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shenanigans-and-imagines · 11 months

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I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

-----------------------

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

@ambrolyer, @cassiecasluciluce, @tamwritesstuff, @hallowedandhungry, @mangomonk, @amefuyuu, @righteous-scamp, @starved-kitten, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @twinkliker3000, @unrestrictedbyreality, @screechingphantommaker, @becksynthetic, @black-sapphic, @dicenete, @isharaneith, @sarcasticlittlebook, @catsandskyrimcafe, @sora-o-kaku, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ka-du-trur, @baldursgateslittlestar, @rakilein

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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f1povs · 6 months

Text

You’re safe with me

Pairing : Sergio Checo Perez x reader

Summary- y/n sister of Carlos Sainz. When he followed his dreams of being a f1 driver she followed hers and became a firefighter. After things went south on a call y/n decided to move in with Carlos.

A/n : so this is an idea I’ve had for ages and thinking of writing a whole story on this idea. This is my first time actually posting something as never had the confidence to post but after seeing so many amazing writers on here and other apps I thought I might as well try so please no hate or negativity. If you have any advice then feel free to share and if you think I should write a whole story then please say and I will do my best 🙏

Y/n watched the world go by as she sat in her favorite park, her gaze distant and unfocused. It was as if she was watching a movie play out before her eyes, with all the characters moving in slow motion. She knew everyone around her, the way they smiled, the way they laughed, the way they lived their lives. But she felt disconnected from it all, as if she were merely an observer in someone else's story. Her mind wandered back to the countless times she had watched her brother, Carlos, race his heart out on the track, cheering him on from the sidelines, her voice echoing above the roar of the engines.

She remembered the day she had decided to become a firefighter. It had been an impulsive decision, born out of a desire to protect those she loved and make a difference in the world. Little did she know that it would lead her down a path filled with heartache and loss, with every victory she achieved coming at the cost of someone else's suffering. But she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her accomplishments, even as she struggled to come to terms with the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the leaves of the trees and sending a shiver down her spine. Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting those of a stranger who was staring at her intently. For a brief moment, they locked gazes, and she felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. It was as if this person knew everything about her, all her secrets and fears, and they were offering her a glimmer of hope in return. But then the moment passed, and the stranger turned away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost. After sitting in the park for a while y/n decided that she couldn’t be here, in this town anymore. Y/n picked up her phone and rang her brother.

Carlos: hey y/n are you okay?

Y/n: um yeah I’m okay. Um I’m just wondering if… I… um… could come move in with you?”

Y/n held back the tears trying to escape her eyes as she spoke to her brother.

Carlos: yeah of course you can move in when are you coming I’ll get a room ready.

After couple hours flight, Y/n smiled as she spotted her brother, Carlos Sainz, standing outside the airport terminal. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed impeccably in his racing gear. Despite the hectic week of training getting ready for the race on the weekend, he'd managed to take time out of his schedule to pick her up from the airport. She hadn't seen him in months, not since the accident at work.

It wasn’t a long drive but seemed like forever. Carlos tried making small talk but y/n wasn’t really interested. She was in a world of her own as she stared out of her brothers car window. No one knew how bad the accident was. All they knew was that y/n was in an accident at work.

Finally y/n and Carlos arrived. The paddock was abuzz with activity, a whirlwind of color and motion that seemed to swirl around her like a dream. She had been away for months, as y/n stepped out of the car the familiar smell of racing fuel and burning rubber hung thick in the air, mingling with the sounds of engines revving and tires screeching. It was like being in a live-action painting, vibrant and alive with the energy of a thousand hearts beating as one. Y/n thought it was nice to be back with her f1 family. Everyone was excited to greet y/n but there was one particular driver who was more excited to see her.

As Sergio Perez turned the corner, his heart skipped a beat. There she was, standing by the lockers with her brothers and his friends, her back to him. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, and the familiarity of her figure was almost overwhelming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he walked towards her. His gaze drifted over her shoulder-length hair, the way it casually fell across her back, and the way she was hugging herself, as if she were cold. He fought the urge to run up and envelop her in a warm embrace, instead opting for a friendly wave as he neared.

“Hey, y/n!" he called out, his voice sounding a little more nervous than he'd intended. She turned around, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. But the usual sparkle in her eyes had gone. Before her eyes would sparkle in the fluorescent light, and Sergio would find himself blushing, but this time was different.

"Hey, Sergio," she replied, her voice soft. "It's good to see you ." She walked over to him, her steps light. He noticed that she was wearing the same perfume she had been wearing the last time they'd met, and it made his heart race a little faster. But as she got closer Sergio could see something was wrong.

Fast forward to race night

The sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing the grid in a warm, golden light. The race was about to end. Everyone cheered as the drivers rushed past the checkered flag. Max at P1, Sergio at P2, and Carlos at P3.

The three men stood on the podium as they celebrated their wins. The crowd cheered and shouted celebrations. Fireworks exploded overhead, their colorful bursts of light painting the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors. It was a beautiful sight, one that would have filled her heart with joy on any other day. But tonight, the sound of the explosions sent her spiraling back to that fateful night, the night of the explosion that had taken the lives of so many, including those closest to her. the fireworks only served as a painful reminder of the day that had changed her life forever. She couldn't help but shiver as she stood on the edge of the crowd, her heart racing and her palms slick with sweat. The memory of the explosion was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday: the screams of terror, the heat that seared her skin, the deafening boom that shook the ground beneath her feet.

