself staring in the abyss of that water, admiring the masterpiece of a reflection on the surface, a painting of leaves and clouds and blue sky. It calls you, sings an irresistible song of fresh water on sweaty skin and strong, freckled arms wrapped around you.

You don’t know if the slight, insignificant detail that you would have to undress in order to dive into that water—since you didn’t bring a swimsuit—is a better reason to do it or to refrain from doing so.

You’ve lost count of how many moments you’ve shared with him just like this one. So many chances for you to take. You never have.

Back to the original issue: can you see yourself walk out of that clearing the way you always do? Can you see yourself going home, adding this missed chance to your growing collection of lost memories, of hands within your reach that you chose not to take?

The answer pops in your mind, crystal clear for the first time since you met him.

You drop your bag on the ground, turning to Izuku with a delighted expression stretching your features. The look on your face reminds him of one he’d seen on you as a kid, bouncing on the balls of your feet in front of the ice cream truck. At this moment he just knows you’ve got some stupid shenanigan in mind, like you always do. Once again, he isn’t wrong.

“Wanna take a dip?” You’re squinting at him from his side, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“I-I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he stutters.

It’s been a long time since he last stuttered in front of you. He got rid of it years ago, but it still resurfaces sometimes in front of intimidating strangers or in a socially uncomfortable situation. Never in front of you, though.

“Me neither,” you answer plainly with that same impish smile, and his eyes go round at your implications.

“Wait, you can’t be—Oh my God—”

His heart does a great flip in his chest when he catches you taking the hem of your shirt up over your head. In less than five seconds, you’ve got him scorching hot, feverish and suddenly he can’t tell right from left.

His reflex is to bury his face in his hands. He respects you too much to take a peek, but you’re making things very difficult for him. He can hear you move towards the water, can hear the thump of your forgotten shoes hitting the ground one after the other, can hear the soft pad of your naked feet on the rocks.

“For the love of God, please, put it back on…”

“What? Look at this view, it would be a shame not to make the most of it!”

He’s not looking at the view right now, he can’t let himself. He knows very well he won’t be able to focus on the trees when you’re standing pretty much naked—although he’s not sure to what extent—in front of him. You could be entirely naked right now and he wouldn’t be able to tell, his burning face still hidden in his shaking hands. His voice comes out muffled when he stammers, “I-It’s starting to get late, we really should get back to the car…”

“What, you’re scared of the bears?”

He can’t see you, but he knows you’re sporting that smug grin of yours, the one he first saw when you showed him your impressive collection of Pokémon cards on your preschool’s playground. You’ll have to take a lingering silence for an answer.

“Izuku, come on. I don’t bite.”

He’s not entirely sure the sight of you won’t gnaw him to the bone, won’t melt his entire body down and leave him a hot mess. He won’t be a man anymore, just a walking flame fueled by the heavenly sight of you. No, he can’t let himself fall into that. Obviously you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

Nevertheless, you’re probably the most stubborn person he knows. And he’s friends with Katsuki Bakugou, for God’s sake. He won’t be able to get out of this as easily as he wants, especially as he hears the delicate noise of water splitting at your feet as you enter the little pond.

He slowly moves his hands off of his face. You must have your back turned to him, so maybe he can drift his eyes off somewhere—

You are in front of him, thigh deep in the water now. In nothing but your panties. Your white, flower-patterned lace panties that are doing a very bad job at covering your backside. He lets out a long, pained whine, standing in the middle of the little shore with his arms dangling down his sides, not sure what to do with them.

“Why didn’t you at least keep your bra on?” His voice comes out way more wobbly than he intended to.

You turn a little so you can look at him, and it takes every little bit of strength he’s got left to look you in the eye. But as you’re turning around, the smooth curve of your breast starts showing, and God, is that your nipple?

He wants a giant hole to swallow him right now. He wants some forest creature to come for him right this instant, anything to keep him away from you, keep him from doing things he might regret. To punish him for having such thoughts about you, because you trust him, you’re so oblivious, so innocent, and he’s so weak against this inner monster that’s eating him away.

With a little frown, you deliver the answer like it’s self-evident as you kneel into the water, the surface just above your chest:

“I didn’t want it to get wet.”

“But you’re okay with your panties getting wet?”

The realization of what he just said is slow but surely comes. And when it does, he wishes even harder to get erased from the surface of this planet he’s already lucky enough to share with you. There is a long silence, and all he can hear for a few seconds are the birds chirping and the violent pounding of his heart against his ribcage, straining to get out.

You turn back around to look at him, dumbstruck.

“I’m more than okay with that—”

“Please forget I just said that,” he cuts you off. He’s not sure he can bear to hear more of this.

“I’m never forgetting you said that. It’s pure gold,” you scoff.

He can only answer with a drawn-out whine. He doesn’t have any choice in this, does he?

When you dive in the water, he takes both his shaking hands to the hem of his shirt and starts undressing.

What the fuck am I doing?

The water is so pure you can see underwater as clear as day: the few rocks at the bottom, the little silvery fish all around you, and the last rays of sunlight permeating through the calm surface above your head. The water feels a bit cold on your naked skin since the sunlight and summer heat must only hit the clearing at certain hours of the day. Still, the cold water isn’t enough to clear your foggy mind.

What was I thinking?

You’ve always been a bashful person, why is it changing all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the devastating effect Izuku has on you.

You try to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath. So, you’re pretty much naked in front of him. Well, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, and it (probably) won’t be the last. Now you just have to go through with your stupid idea. It’s no big deal, it’s only Izuku. Only Izuku.

Only Izuku.

Fuck.

You finally surface, not only because you can’t hide underwater forever, but also because, surprisingly, you’re not a fish, you have to actually breathe.

You push your dripping hair to the back of your head, still careful to keep your breasts under the water. Izuku’s already in to his hips when you turn around to look at him, your vision still blurry from the water trickling all over your face. He’s merciless, standing like that, only the elastic of his boxers peeking out of the water. You’re a bit surprised by the plain, black color. You were expecting something along the lines of blue, yellow and red. Izuku is full of surprises.

But nevermind the color of his underwear—what you find just above is mesmerizing. Your indiscreet, incorrigible gaze can’t help following the thin trail of hair tracing up to his navel, then the stunning lines of his abs, partly hidden behind his freckled forearms shyly crossed over them. The freckles spread up his powerful arms, gently sunkissed, scattering all over his broad shoulders.

Is he actually hiding, though? Doesn’t he know he looks like he was carved by the gods themselves?

“Have you done this before?”

The sound of his voice startles you a bit. Ah, right. You were shamelessly staring. It takes you a couple of seconds to force your distracted mind back into focus. “Done what?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s my first time. It looks like it’s yours too.” His big, bright eyes drift around like they don’t know where to look. It’s really cute.

“It is,” he admits, now kneeling into the water as well. “I would’ve thought you were used to this.” You arch a single eyebrow in an amused frown.

“What, do I look like I have a professional degree in skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s just…You look confident, it just seemed like it.”

Confident? You’re nowhere near confident—you’re terrified. You try to keep your cool, but it’s probably the first time you’re putting on an act in front of Izuku.

“Well, you’re not so bad at it yourself.” You don’t miss the little blush coating his cheeks at that. “Also, I’m not exactly naked.”

“You’re not exactly dressed either, that’s a...v-very small piece of clothing.” He’s blushing a bit harder, looking away.

“Oh, seems like you paid some attention to my piece of clothing then, good to know.”

Now he’s quite simply scarlet. A very cute, very hot, freckled tomato. He’s so easily flustered, it only makes you want to tease him some more.

“Were your legendary All Might boxers in the dirty hamper? That’s a shame. I’m a bit disappointed,” you say in a mockingly innocent voice.

He doesn’t retort, simply stands there on his knees, shooting you an unreadable look and a little pout. After a few seconds, you open your mouth to continue, only to be startled by a strong splash hitting you in the face.

When you snap out of your shock, hair and face dripping all over your shoulders, you look up at him with what must be the scariest look of betrayal. Or the most ridiculous, apparently, since he starts laughing, louder and louder, and can’t seem to stop.

“Oh, you’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?” You can’t help but chuckle while talking, his laugh is so contagious.

“I am, yeah!” he manages to articulate, only starting to calm down.

As the calm of the forest returns, you watch his eyes go back to their usual round shape bit by bit, his face relaxing again. His smile causes butterflies to fly up and around in a whirlwind deep into your belly. You chuckle a bit at the feeling, almost embarrassed by how he’s making you feel like you’re in some dumb, cliche rom-com movie. On the outside, you must look a bit like a maniac, but he’s a nice guy, so he simply asks, “What is it?”

And before you can overthink yourself out of it, you’re hurling yourself at him. He barely has the chance to stutter a weak, “Wait!” before you’re putting all your weight on him, sinking his head deep in the water. Izuku may well be a nice guy, but you know he isn’t going to let you get away with this, so you’re not surprised when you’re dragged underwater by your legs. He lets go immediately, a bit abruptly, even, like it burnt his hands to touch you.

You both emerge from the water soon, and it takes you a second to get rid of the water blurring your vision, but then it hits you. How tantalizingly close you are to each other now, your bodies an inch away from touching. You’re both on your knees, enveloped in the coolness of crystal clear water and the reflections of the canopy of leaves above your heads. A spark of electricity makes you freeze on the spot; you’re so close to him your breasts slightly brush against his chest.

After a little eternity, you find the courage to look up at his face. He looks mindblowing, really. Despite the two decades you spent together, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen the pure, astonishing details of his freckles from this close. You would remember it, you definitely would. It’s a spectacular view, one of those visual memories that comes back to hit you in flashes. His nose and cheekbones are covered in them, drawing a mesmerizing pattern, more complex than the Milky Way itself. They’re an uncrackable equation, like a weird quirk of nature that you’ll never understand but don’t question anyway. They spread a little more scattered, but still very present, up to his forehead and down to his delicate jaw.

And his eyes—you could just drown in them. There’s this bright, blinding light there that feels like laying in the grass and looking up at the sunlight coating the leaves of this tree, the one you grew up near and always played under.

You swear you didn’t move, neither did he, and still you manage to get even closer to him. Now it’s you against the inexorable attraction that pulls you towards him like a fierce magnet. And it’s a losing battle, you think, as you’re both entering each other’s personal space like you share just one.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he can’t look you in the eye, seemingly too obsessed with your lips. You drop your gaze to his and find them calling for you. It’s been so long, now the thought of kissing Izuku seems unfamiliar despite being ever-present in your imagination for so many years. Like repeating a word so much it ends up becoming a series of meaningless sounds to your confused mind.

He’s the one who finally closes the distance, his lips landing on yours so softly you can barely feel them. He doesn’t move, simply content with the contact. You’re both eight years old again for a minute. The kiss feels like the little peck a kid would finally give to his crush in the middle of their school’s playground before running away to his friends.

Time seems to stop for God knows how long, and after what feels like no time and forever all at once, his lips move hesitantly against yours, bringing you back to reality. Right then, it all crashes on you like a tremendous wave. The distant echo of your mothers’ voices from the kitchen and the stupid cartoons they made you watch so they could talk for ten more minutes. The games alone together because no one wanted to play with you two weirdos. The piggyback rides, the dumb jokes, the video games (you always won). The neverending texting sessions at night because one of you couldn’t sleep. The fights that never lasted long enough to see the next sunrise because you both are way too weak for each other. All those stupid places that wouldn’t have looked half as breathtaking if it weren’t for him.

His lips are soft but roughly bitten. Hot and wet from the water and maybe from something else. He doesn’t taste like anything other than home, and that’s more than enough for you. His hands went up to cup your face at some point, but you’re too drowned in all the feelings coming up to the surface to pay attention to anything other than his soft mouth pressing on yours, more and more, opening up—

And it’s already over. You only notice that you’ve closed your eyes when you open them again when you don’t feel anything against your mouth other than the summer air. When your mind manages to regain any sense of function, the blurry focus of your gaze settles on his eyes. Wide open. Pupils eating up the dazzling viridian that puts the forest to shame. And a terrified expression in them.

He’s looking at you like he hurt you. His lips should still be on yours, kissing and sucking, not frozen like they are right now, obviously trying to express something painful as a few weak sounds pass their barrier before he finally manages to speak:

“Oh—Oh my God, I-I’m s—”

You don’t let him finish his stupid sentence. You don’t think twice before you take his face in your hands and lean in to kiss him again, with shameless intent this time. No more pretending—you’ve been waiting long enough for this and apparently, so has he.

It’s nothing gentle this time when your mouths crash against each other, teeth clashing and lips bruising under the weight of twenty years. You hold to his face like a lifeline, fingers sinking just a bit into his cheekbones, the tip of your nails getting caught in the knots of his dripping hair just above his ears. It’s messy, your noses rubbing before he angles his face better. One of his hands loops around your waist in a tight grip, forcing your chest to crush against his, the other burying in your hair at the base of your skull.

The feeling is electrifying, indescribable. It’s nothing like the pale, miserable depiction of your imagination. It’s discovering life in color when all you’ve always known was black and white.

The water is cool, but his body scorches against yours, burns your skin in the most exquisite way. The kiss is desperate on both parts, but neither of you is confident. His lips suck on yours with tentative motions, and you respond in kind the best you can. They are hungry, starving for flesh but don’t know how to hunt.

Your hands are gripping more and more of his hair, pulling harder, sending waves of heat all the way down his groin, and he’s not sure he can hide the bulge growing there for much longer.

He has to be sure, he has to be absolutely certain you want this as much as he does, because once he starts, he may not be able to stop. But you feel so good, all pressed against him. Your skin feels so soft under his hand at the small of your back he has to dig his nails in the skin of your waist so he doesn’t cross a line. But the curve just above your ass is begging for him to grip at the tender flesh and squeeze, fill his hands with it. He’s been dreaming about this for so long.

No, he can’t just hurl himself at you like a hunting wolf the first chance he gets—what kind of friend does that?

It takes him every bit of focus he has left to break the kiss, to part away from you. You have to discuss this, he can’t just throw away twenty years of friendship! Now you’re looking up at him with puppy eyes saying, ‘Why won’t you play with me?’ He breathes out a shaky sigh, and begins:

“Um, look. Believe me when I say I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time, and I love you so, so much. As a friend, I mean.” He sees you frown at this, catches a glint of something he doesn’t like in your eyes, then panics. “No, no, no, I mean, a-as a friend, but also more than that, o-obviously. But I don’t know what you want, you might be...d-disappointed, or...um—” His face starts heating up like it hasn’t in ages. He takes another breath, tries to clear up the muddled mess happening in his head. “Look, I just want the best for you, but you look...good, very good, and you’re making things very difficult for me, doing...this—”

“Izuku.” The deafening hubbub filling his mind falls suddenly silent, your voice a comforting, steady rock for him to cling to when his mind is storming out of control.

“Yeah?”

You get even closer to him, since he gradually set some distance while mumbling his anxious thoughts out again. You cup his face in your hands, a gentle, featherlight touch, and look up at him with determination in your eyes. You pull his head down a bit to settle on yours, your foreheads and noses connected, never breaking eye contact. Your lips graze over his, both your breaths mixing there, your voice a quiet whisper as you speak again. “Do you want me?”

Out of the jittery mess of his mind, the answer comes out like evidence, plain and simple: “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

You take action immediately, kissing him once again and this time he doesn’t hesitate to put his—still rather shaky—hands on you. The feeling of you is addicting, pushing his insecurities further in the back of his mind. He starts at your waist, running his thumbs there, feeling the goosebumps rising on your skin. They wander up your spine, counting every single bump of your bones, all the way to your nape. Then dragging them back down to settle on your hips, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. The little sigh you breathe on his lips causes an impressive amount of blood to run straight to his dick.

Your mouth is distracting, dizzying, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping playfully. His tongue slides over your lips, then against your own when you open up immediately for him. You’re pressing against him even more, your breasts rubbing against his naked chest and he swears you’re going to be the death of him. You’re hanging from his shoulders by now, your arms circling his neck, still gripping a handful of green hair, pulling. You have to stop doing this—he might cum right away. He doesn’t say it aloud, only lets a moan escape him into your mouth.

He wanted this, wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, it’s beyond everything he could have imagined. The heat of your skin, the weight on his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath in his mouth, your little sighs.

He’s only now noticing that his hands have gone to reach their destination with a mind of their own. They’re on your ass underwater, feeling the white, wet lace, the sole cloth on your entire body—that thing is just there to tempt him. He’s unsure if you like what he’s doing until you release a whimper, louder this time, enough to send a vibration against his mouth (and straight to his cock at the same time).

Suddenly, he wants to taste a lot more of you. You’re all open up to him for the first time—he has to. He trails a series of open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, savoring every little sigh escaping your lips, then to your neck, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat.

The water is fresh all over you, and he doesn’t miss the shivers running up and down your skin at the contact of the twilight breeze. He needs to warm you up, needs to make you feel good, needs everything to be perfect for you. With his hands still on your ass, he trails lower down to your collarbone, allowing some occasional nips on the way that have you shaking. He freezes, looking up at you from there.

“Is this okay?”

The answer comes out breathy, a little desperate: “Yes, yes, please!” It sends a wave of heat all over him, the way you like what he’s doing to you, the way he’s making you feel good.

He’s not experienced or anything, only had a few hookups a couple of times, so he’s not very confident in his capacities, aside from running his hands all over you because that’s how his instincts are manifesting. You know him better than anyone—of course you would know how lost he could be in this kind of situation. But he also knows you’re not much more experienced than him, and that thought is comforting.

He’s experienced in one thing, though. He feels like the worst, filthiest person on the planet for this, but it’s astonishing the number of times he jerked off to the thought of what’s happening right now. How many times did he fuck his hand in the shower thinking about the water trickling down your skin, about licking it off your breasts all the way up to your neck.

So he does what he’s been dying to do for years. your breasts are just above the surface, so he sits on his heels and licks down your chest. When his tongue finally reaches your nipple, giving it a tentative lick, you let out a gasp, encouraging him to get bolder. And he does, closing his mouth on it like it’s the sweetest lollipop; it’s all cold and hard and raised from the water, but it warms up really quickly against the furnace of his mouth. His right hand leaves your ass to cup the neglected other, running his thumb against the bud, squeezing the flesh. That’s when you reach out to bury a hand in his hair, and pull again. God, you can pull on his hair all day and night like this; he’ll never get enough.

His left hand, still on your ass, rises up to the small of your back, feeling you arching more and more, pushing against his mouth. A harder nip has you gasping and he lets his hands run all over you, wandering without direction. It’s messy and urgent; he can’t help it—you feel so good, so soft under his hands. He’s like a kid getting to open his Christmas gifts in the morning after an endless, sleepless night waiting for Santa.

You trail your hand down his chest and his abdomen, a gentle reminder that the power he holds right now could slip through his fingers any moment. He’s willing to give it to you, especially since he doesn’t really know what to do next.