Sergio Checo Perez stood on his podium and searched the crowd for y/n. As soon as his eyes landed on y/n, He could see the pain in her eyes, the fear that gripped her soul, and in that moment he jumped off the podium and raced to y/n in the crowd. His fellow drivers and his team was shouting for him to come back and celebrate the win but he had to do everything in his power to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved. He knew that the accident was more than a normal accident that can happen on the job like she had said. He knew there was more to the story, he knew that the the memories were painful, he knew what was happening as he has experience people he knew go through the same thing and he could never erase the memories that haunted her, the demons that tormented her every waking moment.

Now, as she sat there, on the floor in the crowd, watching the fireworks light up the sky, she felt him approaching, his presence a warm, comforting blanket wrapping itself around her. He knelt down beside her, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. "Hey," he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. "You don't have to go through this alone." She didn't know if she could believe him, but for some reason, she found herself leaning into his touch, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within her. "I know it's hard," he continued, his voice gentle and soothing. "But we'll get through this together, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to find peace, to find happiness again. And in that moment, she knew that she wasn't truly alone anymore.

They sat there together, watching the fireworks explode overhead, their fingers intertwined. As the last of the fireworks faded away, leaving the sky empty and black once more, Sergio leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're okay. You are safe with me," he whispered.

Y/n closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin. She knew he was right. Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze once more. There was something in his eyes that she had never seen before, something that told her that he was in this for the long haul.

As they sat there, the wind picked up again, sending a shiver down her spine. But this time, it felt different. It felt like a new beginning, like a promise of better things to come. And for the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still goodness left in the world, still a reason to keep fighting, to keep going.

Hand in hand, they rose to their feet, the weight of memories and losses not so heavy now. Together, they began to walk through the paddock , their steps echoing through the darkness. As they walked, they talked, sharing stories and laughter, finding solace in the comfort of each other's company. And with every step they took, Y/n felt a little lighter, a little more at peace.

Eventually, they reached a small, secluded clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient trees just outside the circuit. Sergio turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for an answer. She knew what he was asking, and she knew what she wanted to say. Slowly, she nodded, her heart racing with anticipation and fear. He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that made her heart skip a beat, and then he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

As they kissed, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, their love for each other the only thing that mattered. And in that moment, Y/n knew that she had found her home, her place in the world after everything she had been through. She knew that together, they could face anything, overcome any obstacle. Because no matter what happened, they would always have each other.

#f1 fanfic #sergio perez #sergio perez x reader #carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 x reader #checo perez #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 racing

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kingdumkum · 1 year

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WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up.

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?”

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms.

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you.

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely.

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.”

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours.

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm.

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you.

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.”

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—”

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills.

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you.

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real.

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago.

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement.

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.”

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes.

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—”

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that?

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face.

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth.

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth.

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face.

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.”

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold.

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?”

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist.

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name.

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up.

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt.

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?”

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you.

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.”

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along.

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.”

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it.

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?”

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can.

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot.

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped.

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all.

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you.

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

#baji #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #baji smut #keisuke baji smut #baji x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #keisuke baji x reader smut #tokyo rev smut

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readyforthegarden · 3 months

Text

Fitting Room

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Adonis and Angel are back for a little adventure! When Angel acts bratty in public, Danny is going to put her in her place, regardless of how far they are from the privacy of their own home.

Warnings: smut, sex in public place, soft dom!danny, restraints, oral (m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving) teasing, choking, full penetration)

WC: 4424

In your entire life, you never thought that you’d be bored while shopping. You loved diving through racks of clothes, boxes of shoes, furniture and decorations, it was like an Olympic sport to you. Trying to find the best deals on what you wanted or needed usually sends a wave of endorphins through you.

But today you were on your last leg, following Danny through the department store searching for new golf shirts. He came home from tour for a nice, long break and suddenly his old shirts were too tight in the arms, and had to go. Not that you were complaining, he put the muscles to good use as soon as the two of you were alone, a new level of stamina coming from this tour as well.

“What do you think about this one?” Danny held up a turquoise colored polo, the sweat resistant material shining in the fluorescent lights above. You could tell your temperament was beginning to get at him too, no longer cheerful in his showing of shirts. You had already snapped a few times, causing him to give you a few looks.

“It’s very nice, honey.” you muttered, folding your arms over your chest. Your eyes were beginning to feel dry from the air conditioning being pumped into the store, and you squinted, pinching the bridge of your nose, hoping the impending headache you felt would go away. “Just like the last fifteen you’ve shown me.”

“What’s with the attitude?” Danny furrowed his brows at you. “You’ve been so snippy today.”

“This is the most boring shopping trip ever.” you groaned, stomping your foot a little. Truth be told, it was more than that. You were tired from a late night out, a little hungover if you had to admit, and you were hungry after only eating half of the strawberry poptart Danny had offered you that morning.

“Oh because it isn’t for you?” Danny challenged, raising an eyebrow with a roll of his eyes.

“No, because every golf shirt is the same!” You reached up, shuffling through a rack. “White polo, blue polo, yellow polo, stripes oh now we’re getting cuh-razy!” you moved toward the wall of more polos and gestured to them. “Just pick a few and let’s go!”

It happened quickly. Danny barely glanced around, and suddenly you were against the polo wall, snug between two racks. Danny’s large, free hand was on your throat, squeezing the sides. Your eyes were wide as you looked up at him, and all you received back was something only Danny could master, a tender glare.

“Where is she, hm?” Danny asked softly, giving a soft squeeze to your throat. “Where is my Angel?” He didn’t let you respond. “Instead she’s been replaced with such a brat. I shouldn’t have to tell you more than once to behave. I have half a mind to take you into the fitting room and bend you over my knee for your attitude.”

He saw the sparkle in your eye at his words, your head tilting down to look up at him through your lashes. His hand left your throat, grazing your neck until his fingers were moving up into the hair at the base of your skull. He clenched his fist there, tugging your head back so you had to look down your nose at him. A whine emitted from your throat, and he smirked.