Like you just read his mind, you take his hands in yours, stopping their chaotic race. He’s feeling himself flush a bit—was he going too fast for you? Did he scare you? Or did he just let himself become overwhelmed by his feelings and it didn’t feel good for you? His eyes are looking down directly at your naked chest, he realizes he never took a proper look at them, too busy throwing himself to taste them. They look just as good as they taste, as beautiful as the rest of you.

Tentatively, he raises his eyes to find your reassuring gaze and fond smile. You lead his hands down slowly, setting them on your hips, over the criminal lace fabric preserving your modesty. Your foreheads connect again, but you never break eye contact. Lacing your fingers together, you guide his thumbs into the elastic on both sides, and now that he gets what you’re trying to do, his mind just stops.

Your voice is barely a whisper, a mesmerizing caress on his lips when you speak again. “I think I’ve waited long enough, Zuku.”

Your tone is fond, but you sound so desperate, it’s unbearably cute. His mind fogs up, the smoke of your words filling his skull and he wants to drive you as mad as you drive him. Sure, you’ve waited a lot, but so has he. He isn’t going to rush this, not if he has any say in it.

He slides your panties down your thighs underwater inch by inch. It’s even too slow for him; right now he just wants to rip the stupid piece of lace off of you and fuck you and him both stupid in the water, hard and fast. But even more than that, he wants to take his time with you, wants to take you apart piece by piece. And the testy whine it elicits from you makes it all so worth it.

You shift a bit so he can take your underwear completely off and, in a second, it lays abandoned on the sandy ground of the shore. Just knowing you’re now completely naked in front of him, it sends boiling desire flowing through every single vein in his body. He can’t see that part of you yet, the water darkening along with the sky clouding his view beneath the surface, but nightfall can’t do anything about Izuku’s wild imagination. He’s dizzy, feeling himself slowly falling into a half-conscious daze, but you anchor him right where you are, bringing him back to the reality of your arms hooked around his neck.

He rests his hands on your hips, dragging his fingertips down the soft flesh of them. The idea of touching you down there is making his head spin, he can’t wait any longer.

“Can I—”

“Yes, I want your fingers inside me,” you say before driving your lips back against his.

Without further ado, one of them goes straight to your core, making you jump a bit, breaking the kiss just for a second. He runs his index between your folds, feeling hot slick already coming out of you despite the fresh water around. His touch is light, slow, hesitant as it glides up and down, testing the waters. He’s getting a bit further, putting a bit more pressure with every stroke and earning a few pleased sighs from your heavenly mouth.

He expected a sudden reaction as soon as he found your clit, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for the drawn-out moan coming out of your gorgeous lips, wet from his mouth and from your dip earlier. He wants to hear that again, every day for the rest of his life. He drags his thumb over it, again and again, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker, and your voice grows louder with every speed-up of his finger.

Your hands go frantic over him, running up his chest and down his abs in repeated motions that feel a lot like it’s lust driving your limbs much more than your mind. You stopped kissing him at some point, your mouth too busy expressing every ounce of pleasure you felt to focus on such basic motions. Your face is buried in his neck, your hot breath crushing against his skin.

He presses his index inside, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing, trying not to hurt you, that he doesn’t notice the shift of your own hand leaning down until he feels it cupping the painful bulge in his boxers. His eyes go wide with a gasp, and when he looks at you, you already have a playful, but intense, gaze piercing right through him.

“Did you think I was gonna let you play all on your own, Zuku?” Your fingers graze over the soaked fabric, down his entire length and to his balls, throwing gasoline on the fire that’s been consuming him for ages. “Don’t be selfish,” you whisper directly in his ear as your hands slip his underwear down his thighs.

As soon as the piece of cloth gets to join your forgotten panties on the shore, you wrap your pretty hand around him. And when you start stroking, his eyes roll so hard he swears he can see the inside of his skull. It feels better than he ever could have imagined; it’s blistering, astonishing. The only idea his brain can manage to work out right now is that he wants you to feel just as good.

He only notices now that his fingers stopped moving, and they go right back to a steady pace, but it’s a matter of seconds before he drives another finger into you. Soon, you’re both fucking the life out of each other with your hands. You’re sucking and nipping at his ear, and every single moan he draws out of you ends up turning against him, breaking into the defenses he built year after year by your side. He’s simply fucking into your hand now. He can’t help it, you feel so good. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’s going to feel like to fuck into your tight little cunt, he might cum hard just from the thought of it.

The spongy spot he finds inside you feels like he just struck gold. It’s glorious, the sounds you make right now, higher, louder. You’re tightening around his fingers, but it’s okay—you can crush them for all he cares. He wants you to moan higher for him, wants you to keep riding his fingers like your life depends on it.

“Izuku, ah—I’m close, I’m so close, please…”

“I got you, baby. I got you, shit—”

He quickens the pace again, feels like his fingers are gonna fall off his hand the moment he gets them out of you, but fuck, what his princess wants, his princess is gonna get. Your orgasms shatter the both of you to pieces, and in the bliss of his high, he can hear some birds flying away, scared by the harmonious, but probably very loud, song of your combined moans.

While his cum strikes out by ropes into the water, his clouded mind can only think about one thing.

He needs more of you.

You can barely stand on your knees, worn out from cumming the hardest you have in your entire life. You actually have to lean on Izuku so you don’t fall into the water head first like some boneless ragdoll. You just let your forehead rest on his shoulder and count the freckles there, splattered in a fascinating work of abstraction.

But apparently, he has other plans. You’re swiftly lifted up and out of the water, huge scarred hands firmly holding the back of your thighs that immediately come to circle his waist.

“Oh, nice. I don’t mind getting carried around like a baby. Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he says with a little grin, walking out of the water. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone, one you’re not used to hearing out of Izuku’s angel mouth.

“I think I can manage, yeah.”

He drops you to stand on your legs, and immediately goes for his backpack. The sun has just set, its last rays of light filling the pink sky over your heads. You can still easily make out everything around you, and Izuku’s body is no exception.

You’re watching him with a raised eyebrow, letting your shameless gaze follow every curve you couldn’t see underwater. The day he started exercising in high school was the day you knew it was over for you. It was the day you couldn’t deny what you felt anymore, you couldn’t deny your best friend was everything you needed, and everything you wished for. The physical factor was only a—very pleasant— addition to the list of things that made you fall hard for Izuku Midoriya.

Your eyes linger over his impressive figure, staring at the dimples at the small of his back. You always knew they were here, but you never allowed yourself to look at them, to imagine how they would grow repeatedly hollow with every thrust of his hips into you.

He finally digs out what he was looking for: a plaid picnic blanket, because of course he would have one in there. He’s wearing a little victorious smile when he stands and turns around to spread it on a grassy spot that looks a lot more comfortable than the hard ground. He turns back to you but averts his gaze to the side, hardly looking directly at you for more than a second at a time. The heat of his gaze tracing your curves through quick glances pools deep in your core.

“You know you can look, right?” You sure aren’t refraining from doing so after all.

His face reaches its usual redness—hasn’t he learned anything from making you cum like crazy with just his fingers? It’s cute nonetheless; Izuku will never change.

He doesn’t answer your rhetorical question, only gives you a shy command in that tentative, very cute voice of his.

“Could you lay down on this for me?”

You saw this coming, but still, you’re a bit surprised he’s asking you that out loud. You gladly oblige with your legs pressed together, slightly bent. It’s another golden opportunity to tease him a bit:. “This isn’t exactly the right use for this blanket. Aren’t we supposed to eat on this?”

He smiles at the ground while kneeling at your feet.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Your sly smile fades away. His tone is a contradictory mix of shyness and determination, so it’s a bit confusing but also unbearably hot—you swear an astounding wave of heat is crashing through your deepest parts, untouched, just from some words and a funny tone. You rub your thighs together before he grabs and parts them to slip himself between them.

He crawls over you and leans down to kiss you, a bit more confident than earlier. His hips are pressing between your legs, where you can feel his hardness best.

He’s rutting more and more against you as the kiss intensifies. You could think it’d be a lot less exciting now that you know he’s going to eat you out, there’d be no suspense. Wrong. The little shit apparently likes to tease you to death, because he left your lips to kiss your face, nip at your neck, suck at your ears. Dragging his devilish hands everywhere, pressing harder each time you get louder. An especially heavy whine makes him buck hard, his mouth back against yours.

“The more impatient you get, the slower it’s gonna be,” he murmurs against your lips, and starts to make his way down to where you want him, kissing every inch of you, clouding your mind with desire. It’s way too much and still not enough; it’s maddening. When he finally reaches down, you’re on the verge of a second orgasm like you hadn’t just come down a few minutes ago.

He’s holding your thighs apart in a firm grip. Just the touch of his fingers burns your skin deliciously, and the look he’s giving you from between your legs...his eyes are clouded, half-lidded, looking at the part of you he’s never gotten to see before. It feels like he’s been looking forever and just a second at the same time.

He finally dips into you, leaving butterfly kisses all over your inner thighs, punctuated by little nips, nuzzling the soft skin. He’s not looking you in the eye anymore, his gaze lingering all over your body—all over except for your face. You can make out a slight blush on his cheeks despite the dimness all around. You know him better than anyone, so you immediately recognize what’s going on in his mind just from the slightest hint in his eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a battle against himself, his shyness against his hunger. And you know who you’re both rooting for.

He finally gives in, and it takes your breath away. A single, slight lick on your clit and you’re gone. And the next ones, more and more intense, more and more hungry, push you further to tumble over your edge. He grunts into your heat, multiple times. Moans like he’s the one squirming under your mouth.

His hands hold a firm grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh and keeping you in place—he doesn’t even give you an inch to move. You can only take and take and take. But you still have the luxury of your free hands, and they rush to bury in the knots of his messy wet curls, your nails dragging, scratching his scalp.

His lips close on your clit and suck just a bit, and before you can refrain, you pull on his hair, hard. He gasps, and the moment you think you hurt him, he breathes his loudest moan, right into you. You’re filled with the vibrations—they spread all over your body, have you throwing your head back, trembling from head to toe.

The louder you are, the hungrier he gets, filling you with his insatiable tongue. You have to look at him right now. And you expected quite a show, but you certainly weren't prepared to see this—him rutting against the ground like an animal. You realize he’s getting off just from your taste, just from eating you out. His hips roll repeatedly, making you salivate just to the thought of those same hips bucking into yours, fucking you into oblivion. And the more he ruts, the louder he gets.

Now if he wants to moan, you’re going to give him a good reason to.

You hint for him to face you with a light tug on his hair. As soon as he’s back up, he dives in to kiss you. You don’t let him. In a second he’s on his back with you seated on his hips.

“What did I say about letting you play on your own, hm?”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look is so cute on him. And the rest is a marvel to look at. You’re straddling him and he has no other choice than to let you devour him with your eyes—not that he couldn’t bounce you off of him with just a thrust of his hips, but he already would have if he wanted to. You let your gaze wander mindlessly over him—it’s surreal. There’s no way he’s actually under you, waiting for you to please him back with his mouth and jaw still shining with your juices. It has to be a dream—it’s always been after all.

You shift so you’re straddling his parted thighs. You can finally take a look at him. The whole thing, that is. His cock is resting against his lower stomach, hard and swollen and thick. It’s a pretty, bright pink, shining with pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters just at the sight of it.

He’s looking down at you, his face as flushed as his dick, that usual blush still exquisitely coating his freckles. You take him in your hand, dive in to give a lick to the tip and his head falls back down with a whimper. You let your tongue drag over the whole length on the underside, and your lips close around the tip in a wet smooch. His hips jerk up a bit, startling you.

You finally take him whole in your mouth, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you. You start bobbing up and down, going a bit further each time, earning a series of shameless moans because this boy is loud. You expected him to express himself during sex since he’s such a mumbler—and frankly, it was always one of your biggest fantasies, hearing him come undone because of you, lose any sense of shame and self-restriction when he’s such a anxious person otherwise.

But you could’ve thought about it every night and day and still never be ready for this. It’s sinful. His hand goes to grab your hair just like you did to him, and now you get why he liked it so much. The feel of his nails scratching your scalp is electrifying, soothing and destructive at the same time.

Your tongue hits a precise spot just under the tip and he jerks up again, nearly screams, “Fuck—yes, right there, please—d-do that again!”

And you do, you can only oblige—he asked so nicely. Your lips go up and down, over and over, your tongue grazing this spot with a bit more pressure every single time. You squint over him, and what you find there is a mess. Trying so hard not to buck into your mouth but failing miserably. Sounding like he’s at Heaven’s gate.

“Easy, Zuku. You’re gonna scare the birds away,” you chuckle against him, your lips brushing the tip, dripping with your saliva and pre-cum.

“Do I need to remind you…how loud you were for me earlier?” He’s looking back down at you as he speaks, a tremble in his voice telltale of his approaching climax. “You sounded...so good, baby, I swear...wanna hear you again, wanna make you scream, just for me, fuck—”

You can feel yourself soaking the blanket, can feel the slick trickle down your folds and stain the plaid cotton. Is he aware of what he’s doing? Or is he just saying whatever is going through his chaotic mind? In any case it has you starving. So you let go of his cock and, before he can protest, crawl back to his face and kiss him desperately. Tasting both of your fluids in a mindblowing mix.

You pull back just enough to be able to speak, because you need him to understand you loud and clear when you say: “Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I’ve waited so long. Please.”

“Okay, okay, fuck—” He cuts himself off, his eyes slightly drooping like a sad puppy. “I-I don’t have any condoms.”

“You mean you probably have pads in there for me but no condoms?” you say with your eyebrows raised, your mocking tone hinting at a teasing remark, far from criticism.

He frowns in confusion. “How do you know I have pads in there?”

“So the legend turns out to be true. After all these years—”

“Shut up, you’re impossible,” he chuckles heatlessly, resting his hands on your back.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” you assure him with a soft tone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the pill, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then clarifies, a hint of hesitation clear in his voice.

“No I mean...you’re sure you wanna do this?” He marks a brief pause, takes a short breath. “With me?”

You don’t even think before answering, it slips your mouth like it’s not even your own words: “I don’t want it with anyone else.”

There’s a silence.

“Fuck, that sounds cheesy,” you scoff, looking away.

“It does, but we’re both cheesy idiots, apparently.”

You look back at him. His smile is so fond, so loving; it melts your heart in the best way.

“I wanna be your cheesy idiot,” you say against his mouth, looking right into his eyes, willing to fall in them.

“You always have been,” he nearly whispers. It fills your stomach with familiar warmth, intense and overwhelming, comforting.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth, one of regret and lost time and God, we’re idiots.

Now it’s about time you make up for it all.

You look down at him, rolling your hips against him, dripping all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

“I think I asked you something, didn’t I?”

A whimper escapes him at the feeling. His hips buck up slightly, hands gripping at your back. When you do it again, you don’t get the chance to see his reaction; you’re on your back again, him towering over you, his thigh between your legs.

He’s looking at you with something in his eyes you don’t recognize, but the tone he speaks with has your entire body quaking.

“And you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

He holds himself over his left forearm, his hand thumbing at your cheek while the other strokes the whole length of your thigh. Your noses are brushing, your breaths crashing together. Your hands hold tight to his nape, playing with the short hair mindlessly as you’re waiting to be filled, finally.

You feel the stretch instantly. You try to focus on those mesmerizing emerald gems he calls eyes. They look right through your soul, eating you up and you barely feel the pain. He’s taking it slow, inch by inch, giving you all the time you need, caressing your cheek with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Izuku’s voice is a soothing sound over the incessant chirping of the grasshoppers. It was always one of your favorite things to hear, its every tone another blessing to your ears. It’s loving when he asks if you’re okay, comforting when he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry on his shoulder, heartening when he’s going on about anything he’s passionate about.

He’s kissing every part of skin he has access to, over your face, your jaw, your neck. You feel yourself relaxing around him, and roll your hips up to give him the hint.

When he starts moving it’s still slow and careful. He doesn’t break eye contact, so you can see his every reaction, and he can see all yours. His hand is still playing with your hair, even as his pace speeds up with every second. The weight of him over you feels amazing, it holds him close against you, countless parts of you both rubbing together: your chests, your stomachs, your thighs. He doesn’t even have a lot of space to move. But getting to touch and get touched by him like this, it's incredible. You always had him so close to you, always right there and still so out of reach.

You still need more; you’re insatiable. You need to see him come undone under you, because of you. You push him to roll on his back, and you end up straddling him, setting the pace yourself. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, taking balance on the hard planes of his abs. He immediately reaches up to grab your hips, guiding you along.

His face tenses up, frowning, his nose wrinkling, his lips parted just to let out a series of breathy sighs. He looks wrecked and dizzy and stunning. He’s keeping his eyes open, fixed up on you, specifically on your breasts, bouncing with your every motion. And you can feel his gaze on your skin just as much as you feel his hands gripping harder at the flesh below your hips.

“Eyes up here, Zuku,” you coo with two fingers pointed at your eyes.

He doesn’t answer, only sits up easily and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look so amazing, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says with a trembling voice, filled with bliss.

Your heart misses a beat at his words, they fill you with warmth and comfort because he definitely doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing to you. He delves his face into your neck, kissing and nuzzling, his breath coming shorter and shorter, crashing against your skin and his hands running all over you. The sound of his hoarse voice resonates through the forest and through your soul, echoing an enchanting song.

With little effort, he puts you back under him so he can pound into you with full force, and your legs immediately come up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands grab his hair, tugging to see if you get the same reaction as earlier, and it doesn’t miss: he lets out a groan right into your ear, speeding up his pace again.

The sky is dark now, and all you can hear are his moans and yours and the slap of your hips coming together repeatedly. Your head is thrown back when he grabs you by the hair, forcing you to turn your head and face him.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.”

“Izuku, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby. Let go for me, come on.”

Just the feel of his hand trailing down your stomach awakens something in you, this familiar pressure growing tight in your belly. And when his fingers reach your clit, a couple of strokes are enough to have you screaming his name, tightening around him, and pulling him towards his climax with you. His thrusts come franticly as you milk him dry, clawing desperately at his back, panting in his mouth as he leaned down to kiss you through both your climaxes.

As soon as he comes down, he rolls over on his side, still laying close to you, an arm thrown over you. You both take a minute to catch your breaths and, weirdly enough, you don’t hear anything aside from your panting. You really must have scared the birds away. Izuku breaks the silence first.

“Do you wanna...sleep at my place?”

He’s looking over at you and, despite the sky getting dark, you can easily imagine the blush coating his cheeks right now, like he didn’t make you scream his name, drunk on his cock two minutes ago.

You can’t repress your fond smile at his proposition.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

You take a minute to gather your clothes from all over the place and get dressed, then grab your bag to tug it over your shoulder.

“You got everything?”

Izuku is waiting for you just outside the trees. You take a quick look around, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything, and turn around without a second look at the place.

Because although it was your first time setting foot here, it definitely won’t be the last; you will come back here with Izuku every chance you get, making it your shared secret, your own little wonderland.

You gladly take the hand he’s offering, making him blush a little harder, and you head straight back into the forest together.

You walk side by side as a comfortable silence settles, only disturbed by the grasshoppers’ incessant, boisterous chirping. The sky is utterly dark now, you can make out a few stars shining above the dense trees. You walk at a steady pace, but Izuku is going a bit faster with every step. Soon enough, he’s walking a bit ahead of you, still holding your hand. Another golden occasion to tease his eagerness.

“Are we in a hurry, Zuku?”

In the dark of the night, you struggle to make out the look on his face as he turns around to look at you. A second later, he’s running, and with your hand firmly held in his, you can’t do much but try to follow along. You giggle as you run, and it quickly grows into a belly-deep laughter. He’s fast, doesn’t get tired, but you follow him anyway, probably as eager as he is. You have to zig-zag so you don’t run straight into the massive trees standing in your way.

You get to the car in no time, but you’re both out of breath when you finally get in your respective seats, ready to go home.

Izuku doesn’t even wait to catch his breath before he starts the car, the engine roaring loudly in the silence of the night, probably scaring the birds away for the upteenth time that night. You catch his happy grin in the headlights glow before he heads back into the road.

You have a feeling the night is not over; you’ve only got twenty years to make up for after all.

#bnha smut #deku smut #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya smut #mha smut #there it is omg it's long af #weasel writes

929 notes · View notes

hooniee · 3 years

Text

— ꒰‧⁺ making lunch for them*ೃ༄

↷enhypen x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ genre: reaction | fluff⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷warnings: mentions of food hence the title! please proceed with caution ⋯ ♡ᵎ

⇢˚⋆ ✎ this was super fun to write and i might write so more reactions/headcannons like this! please enjoy <3ˎˊ-

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

-ˏˋ~ heeseung lee ~ˊˎ-

“okay here’s a lunchbox for you! all of your favorites, make sure to eat all the veggies so that you can be healthy. i packed two water bottles so that you don’t get dehydrated. i also packed a bunch of snacks for the boys so make sure they eat too! oh and-”

heeseung laughs at you rambling, making you halt and feel shy under his gaze

“too much? sorry, you know how i am”

heeseung shakes his head, “not at all babe, thank you”

you dating the oldest in the group automatically made you like a mother figure to the 6 boys you adored

you had packed heeseung lunch ever since you found out he never had time to cook anything besides ramen packets :((

it wasn’t healthy for him and both of you knew that

he loved your lunches and it had just become a routine

the boys started to pout and get sad that you didn’t pack them anything

or as heeseung says, “they’re hungry little monsters too”

from then, you started putting loads of snacks in his lunch bag so that the boys could have something to munch on, occasionally making seven lunch boxes as a meal packed with nutritious foods.

heeseung complained about how heavy it was to carry all of them

but in reality, he wanted to be the only one who had the special heart shaped sandwiches.

-ˏˋ~ jay park ~ˊˎ-

(tasting the potato) “a little too salty”

(picking up the heart shaped onigiri) “why is it cut in a weird shape?

(staring at the ratio of chicken and rice) “could have added more chicken to balance out the amount of rice-”

“jay if you don’t like it, just say it,” you pout, moving to take the lunch box away from him.

*glaring at you* “who said i didn’t like it?”

jay is definitely the type of person to love cooking

from enhypen&hi, you can see him taking the lead in making dinner with the members

he critiques your cooking, like a mini gordan ramsy, but in a more loving way

honestly your food is amazing but he doesn’t want to be seen as soft so he pretends to play it off as

“it could be better but it’s still edible”

on the inside, he was screaming at himself

“this is so good! my cute s/o made it for me and look at this cute heart shape! oh veggies too! i should eat these so that i can be healthy”

he’s grateful that you take your time out of your day to cook for him

and who are we kidding?

jay swallows your food

even if it tastes like expired makeup

-ˏˋ~ jake sim ~ˊˎ-

“what is this baby?” jake asks, pulling a yellow bento box out of his practice bag.

he had never seen this box. it was labeled with “with love, enjoy babe!”

jake had woken up late or more so, you wanted to give him some more rest, and you decided to pack his bag and make him a lunch box while you were up.

“that’s your lunch jake,” you laugh at his adorable confused face, putting the ingredients back in the cabinet.

“lunch ?that you made for me?” jake’s eyes widen as you nod your head.

you didn’t know how he would react from the way his face stayed in shock, did he not want it? was the note too much?

that was before he rushed over to hug you and plant a kiss on your forehead.

jake was a simp for you

you were the light of his life, his one and only, his whole world, etc.

you could have grabbed something from the top shelf and jake would cheer like you just won a grammy

he was grateful for anything you did for him, cuddling him when he was tired, packing his bag when he need those extra 5 minutes of sleep

to say the least, he never would have imagined that you would make lunch for him

you had usually packed snacks in his bag since you were also a busy person but it was the first time you had made a whole meal for him

your cooking was the best, next to his mom’s of course

jake almost didn’t want to eat it from how pretty it was made

“why is jake hyung looking at rice like that?”

“because his OH SO precious (y/n) made it for him”

“ahhh makes sense”

-ˏˋ~ sunghoon park ~ˊˎ-

“sunghoon! wait up, wait up,” you yell out, running after him.

maybe it was because sunghoon was blessed with those super long legs but man, does this man walk fast.

sunghoon turns around, baggy white tshirt and black sweats, a black duffel bag hanging off of his shoulder

he corks his eyebrow at your figure that’s panting after chasing after him.

he checks his pockets and unzips his bag, “did i forget anything?”

“here,” you place a bento box with a pink cloth tied in a knot in his hands.

he squints, turning it in different ways, “what is this?

“it’s a lunch box! i made it for you,” you smile.

no thank you came from his mouth but you could tell as his cheeks started to glow pink like the cloth

sunghoon is confused when you make him lunch?

don’t get him wrong, he’s thankful but why?

i see sunghoon as a person to ask why questions for anything his s/o does for him

not is it to just annoy you, but he can feel the love behind the words when you explain WHY you did that thing for him

he loves affirmation over physical touch

sunghoon seems to be someone more introverted and quiet in the relationship

listening to his s/o, nodding to them when their ranting about something

he feels really grateful to you and eats his lunch with a big smile

he attempts to make you lunch too

if jungwon hadn’t called the fire department, you guys probably would be burnt to a crisp </3

-ˏˋ~ sunoo kim ~ˊˎ-

“oh my gosh (y/n)! what is this?” sunoo squeals as you place the newly prepared food in the bento box.

“it’s your lunch, bub,” you smile, seeing his face light up when you mention his lunch.

“for me? for real?” he questions

you nod your head and he starts doing a cute wiggling dance.

“my (y/n) is the best!”

sunoo loves to eat!

he loves all types of foods from all different palettes

sunoo didn’t mean to wake up so early

after a long night of practice, the last thing he wanted to do was go wake up early

but he couldn’t help it

the smell of cooking had instantly made him rise from bed

he took a little peep out to see you rushing around the kitchen

there was an egg, frying in the pan

you were packing rice that was freshly steaming, into a blue bento box

in your (f/c) apron, hair out of your face

he smiles at the sight, pretending to be asleep when you awoke him

-ˏˋ~ jungwon yang ~ˊˎ-

“wonie? are you here?” you softly call out, peeping your head into the practice room

“i’m right here,” jungwon comes from behind you making you jump, almost dropping the lunch box

“hi won,” you smile

“hi (y/n), what’s up?” he smiles, softly giving you a forehead kiss

“i wanted to drop this off, “ you hold up the box

he tilts his head in confusion, “bento box? for me? i didn’t order anything though?”

“idiot, i made it for you”

“oh”

“OH”

jungwon is the leader

even though he doesn’t have to, he always makes sure that his members have eaten or are staying hydrated

he always is worried about his members than himself

and it takes a toll on him as the hyungs said

it made you sad when you heard a report from heeseung that jungwon had been skipping lunch as much as he preached about the topic

enough was enough for you

you got up extra early and got to work

you had prepared a lunch bento filled with protein, veggies, carbs and a small chocolate bar. making sure to pack a water bottle, you packed it in a tiny backpack

you felt proud of your final creation

and from then on, you had decided to start making jungwon lunch everyday

from that day on, jungwon hasn’t skipped lunch

-ˏˋ~ nishimura riki ~ˊˎ-

riki enters the practice room again, cutting his break short while his hyungs take a nap, continue to eat, etc.

as he’s about to start to warm up, a purple bento box catches his eye. it was placed on the speaker.

he didn’t remember that being there before? maybe it was one of his hyungs. he should probably give it to them.

to his surprise when taking a quick glance at it, it said his name

“for your lunch riki! (y/n)”

he quickly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to you with the caption “is this for me?”

your phone buzzes and you see the notification from riki. you laugh, opening his message

you respond “yes babe! enjoy <3”

just like jungwon, ni-ki had been skipping meals :(((

and you weren’t happy to hear that

ni-ki was still growing and needed nutritious meals to be able to stay healthy

his only excuse was that he needed to practice to be better in dance

ni-ki was already amazing :(((

why did he need to sacrifice his precious lunch time to practice?

you became anxious about the way he wasn’t taking care of himself

he already doesn’t get enough sleep

now not enough nutritious food?

that was not going to pass by you

you wanted to drop the lunchbox in secret, he didn’t need to see your flustered face anyway

you signaled to sunoo in the lobby as he guides you to the practice room

ni-ki was too busy playing on his phone to notice you

you dropped it off but you didn’t expect him to find it so fast

he was glad that it was just a drop off, so you couldn’t see the fire growing on his cheeks

1K notes · View notes

felswritingfire · 3 years

Text

(Hades) Gods x Shade! Reader

No matter how much you try, mortality will always catch up to those who are not of gods. Even the most blinded of them learn this eventually. You take your death with grace, choosing to go and explore this new world as soon as Lord Hades permits you to go, impressed by how little you complain and demand. You are one of the brighter parts of his day (night?).

You drift along, catching certain snippets of other Shade’s conversations as you wander aimlessly. You notice a crack in the wall; deciding to muster up your courage, you slip through it to find yourself in the glowing green torches of Tartarus. With what little you have, you hold it close to your translucent body and push forward.

You’re quick to notice the large glowing ball with an oddly familiar symbol floating in the middle of it. You take your time circling it, feeling compelled to touch it. When you do, a beam of light comes slicing through the dreary air to reveal a mighty god who stares down at you at your shocked form...

Zues

Cause of Death: Lightning Strike

Zues is confused when he sees you. He’s even more confused when you start screaming at him, waving your hands about and threatening to fight him yourself.

“You fucker! You killed me!”

He raises a brow. “I think I’d remember if I killed you.” You flipped up your middle finger at him and his eyebrows drew into an angry v. “How rude! I am the God of Gods-”

“I don’t care!”

Zagreus had to high tail it to you before Zues tried to smite you (possibly a second time).

Suffice to say you hoped you’d never bump into that boon again. And you didn’t. No, the God of Gods and Lightning himself decided that he’d have to make a house call himself (Hades was not pleased when a bolt of lightning came crashing down and left a scorched black ring in the carpet).

He picks you out quickly and you try to zoom out of the lobby until he catches you by the back of your robe and then you’re swinging and yelling profanities at him. He’s kinda amused now instead of angry- you’re just so weak and tiny compared to him. It’s hysterical- ow! Did you just bite him?

After you and Zues finish your little “spitting match”- Hades kicks Zeus out and you're forced to hang out in Tartarus for a bit (“but I’m just a simple fisherfolk! I can’t fight anything!” You cry, Hades does not spare you a look as you're dragged out by Meg).

You think maybe that’s the end until you’re approached by a… a squirrel? You almost punt it when his voice spills out as he shoots into a long prattle about how much of a jerk Hades was and how he couldn’t handle someone as grandiose as him appearing before him. Threatened him as a god or something- you were busy trying to figure out how you were going to kill this guy and make sure he stayed dead.

Turns out, after the two of you chattered (argued) a bit about whether or not he actually killed you, Zeus had some neat stories about the gods.

While you were interested in his children’s and brothers’ and sisters’ stories, he was interested in your stories of the mundane. A simple fisherfolk? That was a word? You just fished and traded? Amazing! Tell him more!

After this particular interaction between the two of you, Zeus really ended liking you. Maybe a little too much, but, aw well, it wasn’t everyday a mortal soul had the balls to argue with him for something he doesn’t remember doing (he probably did. Probably. Most likely). He swore that he’d come and see you everyday as he sat on your shoulder as a squirrel, going on and on about how you should feel blessed to be praised by one such as he. You were about to throw him until a giant hand came out and grabbed him (seemed you drifted too close to Lord Hades’ desk), the hulking god flinging him out of a portal.

He continues to pop up and bother you and, to be honest, he’s kinda growing on you. Also, I’m gonna be frank and lay it out that, if he likes you enough, he’s probs gonna want to smash, especially if you lean more towards the feminine side (he’s fucking AWFUL). It’s up to you if you wanna indulge that or not, I don’t recommend it, but you can if you really want to.

We’re going with the option you don’t smash- he’ll be salty at you for a whole ass day before he comes back the one after that as a rat (Hades kept finding out his forms that he used to sneak in so it was an ever constant menagerie of appearances to keep up the disguise) and is like: “I thought you would miss me too much so I came back before you could even complain.”

Zag likes to watch the two of you interact because he finds it absolutely fascinating. It’s like watching… He doesn’t know what it’s like but he’s having a blast as you roast his uncle to bits. It really helps him out when he’s feeling a bit down after failing getting out one too many times.

When you first get Zeus an Ambrosia, he thinks it’s poison and then he gets all prideful because of course you would give him an offering, he was the strongest of all the gods! Him and him alone!

“Silly, mortal, you cannot poison me! I am a god.”

You squint your eyes at him before you huff and pull the bottle closer to you. “Fine, whatever, I’ll just give it to Zagreus- or better yet, Hades if you don’t want it.”

“No! No! I want it! Give it to me! It’s mine!”

During this time, he’s actually experiencing some purer emotions in life- he’s genuinely giddy that you got him the Ambrosia and asks how you got it. You hold up a makeshift fishing rod and grin at him, telling him you snatched it from some nasty shades before you wandered back down to Tartarus.

His gift to you is a little lightning pin that, when you're in danger, will send a nasty bolt of lightning down on your enemies. You wonder what good it’ll do since you’re dead already, but shrug and accept it, thinking that he looks years younger and friendler when his smile isn’t packed full of ego and pride.

Poseidon

Cause of Death: Drowning

Poseidon, Lord of the Oceans, Earthquakes, and many other things, is simply- how do you say? Amused? It’s the best way to describe it at least. Of course he was mostly surprised when he appeared expecting the Little Hades to be waiting for him just to meet a Little Shade in his place.

“Why, hello there, Little Shade! You wouldn’t happen to know where the Little Hades is, would you?”

You shake your head, he doesn’t miss the way you nervously play with your hands, drifting back as some of his droplets float close to you.

He laughs at your simple reply. “Shy one aren’t you?” He leans closer to you, squinting and running a hand through his beard while he hummed.

You fight the urge to take a step back, the smell of salt water making your stomach churn.

His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. He takes a moment before he opens his eyes again and a look of understanding flashes across his eyes. “You drowned. Didn’t you?”

You stare up at him, eyes round and glassy. You nod.

Before your conversation can go any further, Zagreus comes running through the window, surprised to see his Uncle talking to a Shade (you look so scared- he hopes that you aren’t being bullied). You’re quick to take your leave bowing to both and passing the boon to the Prince before you scurry away into the cover of the other Shades.

He hums to himself, a cryptid smile on his face as his eyes follow after you. Such a strange little thing you were- he wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

It takes a bit, but he does happen to see you again, by peaking through a fountain in a fountain room in the Underworld. He spies you trying to poke at the water that he happened to choose, but jumping back each time. You face scrunched up into one of pure frustration. He asks if you’re doing alright there, Little Shade? Causing you to flash out of existence for a moment before settling back down and looking into the pool with wide eyes. Posiedon almost busts a gut with how hard he’s laughing and you huff telling him that it wasn’t funny.

He says otherwise, but asks what you’re doing. When your face bursts into a large blush you mumble something that he doesn’t quite catch and he’s left with more questions than answers as you take the chance to phase out of the chamber when Zag walks in and steals his Uncle’s attention for a split second. He furrows his brow before asking his nephew about you, which Zag, surprisingly, supplies rather quickly, seeing as the two of you talk a lot: apparently you’re deathly afraid of water after you were thrown into the ocean by your supposed best friend. The memories of the waves crushing you deeper and deeper beneath them sticking with you even in death. So, you were trying to curb that phobia. Posiedon nods, letting the words sink in before he offers the Little Hades a thumbs up and says he’ll help with that.

The next time you see the god, he’s eager to call you over and explain that he’s figured out what you were doing last time and offers to let you mess with some of the drops of water that follow him wherever he goes. You stare at them, eyebrows furrowed and looking just as sick as a shade could look. Yet, you still nod your head and hold out a shaky hand. He smiles at you, praising you for your courage and flicks one towards you; it floats gently before it rests serenely on your palm, allowing you to feel the cool sensation of the droplet. You marvel at it, still shaking with an anxiety before you nod. He pulls it away, it shoots back to rest next to his head and you thank him for going out of his way to help you and ease your fears.

He remarks that you should fear the water out of respect: it’s unpredictable, terrifying in it’s own right- vast and, seemingly, never ending, what could possibly be more terrifying than the unknown, hm? He continues to say that you should also hold onto a bit of bravery at the very least, for untold treasures come from there for those who look.

After that conversation, Poseidon makes it a habit of having you hold onto his droplets of water, making them slightly bigger each time for you to get used to them.

By the time you’re able to touch them freely without experiencing crippling fear- the droplets are almost the size of you. Poseidon praises you the more you grow out of your fear.

You do eventually open up to him about how you died and he never tells you that he already knew. Just allows you to talk in a soft voice as you recall it. It’s a nice bonding experience for the both of you and Posideon decides that you’re his favorite Shade and he’ll treasure you for as long as you exist.

The first time you get him a bottle of Ambrosia, you come to him shivering and sopping wet. He’s confused and concerned as he hovers to you.

“What happened to you, Little Shade? Are you alright?”

It takes you a moment to be able to speak. “I- I found a bottle of Ambrosia. I thought-” you take a deep breath, holding out the bottle with both hands- “I thought you’d like it.”

It’s one of his prized possessions now, he takes little sips of it once in a while, but other than that it remains as one of his most precious memories. He’s very attached to you at this point and you’ll forever have his blessing. His gift to you, aside from the undying loyalty, is a shell necklace, if you ever need him- you only need to whisper his name to it and he’ll appear in an instant.

Athena

Cause of Death: Exhaustion

Athena had been prepared to meet with Zagreus- not a curious shade staring back up at her with all the relevance of one of her worshippers.

“What business do you have with me?”