“What? My pretty little Angel didn’t think her god wouldn’t know all her tricks?” Danny laughed under his breath and his voice was lower. A thrill sped up and down your spine, igniting your veins. Adonis was here. “I think you’d like that a little too much.” He glanced down at your chest, watching it rise and fall quickly. “Nah, that’d be too easy. I can’t very well give into you when you’re acting like this.” He let go of your hair, and your head fell forward. His hand now came under your chin, lifting it with his finger, his thumb resting in the middle of your chin. “Be my sweet Angel again and maybe you’ll get rewarded. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you murmured. Danny bent down, capturing your lips in a sweet but demanding kiss before letting go of you entirely.

“I think I’m gonna get the turquoise one.” he nodded, back to the sweet and happy go lucky man he normally was. You were still between the racks on the wall, reeling over Danny acting like that in public. In your time together Danny had helped you explore more sexually than you’d ever considered. You’d found new things that turned you on, learned that you had a taste for roleplay here and there, and you especially liked when Danny introduced a soft dominant side of him. But never had he been this way in public before, and the idea of being so exposed, the risk of being caught had you pressing your thighs together.

You followed Danny around the men’s section, smiling and nodding and giving polite opinions on shirts you knew he didn’t want or like, he simply was testing you. This went on for a few moments until he became distracted, looking for some socks to match his shirt.

“Stay here,” he instructed, handing you the armful of clothes. “I saw a few pairs around the corner.” he mumbled as he was already stepping away. Adjusting the heavy, sweat wicking clothing on your arm, you glanced around, finding you were close to the women’s section of the store. Craning your neck, you tried to see if anything caught your eye. You raised yourself to your tiptoes, and nearly jumped out of your skin when Danny cleared his throat.

“Looking for something?”

“I was just trying to see what they had,” you answer, coming back flat on your feet. Danny gazed at you, then to the clothing section behind you, smiling.

“Well, you’ve been a good girl again so far,” he started, taking the clothes from your arms. “Go ahead and browse a little.” There was a moment's hesitation, and Danny laughed “Go on!”

Stepping around a few racks, you began looking through what the store had to offer you. Sundresses were on sale, and you thumbed through a row of them, a pretty mauvey pink one catching your eye as you moved deeper into the section. Danny watched you like a hawk, eyeing everything you touched. You tried to think, should you pick one out? Or should you pick one you don’t really like in case he teases you and says you can’t have it? This side of Danny was newer to you. In the bedroom games like this were easy, don’t touch yourself until I say, do this do that. In public, you weren’t sure what the rules were.

“You like that one baby?” Danny’s voice was low and soft in your ear. You’d been so focused on getting one step ahead of him you hadn’t realized you had frozen, a powder blue dress in your hand. Swallowing nervously, you nodded. “I don’t.” He removed your hand from the dress and reached up, grabbing another one. This sundress was golden yellow, and he held it out to you.

“This one?” You asked. Danny nodded.

“I’ll even let you try it on, as a treat.” He grinned. “Let’s go find a fitting room-oh wait! I need to go back and get one more thing,”

You sighed before you could stop yourself, and once you realized, looked up at Danny. His eyes were glaring, but his mouth was pulled into a smirk. You fell right into his trap, failed the test. Shoving the clothes in his arm at you again, he stood back.

“Go get a room, I’ll be right there.” Nodding, you scurried off, into the fitting rooms and went to the very last stall, shutting the door. You hung up the shirts and dress, placing the packs of socks on the small shelf. You waited for Danny, ignoring how washed out the overhead lighting made you look in the mirror.

Three sharp raps on the door and you opened it, letting Danny slide inside before shutting and locking it behind him. He gazed at you for a moment, hands behind his back.

“What?” you asked softly, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. Danny smirked, sitting down on the small seat in the room. He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and grinned.

“Try on that pretty little dress for me.” he commanded, nodding to it on the hanger. Reaching down, you unbuttoned your jean shorts, sliding them down your legs and stepping out of them. Kicking off your shoes you stood in just your socks and underwear after pulling your top over your head. Danny adjusted in his seat, eyes raking up and down your body. He knew you were stalling, and held up a hand, index finger pointing down and moving in a circle to tell you to turn around and continue.

Taking the cotton dress in your hands, you removed the thin straps off the hanger, it was soft and light, and you knew it would make the perfect dress to run errands in or out to dinner. Pulling it over your head, you let the material fall down your body, adjusting it once it was fully on. Forgetting the game at play, you turned to the mirror, reaching into the top and adjusting your breasts in the sewn-in cups, then flattening down the torso.

Twisting and turning in the mirror, you scanned every part of yourself in the dress, targeting every flaw and positive you could find. It wasn’t until Danny’s hands rested on your shoulders that you stopped. Looking at him in the mirror, he met your gaze, smiling softly.

“There’s my Angel,” he murmured softly. “You look so pretty in this dress, in this color.” his right hand, traveled softly up and down your arm, caressing it and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Are you my sunshine again?”

“Yes, Danny,” Danny’s smile fell.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Adonis,” you whispered. Danny turned his head, his nose burying into your hair and he inhaled deeply. His slow exhale was warm against your skin and in your hair, causing a shiver to go down your spine.

“That’s right,” he murmured into your hair. His left hand left your body, reaching behind him. He stood back from you, slightly to the side so you could see as he slid a brown leather belt from his back pocket. Hearing the material softly move through his hands as he made a loop made your pulse race. Softly snapping it a few times, he watched your face, noting the excited gleam in your eyes. “Do you like this?”

“Yes, Adonis,” your voice was a whisper. Anxiety and excitement swirled together in your stomach, watching him step closer. You were preparing to be bent over and spanked, but instead he approached, coming around you and standing in front of your reflection.

“Hands in front or behind?” you took a few moments to decide, Danny being patient as you made up your mind. You held your wrists out to him, and he smiled, beginning to loop the belt around your wrists, tightening it and glancing up at you, mask dropping to check that you were okay. You nodded and gave him a soft smile, and instantly Adonis was back. “Get on your knees.”

Lowering yourself to your knees, you kept eye contact with Danny, gazing up at him through your lashes, his hand not in your hair to stop you this time. He bit his bottom lip, reaching down and undoing the button and fly of his pants, pushing them down to his mid-thigh, along with his boxer briefs. His cock was already hardening, and he stroked the length a few times, bringing it closer to your mouth. The tip grazed your bottom lip, soft and velvety smooth.

“Open,” Danny murmured, and you obliged, laying your tongue flat as Danny tapped his cock against it. You closed your mouth around him, swirling your tongue and tasting him. Humming, you began bobbing your head, working down his length. You already wished for your hands to take care of what you couldn’t take. Soft sighs of pleasure fell from Danny’s open mouth as he stared down at you, hypervigilant of every twitch of your lips, flutter of your eyelashes, and flare of your nostrils as you inched further down his length.

The weight of his cock on your tongue was something you enjoyed, a low hum of satisfaction vibrating up from your chest, to your tongue, making Danny suck in a quick, sharp breath. Smiling around him, you looked back up through your lashes at him, taking the tip of your tongue and pressing it along the thick vein on the underside of his cock as you pulled back to the tip. One of Danny’s hands held his shirt flat against his toned stomach, the other reached forward, easily cupping the back of your head and gently pushing you back down his length. You let him guide your movements, doing your best to keep breathing as the tip of your nose began grazing the coarse, trimmed hair at the base of him.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you swallowed around him, fighting the reflex in your throat as Danny’s tip grazed the back of it. He began pumping his hips, and you could feel the hot prickling of tears welling up in your eyes as you gagged slightly, taking short, quick breaths through your nose as you let Danny use your mouth.

“So fucking good,” the words were ragged as he praised you, fucking into your mouth. You hummed, your fingers twitching, itching to grip his thighs, to have some hold on him like he did you. They were also desperate to relieve the ache between your own thighs. Spreading your legs as imperceptibly as possible, you brought your wrists between them, trying to rub them against your core. Danny heard the buckle of the belt around your wrists clink, and let out a breathy laugh. “Aww Angel, you wanna touch yourself?”

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, blinkin up at Danny. A few tears slipped from your eyes and you knew your mascara was at the very least flaking, if not running down your cheeks. Your hips were still rocking against the bundled leather on your wrists, though it wasn’t doing much.

“I don’t think you deserve to, after all the attitude you gave me today.” Danny’s words were harsh, matching the thrust he did of his hips. Sniffling, you batted your lashes at him. “Fuck, you look so good with your makeup like that,” he took the hand off the back of your head and swiped his thumb across your cheek, collecting the black stained tear. Without another word, he pulled himself out of your mouth, standing back before leaning down and grasping your arms, lifting you up to your feet. One of his large hands wrapped around the middle of the leather belt, and you got excited, thinking he was going to give in and untie you, but he pulled you toward him as he backed up, taking a seat on the small bench.

Your stomach flipped watching him stroke himself with his free hand, the clothes next to his head reminding you that you were in a public area. Danny continued to pull you forward, reaching up under your skirt and pulling down your panties, watching you step out of them carefully, He tugged you closer until you were kneeling, a leg on either side of his muscular thighs. He let go of his cock, bringing a hand to your hip, the other raising up the hem of the sundress.

“What do you say,” Danny leaned in close to your face, the tip of his nose gently grazing your cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to it. “We ruin this fucking dress? Hm?”

“It’s not mine,” you replied shakily, watching Danny pull back and grin wickedly.

“It was yours the moment I saw it.” he replied. You bit your bottom lip, feeling Danny’s long fingers graze your inner thigh. Your hips jolted as his index and middle fingers slipped between your legs, feeling the wetness that had gathered there. “You’re so wet for me, Angel.” he slipped the tips of his fingers in, making you moan softly. He pumped them in and out, eyes trained on your face as you found some relief at last. Your hands were in between both of you, resting on his stomach, and your fingernails scratched at his skin, the hairs on the trail to his hips, as he reached deeper and deeper.

“So good,” you whispered, Danny twisting his wrist slightly so his thumb grazed your clit with every pump. Your eyes closed as your head fell back, relishing in the pleasure.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” Danny praised, “Can you take my cock like this?”

“Yes, Adonis,” your voice came out in a whine, raising your hips, ready for him to take his hand away. When he stilled his hand, you brought your head back up and opened your eyes.

“How bad do you want it?” Danny asked. You felt annoyance bubble back up in you, the ache between your legs growing stronger.

“Badly,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. Danny’s hand left your hip, grabbing your chin roughly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he hissed. Heat burned your face, and you tried to pull out of his grasp, but his fingers dug in a little harder, keeping you in place. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Adonis.”

“You think because you don’t get what you want exactly when you want it, that you can act this way?” he scolded you, making the heat in your cheeks turn them bright pink with shame and embarrassment.

“‘M sorry,” you muttered out. Danny loosened his grip slightly.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry, Adonis.” Danny let go of your chin, using both hands to grab your hips, pulling you forward. He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds, slickening it before pressing inside of you. You moved to sink down, but Danny’s grip on your hips was strong, keeping you up so just the tip was inside. An aggravated groan rumbled through your chest as you glared at Danny. “Please, what the fuck!”