She raises her brow at your gobsmacked expression, watching as you screw your face up before bowing. “Apologies, m’lady, I only happened to bump into your…” you look at where it glows, furrowing your eyebrow, “your orb?”

“Boon.”

You nod your head in understanding before bowing your head again. “Again, my sincerest apologies.”

Luckily, she didn’t smite you, instead asking the question of how you were even talking to her. Getting a shrug from you, you say that maybe it’s because you worshipped her (unofficially, you were never able to make it up to her shrine much to your disappointment) when you were alive- maybe a deeper bond is there compared to someone who had never prayed to her for her protection and guidance.

When she hears this, she’s very interested, pressing you to elaborate further when the Young Prince comes jogging out of the glowing window, waving to you. You slink away, passing the boon to him and bowing to her once again before you disappear into the mass of Shades that choose to wander their new home as well.

After the conversation, you had caught the Goddess’ attention, planting a desire in her to see you again. Even going as far as to write a letter to ask her uncle for a council with you after a week passed of her placing her boon in Tartarus so that maybe you would drift too close to it once again. But each time only the little prince would find them (which she was fine with, but it still left such an unflattering taste of defeat on her tongue each time it wasn’t you). She figured it would be a moot point to send the letter, but it was worth a try.

But she decided to place her boon down once more before she sent it out. Just to try. And this time it worked.

You were the one she saw and she was absolutely delighted- not that she showed it, choosing to keep her stoic and sharp expression. You greet her in a similar way before: awed before bowing your head to her. You continue to go on about how you're happy to see her again and, despite how little you had been buried with, you hoped that she would take this- a broken sword, despite the worn hilt and the deep scars the littered what was left of the flat of the balde; it was still polished (at least what was left of it)- as a proper offering to her for all she had done in your life- even if it truly wasn’t all her doings.

She takes the sword in her hand, holding it high, her eyes shining as she studies it: truly, it was a warrior’s blade. She watches as the history and memories flash in the smooth iron. She remarks that it is a remarkable offering, but she cannot accept it. It feels wrong taking a weapon of a warrior such as yourself.

You smile as her, shaking your head, urging her to take it, for you didn’t need that blade in this afterlife. You had already fought your battles, killing the man who you had been battling with and quelling the rage that had followed you since you were a child for revenge. Eventually, dying from the strain of the fight with a feeling of contentedness.

Athena raises her brow, remarking how that sounded more along the lines of Ares rather than her.

You nod, but say that you couldn’t help but desire her help for she was the goddess attached to your favorite animal. She had to fight the urge to laugh, a shaky smile slipping through as she nods at you. Such a silly thing you are. She decides that she’ll take the sword as a reminder of you, no matter where you should go now. She also decides that you were forming a rather soft cradle in her heart.

After this, she is quick to ask Zagreus about you every chance she gets- not that he minds too much, he tells her about how you’ve been helping him train and you’ve even told him about your life when you were alive (“a general, can you believe that? They’re so young!” Zagreus says as he shows her the new move you taught him). She’s only the slightest bit miffed at hearing that you and Achilles have begun to form a sweet friendship. She’s pleased to hear that his father has been trying to barter with you to get you into Elysium, though she’s a tad confused on the reason you refuse to.

She asks you about it one day and you say that it would take longer to see her and you would prefer to avoid that. It was the only time the goddess has ever had to fight down a blush.

When you get her a bottle of Ambrosia, she’s in pure awe at the huge bottle.

“How did you get one this big?”

You lean against the new sword you managed to get your hands on- something simple and obviously used- you offer her a lopsided grin. “Well, not just any Ambrosia would work, so I decided to try my luck with Lord Theseus and, The Great Bull, Asterius. Took me a couple of tries but I managed to beat them and snag it.”

Athena smiles warmly at it, telling you that she’ll treasure it and think of you every time she takes a drink of it. She realizes in that moment just how important you had become to her, never feeling this… soft for a mortal soul in her life. Her gift to you is a shield and a new sword: the shield bares her symbol of an owl while the sword was ornate with a divine glow. She promises that no matter what they’ll protect you and so will she, you only need to call out her name.

Aphrodite

Cause of Death: A Broken Heart

When the Goddess of Love first sees you- she thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous (of course not as gorgeous as her). The sad look in your eye and the slight frown that rests on your lips makes her almost fall in love right then and there.

“Hello, little one- do you know where the little godling is?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, Lady Aphrodite. I know not where he is.”

She raises her brows, a smile on her face. “How did you know I was Aphrodite, my dear?”

You look up at her, a sudden glint in your eyes has her yearning to see it once again. “No one else could be so breathtaking, my Lady.”

Oh. Oh, she likes you.

She chooses to chatter away with you- despite you mostly listening, adding little things here and there, she feels a strange sense of fullness, like she just ate a full and warm meal for the first time in a very long time, by the time Zagreus arrives. You bid your farewell and she can’t help but follow you with her gaze as your transparent form blends in with the other Shades.

Aphrodite is thrilled the next time she runs into you- or rather you run into her boon. She missed the melancholy look in your eyes, she also doesn’t miss the fact that you’ve come bearing gifts this time: an assortment of colorful flowers rests in your arms and you offer it to her. That glint coming and going like a shooting star as she accepts the offering, holding it up to her nose to take in their sweet scent. How sweet were you to hand her something so delicate.

She asks you where you got them and you remark that you made your way up to Elysium. She’s surprised to hear as such- you didn’t seem like the warrior type. You shake your head, your eyes sweeping low. You weren’t a warrior, far from it- a simple florist if anything. You just drifted until you made it up there and plucked some flowers to make bouquets. You mumble that maybe you’ll be more useful in death.

She tilts her head at the comment, beginning to ask until Zagreus is jogging up to the both of you and it was time for you to leave. She’s a tad annoyed, but reminds herself that the little godling didn’t know- simply trying to break out of this dreary place he calls home and see Olympus in all its glory. She’ll just ask next time.

You gave her another bouquet, this one more beautiful than the last, when she gets the chance to ask you her question. Your eyes pool with a mournful look as you gaze up at her, your hand resting over the place where your heart used to beat as you look to the ground. You explain that you were young when you were wed- just as you were young when you died. You were married off to someone you did not love- someone awful, vile, who beat you down daily just to build you back up so they could laugh when they toppled you over once again. You remark about how you could feel yourself dying little by little, your delicate heart bleeding as your want for life began to dwindle away. You grew sick and you would sit by the window day in and day out, staring out and wondering what your life could have been if you were married to someone you loved. A ghost of a smile blooms on your lips as you look up at her, that glint she oh-so loved twinkling in your eye as you say that you did not die in as much loneliness and pain as you could have; having been making a bouquet dedicated just to her love and sweetness: your Lady Aphrodite who you love, ever so much.

She’s shocked when she realizes the tears that drip down her cheeks, her hand coming to caress your cheek (really your head, she was hulking compared to your small form) with her fingertips. She comments that she would accept every bouquet you made and treasure each flower like it was the one you made for her with your last breaths in the living world.

After that interaction, she comes down a lot more, asking Zagreus if he could bring along her darling florist so that she could talk to you. He always obliges, loving to see the two of you chatter about (well, her chatter about, you usually just listened with a smile on your face as you used the flowers you had plucked into flower crowns for him and Lady Aphrodite). You two become a sort of comfort for him when he’s getting frustrated: seeing your usually melancholy demeanor light up as soon as the goddess appears and in turn the goddess becomes something less vain and more gentle as she speaks to you.

At some point, you’ll probably meet Ares himself- the two never that far from each other, also she adores you, so it only makes sense for you to meet him. He’s honestly a tad unimpressed when you first meet, but when he hears about the heart ache you faced he gains a sense of respect for you, remarking that love is a battle in and of itself and you fought valiantly to keep your ability to love freely (Aphrodite might convince you to have a threesome, I’m not gonna lie, she’s attracted to you on a deep level and she has her trysts with Ares- it’s perfect in her eyes. Though she won’t push you if you don’t desire it).

When you first get her Ambrosia, she’s flabbergasted before it turns into worry for how you got it and the potential danger you were in.

She takes the bottle of gold liquid and the flowers that you had so carefully arranged. Her attention, though, is focused on the said bottle of Ambrosia. “My Darling Florist, how did you get this?” Before you can answer she shoots into a flurry of questions. “Are you alright? Did anything catch you? Hurt you? You don’t seem hurt. Oooh-” she puffs her cheeks out, her gaze sharp- “why did you get me this? It’s dangerous!”

You wait for her to calm down. “I apologize for making you worry, but I simply snuck around and grabbed it from some witches- they didn’t even notice me. And I-” you tap your fingers together, a blush blooming across your face as you look away from the goddess and she decides that she craves seeing that expression on you again- “I thought that you deserved it. It’s a much better offering than my silly bouquets.”

Well, aside from the ‘silly bouquets’ comment (which she corrects you on very quickly), she’s absolutely flattered and it might be the final nail in the coffin that has her falling for you, the little shade in front of her. She decides that you hold a piece of her heart in your translucent hands, though she chooses to keep that information to herself.

Her gift to you is a hairpin that matches hers, though if you don’t have enough hair- she says, you can always pin it to your robe. It’s a blatant claim on her part, but it also helps ease the residual heartache that followed you into death. And, hopefully (a personal hope of her), each time you look at it, you’d fall deeper and deeper in love with her as well.

Artemis

Cause of Death: Arrow to the Heart

She’s confused when she sees you, quick to voice her confusion as well. Also depending on if you're more feminine or masculine (and I don’t mean woman or man, I just mean how you present yourself), she will treat you differently depending. So, for now, we’re gonna go with the more “feminine” option:

“Who’re you?”

You bow. “An honor to meet you, Lady Artemis, I seem to have bumped into that orb on accident. Wasn’t sure what it did and the curiosity got the better of me.”

She hums, she perks when she notices your bow. “You’re a hunter?”

You smile, holding it out to her. “Yes, indeed, my Lady- I prayed to you a lot.” You laughed, adding. “Hoped to join your hunters when I was young.”

She’s quite happy to hear that and begins to chatter along with you. For some reason feeling oddly at ease around you. It’s probably because you were a fellow hunter but she simply can’t help the way she grows an odd sort of… adoration? Something like that, she thinks- for you. She almost laments the fact when Zagreus comes to get the boon.

You nod to him, biding your farewell to the Goddess and passing the boon to the Prince. She doesn’t miss how Zagreus’ eyes shine as you walk away. She almost comments on it but bites her tongue, wanting to observe the prince and the dreamy look that drifts over his features, even as you disappear.

The next time the two of you meet, she asks if she can see you in action. You agree and search up ahead to find something to demonstrate your skills on. You’re quick to find a few Numbskulls. She watches as you take a deep breath, your eyes narrowing on your unassuming targets and your footsteps become silent as you skirt closer to them. You nock an arrow, never looking away. Her eyes gleam with thrumming adrenaline at the way the muscles in your arms tense as you draw the string back. The low groan of the wood barely above a whisper as you wait for them to line up. You hold your breath, releasing the arrow- it goes through all three of them, making them break into dust in a consecutive line, a harrowing scream being wretched from them as they fade from existence. You release the breath you were holding and stand, sending a smile to the young goddess whose eyes shine with stars.

She praises you for your amazing skill and sings of your prowess. You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you argued that you were but a simple bow folk in your living life. Nothing more, nothing less.

She begs to differ! That type of skill only belongs to those of her highest ranking huntresses! She continues to gush about you until Zag comes up and, once again, greets the both of you. That dreamy look coming over his face as he looks at you. She watches as you once again disappear into Tartarus, this time though, after you’re gone, she turns to her cousin and shoots into a tangent about why he had never told her about you before and where did you come from? She has to know!

He answers all of her questions to the best of his abilities but there are even some he doesn’t know about, for example: how you died.

Artemis accepts this and decides that she’ll just ask you the next time the two of you meet.

And, true to her word, she does. She asks you point blank and you can’t help but be slightly taken aback. You laugh softly, leaning on your bow as you begin to recount that you were traversing her forest, as you had done many times before, and noticed fresh foot prints of man. You decided that it would be a good idea to look and you found hunters trying to kill her Golden Stag. You had dove in as quickly as you could, shooting one- the arrow sailing in a clean arch through his wrist before he could let loose his arrow. But as you went to nock another arrow- a searing pain in your chest and heart. You looked down to see blood pooling around your robes, dying the olive green of your cloak a wine red. You remember the last thing you saw was the Golden Stag running away. You smiled telling her that you were happy he got away- you don’t know what you’d do if he had been captured despite your effort.

Artemis suddenly remembers that day: her stag rushing to her and urging her to follow him- he bounded through the forest, frantic and panicked. When they got to a clearing, she was quick to notice the blood and the drag marks of a body. Her stag pressed his nose to the ground sniffing at the pool of blood, his eyes watering and bulbous tears slid down his muzzle. It suddenly made sense. You were the one he was mourning for.

She couldn’t help but grab your hands, resting her forehead against the back of them; thanking you for protecting her stag when she couldn’t. You smile at her, bowing your head to her and thanking her for the countless hunts she went on with you. You pull your hands away from her and hold out your bow to her. She asks what you think you're doing in a watery voice and you say it’s an offering. You couldn’t give much when you were alive and you still can’t give much now, but, this bow- it shall treat her right.

She sniffles as she takes it, trying to hold in tears. She vows to treasure it for all of time as she admires the worn wood.

That day, the two of you became closer as comrades, she would actively come down to say hi to you (and encourage Zagreus to take the leap and court you after she learned of his growing affections for you). The two of you would talk about everything you could think of, explaining how your hunting styles differed or how you could set a trap easier. She had realized that she had never felt this carefree with anyone before. She felt like a child. It felt nice.

When you snag her a bottle of Ambrosia- she’s swaddled in a whirlwind of emotions.

“You… You got this for me?” She asks as she takes the bottle of golden liquid.

You nod, that gentle smiling spreading across your face. “Of course. You had helped me so many times- it is only fair, my Lady-”

“Artemis-” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles- “call me Artemis, my friend.”

She finds you to be a perfect friend- a breath of fresh air from home. She may not feel any romantic feelings towards you, but she still holds you in a dear place in her heart. Her gift to you is a new bow and quiver that will never run out of arrows. The bow is enchanted and you’ll never have to fear it breaking for it will protect you for as long as you exist- in this realm or another.

Ares

Cause of Death: Blood Loss

When Ares first sees you, he is… well- he’s impressed that you stumbled upon his boon, but at the same time… He’s a tad miffed? That you found it?

At the very least he’s condescending as all hell about it:

“What is this? A little lamb came to beg me for power? How foolish. No matter how hard you struggle you will never be much more than some little shade.”

“Ah, sorry, my Lord! Didn’t mean to bump into it!” You hold up the basket in your translucent arms, “I wanted to see if I could find some new ingredients to bake with! I do oh-so miss it, sir.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

He ends up allowing you to chatter on with him despite his obvious judgement on your, what he calls, “soft mortal hobby” until Zagreus comes to do his daily try of breaking out from the Underworld.

As he watches you drift away (after passing the boon and giving words of good luck to the Prince, who happily takes it), he kinda hopes to see you again

And see you again he does! He literally sees you the next day- night? Whatever, he’s never sure when he drops a boon in there- it’s damn dark-

He’s presented with a basket of treats and your gleeful greeting as you chatter that you found ingredients to make some Baklava and you thought that, maybe, he’d like to try it?

He smiles- cruel and sharp- and asks if you truly think that this is a fit offering for a god such as himself?

You shrug, saying he doesn’t have to eat it if he doesn’t want to

He laughs and takes it and you two are off chattering again: him regaling you with his war stories and you of the ingredients you had (somehow) found down here until Zag shows up, once again, the boon is passed to him (this time along with a slice of the delicious, warm Baklava. Which, he’s confused on what it is but he finds out very quickly that it’s his favorite treat).

The two of you talk a lot, which Ares is pleasantly surprised about, usually he’s the scorn of everyone- not that he cares, it causes conflict and he likes that. But you’re so calm and sweet that he just can’t get a rise out of you. Which, on one hand, pisses him off to no end, but, on the other, it’s such a nice change of pace for him. He’s used to the bloodshed and animosity of battlefields- the iron tinged air that follows after the warriors that traverse those fields. And yet, here you are: a shade that always has a treat for him when you run into him and the smell of warm sweetness wafting after you.

So when he learned exactly how you died- he was absolutely floored.

“How did you die, little baker?” He asked one day, fiddling with his knife, tilting it discreetly so that your reflection was in it.

“Oh!” You smiled sheepishly, glancing away from him and placing the bag of flour (how did you even get that? He’d have to ask you next) back into your basket. “Well- you see, I bled out.”

He raised his eyebrow, suddenly very interested. “How? You’re so…” he tilted his head and flipped his knife so that the blade pointed at him and the hilt pointed at you, he poked your arm with said hilt. “Soft.”

“Well…”

You explain that you had a little brother who had a nasty habit of getting into trouble- he was a good person, just made foolish choices- and this time, it had cost you your life. He had pissed off the wrong person and, well, when the man had attempted to grab your brother when the two of you were out walking the stalls on your break- you did the only thing you could think of: you fought.

Of course it went horribly, you’ve never been in a fight before then and, despite all the work you did with dough, it didn’t help much when the man pulled out a knife and dug it straight into your gut. But, you don’t mind too much- your brother’s alive and well and, from what you understand from asking Lord Hades, he had started to be more aware of himself and who he angered. Which made you super happy and proud of him!

Ares can’t help but feel some sort of pity for you. So much life to be taken so quickly and placed in- wait. Why weren’t you in Elysium?

You’re incredibly confused when Ares suddenly disappears (Aphrodite appearing in his place in the blink of an eye- she greets you happily and asks if you have any of Baklava to share today. You do not but you do have some Loukoumades if she wanted some. She did). You’re even more confused when the Underworld shakes and angry yelling fills the entirety of it for a solid ten minutes before all goes back to normal.

You tell Ares about it the next day and he simply hums. Keeping it to himself that he made a whole scene about you not being in Elysium by popping up and butting heads with Hades, of course he got kicked out. That still doesn’t stop him from sending angry letters that can span anywhere from one word letters (usually containing a curse word) to a 30 page essay on why you should be in Elysium instead of milling about in such unkempt places.

The first time you go out of your way to get him a bottle of Ambrosia is the day that both scares the shit out of him and makes him hate you for giving him mushy feelings.

You came to him in, almost literal, tatters: your greenish, transparent form ripped in places, the few wisps of you following after your torn form like they were tied to a string. You had held it up to him in a basket, a plate of Baklava sitting next to it, along with some other treats. “Lady Aphrodite mentioned that she wanted to try my Baklava, so I made her some! Though the Ambrosia is just for you, my Lord!”

He blinked at you, taking the basket in a delicate hold. He turned it this way and that, his chest feeling… warm? He wanted to grimace at the soft warmth that thrummed through his veins, yet it was replaced with a smile as he held up the gold liquid. “Thank you, little Baker.”

It was the first time he felt something so unexplainably soft: so gentle and warm as it settled somewhere between the bottom of his ribcage and the top of his stomach. He listened as you told him how you had gotten it: with Zagreus’ help (you even got to meet Lord Hermes! It was so amazing! He had scoffed at that) he led you to a room with Ambrosia as the prize and, despite the young prince’s worry, you managed to beat the monsters and collect it, mostly, by yourself.

Ares was so flattered, but he couldn’t help the way that your tattered form made him feel a sort of worry. He waved his hands through the wisps of your body before he snapped his fingers and a small blade appeared: a beautifully constructed blade that was an exact replica of his (albeit much, much smaller). He handed it to you, telling you that you should have a proper weapon if you’re going to go out of your way to fight in his name.

Dionysus

Cause of Death: Alcohol Poisoning

Dionysus, unlike many, is incredibly excited to see you sitting there. He adores mortal souls and can’t help but look at them each time Zag chooses his boons and he has the chance to glimpse at their souls (despite his tendency to let them go completely after they die- he can’t help but wonder about them once in a while).

“Why, hello there! What’s a little thing like you doing strolling up to my boon, hm?”

He can’t help but notice the way your eyes are a tad dull, but he writes that off as the dark of Tartarus since it’s gone as fast as he noticed it. You smile up at him, absolutely beaming at the God of drink and madness. “Hello, Lord Dionysus!”

“Oho, you could tell it was me? What gave it away?”

The two of you laugh, diving into a conversation. He offers you a cup of wine and is put off with how long it takes you to decline it. He almost thought you looked absolutely ravenous as you peered into the deep red liquid. He shrugs it off and continues to chatter with you until his favorite Zagman stumbles upon the two of you. He’s quick to say hi to you and even leans down to ask you… something. Dionysus misses it, but still watches the way you stiffly nod before you pass the boon to the prince and scurry off.

He’s tempted to ask about it, but decides that he should probably ask you himself instead of trying to pry. Mortals didn’t take well to people snooping around their private lives, which he could respect.

The next time he sees you though, he relaxes you into a sort of peaceful lull as he chats with you before he drops the question.

You stare blankly at him, that dark look in your eye coming back and making his skin crawl. You suddenly laugh it off waving your hands as you tell him that a god shouldn’t worry about a little ol’ shade like you.

He doesn’t push for an answer but the question still swirls in his mind, even as you toddle off after his Zagman pops up. He decides that he’ll actually ask the Prince this time around.

He asks him point blank and Zag, despite him being hesitant at first, decides to spill how you died. You had been the black sheep of your family, never truly fitting into the carefully set path that they wanted you to follow- so you found solace in drinking from a young age. It had taken the edge off of everything, Zagreus recounted you telling him. It filled you with a warmth you had been missing all your life and you couldn’t help but indulge more and more in it until it slowly became your own personal poison. Dionysus grimaced, for once feeling a sort of queasiness in the pit of his stomach as Zagreus continued on with your story. So, one day, you had drunk yourself into a deep stupor after an awful argument with your parents. But, this time, you never woke up. Instead you woke up floating in the river of blood- the River of Styx.

Dionysus had nodded after the Prince finished the story, playing with the goblet in his hand and swirling the red wine that resides in it. He offers a bitter smile to Zag and bids his farewell (of course leaving a boon of his choice with the lad) popping off back to Olympus.

The next time he runs into you, he asks if you’re feeling alright- if you want to talk. You blink at him, confused at first until realization dawns you. You bite your lip, looking down. He’s quick to assure you that you didn’t have to talk about anything- you two could just have a good time like always. You tell him that you’d like that, not yet ready to face your past. He nods, immediately telling you about an embarrassing story about Ares and how much of a lightweight he was which had you letting out an ugly snort along with your loud cackles.

The god begins to take it upon himself to have you smiling more and maybe remedy those dark clouds that appear in your eyes once in a while. He’s pretty observant despite being piss drunk half the time, it also helps that he’s very intune to your emotions for some odd reason, so he’s quick to pick up on when you feel down or your having something the equivalent to a relapse. He has you drink just a little bit from his goblet since it’s better than quitting cold turkey. And that little bit is always enough to quench your thirst and calm you down. You’ve been needing less and less of it as the days (nights?) pass by.

The first time you get Dionysus Ambrosia is the same day that he almost swears that he’ll marry you. He’s quick to grow emotional with the sheer fact that you went out of your way to get something so special for him, his face almost splitting with how wide of a smile he has on his face.

“You got this for me, man?” He says, holding up the bottle in his hand and inspecting it like it’s a precious jewel. “You know this stuff is hard to come by, super hard.”

You nod, the clouds far from your eyes now. “I had to thank you some way and punching a couple of Shades to get my hands on that was worth it.”

“You punched people for me?”

“Of course.”

He fights the urge to squeal and pops the top off, summoning another cup and pouring some in it. “Here’s to us!” He says as he hands you the cup.

He’s honestly never had so much fun just existing with one person. After that he’s never far from you, one usually not seen without the other around- even despite the Underworld not being Dionysus’ favorite place, he can’t help but be willing to venture down there to see you in person (he’s been trying to convince his wonderful Uncle Hades to let you come up with him to Olympus for a little bit- he’s even got his dad and (other) Uncle in on it. Hades officially hates all of them). His gift to you is a matching goblet that will supply you any beverage of your choice. It also has the double power to protect you from all that wishes to harm you, but you’ll learn that in due time. It’ll be more fun that way, Dionysus muses.

Hermes

Cause of Death: Falling

Usually, Heremes wouldn’t have taken the time of day to chatter mindlessly with a shade. But, it was a different story when that shade summoned him through bumping into his boon- now it’s just interesting!

“Eh? Who’re you? It’s kinda strange for a shade to be here and not my Cos, huh? Did something happen to him? You his stand in or something? That’d be kinda funny because you don’t seem like his stand in- not buff enough or something like that.”

You blink slowly taking in the words of his mile a minute speech as he continues to prattle on. You take a seat in front of the quick mouthed god, getting yourself comfortable as he flutters about and chatters. Not like you minded- he filled in the places where you couldn’t with steady conversation. You nod to some of the quips he makes, just to show you were still listening.

He decides then and there that he likes you a lot and that you should meet Charon. As soon as Zagreus pops up to collect the boon- he grabs the back of your robes and goes zooming off with you in tow. You wave to the panicked prince, allowing yourself to be dragged around. He continues to chatter on and on, only taking a break when he reaches the Boatman (who was not expecting a Shade to be accompanying the God of Messengers). He sets you down, tries to introduce you two to each other- realizes he doesn’t know your name, so you end up telling them your name- and then is quick to say goodbye, after he gives a scroll to Charon, and shoots off.

You end up staying with Charon after learning a bit more about the quiet boatman and Hermes is quite pleased when he realizes that he’d be seeing you around a lot more. He’s quick to flutter about you and chatter for a few quick seconds before zipping off. You wave at him.

The process repeats for a while before he finally takes a moment to really sit with you, Charon having gone to pick up more souls and lead them down the River of Styx. He chatters on aimlessly, asking little questions here and there before he decides to ask the million dollar question: “How did you die?”

You blink slowly as him before murmuring that you fell from a very high place, you head cracking open on the rocks at the bottom and now here you are. He asks why you were messing about on a high place, as that seemed to be something most mortals avoided doing. You explained that there was a kitten stuck in an old root on the ledge and you couldn’t just leave her. So, you crawled onto the branch and put her back onto safe ground, but the root gave way and then you went tumbling to your doom.

Hermes is surprisingly quiet throughout the entire exchange until you reach the end and he says: “you’re a real bleeding heart under all that quiet, huh?” You nod solemnly and he laughs, pulling you into a side hug. How could something with such a fleeting life be so selfless with it? He squeezes you harder before he stands up and bids you farwell, shooting off once again. And, again, you wave as he goes.

He grows attached to you quickly afterwards, bringing you little things that might help make you more comfortable down in the Underworld. Of course Charon is there to keep you company which he’s happy about- and he voices that exact thought to the boatman, who just grumbles out a long: uuuuaagghhh as his reply. He pats his arm and says that he knew he’d get it.

When you manage to get your hands on a bottle of Ambrosia- he’s completely blind sided that he almost trips on his own feet. His face flushing a deep red as he takes the offered bottle.

“How’d- how’d you get this?” His speech is all jumbled and jumpy, though he tries to keep the giddy excitement bubbling in his stomach as bay.

“I saved up my coin,” you said, nodding to Charon who nods back. “And bought it from Charon. I would’ve fought for it, but I’m no warrior.”

A smile splits across his face and the wings on the side of his head flutter. He’s quick to scoop you up and hug you, floating up with you as he does.

Hermes is an absolute giddy mess with your offering, not sure if he should kiss you or simply remain holding you. He had a special place for you before but this just solidifies his adoration for you. His gift to you is a pair of boots with wings on the side of them- an exact replica of his (in your size! Somehow-). He promises that they’ll help you get anywhere you want quickly, also the two of you match! How cute is that?

877 notes · View notes

sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead).

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim.

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back.

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you.

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together.

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip.

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly.

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile.

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes.

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance.

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?”

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem.

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised.

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself.

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry”

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling.

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed.

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion.

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together”

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded.

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?”

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass.

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity.

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room.

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand.

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone.

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully.

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger.

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture.

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand.

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task.

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass.

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed.

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully.

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out.

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it.

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss.

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely.

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder.

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder.

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh.

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket.

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you”

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers along the stitches.

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face.

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush.

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily.

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds.

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal.

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face.

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head.

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work.

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with.

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin.

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more.

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders.

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react. “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise.

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself.

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfiction #dad!ransom #dad!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #husband!ransom #dad ransom drysdale

1K notes · View notes

i-like-sparkly-things · 3 years

Text

Right in front of you

A Halstead!sister

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? Or being caught?"

Requested : Yes by @study-coffee-chicago : They found out she cheated on a test in high school...and Jay's the one who has to pick her up.

Warnings : angry!Jay (lots of it), alcohol, swearing, anxiety attacks

Note : I am so so so sorry this so longg 😭 I ended up so far away from the actual request kayela please don't block mee 😭 butt I've learned alot in writing abt active and passive voices and using more imagery Yayy!! I'm so glad that yall are ok with my grammar thank uu🥺

MASTERLIST HERE

The piles of homework and flashcards you needed to memorize had no end in sight, and now that Will was taking nightshifts along with his usual double shifts, and intelligence was tracking down an underground drug cartel, you spent most days alone, allowing your mind to engulf you.

Every time you sat down to study, you felt a striking pain in your chest. In mere seconds the air was sucked out of your lungs and you found yourself panting, desperate to get oxygen back into your body.

You would be surrounded by books and worksheets and you could swear the walls of your room were closing in towards you, trapping you in a sea of incomplete work.

You failed to follow the schedules and to do lists you had made for yourself. Staring at them, hoping the essays would write themselves.

All you needed, was a break. A moment to relax from anything and everything.

So when your best friend mentioned that her brother used to drink a little before he appeared for an exam, your mind was quick to catch on.

Last night you had borrowed a little bit of beer from Jay's stash of alcohol and took a few sips of it as you studied.

The more you drank, the less bitter it became. It was a weird, new sensation, but it worked nonetheless.

Except now, you were sitting in the girls bathroom at school, ramaging through your notes, trying to recollect what you had learned yesterday.

You saw what you had underlined and highlighted— names in pink and important dates in yellow—but your mind came up blank.

Flipping the pages you saw people in wigs, and castles burning to the ground —None of which you recognized.

A wave of anxiety rippled through you unable to comprehend your next thought —you were going to fail.

Your head was throbbing as you ran a hand down face, massaging your temples trying to calm yourself down.

You took out your water bottle that you had filled with beer and swallowed a few gulps, hoping that it would help you think straight.

You groaned, feeling the sting of alcohol at the back of your throat, popping some mints into your mouth, you ran towards the exam hall.

***

Your foot bounced on the polished wood floors as sweat pooled on your forehead.

You thought you were careful —only taking a peek from your friends answer sheet when Mrs.Ling's back was facing you.

Everything would have worked out if it wasn't for that kid sitting behind you. In a split second your teacher turned around, when he dropped his pen, to see you peering over your partner's desk.

Now you were sitting in the principles office praying that Jay wouldn't be the one picking you up.

You could already imagine his anger at you for pulling him away from his case, only to find you cheated.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side today.

You dare not look at Jay as he entered the office, letting out a huff as he sat down. You could feel the rage emitting him, tension filling the room, as he burned holes looking at you.

"I'll get straight to the point" Your principal started.

"Please" Jay growled, struggling to contain himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, when he got the call saying that you had cheated on your midterms.

You and Will were alike,at least he thought so, both good at science and math but weak at geography and history. Nonetheless you continued to secure good grades for the most part.

"Y/n here, was caught cheating from a classmates answer sheet. Our teacher caught her red handed. I truly did not expect this from you. These midterms cost thirty percent of your grade..... "

Pretty soon his voice was muffled like he was getting farther and farther away from you. His figure swayed in front of you as you squinted your eyes to keep him in the center of your vision.

" You are suspended, Mrs halstead"

Your eyes widened , your body choosing the perfect time to bring out what little beer you had taken when you heard those words, letting the alcohol mix with the adrenaline.

"WHAT??!! " Damn, alcohol really bought out your courage as Jay stared at you in shock at your audacity.

"Y/n, your lucky I'm letting you retake the exam. That's only because you've had a clean record so far. I strongly suggest you start preparing early Ms. halstead" your principal said in a firm but monotone voice that left you speechless.

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

Oh god. Every now and then, the ground would sway beneath you, tiles shifting in your vision. But you counted your steps, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, not wanting Jay to find out what else you had done........ until now.

You tilted your head, only to be met with your brother's piercing stare but little did he know, now it made it infinitely harder to concentrate on your walking.

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? *Or being caught?*"

***

You rested your head on the seat as Jay entered the truck, flinching, when he slammed the door shut. Your pounding headache was getting worse by the minute, as your ears started to ring.

You blinked a few times squinting to focus on the road ahead of you but the fast-moving cars and the loud horns made you feel like your head was going to explode.

"Y/n," he addressed you, much calmer now.

You forced yourself to turn to your brother, who wore a confused expression.

But the moment he saw your deshelfed hair and your cracked lips, a wave of worry crashed over him. What the hell?

The truck came to a stop at a red light and Jay immediately scanned you over "Y/n?" he grabbed your chin, his jaw dropping, as he came face to face with reality.

"Are you drunk!!?" he barked , steam basically pouring out of his ears.

But your pleading eyes and empty silence gave him the answer he needed. "Are you kidding me??" he snarled as he slammed the steering wheel.

Oh God no. A blinding pain ripped through your head when Jay's palms made contact with the hard plastic. You winched turning your head away from your furious brother, letting out a whimper.

Jay's eyes widened at the sound, his heart breaking, realizing the pain you were in.

If he was going to be mad at you or at least punish you, you needed to be sober.

He stepped on the pedal as the light turned green taking a few breaths, trying to calm himself down.

With the vice lords reclaiming their territory and selling uncut fentanyl, bodies were dropping all over the city most of them being kids.

Kids..... your age.

Every kid at the morgue, just reminded him of you. He saw parents sobbing, begging for their kids to come back but Jay new better. They were never going to come home. Ever.

So he made it a priority to catch these ruthless creatures. He made it a priority over his sleep, over nine hours shifts and unknown to him, over spending time with you.

"Hey , hey" he whispered, not wanting to hurt you again, "We'll talk about this later ok? for now...... just..... it's ok..... I've got you" here reached out his hand, the other still on the steering wheel, to slowly rub your back as you tried to breath through the pain.

" I got you"

***

Jay wrapped a hand around you allowing you to hold onto him for support.

Silently, he deposited you on the couch, laying you down. He knew that he wasn't in any state to talk to you. He needed to clear his mind from his racing thoughts and rueful images of dying teenagers.

His phone rang, indicating that the district was awaiting him. "Here" he reluctantly shook your shoulders "Y/n, I need to go ok? Will will be here soon"

***

Almost half an hour had passed and you were waiting for Will to get out of the shower. You'd heard Jay explain everything to him over the phone.

You thought about how disappointed he would be.

Will —being the nerd he was— always helped you with your projects and gave you pop quizzes during breakfast, before your exams. He taught you how to organize flashcards just like he did in med school.

Even through your blurry thoughts, the image of Will's betrayed face and embarrassed eyes, knowing you cheated, lingered on your mind.

Your body was all over the place. Tiny noises echoing through your ear. Your muscles simultaneously aching and loose.

You were shivering as you tried to curl up into a ball. Your body trying to hold what little heat it had within itself.

But nothing stopped your tears.

You felt water drops make their way down your cheeks forming small splotches of water on the cushion you laid your head on.

And you didn't bother to wipe them away.

Will more or less was in the same state you were in. There was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and victims were piling in the ED. He was running from one treatment room to the other, waiting to get back home and crash.

Will walked over to you with a huge glass of water and an advil, gently nudging you to sit up.

Your head still pounded, your eyes zoning in and out of the figure in front of you "Y/n, here drink the whole glass and take this" Will soothed, placing the glass and the pill in your hand "I—I'm sorry" You whispered, distracting yourself from Will's eyes.

Will knew he should be angry. Just like Jay was but he couldn't bring himself to blaming you, not until he had the full story anyway.

You looked so petite on the enormous couch, your legs folded on top of each other, arms shaking as you drowned the glass of water along with the Advil.

Your red puffy eyes and tear strained cheeks,were a contrast from your usual self. or he thinks. He's been pretty busy lately, so he's not too sure. " We'll talk about it later. I'm not angry. I promise"

He assured and was about to head to bed himself when you grabbed his wrist.

If he wasn't angry at you then maybe— just maybe—he would help you.

"Stay" You pleaded , the word falling from your lips just as easily as it had, many, many times before.

And just like before, you were met with Will's soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, ready to help. Ready—to be by your side.

He's slowly nodded climbing onto the couch, next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you nestled into him, laying your head on his chest.

You found some comfort as he embraced you, talking you under his arm and encompassing you in his warmth.

Holding on to him, you hoped that he would take your pain away, just like he did when you were little.

***

Will woke up to an uncomfortable feeling of something —or someone— tugging at his shirt.

He slowly opened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light as he felt another a tug at his side. He looked over to you, but your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, your arm laid across his chest.

You were holding on to Will , using him as a lifeline, grounding you from the pain.

You felt a hand squeezing your own, stopping you from gripping the fabric "Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look up at will who had tears of his own, staring at the state you were in "it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here"

He encircles you, tighter than before, whispering soothing assurances into your hair.

***

With Will's help, the pain slowly subsides, allowing you access to your thoughts again.

You step out of the shower, into the living room and your eyes widen seeing Jay and Will sitting at the kitchen counter.

You didn't even hear Jay come in, but right now taking in his hardened glare, you didn't dare ask.