“I don’t think you deserve any more than this,” Danny hissed. “You were being so good and now you’re failing every test.”

“Please, please,” you whined, leaning down, grasping whatever skin of his you could with the limited movement of your fingers. You were nose to nose, clenching around him, feeling like you were going to cry if he didn’t let you take him fully. The ache was becoming unbearable, and as you looked into his eyes, the Adonis persona faltered, your loving Danny flashing in his eyes. “I need you so bad, baby, it’s starting to hurt,” Without another word, he pulled you down, allowing you to sink down to his hilt. You let out a strangled moan of relief, and Adonis was back.

“I love it when you plead like that, Angel,” he groaned softly, thrusting his hips up into you. “Sounds like a prayer just for me,” you nodded, unable to verbalize much of anything as he pounded up into you. “What am I?” your eyebrows knit together in the middle of your forehead, glancing down at him. “What am I to my Angel?”

“A god?” Danny grinned.

“That’s right, say it again,” he somehow slid himself down on the bench, the new angle sending tingles down your spine.

“A god!” you moaned loudly. “A god my god, god!” Danny laughed darkly, bringing a hand up quickly and covering your mouth.

“I don’t want the whole store to hear it too,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss in the valley between your breasts. “Can you keep quiet for me? Think you can cum quietly?” nodding, you gave him an affirmative noise, muffled by his hand. You pressed a kiss to his palm before he pulled it away, and he grabbed your hands, lifting them up and over his head so your body was closer to his. Your head slumped into the space between his neck and shoulder, his thrusts jostling your body. Quiet, high-pitched whines and moans fought their way out from your lips, suddenly, he halted all movement. You raised your head up, ready to argue with him, be a brat again, but he put a finger to his lips, glancing at the door. You heard shuffling outside the door, and your eyes widened, hearing soft voices talking about a sale happening, the sound of cheap metal hangers scraping against the racks they were on.

Danny looked to the door, then back to you, a small, mischievous smirk tugging his lips. He slowly began moving his hips as the voices got closer, and you pressed your lips together tightly, fighting the whimper that wanted to escape. Your stomach was flipping, the excitement and embarrassment of almost being caught and the thrill of doing something so naughty in public turning you on further. He started moving a little faster, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he kept this pace so no one would hear the sound of skin slapping and come looking. One of his arms snaked behind you, up your spine and grasping the base of your neck and shoulders, using the grip to pull you down roughly.

“I think they’re gone,” Danny breathed out after a few moments of silence. “We need to be quick in case they come back.” nodding, you followed his lead as he ducked from under your arms and moved you off of him, standing the two of you up. He made quick work of undoing the belt restraint, though he didn’t give you time to rub your sore wrist before you turned you around and pressed a hand on your back, bending you over.

Grasping the side of the bench, you felt him flip your skirt over your hips, gripping your skin there. You could hear Danny spit, the sound of the lubrication running up and down his cock before he pressed into you again, making your jaw drop. Danny was merciless in his pace, and you winced, though it wasn’t at the grip on your hips of the pressure of his hips bones hitting your ass over and over, but from the sound. You hoped and prayed that no one was around outside the fitting area, that there were no curious shoppers out there.

“You feel so fucking good around my cock, Angel,” Danny groaned through grit teeth. “You were made for me, so perfect,” he shifted his hips slightly and was suddenly hitting a spot that made your jaw drop, your mind go blank, sharp, breathy curses the only thing able to be vocalized. You clenched around him, feeling the molten hot coil in your core tighten almost unbearably, your body tensing.

“Oh god, please,” you whined, nails digging into the bench.

“Yeah? Please what, baby?”

“Please, I wanna cum,” you whispered. “Please, Adonis?”

“I don’t think you should,” he shook his head, his sweaty curls bouncing. “You’ve been such a fucking brat today.”

“Please Danny, please Adonis, please god!” you cried softly. If you could have screamed at the top of your lungs, you would have. Danny’s fingers dug deeper into the flesh of your hips, sure to leave bruises, his trimmed nails leaving crescent moons into them.

“Like I said, I love to hear you beg,” Danny’s hips pounded into you, and you pushed back as much as you could to meet every thrust, whispering his name like it was the only word you knew in the English language. He didn’t punish you for saying Danny this time, letting you have this one win as he felt you cum, your thighs shaking, knees buckling.

“Fuck, Angel, I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?”

“Anywhere, fuck I don’t care,” you were riding out your orgasm, needing his release now just as much as you needed yours.

“Such a filthy brat,” Danny grunted, hips stuttering as he came, releasing inside of you. He stayed still, bent over you as you both caught your breath. You gasped when he pulled out, feeling empty immediately, but he stuck his fingers inside you, fucking his cum further into you. When he pulled them out, he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around, sticking his fingers into your panting mouth. “Clean ‘em, don’t leave a single drop behind.” he murmured, watching you do as he said. “That’s my girl, do we taste good together?”

“Mhm,” you moaned around his fingers. He withdrew them slowly before grabbing your face, pulling you to him and kissing you passionately, tasting the traces left. When he pulled away, he smiled at you, and Adonis disappeared.

“That was hot as fuck, baby,” he chuckled, his eyes glimmering, before they dropped down. “Oh, oops,” you followed his eyeline, seeing a few wet spots on the neckline of the sundress. Using your finger, you dabbed at them, giggling as you wiped them on Danny’s boxers as he stepped back and pulled his bottoms up. “I think you’re gonna have to wear that out of the store.”

“Oh for sure,” you agreed, bending down and picking your panties up, slipping them back on. “Do you need to try on these clothes?” you nodded towards the shirts he had you carry in. Danny grinned cheekily.

“Nah, I know they’ll fit,” he admitted, walking over and grabbing them off the hook. “I just wanted to drive you insane.” you straightened from gathering the rest of your clothes, mouth agape. Reaching out, you smacked his shoulder sharply. Danny caught your wrist after the hit landed, bringing to his lips and kissing where your skin was still pink from chafing in the leather belt. “Be careful, I might have to teach you another lesson if you do that again.”

“Is that a promise?” Danny’s eyes flashed as he let go of your wrist, reaching down and snapping the price tag from your dress.

“Go get the pink one you were eyeing, then meet me at the registers. I’m taking you home.” he answered. You turned, a sharp swat landing on your bottom, making you jump. “I’ll show you what a real smack is supposed to feel like.”

“I can’t wait.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

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107 notes · View notes

b0r3dtod3ath · 1 year

Note

hi could i please make a request? i did poorly on my last exam and need some cheering up from oscar :(

Hi anon, thank you for the request but more importantly: I'm sorry about your test. Feel free to dm me if you want to talk. Also, just a reminder for everyone: if you want to be added to my anon list just send me a message in inbox containing your nickname or an emoji and your pronouns. (Also omg this photo of Oscar- girl, I'm speachless)

My F1 masterlist

Warnings: Reader being stressed due to school, hint of basing your self-worth on grades, mention of food and eating.

Word count: 514

You exited the building as fast as possible wanting nothing but to finally meet your boyfriend. You two were to go out after your classes - have a little lunch and then maybe go to one of your places and watch a movie. As soon as he spotted you he knew something was off. He couldn't pinpoint specific details - maybe it was your posture that appeared a bit smaller, maybe it was the anxious look in your eyes or the way your face frowned a bit. He just instantly knew something was not right. "Hi honey" he slowly whispered in your hair as you greeted each other with a tight hug. You felt so fragile and stupid but his arms wrapped around you gave you a hint of comfort. "You want to scratch the lunch and just take takeout to my place?" he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You just nodded and gave him a small smile.

"So you remember the test that I sat last week?" of course he remembered. He was away but anytime he would Facetime you, your mind went somewhere else. At first, he was a bit bothered about it but quickly understood your mind was occupied with your studies. He never really pursued academics but tried to help you as much as he could - he asked you to simply explain certain terminology (so you would understand things better) or every time you had study sessions he would text you at the top of the hour to remind you to take a break. "So, yeah… I just didn't do well. I don't know what happened… I mean, it just happened" you said as you gazed at your shoes. He noticed your sudden shyness and grabbed your hand "Oh love, I'm sorry you're stressed lately. Let me take care of you. When we come home you take a nice shower and I will organise everything else". As your eyes finally met he planted a kiss on your hand. You did like he said. The hot shower provided a comforting feeling of a cleanse even on the mental side. Oscar's house always gave you a whole lot of comfort. Cotton bedsheets, soft towels, warm lighting and your boyfriend's presence made you ten times calmer. You stepped into the kitchen wearing your PJs - you always had a set at Oscar's. He stood in the kitchen, unpacking the food that had just been delivered. His soft curls lightly bounced as he was moving. He hummed a song that had been stuck in his mind - it was a Lana Del Rey song but he never admits he listens to her songs. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his back which caused him to smile.

The rest of the evening was filled with cuddles and low-volume sit-coms. You two were on the couch, two soft blankets covering your bodies, your head rested on his chest as the sound of his heartbeat and his hand stroking your back caused you to fall asleep.

29.09.23

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader

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short-honey-badger · 6 months

Text

That's My Husband, That's My Wife

Ya know that tik tok trend where girls are calling their boyfriend their husband and vice versa? I wanted to do that, so I did. I hope you enjoy it!

Gojo, Getou, Nanami, and Sukuna

@goth-mami-writer

Masterlist

Gojo

The two of you are on a rare date, Saturo finally finding the time to escape his duties as a jujitsu sorcerer. You are dressed to the nines, out of your stuffy work clothes, and are having an amazing time swaying to the beat of the music that blasts in the bar. Sato had left to get you a drink, but he was taking an awfully long time.

You breathe a heavy sigh with a fond eye roll. You shouldn’t be surprised. Gojo was easy to distract when something caught his eye. As you move through the crowds to the bar, you look ahead of you and spot your boyfriend and the reason why he’d been taking so long.

There is a woman trying to press into his space, and you can spot the strained smile on his handsome face, your boyfriend is trying to be polite to the drunken woman, but you can see his patience wearing thin. You huff and march over, plucking the drink from his hand and sliding an arm around his slim waist.

The smile you give the other woman is not a nice one.

“My husband isn’t bothering you, is he?”

You feel Gojo freeze beside you, and then both of those long arms are wrapping around your waist, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder, a big cheesy grin stretching his lips.

“Don’t be so jealous, wifey. She was just leaving.”

Getou

The dark-haired man sighs quietly when he notices your put-out expression when another bumbling human comes walking up the steps for his “cure”. He had noticed your less-than-enthused attitude earlier in the morning but had not made mention of it. Suguru knew that you would talk to him when you got over whatever was going on in that pretty head of yours. He just wished that there was something he could do to cheer you up.

Getou hardly listens to the inane drivel that spills from the man in front of him. He can see the curse that wraps around the man like a haze, ghastly in appearance with bulging pustules that look like they may burst at any second. Suguru kills it with little more than a flick of his fingers, the curse nothing of interest to him. No, his focus fell on his despondent girlfriend, who had hardly looked at him at all today.

The man is thanking him, but Getou pays him no mind. Instead, he lopes over to where you lounge in a nearby chair, reaching down to take your hand. He then turns and gives the man a sickening sweet, fake smile, but his tone is meant for you.