You knew what was coming and you didn't fight. You couldn't.

"So apparently we're cheating on our midterms now, huh?" Jay's calm voice made shivers run down your spine, starting to take rapid breaths.

"And apparently, someone thinks it's ok to steal alcohol from my stash" He gritted, never breaking I contact with you. "Do you think that's how the world works Y/n? DO YOU? BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING TEENAGER!!" He spat, his thoughts fuming towards your trembling body.

It was every dieing body flashing before his eyes, as the past months' agony slipped off his tongue.

"Jay" Will's voice was stern, giving a knowing look towards his younger brother and didn't bother to give Jay time to argue with him.

"Y/n, we need to know what's going on"

"With school, with tests with....... everything" he stated giving you a solemn look meaning every word he said, promising himself that he would do whatever it takes to figure out what had been going on.

You sucked in a breath weighing all your options. You didn't want them to think that you needed a babysitter or that you couldn't take care of yourself.

You knew that they had their own problems to worry about but you couldn't take it anymore.

You hated it.

The feeling of your lungs collapsing, struggling to find air for your body, your stress skyrocketing anytime you sat down to study, never getting any thing done.

All day long you would constantly tell yourself to do your work. Every spare second is spent in making a list of things you want to do but when it was time to actually do those things, your mind wandered and emptied.

You took another deep breath, looking up from your feet, your eyes meeting your brothers.

You spilled the past months events from how alone you were all the time and not being able to concentrate to how you ended up drunk at school and cheating on your midterms.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you your hands trembled. You stood crying in the middle of the room until you felt a pair of arms around you.

Will placed his hand at the nape of your neck as he stroked your back with the other "Breathe Y/n, just Breathe" He slowly pulled away leading you to the couch.

God, how he wished he could turn back time. Then he'd been more vigilant to notice the changes that had come over you.

You felt the couch dip on both sides but you intently studied your fingers, fumbling with the hem of your shirt and wiped the tears off your face. They were mad. No, they were furious. You knew it.

But for some reason, they weren't showing it. Maybe they were waiting-

"We're not mad"

You without your head around to look at Jay, furrowing your eyebrows in disbelief. Jay? Not mad? HA.

"but I am disappointed though, but that's only because you didn't tell us......

but stealing alcohol was bad too" he added, earning him a glare from Will.

"Y/n, what Jay means is— we could've helped with school . Homework . Tests . Anything, you name it. We will help" he assured, "But how do we know you need help, if you don't tell us?"

You sighed, taking in the weird turn of events that had happened before you. You had wasted all this time, trying to figure out all your problems out, when the answer was right in front of you.

A mountain of guilt now sat on Jay's shoulders, weighing down on him, pushing him deeper into a wormhole of 'if's'.

Maybe if he'd just been a little more careful, this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if he'd stop and listen to you once in a while, this wouldn't have happened.

While trying to save kids out on the street, he forgot to care for the kid at home. You were his sister, and yet, here you are in front of him, barely keeping yourself together.

But that would change. Right here. *Right now.*

"Y/n," Jay started "If you would have told us how alone and stressed you were feeling.....I would've taken some time off... Maybe we'd watch a movie or something. All you had to do was ask...... And we'll get you the help you need, y/n. You good with that?" he questioned, his anger and frustration dissipating.

You saw your brother, the workaholic detective, wanting to put his job aside, for you .

You were more important to him, than his job—You realized.

" Yea... Yeah, I am"

Will stood up and got another advil with another glass of water. "and maybe you wouldn't end up drunk and cheating on your test" he smirked, crouching in front of you.

"God, I didn't think it would hurt this bad. I am never drinking again!" you smiled , as you drowned the pill.

"See now that's what I like to hear!!" Jay exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. You squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, laughing, when you were joined by Will.

You know what? Maybe, things are going to be okay? Ya know?

__________________________

Read more of my fics here!!

Tagging : @girlandthemoon @herecomesthewriterwitch @megaliciab @meyocoko @alkadri-layal

#jay halstead #will halstead #chicago pd #chicago med #jay halstead x sister!reader #halstead sister #halstead sister imagine #jay halstead one shot #will halstead oneshot #halstead brothers

317 notes · View notes

tteokggukk · 3 years

Text

summer heat → jjk

–pairing: twin!jungkook x reader

–genre: fluff, mature (? but no smut), drabble, a minor attempt at humor, best friend’s twin brother type of thing

–words: 2.9k

–warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, tiny bit of humiliation, a hint of jungkook and reader having some sort of “history” if u squint hard enough

–summary: in an attempt to calm you down and prevent your mood from swinging due to the blazing heat, your best friend decides to go out and buy you some ice cream. you’re shocked, however, when he quickly returns and looks different, making you see him in an entirely new light and leaving you trying to resist the urge to give in to your raging hormones and just jump on him.

–a/n: i was thinking of this scenario in the shower but didn’t have the brain power to turn it into a full length story so i might just add this to a pile of drabbles that i may or may not develop heh + ive been in my jungkook feels too lately sigh + also this is unedited

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum @mochisjoon @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. Sweat was beginning to trickle down your temples and your shirt was getting stuck to your skin, causing an irking feeling of discomfort. Looking around, you quickly grabbed an empty long folder from your best friend’s messy desk and began fanning yourself to cool down. The two of you were just there, sitting in his room in a not-so-comfortable silence.

You were currently plopped down onto a chair with your legs resting on the desk in front of you, too lazy to come up with ideas to kill your boredom.

It was a tradition for your family to travel every summer and visit a new country you hadn’t been to, but this year you had to pass the plane tickets and sight-seeing due to your best friend, Junghan, asking begging you to help him out with a month-long film project. You didn’t have the heart to decline, so you told your parents you’d stay behind and help him out which resulted in you having to stay over at Junghan’s place for the rest of the summer.

You had to admit though, a small part of you felt disinclined to stay because the project sounded like it would’ve been a tedious workload, but working with your best friend was so much more fun than you’d imagined and even the project itself turned out to be enjoyable. So far, your summer break has been spent filming and hanging out with Junghan—though hanging out usually meant staying in his room and watching romcoms all day while crying over fictional characters, ranting about how you two would never meet such perfect men in real life. It was great.

Until the air conditioner broke down.

You glanced over at Junghan, who seemed to be just as spiritless as you were while he sat in front of a fan, eyes looking empty and distant.

“I told you the air conditioner needed to be fixed,” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, completely missing the harsh glare he sent you.

“I said I was gonna get it fixed,” He replies and turns back to the fan, his voice quieting down a little, “But the number for repair wouldn’t answer.”

“Right,” You muttered absent-mindedly, eyes staring at the ceiling while your mind was too busy trying to come up with suggestions to beat the heat, “We could go to the pool?”

“Closed,” Junghan grunts, “The mall?”

“As if we’d both drive in this state,” You rolled your eyes as you tried to get your shirt to stop sticking to your skin. Junghan glances over at you when he hears you grumbling, one of the many cues that you were beginning to feel peevish. Deciding that it was pointless to keep tugging on your shirt, you opt to take it off instead.

“You don’t mind do you?” You asked before completely removing your shirt, only leaving you in your bralette. Though you knew he never did because of the countless times he’s helped you change and pick out different outfits, you always asked out of politeness. Additionally, his zero interest in women made you feel much safer and comfortable enough to undress around him.

“I really don’t care,” He says and stands up. You hear him rumbling for a moment while you were neatly folding your shirt, and seconds later you recognize the jingling sound of keys.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“The nearby grocery. You’re about to get grumpy and I am not going to listen to a rambling bitch for the rest of the day,” He says, rubbing his temples as he makes his way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” You asked, too exhausted to even glance at him. He probably wasn’t, you only asked for the dramatic effect.

“No, dumbass. I’m just gonna go and buy ice cream. See you in a bit.”

And with that Junghan leaves and closes the door shut. Only a few minutes later after the sound of the engine had gone did you decide to exert a little effort and move over to his previous spot to sit in front of the fan, the air immediately cooling your skin. You sighed in relief and grabbed a few tissues to wipe your temples dry before grabbing your phone and texting Junghan to buy some lemonade, followed by a second text telling him you’d pay him back once he returned.

You were surprised to hear, not even ten minutes later, that the car was already back and pulling up in the driveway. It couldn’t have been Junghan’s parents as they were out working, and it was only you and Junghan around—not like you two had many friends who would come and visit. Instead of rationalizing with yourself on how Junghan came back home in supersonic speed, you decide to drop it and wait for him to come up back to his room.

Someone knocks on the door, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. Since when did Junghan knock?

“Come... in?” You answer, though it came out more as a question. Your head turns at the sound of the door opening, and your eyes widen at seeing Junghan standing by the doorframe.

Looking oddly different.

“Dude,” You stood up from your place and stared him up and down, “Is that what you were really wearing when you went out?”

His eyebrows raise in shock and you catch his eyes taking a quick glimpse from your chest before quickly looking back at the perplexed look on your face, a small smirk forming on lips. You decide to ignore it.

“What a warm ‘welcome home’,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t answer me,” you replied, still oblivious to the difference in his tone.

He was wearing an all-black ensemble—a black cap, a black leather jacket, black pants that outlined his toned thighs (how have you never noticed?), and some chunky black boots—a huge contrast to his normally colorful and baggy clothing. You were genuinely curious because you hadn’t noticed what he looked like before he left the house as you were too tired and lazy to even look up and say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah. This is what I was wearing?” He narrows one of his eyes, looking confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know… since when did you wear all black?”

“Since way back then? I don’t know,” He replies, and you now noticed how his voice was unusually low. Junghan steps inside and averts his eyes from you, looking around in his room before scrimmaging through drawers as if in search for something.

“What are you looking for?” You asked, folding your arms and following him around.

“A charger,” He replies, and a chill runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You thought maybe you’d detect how he was just trying to change his manner of speaking, but it was effortlessly low; like he wasn’t faking it or anything. It was weird because Junghan normally sounded a little more high pitched.

“What charger?”

“A laptop charger, mine broke,” He continues searching and not once does he meet your eyes.

“Oh okay, let me help you then,” You begin to look around and help him search, “Though I don’t know what it looks like, I’ll let you know if I see a charger.”

He looks up at you and smiles, but you don’t catch him watching you as you were already busy searching, “Thanks.”

The two of you continue searching in silence, though occasionally you’d look up and glance at Junghan. What exactly was he doing? Was this for his film? Is he supposed to be in character? This new look and manner of talking that he somehow adopted after a quick trip to the grocery store did things to you. Every time he grunted in annoyance after a failed search, something in your stomach would twist and you found yourself suddenly feeling drawn, or maybe even more than drawn, to your best friend. Your gay best friend.

You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts.

Only a few minutes later did you find something that looked like a charger hiding underneath a pile of unfolded clothes before presenting it to Junghan, “Is it this?”

“Yes! Exactly that,” He jumps up from crouching over one of the drawers at the bedside and walks over to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t know why you took such a long time searching for something in your room, though,” You rolled your eyes.

“My room?” He smiles, voice a little deeper but with a hint of amusement.

God, you could just jump on him right now.

“Yeah?” You knit your brows, “And stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he was looking up at you. He leans back a bit a folds his arms, a smile still tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the summer heat doing things to your head and making you think about all these things that you never thought you’d ever want to do with your gay best friend, but he seemed so in character it was actually beginning to bother you. What store did he go to exactly? And where the hell is the ice cream?

“That! What’s up with your voice? And your outfit? You look so different, it’s weird,” You folded your arms as if to mirror him.

“Weird, huh?” He asks and looks at his clothing before looking back at you.

“Not in a bad way. It looks good, it’s just not you,” You squirmed slightly before shaking your head to snap out of it, “I don’t know what store you went to that made you look like this—and congrats I guess, if you’re trying to switch up your fashion, but you completely missed the ice cream, so good luck trying to handle this rambling bitch.”

He laughs at the words “rambling bitch” and oh god that is not what his laughter sounded like before. When did the sound of his laugh sound so deep and sultry? You subconsciously sucked on and bit your lip at the sound of his laughter, trying your best not to visibly drool in front of him. He catches your subtle action and his brow raises at the sight.

“Despite all the things you said, you think this looks good?” A playful smile rests on his face and your heart beats erratically at his expression.

“Y-yeah, I don’t know,” You mumbled. He shifts on the edge of the bed to move closer to you.

“And because there’s no ice cream, you’re going to turn into some rambling…” He reaches his hand out, the back of his fingers feeling the skin on your exposed waist before resting his hand on your back to pull you in closer.

“…person?” he continues, brows raised and eyes staring intently at yours, not using the vulgar word you had just used to describe yourself (or the word he had just called you before he left to go to the store).

“I...um, we’ll see,” you replied, and he only chuckles deeply. Your voice had transformed into a murmuring mess and it annoyed you, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, right now he reminded you so much of—

“I think you look good too, you know. Maybe I did miss you a lot more than I thought I did,” he whispers, pulling you in even more so you were now standing between his thighs.

Missed you? After an eight minute trip to the grocery store?

You didn’t question it. Your mind was blanking out, malfunctioning, even. Here was your best friend, your gay best friend (as you had to keep reminding yourself), placing his hands on your bare skin in a way that you knew wasn’t going to turn out to be so innocent. Right now you were extremely attracted and possibly even turned on by whatever the fuck he was doing, all you could do to save yourself was blame it on the heat. Was this absolutely weird? Hell yes. Did you want to stop him? Fuck no.

Were you now completely devoid of all reason and logic?

Definitely.

Softly, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into him so you were now sitting on his lap with your hand resting on his chest. One of his hands was still attached to your waist, the other was resting itself on the bed, gripping on a blanket.

Chills run down your spine for the second time now as his mouth moves closer to your ear, “Lucky for you I know the perfect way to handle rambling bitches.”

Your breath hitches for a moment and Junghan moves back to face you, his lips grazing your cheeks a little before you meet each other’s gaze. The summer heat was definitely nothing compared to this, but you didn’t mind. Your faces were only mere centimeters apart now and you could’ve sworn he was beginning to lean in by the look in his eyes, which were now fixated on your lips.

Seriously, you could just grab him by the collar right now and speed things up. He’s the one who pulled you in first, anyway, you just wanted to get things going. Though you haven’t exactly a clue as to where this would end, you wished he would hurry up a little to find out.

But for some strange reason, your senses were enveloped with the distinct smell of a signature fragrance that you knew did not belong to Junghan and it snapped you out of your thoughts. The scent was strong enough to flash some memories back in your mind, making you frown. Did he use this perfume on purpose? Or was your mind just playing tricks on you? In a flash, you could suddenly think straight and you couldn’t help it, the moral side of your brain had turned far stronger than your currently raging hormones (thank goodness). Something was definitely off.

“But, Junghan… aren’t you… gay?” You asked, your voice trailing off a little.

His eyes widen and he pulls back from you. He stares at you for a few seconds before it hits him, and he starts erupting in laughter. You narrowed your eyes at him and got off his lap, moving over to the side and sitting beside him instead.

“Junghan?” He stresses on the name. You’re staring at him blankly now, like you knew he was just messing with you. His laughter eventually dies down and he places a hand on your thigh, though it seemed much more innocent now, “I’m so sorry, ____, you’ve got the wrong person.”

With one hand, he quickly grabs the blanket off the bed. The back of his other free hand endearingly caresses your jaw, and you notice how he lingers for a while as he moves a bit lower down to your neck—before wrapping the fabric around you and covering your whole torso with it. Your face immediately turns pink as you clutched onto the blanket to further cover yourself, feeling slightly humiliated, though you were still confused.

“Wrong person? What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you had no shirt on, I thought that was just a regular thing for you now. But it’s probably cause you’re more comfortable around my brother, huh?”

“Your brother…?”

“Has it really been that long?” He chuckles, and instantly your mind began connecting the pieces together. Could it actually be him? You haven’t seen him in years, and no one even bothered telling you he was coming back today. No way, surely this was Junghan playing a joke on you.

“I’m not Junghan. I’m his twin brother, Jungkook. Remember?”

You hastily stood up in defense, still clutching the blanket close to your chest, “Shut the fuck up, Junghan. No one said anything about Jungkook coming back today!”

Junghan Jungkook only laughs and stands up, the melodious sound filling the room, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the wide open bedroom door.

“What a shame, but it was a surprise. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home today,” He folds his arms, “And if I am Junghan, then who is that?” He points at the doorframe and true enough, Junghan was standing there holding grocery bags in his arms wearing his usual oversized colorful jacket and khaki colored pants.

You and Junghan both looked at each other with mouths dropped down to the floor before you looked back at Jungkook, who had the same smirk tugged on his lips, clearly amused at the whole situation.

Jungkook bends forward and leans in to your face, his voice in a lower tone but still audible enough for his brother to hear, “Probably shouldn’t take your top off so leisurely around the house anymore, huh?” He grins and winks at you, causing you wince and force an awkward smile, internally cursing yourself at everything that just happened.

“Anyways, I should probably rest up in my room. See you around,” Jungkook flashes you a smile before placing a chaste kiss on your (now dry, because your body had frozen up) forehead before walking away from you, taking the charger and dangling it in his other hand. He taps his confused looking brother on the shoulder before turning his head back to take one last look at you before walking out, leaving you and Junghan staring at each other in shock.

Junghan walks in slowly and sets the bags of grocery on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asks you, eyes wide in anticipation.

Your mind replays everything that had happened between you two. Was Jungkook really just about to kiss you minutes before? Heart racing, you clutch on your chest from underneath the blanket he had covered you with. No way was Jungkook back. No way is he back and looking even more attractive than he did the last time you saw him. Not when you had just gotten over your small crush on him a couple of years ago.

The heat returns to your body, but it mainly pools on your cheeks. You look back at your best friend, but no words of explanation come up.

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

404 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

just this once

character: sawamura daichi

genre: smut

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), praise kink, manipulation, size kink if u squint, dacryphilia

words: 4k

synopsis:

And, being as stubborn as he is, it takes him a few months to finally admit to himself that his feelings toward you are more than platonic. It’s a horrifying realization—one that has his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach and bile rising in the back of his throat—that hits him with the force of a fucking freight train one night when he catches you in the hallway wearing nothing but a skimpy little tank top and a cute pair of lace-trimmed panties, and his first thought is how badly he wants to slam you against the wall and fuck you stupid.

Daichi isn’t sure what he did to deserve such a beautiful punishment, but you are the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen.

And you’re entirely off-limits.

He has to admit, he was fairly excited when he found out about the engagement, eagerly awaiting the day that you’d be moving in with your mom. He enjoys being a big brother to his blood siblings, but they’re so much younger than he is, and he can’t wait to have a sibling closer to his age.

But, Christ, he doesn’t expect you to be so fucking pretty.

It’s unfair, really. The gods must be mocking him, because forcing him to live with a cute little thing like you is downright cruel, as far as he’s convinced.

You have him wrapped around your pinky finger the moment your eyes meet. Just one look—a soft, shy gaze through your thick eyelashes as you introduce yourself—and he’s sure he’d do anything for you, pull the moon out of the goddamn sky for you, if you so desired.

And there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Big brothers are supposed to be doting and protective of their younger sisters, aren’t they?

He’s thrilled to hear that you’re just as excited as he is to be step-siblings, to have a niichan, being an only child yourself. The two of you get along instantly, staying up until the early hours of the morning planning all of the things you want to do together, all of the things you weren’t able to experience before, all of the things he’ll teach you.

You fall into such a natural routine so quickly, Daichi can barely remember what life was like without you—what were his mornings like before, when he didn’t have to drop you off at university? What did he used to do with his nights, before you two had developed the regular habit of binging old sitcoms and shitty rom-coms and horror movies?

And he’s sure you don’t mean it…he’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing when you curl up next to him on the couch after a stressful day, nestling into his side perfectly, resting your head on his chest as you sulk about school, or professors, or assignments, or anything, really. You know you can come to him with whatever problem your having—he’s told you a thousand times.

He’s sure you don’t think anything of the way his fingers comb through your hair as you complain, the way he’ll occasionally press gentle kisses against your scalp, the way he automatically lets you crawl into his lap when the day’s been really bad, thighs straddling his hips as you collapse heavily against him, nuzzling your face into his skin.

Of course you don’t. Why should you?

And he knows he should feel awful—does feel awful—that these are kind of his favourite days, because he gets to put his hands on you, feel you relax into him as you mumble against his neck or shoulder, feels adulterous pride swell in his chest when you sleepily admit that he always makes you feel so much better, that no one else is able to cheer you up the way he is.

It’s torture in the most delicious way, even if it sometimes hurts to watch you lean against the counter and stare up at his best friend with stars in your eyes, giggling softly as Suga pays you compliment after compliment. So it makes his chest and throat burn with the sting of jealousy a little—that’s normal, right? He’s just being a little protective, is he not? He just doesn’t want to see you get hurt, alright?

The thought feels like it comes out of nowhere, making him audibly gasp, as he tries to fool himself into thinking that he hasn’t been forcing back such lewd thoughts since the day he met you.

But that thought finally snaps open the floodgates in his mind, rendering him instantly powerless to the explicit and obscene scenarios that flash through his brain without his permission, eyes glued to your ass as you walk away.

Except then you stop, turning back to look at him still frozen in the hallway, cocking your head to the side and uttering a soft, “Dai-nii?”

“M’fine,” he says roughly, his voice not his own. You frown—you can see right through him. You’re walking towards him, and he wants to tell you to stop, he wants to turn away and hurry into his own room, but his feet are bolted to the floor, gaze captivated by the teasing cleavage that tiny tank top affords him.

He wants to believe that the way your eyes, glossy and half-lidded, slowly rake over his bare chest and land on the tent in his flannel pj pants, is entirely innocent. He desperately wants to believe this.

But the way your lips part with a quiet gasp that fades into the softest whimper, tells him otherwise. Your eyes slowly meet his, breathing a little laboured.

“I…” you begin, frowning a little as your eyebrows knit, as if you’re unsure how to express this thought. “Do you want—”

“No,” he says instantly, finally regaining control over his traitorous body and taking a large step back from you. He doesn’t want to know what you were going to ask, doesn’t even allow himself a second to think about all of the possibilities. “Go to bed, sweetheart,”

Then he’s gone, walking hastily down the hallway and disappearing into his room. And you’re left standing in alone, confused as to why there’s heat pooling between your thighs and why your chest stings so bad from his vague denial.

Such thoughts don’t stop after that night—he can’t help the way his cock twitches in his jeans when you lick honey from your thumb innocently, his mind automatically wondering what those lips would feel like wrapped around him; or the way he wants to pin you down and fuck you until your crying when you look up at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, the ones you use when you’re asking him for something.

It’s okay, he reasons with himself, even though he feels like he’s being torn apart at his very seams by guilt and lust. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t act on them, right?

Your happiness is more important than his anyway. Any good niichan would know that, would value their siblings’ feelings over their own.

Because the way your eyes light up when you talk to him about something you love, the way you’re always so excited to tell him about a new development in your life—whether it be a good grade, or a new crush, or something you and your best friend did over the weekend—and the way you cherish his opinions so much…

Those moments mean more to him than anything else, and he’d never want to do anything to lose your trust in him, your unwavering faith that simultaneously warms his chest and makes his stomach churn.

Yes, he’s positive he’d do absolutely anything for you.

So when some stupid boy breaks your heart, has you hesitantly knocking on his bedroom door at three in the morning with your arms wrapped unsurely around yourself as you try to stifle your soft little sobs—well.

He’s ready to go out and beat that motherfucker to death for even causing you to shed a single tear.

In fact, you find yourself having to talk him out of it in that very moment, little fingers curling in the coat he’s in the middle of shrugging on, tugging and hastily asking if you can spend the night with him instead.

And he should say no. No matter how hurt you are, no matter how much he wants to hold you in his arms and wipe your tears and make it all better, it’s wrong.

Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. More than anything, in reality, he just doesn’t trust himself. It doesn’t matter that it’s wrong.

But, goddamn it, he can’t say no to you.

And you know. He knows you know, can see it in the way your eyelids flutter a little as you gaze at him through your lashes, glistening with unshed tears, can see it in the way you squeeze your arms around yourself just a hint more, pushing your breasts up, can hear it in the way you whimper out, “Please, Dai-nii?”

And despite the fact that he knows, and that he should probably be furious at you for exploiting his weakness, manipulating him and turning him into putty in your soft little hands—he can’t.

Because he loves it just as much, because even if you didn’t know, he’d still never be able to refuse you. And he hates himself for it, blames himself for it, would still never even think to blame it on you. You’re his perfect little angel, anyway, aren’t you? Actually, now that he thinks about it, there is a chance you might not even know what you’re doing, isn’t there? You’re just so upset right now, clearly not in any sort of stable mindset, he tries to reason with himself, tries to alleviate even just the tiniest hint of the guilt crushing his chest as he caves, nodding and opening the door wider, inviting you in.

He can’t stand the way your voice gets all tiny and frail when you ask again if he’s going to stay with you as he tucks you into his bed, almost as if you’re afraid of the rejection. How can he say no, when your fingers are tangling in his t-shirt and pulling him closer, pleading softly with him.

How can he say no, when you tell him that you feel better simply being in his presence, looking as though you’re about to burst into tears all over again when he hesitates answering.

“Of course, baby,” he says softly. “Of course I’ll stay,”

He tells himself it’s fine as he crawls into his bed next to you, allowing you to latch onto him immediately, fingers tracing patterns on his chest. He promises himself just this once, just because you’re broken-hearted and he doesn’t want to upset you more, wouldn’t be able to handle the look of hurt on your face if he denied you.

But you’re nuzzling your face against his chest, crying softly and begging him to just make it go away already, make the hurt stop even if it’s just for a little bit.

And, God, what he’d give to just take it all away from you, to cradle your face between his big hands and kiss you until you’re breathless, to make you cum until your mind’s numb, until you literally can’t think of anything but him, until your throat’s sore and you’re about to pass out from exhaustion—

No. No, this is wrong. It’s wrong to take advantage of you in such an emotional, vulnerable state.

Except then you’re grinding against his strong thigh, wedged between your legs, and making these cute little noises, soft whimpers of Dai-nii and tiny gasps that get caught in your throat.

He wants to tell you to stop, opens his mouth to firmly order that you cease these actions, but all he can seem to force out is a soft groan, tongue turning to sand in his mouth.

Because—well, your sobs have stopped, haven’t they? There are no longer tears leaking from your eyes or little sniffles hitching in your throat, right? What if this really is what you need, a good orgasm to help you forget, to help you sleep?

He makes a mental deal with himself, manages to talk himself into it, deciding to indulge himself just a little, just for tonight, just enough to satisfy the desire blazing in the pit of his stomach.

Large hands settle on your hips, aiding you in moving against him.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks, voice husky, words leaving his lips without his permission.

You nod, humming a little and nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“Tell me,” he commands softly.

“F-Feels good, niichan,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Think you can cum from just riding my thigh, babygirl?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Show me,” he whispers. “I bet you look so pretty when you cum, don’t you? Let niichan see,”

Your hips pick up speed, broken whines falling from your lips as you aggressively grind your cunt against him.

He should tell you to keep it down or slap a hand over your mouth and muffle the noises with his palm. Really, he should. You’re loud, probably too loud, and he’d be surprised if your parents can’t hear you though the thin walls, just a room over.

But he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t force the words out or move his arm at all, greedily enticed by your sweet sounds—sweet little sounds your making for him, because of him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, pressing his thigh up into your dripping core more, flexing the strong muscles and making you cry out softly. “Make a mess all over niichan’s thigh, come on,”

And then your gasping out his name, breath hot against his neck, hips stuttering as you gush all over him, a pleasant warmth spreading across his thigh, seeping through the flannel and making the material stick to his skin as you try to squeeze your legs together, whole body curling into his chest.

He forces you to keep moving your hips through your orgasm until your body is jolting and trembling from every drag of your sensitive clit against his hard muscles, until your whimpering for him to stop, it’s too much! and going boneless against him.

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest, gentle fingers combing through your hair as he hushes you, satisfied that you seem tuckered out and telling you to sleep now, princess, before pressing soft kisses to your head.

Just this once, he vows to himself as your breathing evens out, eyes slipping shut. Just this once—he got a taste now, got to see how pretty you look when you cum, got to hear you moan out his name, and that’s enough. That should be enough to satiate the voracious lust that curls in his stomach and rises in his throat every time he sees you.

Except it isn’t.

He’s terrible, awful, should feel so fucking ashamed of himself when you show up outside his door only a few nights later, shyly asking if you can ride him again and he has to restrain himself from jumping you right there.

“But, um,” you whisper, eyes darting to his and then away, fingers twisting together in front of your body. “N-Not your thigh this time?”

He can barely comprehend the words spilling out of your mouth, stares at you with those wide, warm, sweet eyes, breath coming out in short huffs through his slightly parted lips.

“You—What?”

A frown graces your lips, anxiety from the potential rejection beginning to build in your chest. “I want to ride your cock,” you whimper, eyes finding his again. Your heart is pounding, slamming against your ribcage, those six little words hanging in the air between the two of you.

He makes a soft, hurt little sound in the back of his throat, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker.

“We—” he stops to clear his throat, attempting to rid his voice of huskiness. “We shouldn’t,” he aims for stern, but his voice only sounds strangled, and the way you’re staring at him with those eyes makes his entire body feel like it’s just been set aflame.

“I-I know but I—” a little hiccup cuts you off, vision blurring with tears. “I just c-cant stop thinking about how good you’d feel, how full you’d make me, all stretched out and—”

No, he wants to scream. Not the tears, anything but the tears.

“—Please, Dai-nii?” you sniff a little, gleaming eyes pleading with him, bottom lip pushed out into a pout. “Ju-Just this once? I just—just wanna—” a choked sob cuts you off, and you rub at your eyes with your fists, chest beginning to stutter.

And he breaks.

“Oh baby,” he’s cooing, wrapping strong arms around you and holding you to his chest tightly. “Shh, quiet honey,” he’s hushing you as he sits on the edge of his bed, pulling you to straddle his lap. “Niichan will let you ride his cock if that’s what you want, sweetheart,” he says softly, brushing your hair away from your face. “Okay? You want that? Will it make my little girl feel better?”

“Y-Yes, Dai-nii,”

“Alright, stop crying, pretty girl,” tender thumbs swipe across your cheekbones, catching stray tears and wiping them away.

His heart feels like its shattering in his chest, and he hates seeing you so upset, pressing your lips together and trying to swallow your pathetic little sobs, but he can’t lie—you begging to ride his cock, wanting it so bad that you’re crying for it, has his brain hazy with lust, clouding his judgement as blood rushes south. His mouth is dry, cock throbbing impatiently as he helps you out of your cute little pj shorts, unable to stop the involuntary sharp inhale of breath when he finally sees your pretty little pussy, unable to help the soft noise that gets caught at the back of his throat as you tug a little at the waistband of his pants, looking at him through your lashes as you free his aching cock.

And then he has you whimpering as he pushes into your tight cunt, praising you as you stretch around him. Really, he should’ve taken the time to prep you properly, should’ve scolded you and been firm with you when you got a little bratty, refusing his fingers and whining that you want his cock now.

“Look at how good my little girl is,” he breathes out, leaning back from you while large hands steady your hips, eyes focused on his cock as it slowly slides in. “My precious baby, taking my cock so well,”

“Y-Yeah?” you ask in a tiny voice, looking at him in near desperation, needing to hear the praise again. “Hurts a little, niichan,”

“You can do it, baby,” his fingers flex on your waist, never slowing as he forces you down onto him, his hips pressing up to meet yours halfway.

His cock is thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and it burns a little as he finally bottoms out, tiny hole fluttering as it tries to accommodate him.

“See,” he pants. “You took the whole thing,”

“I-I swear I can feel you in my tummy, Dai-nii,”

“Christ,” he nearly whines, shutting his eyes tightly as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. He breathes out hard through his nose, gathering up every ounce of his self control as he begins to gently rock your hips against his, teeth clenching while he tries not to buck wildly into you.

You whimper a little; it still hurts a bit, but it’s beginning to fade, Daichi whispering gentle praises, breath hot against the shell of your ear as you bury your face in his neck.

“I know it hurts right now, baby,” he breathes out, still steadily rocking you on his lap. “But niichan’s gonna make it feel so good, okay?”

And he does. He lets you grind against him, hips moving in little circular motions, forces not one but two orgasms out of you as tender fingers slip between your bodies to rub at your clit while you bounce shallowly.

It’s fucking torture for him, to feel you cream on his cock like that, tight little pussy clenching around him as you cry out breathless little ‘Dai-nii’s.

“S’it,” he praises hoarsely, thighs trembling from the effort of restraint. “Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay sweetheart?”

He keeps you on his lap, since you were so adamant about riding him, but holds your hips still as he begins fucking up into you. He starts off slow, letting you get used to the deep thrusts, cockhead nudging your cervix every time, but it isn’t long before his restraint completely snaps, unable to hold back any longer and begins ramming into you.

He tells you you’re so good, that you look so pretty as you take his cock, tears rolling down your cheeks and quiet grunts sounding from deep in his chest.

You whimper when he cums, begging him to fill you up, have him shuddering out a breathy, “Fuck,” as his hips still, cock pressed tightly against your cervix as it throbs.

And just like that, just this once turns into only a few times, and grinding against his thigh turns into his cock buried inside of you, his tongue shoved down your throat, your moans muffled by big palms.

And you love it. You love the way his chestnut eyes darken as you sink down on his cock, the way his voice drops so low it makes your stomach swoop, the way his entire demeanor—the air around him, his very aura—changes the moment you begin acting like a brat.

It’s exhilarating, intoxicating, addicting. You love the groans that fall from his lips when you tell him no one has ever—no one can ever—fuck you as good as he does. You love the way he loses himself in it, hips slamming into you hard enough to jostle your entire body up the bed, the way he leaves bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips, your thighs, your ass.

And although the guilt eats him alive—erodes his insides, rots him to his very core—he can’t stop.

He should put a stop to it. He wishes he were strong enough to put a stop to it.

He should, he should, he should.

He should do a lot of things.

But he won’t.

Because he’s too selfish, too greedy, to give you up. He’ll bear the sins and suffer the consequences if he just gets to call you his, if he just gets to hear you cry out his name into his palm as he rams his cock into you with a hand slapped tightly over your mouth, if he just gets to fill you up with his cum every night.

He feels disgusted in himself, disgusted in his pathetically weak resolve that you know how to break with just a look and a soft niichan, disgusted by how much he fucking loves every second of it. But he’d do anything for you, just like any good niichan would, right?

#i want daichi to literally destroy me #:(#please just fucking wreck me sir #anyway he's so sweet in this i hope y'all feel bad for doing him like this!!!#poor dai-nii :(#he's just tryna be a good niichan ffs #tw pseudo-incest #tw manipulation #tw dacryphilia

2K notes · View notes

griffintail · 3 years

Note

I’ll set the scene, cause I feel like this needs a lil explaination, but imagine this:

One of the The Parent Gang (this is how I refer to the characters you’ve written all the wonderful parental stuff about) is wandering around an area they’re unfamiliar with, mainly just lookin to get some new resources or find a decent mine, when they stumble upon a water well in the middle of an empty field. The first thing off about this is there isn’t a village around for MILES, secondly the well is completely dry and empty, and third of all when they look into the well (which goes down pretty deep compared to the usual village wells), they see a CHILD at the bottom of it. The kid’s clearly malnourished, clothes in rags, dark circles under their tiny eyes, and when they see the Parental Gang member everything about the child brightens up; whoops, guess who’s gonna be a dad~!

- from, an Anon Who’s Trapped in Their Own Love of the Found Family Trope and Never Wants to Leave❤️❤️❤️

Yeah, I love those tropes. I love any child reader tropes though! XD

Wilbur is also my favorite thus, I picked him from the gang!

Well Met

Pairing: Parental! Wilbur x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of malnourishment, Implied Mistreatment, It’s light angst that rapidly turns into fluff

Wilbur was hoping to find a place to loot to get a few bits of equipment for L’Manberg. Maybe he could even find a village that would like to trade for a few bits of good gear to keep in case of emergency. He really didn’t mean to wander so far out though.

“I should have brought a horse.” He muttered as he put his hands on his hips, looking up at the sun at the highest point in the sky.

He needed to head back if he wanted to get home before the night struck. Looking around, he hoped he could find something that would be a good enough landmark to remind him where he stopped when he came back out with a horse. Instead, he squinted thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him.

In the middle of the spruce forest, there was a well that Wilbur would usually see in a village, but there wasn’t one for miles, hence his search. Taking another quick look at his surroundings, he went over to the well. It was an older well, moss growing along the sides and a severed rope where the bucket would hang. He heard no water, so, he looked down, nearly falling in as he startled seeing something that was most certainly not water.

He stared in surprise as he looked at the small figure of what he could only assume was a child. As they looked up at him, he had to restrain himself from just jumping down the well. Big, innocent (E/C) eyes met his, looking so dull for a moment with bags under them before they sparkled with hope. When she, Wilbur assumed looking at them, looked up at them, he saw the rags she wore and how tiny she was. She opened her mouth but only a cough left her lips.

“Relax.” He quickly told her as she whimpered at the pain the cough brought her. “I know you’re here. I’m going to get you out as soon as I can. Just give me a moment.”

Desperately, he dug through his bag and breathed a sigh of relief that he did pack rope in case he found any sort of temple.

“Alright, darling.” He talked to her to keep her calm while he tied the rope to the nearest tree, not trusting the possible rooting well wood. “I’m going to come down and get you. We’ll see what to do when I get you up but we’re going to do this one step at a time.”

He gave a hard tug to the rope and it held. Carefully, he tossed it down and he felt so much relief that it ended close enough at the bottom for him to get down.