“You are welcome. However, if you would excuse me, my dear wife needs my attention.”

Suguru looks back down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips when he spots the pink adorning your cheeks. Your tone is cheeky when you speak up, and Getou thinks this is much better than the melancholy from earlier.

“That she does, husband.”

Nanami

You can’t believe that he is this late. You understand that Kento works a dangerous job, but it wasn’t like him to be late for one of your dates. Your boyfriend was all about getting off work on time so that he could have time for himself and his personal life. You sigh heavily, poke at your cooling appetizer, and then sit back to sip at the bubbly champagne you’d ordered after the first ten minutes passed. Another twenty had passed since.

The waiter gives you a smile full of pity and silently sets down a dessert in front of you, quietly assuring you that it is on the house. You thank him with a nod and take up your spoon. Free dessert should not be wasted.

You are about halfway through when there is a commotion at the front of the restaurant, and you look up to see Nanami striding to your table, an anxious look decorating his sharp features. He slides into the seat across from you, scooting himself forward and ignoring the dirty look that the waiter sends him.

“I’m sorry, darling. Work had me go into overtime.”

You wave off his apology, simply happy that Kento had made it, even if he was late. Food is soon ordered, and more champagne is finished off. You are too busy with your meal to see Kento quietly speaking to the waiter and the sly grin he gives Nanami.

When another glass is delivered, your eyes land on the ring that sits at the bottom of it. You cut your eyes up to Kento, and he gives you a smile so full of love and affection that you feel your heart burst.

“I know it may be in poor form, being late, but would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

You grin and unabashedly dig into the champagne to pull the ring out, drying it off and handing it to Kento so that he can slide it on your ring finger.

“I could get used to calling you husband.”

Sukuna (Club Owner AU)

It isn’t often that Sukuna goes out on the main floor, but for some reason, he felt compelled to do so this evening. Maybe it was because you were on the main stage tonight, and he was greedy enough that he didn’t like missing your shows. There was just something about watching his customers fall all over themselves while his girlfriend danced on stage. You belonged to him, and it amused him to see those beneath him yearn for something they would never have.

Sukuna sits near the back, shadowed in the corner as he sips from his glass of scotch, his red eyes never leaving the way you glide across the stage, the way your body hugs the pole, suggestive and perfect. You happen to look up and catch his eyes, sending your boyfriend a saucy wink before spinning around and dipping, giving him a glorious view of your backside.

The night continues, but with the late night, the more inebriated the customers become. Sukuna hears a shout come from the stage, and he whips around from where he sits at the bar, vision zeroing in on the burly man who has risen from his chair and grabbed you around the ankle.

“Come on, girly. You and me, yeah? How about we get outta this dump? I’ll pay you real good.”

Sukuna sees red, and he is moving before he has a chance to think. It was one thing to drag on his establishment, but no one could ever think that you could be bought. You were more than any regular employee. You were his.

Ryomen grabs the guy by the shoulder, spinning him around and socking him in the face. Blood spurts from his nose, and the man cries out in pain, then turns to glare at Sukuna and snarls.

“Who the hell are you?”

Sukuna grins, all sharp teeth and vicious as he leans forward, speaking loud enough that you and the surrounding group hear him.

“Me? I’m her fucking husband. Now get the fuck out of my club.”

#reader insert #blorbo #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #sukuna #nanami #geto suguru #nanami kento #ryomen sukuna #husband material #tik tok trend

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matenrou-fan · 1 year

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Ooh! I have a funny request!

Could I request Lucifer, Mammon and Diavolo's s/o calling them "The most handsome demon" before running up to hug them in public?

Lucifer, Mammon and Diavolo's NB!s/o calling them "The most handsome demon" in public

ahhh this one is so cute..! >O<

NBreader, fluff, teasing, just wholesome stuff, something like a spoiler for Devilgram 'The Escorts' in small bonus;;

-Well.. he does like PDA with you, but sometimes the way you show your love for him can be so confusing.

-It's not a secret that he, as an avatar of Pride, loves when you compliment him or show your love in general, but he prefers to do all sweet things in private, where he also can show you all his affection.

-So when he hears your cheerful loud voice screaming something about the most handsome demon Lucifer gets kinda alarmed. There were too many strange accidents and stories with you in Devildom so his first thought was that you get into another goofy story somehow.

-Yet when he notices that you are running right in his direction with open arms it is too late. You already jump and embrace him, nuzzling your face in his chest.

-"Oh! And I was wondering what you were up to this time.. S/o, you do know I'm really busy right now..?" - Lucifer scoffs, trying acting cool yet actually feels tingling warmth spreading in his chest. He can't help but pat your head with a little smirk. - "Be more patient and wait when I will be free, so we can get quality time together, okay..? And don't you dare trying something like that with my brothers now.."

-He values his status as a strict collected demon so all these lovey-dovey things in public are not for him. If you want some affection from him right in front of everyone so badly, then Lucifer prefers more mature ways to show his love for you, touching your waist or holding your hand tightly, thumb caressing your knuckles.

-"If you want something more than you should ask nicely, darling.." - he smirks, noticing how you cling to him more. - "Or this is too much for you right now? Embarrassed to say it out loud?"

-Do you want to kill this man?!

-Mammon absolutely loves your affection, yet it's so hard for him not to actually admit it, but even receive, as he quickly starts blushing and giggling, getting too excited.

-And now you try to show your love in public? God, please send him some strength..

-He was just standing in the crowd, sending your message one after another, asking where you were fooling around without your great boyfriend, when he suddenly heard your voice. The most beautiful demon?? The hell you talking about?!