“I’m coming love.” He told her as he climbed in.

Scaling down the wall, he tried to think how this poor small child got in this situation. If someone left her there, he would not rest until he found those people. But one situation at a time.

He hit the floor and he saw how skinny the poor girl was. Not a drop of water was on the floor so he could only assume she was dehydrated as well after that violent cough. Carefully, he crouched in front of her, giving her a gentle smile. She couldn’t be any more than six as well and it made anger grow in the back of Wilbur’s head.

“Hi, sweetie. Let’s get you out of here, ya?”

She gave a small, slow nod.

“Alright, well I’m going to pick you up and you’re going to have to hold onto me like you’re giving me a big hug, ok?”

She gave a similar nod.

“Ok, here we go.”

He picked her up carefully, noticing how she flinched slightly and how cold she was. Since he was so warm, she gave no hesitance to hold onto him as she nuzzled into his chest to take in the warmth. He hesitated in surprise before wrapping his other arm around her, patting her greasy hair, which made him wince at the feeling.

“It’s ok, we’re going.”

He held her with one arm now and grabbed the rope with his free hand.

“Keep holding on like this.” He reminded her lightly before starting his climb.

It was much more difficult with a passenger to climb up and even more difficult when he could only use one hand. He stayed determined though to get out, not for himself but the little girl clinging onto him. The climb was long but he reached the top, hugging the girl tighter as he swung himself out. Sitting on the ground, putting his back on the well wall, his breath came out rapidly as he tried to catch it while the little girl stayed nuzzled in his chest.

“We made it.” He let out as he closed his eyes for a moment.

He waited till his breathing calmed down before he took in his situation. He had a possible starving and dehydrated child, miles away from L’Manberg. The sun would set soon and he’d be slower with the extra weight to bring along. So, he needed to set up camp.

“Alright darling, I have some water and an apple in my bag. I’m going to put you down and give you that while I set up a quick camp for us to rest in till morning. Ok?”

The little girl gave a nod and he lightly squeezed her before putting her down instead against a tree, kneeling in front of her as he went through his bag.

“Drink slowly, don’t want to make yourself sick.” He gently told her, giving her the water before taking a cloth and the apple.

Carefully, he cut apple using an unused arrow as she slowly drank. He put the cut-up apple on the cloth giving it to her.

“There were go, darling. You rest up and I’m going to get a fire going to warm you up.” He gently patted her shoulder before he stood up.

He took off his jacket and hat before working on getting a fire going. As he worked on getting materials, he took off his walkie.

“Tommy.” He called out on the public L’Manberg channel.

“Wilbur! Where are you?” Tommy questioned.

“I’ve gotten held up exploring, I’ll be back tomorrow. Keep everything together for me alright?”

“Of course, I will! I’m the Vice President!”

Wilbur chuckled lightly. “Right, thank you, Mr. Vice President. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Be careful out there.”

“Will do.” Wilbur nodded before putting his walkie away again.

He came back and started the fire. The little girl scooted closer to the warmth coming off the flames as he tried to set up a little shelter for the night to hide from mobs using large branches.

“Alright, we have somewhere to sleep little one.” He smiled as he sat next to her, wiping sweat off his forehead. “I should introduce myself now. I’m Wilbur, I’m President of a nation called L’Manberg.”

The little girl played with the rags she wore before she looked at him.

“I’m (Y/N).” She let out quietly, her voice still having a slight rasp.

He smiled wider hearing her speak. “That’s a very pretty name. Do you have a home?”

(Y/N) paused as she scrunched up her nose when she thought.

“I-I don’t remember things very well Mr. Wilbur. I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s ok.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I can take you back with me and you can think about it somewhere safe ok?”

She nodded. “Ok.”

“Then we’ll do that in the morning darling.”

When night fell, Wilbur shepherded her inside the shelter and made her comfortable little corner, laying his jacket on top of her. He stayed up during the night just incase with his bow at his side. As the night went on, he’d glance at the little girl to make sure she was alright. He was worried about how she might have gone down the well.

Was her bit of memory loss from how long she was down there? How long was she down there?!

He’d make sure she was ok though.

In the morning, he went out to check for any stray mobs before he woke up the little girl.

“It’s morning darling. Let’s get to L’Manberg.” He smiled gently as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

“Ok, do you have more water, Mr. Wilbur?” She asked.

“No, I’m sorry love. I wasn’t planning on being out so late last night.” He apologized. “I’ll get us back as fast as I can so we can get more water.”

“Ok.” She muttered.

“Why don’t I carry you so you don’t tire out?” He offered as he put on his hat and his bag. “You can put my jacket on and then ride on my back.”

He helped her out before picking her up.

“Here we go (Y/N).” He smiled before making the walk home.

It was another half a day’s journey but he moved as quick as he could. As he walked, he told her dorky little stories to make her give little giggles and even sang a few songs to her, just wanting to keep her entertained. Before even he knew, half a day was gone and he grinned as he saw the welcoming walls of L’Manberg.

“There’s home.” He told her. “L’Manberg.”

“It looks pretty.” She mumbled.

“It is. And it has very nice people inside. I have a friend in there, Niki, I’m sure she’ll make you some cookies if you ask her nicely and we’ll get you some water.”

His own stomach grumbled but he didn’t feel it as he felt the little girl squeeze onto him lightly.

“That sounds nice Mr. Wilbur.”

“Just call me Wilbur. I’m going to be taking care of you until we see if you have a home, so no need for all that mister stuff.”

“Ok.” She smiled this time, hiding in his shoulder.

“Now, let’s get down there and get you cleaned up. Then, we can go look around with some cookies.”

He went down, smiling to himself. He didn’t know if (Y/N) had a home. He’d look, but he doubted there was any place that she belonged to but she’d have a home now if that was the truth. He’d give her the best care and live in one of the best nations, where he’d always keep her safe.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

529 notes · View notes

rebrandedbard · 3 years

Note

Number 16 - “It could be worse.”

My writing method is just chucking prompt phrases into a mixing bowl with Cool Historical Artistry Facts, a pinch of aesthetic, and a dash of lore, baking it in a pressure cooker and seeing what we get and I love that you encourage this.

16. “It could be worse.”

wc: 1738

Thunderstruck

Geralt and Jaskier come face to face with a violent lightning storm and hide out in a cave. Jaskier is afraid of thunder and lightning. Geralt helps him through it.

Zeniths were a spectacle. To be present in the height of a storm, to be in the midst of its power and bear witness to its thrall is a mighty thing, even in its horror. It served as a reminder of one’s insignificance, and what a magnificent blessing it was to be thus. Jaskier stared out at the storm in awe. He jumped back from the mouth of the cave with a shriek as a bolt of lightning crashed down, splitting the bark from a tree not fifty paces away. Strong arms reached out to catch him as he went stumbling backward.

“It could be worse,” Geralt joked.

The thunder’s echo still rumbled through the cave’s walls, dying under the crash of another, and another, the cave never silent. Jaskier covered his ears and scowled at Geralt. “Oh really?” he asked, raising his voice against the deafening noise. “I feel I’m inside a war drum! I’m jumping out of my skin!” There was a crackling in the atmosphere that stood his hair on end. He’d never experienced anything more frightening in his life, and he’d had to drag Geralt from the edge of death with a mad nightwraith on the prowl.

He shouted and buried himself under Geralt’s arm as another bolt of lightning touched the earth, the sound following not a fraction of an instance after the light flashed. “Why is it touching the ground?” he panted, heart racing in his chest like a frantic horse. His skin was pale in the darkness, almost white, illuminated by the flash of lightning. He shook, his eyes wide with fear. “It’s so close. I swear, a god is trying to smite us, Geralt.”

Another crash outside and Jaskier tucked his head, hands flat against his ears. He whimpered, and Geralt had never known him to show such fear. The fear he knew was comical at times, more urgency or discomfort than any true terror. But this—this was a fear Geralt knew in others. Jaskier reeked of it, and it burned to breathe it in.

Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier, leading him back into the depths of the cave where Roach waited. He set to work making camp, removing the saddle and setting out their bedrolls. With a tug, he pulled Jaskier down onto one, then positioned Jaskier so he lay with his head against his arm. He placed his own hand over Jaskier’s other ear so the sound was twice as muffled.

“Close your eyes,” Geralt said. He then made a sign with his hand and a bright purple glow spread over them. The storm seemed to disappear, only the low bass rumbling through. It sounded distant as if their heads were under water.

Jaskier opened his eyes, blinking in the odd glow. He slowly pulled his hands away from his ears, squinting at the pulsating barrier in a dome around them. “Is this …?”

“Quen,” Geralt answered. “It … dampens the noise.”

Jaskier turned his head to look at him. “You used a sign for me? But you said using signs outside of battle was frivolous.”

Geralt did not meet his eye. He shrugged, putting his hands over Jaskier’s ears once more. “It’s a precaution. In case the storm collapses the cave,” he grunted.

“And covering my ears as we lay together?”

“Would you rather I cover your mouth?”

Jaskier managed a nervous laugh. His heartbeat began to slow—cautiously—and his trembling to cease. He closed his eyes once more. To Geralt’s surprise, Jaskier rolled over, tucking his head beneath his chin. Geralt’s hand fell over his shoulders, cradling him.

For a moment, Geralt felt uncertain. But as Jaskier nestled, breathing gently against him, he wrapped his arms more securely around his form. Though there was little need with the barrier in place, he flattened one hand over Jaskier’s exposed ear and used the motion to tuck his head closer. They lay together until the storm passed, the hours fading into sleep.

Geralt followed the faint hum of his medallion in the early dawn. His boots crunched over the splinter of charred wood. The fragments littered the area, and the tree had collapsed in the night. He found the place they’d been camping before the rain broke over their heads. The wood of their campfire now lay in a soaking pile, barely blackened. Beyond their camp lay the sandy shore of the lake, and it was there that his medallion led.

Upon the yellow sands he crouched. He brushed the sands carefully as he searched. It was something he’d read about before, something left in the wake of powerful storms when the sky reached down to touch the earth. In the old tales, it was meant as a gift from the gods; a promise that no storm should ever again harm the one blessed with it. The stories were so old, he thought they had no true merit, but the medallion made him rethink his position. He felt a solid bump on the surface of the sand and dug around it. As he dug, a strange tendril emerged. Then another, like the root of a tree in its shape.

Geralt dug the lightning from the earth, made solid and harmless. The glass was explosive, its many branches reaching outward, smooth in places where the lightning melted the sand best, grainy in others. He turned it in his hands, struck with wonder. Touching the thin ends of one branch, the glass snapped free. Upon examination he found that it was hollow within; the lightning had escaped its vessel.

Fishing out his dagger, Geralt selected a wide tendril and scored one end. He tapped it with the handle of his dagger and it fell free in his hand with a clean line. He scored it again, tapped, and a ring fell from the glass. After a bit of searching in his bag, he found a sanding block, pasted with dogfish. He sprinkled a pinch of sand over the block and rubbed the sharp ends of the glass ring over the abrasive surface, smoothing them away.

He washed the ring in the lake and tested its edge carefully. When he was sure the edge was dull, he fished a length of leather cord from his bag and looped it around, tying off the ends. He wrapped the rest of the glass in his spare clothes and carried the lot back to the cave.

By this time, Jaskier was beginning to stir.

Geralt tapped his shoulder. “Hey,” he coaxed. “Wake up, I’ve brought you something.”

Jaskier turned over groggily. “Is it breakfast?” he asked. “If it is, you can leave it by the fire. I’ll get to it. Just … twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes indeed. Geralt chuckled and pried one of Jaskier’s eyes opened. “It’s not breakfast. It’s something rare. Something I think you’ll find fascinating.”

“Can’t I be fascinated in the late morning for a change?” Jaskier complained. But in spite of the early hour, he sat upright and rubbed his eyes. “Alright, I’m up. What’s so rare and fascinating? Are we off to see some nigh-extinct bird that only comes out at dawn in this isolated range of the mountain? Some magical fish that walks on land two days of the year during mating season?”

“Give me your hand,” Geralt said.

Jaskier squinted at him in suspicion. “Geralt of Rivia, I swear: if you’ve woken me up to put a bug in my hands, I will spit in your eye.”

Geralt sighed as he reached into his bag. “It’s not a bug. Will you just do it?”

Cautiously, Jaskier held out his hand, still keeping it rigidly close to snatch away should he spy any hint of a creepy crawly thing, whether by leg or antenna. Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled his hand forward. He dropped the ring into his palm, letting the cord drape over the side.

Jaskier’s eye widened and he picked up the ring, inspecting it in the early morning light. The glass was a marbled yellow and white, speckled with flecks here and there of brown and tiny black particles. “Oh,” he whispered in admiration. “Oh, what is it?”

“Fulgurite. Lightning glass.”

“Lightning glass?”

Geralt nodded. “When lightning strikes sand, it melts it into its shape. There are stories of it, though I’d never seen it before. In some stories, the lightning becomes trapped in the glass, released only when it is broken; a punishment from the gods for those who wished to claim their power of nature for themselves.”

He opened his bag and removed the hollow glass for Jaskier to inspect. “There are friendlier stories,” he explained, “wherein the glass is a blessing. After difficult storms pass, a mass of fulgurite is left behind. He who finds it and carries it with him is blessed with fair weather all his days. The hollow in the glass is the eye of the storm, the one place of calm amid the chaos.”

Jaskier poked a finger through the eye of the ring. “Fascinating doesn’t begin to cover it. Song worthy better hits the mark.” He passed Geralt the ring as he packed away the glass once more, but Geralt stopped him, closing his hand around the ring.

“I want you to keep it,” he said. “To protect you. Lightning will never strike near you so long as you wear it.”

Jaskier stared down at his fist, opening it slowly to reveal the cold glass ring within. “I thought you didn’t believe in stories like that,” he replied.

Geralt picked up the ring by its cord and lowered it round Jaskier’s neck. “Some stories—some superstitions—are facts forgotten by time. Whether or not it truly will guard you from storms, we’ll learn in time, but I can feel that there is magic in this. There are charms in this world, if you know where to find them.”

Jaskier pressed the tips of his fingers to the ring, a small smile tugging his lips. It rested against his collar with a comforting weight. When he looked at Geralt, his eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners.

“Thank you, Geralt.”

He stood up, one hand on Geralt’s shoulder for balance. As he did, he leaned in and pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek in passing, then went to see about getting breakfast started.

Geralt knelt frozen on the spot.

Thunderstruck.

250 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Words Whispered in the Dark

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6250🙈

Summary: There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing those down, it applies twice as much.

Steve supports your writing – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you’re not sure you wanted to know.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, praise kink & body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones & implied age gap & professor-student dynamic & cumplay if you squint, language ---- (let me know if I missed any…why is the list so long wtf)

A/N: Can be read as a standalone. Part of the Attached ‘verse with professor!Steve.

A/N: For Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. Congratulations to the rightfully earned milestone ❤️ Thank you for hosting the challenge and kindly including even soft fics (even though I feel like my soft got lost in translation a bit).

Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” - bold in the text, pls don’t @ me for the way I used it.

Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.

You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But fuck, was it a close call.

Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.

Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and damn, did it feel good for both of you.

So technically, you knew there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually doing it, shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.

Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.

Oh no. Oh shit. This wasn’t happening--

Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, fuck. You were so fucking screwed.

“Oh---oh honey,” you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.

Steve was reading it. Steve was reading that thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking bad—he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly would.

Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.

“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,” you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.

Maybe you should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?

He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say hunger, enough to stir heat in your belly.

Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.

Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. Well. At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because… that. That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.

Was it?

“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.

Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.

He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.

The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (his shirt) to drag you into his lap.

A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.

Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.

Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.

“Well, I did see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. Fuck. You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.

It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.

Now the idea of that actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.

It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.

“Wait, right now?” you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.

Fuck. Shit. Okay.

“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.

You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.

“Bed. Now.”

Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.

It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.

He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.

“What is it, babygirl?”

His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.

You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”

His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.

“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.

You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.

“Well, you won’t, not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.

Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.

“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, always, as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, I am,” he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.

Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.

Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and you were the one getting your hands on him. You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but Christ, it was his back that would be your downfall.

Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.

It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.

“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.

“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. “Babygirl…”

“Yeah?”

“You know what. Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.

“Or what?”

He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.

“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible ‘promise?’.

“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.

“I don’t follow--- oh,” escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“

You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your mutual pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts and the sheets at that.

“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, accidently brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”

“Babygirl,” he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.

“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, really nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“

“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you tell me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”

From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good lord, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.

“Uhm… Waterloo?”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. Of course he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.

You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.

“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.

Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.

“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”

“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”

“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.

“I think there’s something else that’s up--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.

His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.

“You changed.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.

“Fuck-“

“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.

Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.

You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.

“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.

Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…

Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.

You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.

As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that you were the one in control.

You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.

Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.

When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.

Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you loved his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.

The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.

Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.

Fuck couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.

“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”

Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.

“Shit, sweetheart-“

The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.

Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, finally rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.

Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.

“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.

“Christ- don’t stop--“

“Eloquent as always, Professor,” you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.

Christ was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock--- if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.

So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.

“For fuck’s --- how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.

You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.

“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”

“You little-“

His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.

Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.

A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck, yeah--- just like that…”

Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of more.

Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, so badly, but fuck the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.

Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply had to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.

So fucking pretty like this.

And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, willingly. The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.

Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.

Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally swallow, causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.

Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.

“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.

The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.

“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.

Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.

“Oh my god-“ you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.

He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.

You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.

Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck. Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly. You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.

You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.

For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.

Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.

Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, nearly giving him a view of what was under the fabric.

“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”

Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.

You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that unsexy was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.

He was wrong.

“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about your fingers, stretching me so good, about you fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.

“Babygirl—”

“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”

He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.

You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.

“Babygirl--- fuck me-- I’m gonna-“

You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.

Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.

You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.

He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.

Ah-oh, sounded in the back of your mind.

Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.

If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.

You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.

You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.

Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.

“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.

You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”

A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.

“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”

Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.

Fuck.

You were so busted.

Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.

Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?

Right. No.

Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.

Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.

Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.

“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.

“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.

You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.

“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry… Professor Rogers,” you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.

“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, guessing at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with you now. It’s only fair, no?”

Oh fuck, here it came.

For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.

It’s only fair, no? he had said.

It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.

Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.

Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so so good. It was never really a question.

“Y—yes, it is.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”

And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

No, you were absolutely not ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft yes. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like home. Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.

He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”

His words tickled the sensitive skin and shit, okay, your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really was going to wreck you.

Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, almost there.

“Please,” was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.

“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.

“Y- yes.”

“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.

Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.

And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.

Attached masterlist

S.R. masterlist

I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to.

But I hope you enjoyed anyway. I mean, if you made it to the end…

Thank you for reading :-*

Your Anika I’m-Not-a-Smut-Writer Ann

P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of the reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #professor steve rogers #LEMONS #mind the warnings #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america au #college au #modern au #wrong attachment au #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #attached #words whispered in the dark #anika ann

370 notes · View notes