-Then when he sees you running to him with such a playful face. Mammon didn't even get time to realize something as you already knocked him down with a tight hug.

-"Huh!! S/o, y-you're crazy..! Scaring me like that.." - he mumbled, looking away, feeling as heavy blush started creeping on his cheeks. - "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today and will forgive you.."

-You can't ever imagine just how happy he is to receive such clingy affection from you in front of everyone. Yes yes, that's it! Everyone, look here and see that this precious human is just for a great Mammon..!

-But remember, darling, he's an avatar of Greed, after all.. So that means he will never let his most valuable treasure from his arms now, understand?

-"Come on, take my hand now..!" - he commands, trying to act harsh and dominating yet you can still see this blush on his cheeks and even on his ears. Did his neck get a little bit reader too..? - "I need to show everyone that you're my own human! It's natural, after all, I'm your first man anyway..!"

-Ohh! He's always in his silly goofy mood, he absolutely adores these little games!

-It doesn't matter at all if he's talking with someone or even discussing some serious business, if you walk to him and just take his hand he would never push you away or tell he's too busy.

-How can he? Your hand is so soft and warm.. Oh and if anyone who was he talking to at that moment would even try to say something about your persistence.. The Lord doesn't mind showing his more serious, strict side to them.

-Diavolo knows your voice well so he immediately hears your sweet tone as you call the most gorgeous demon in the world. Ooh, are you talking about him?

-Of course he will turn to your side with open arms to catch you in his hug, pressing you to his big chest with all his strength. Well, actually now with all, as he would just crash you in this case.. But strong enough to make you gasp a little..

-"Ahh, s/o..! You wanted to surprise me today?" - his loud chuckle thundered across the whole corridor, as Diavolo kept squeezing you in his hug. - "Then the most gorgeous demon is glad to greet the most precious human..!"

-He loves to play along with your teases and flirt, as it always lights up his mood after a long day of paperwork.. Or when he wants to relax after a council meeting.

-"Oh, I just remembered..! Why don't you pay a visit to my castle today? You know this little hug is not enough for me now.." - Diavolo laughs again, this time in a more soft and gentle tone, as blood rushes to his face. - "I'm sure brothers would complain too much if you told him you have some urgent personal business with me today, hehe..?"

+a small bonus? I didn't know if I should have written it in hc so I added this here. Another reason why Lucifer is more emotionless to you outside is Maddie. He is ready to tolerate her pushy clingy behavior toward him due to her status and strength yet if she would try to have a beef with you, Lucifer afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself. This lady gave hard time to Lord Diavolo himself when wanted to marry him, which means she's really bold in her actions and even thinking about her trying to hurt you makes Luci's blood boil.

When Diavolo, actually, is absolutely not afraid, even if it will attract the wrath of a powerful witch. Not because he's airheaded, but because he doesn't want to tolerate her debauchery anymore. Sorry, Maddie, the one who will marry Lord of Demons is s/o and after that she can't even think about hurting you as you would belong to a royal family.

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drill-teeth-art · 8 days

Text

A late night, slight retrospective on the tiny amount of Tumblr fame I've gathered that also might be slightly annoying for my audience to read so feel free to skip it if you want.

I started sharing Transformers fanart on here back in 2022, around October. I had been posting art on here for a while before actually but people really started following me and asking about my work and actually reblogging my stuff when I started posting Transformers fanart in 2022. I was in a really low place then, and I really welcomed the attention. My art was and still is something I take a lot of pride in. It's my own. There's quite a few years of my life where the fact I could still draw was the only thing stopping me from attempting suicide. It's something that has always meant a lot to me, so the attention on one of the only things I really liked about myself was nice. It was nice for a while.

But I've gotta say the slight Tumblr fame (and I do mean slight, I've only got around 3k followers which is a lot of people and more than I ever thought I'd have following me and more than a lot of folks will ever have but not like A Ton Of Fame) has wreaked havoc on my mental health. Which is already pretty rough as is. Suddenly I wasn't just some guy making Transformers fanart while desperately saving up to get out of my parents' house. Suddenly I was some people's FAVORITE Transformers artist. Suddenly I was a role model to people and I had people in my DMs clambering for my attention and I had an audience that would cheer or boo or go awkwardly silent at my every post depending on how much they liked it. And it was Not Good For Me. I had and still do have people all over my inbox, excited about how I drew fat and disabled and trans characters asking me over and over to draw some specific representation that I don't want to draw right away. I had and still have people begging me to draw their favorite Transformers character who I happen to not really care about and not want to draw at all. And I am painfully aware how often people take personal offense to my polite "no I'm not drawing that unless it's a commission" and my not answering their ask because I'm not in the mood. I've had people send in asks asking for a specific drawing and then follow up asks when I don't answer in a timely manner. And it's really uncomfortable! And it's almost more uncomfortable that it feels like a lot of people don't even notice that they're making me uncomfortable.

And I like learning how to draw bodies I've never drawn before. I like looking at a character who I think is meh and being like "well actually how can I make them interesting to me...". But it really felt and still feels like my art was getting away from me, like I was drawing more what people were asking me to make instead of what I wanted to because people would take it so badly when I'd say no. I was getting commissions though and I was saving up money to move out so I ignored that bad feeling of getting distanced from my own craft because I was trying so hard to save money and I was actually making some. And I still wanted the attention. Plenty of people were still kind to me despite everything.

Things got weirder for me after I released my Good Bi Gender comic. Which I do still recommend people read I think it's some of my best work. But that comic became a huge hit. And it made things really complicated for a while. I got anon hate. I was told to kill myself by strangers online more than once while I was already deeply suicidal. Something I thought I stated very clearly in the comic itself, that I didn't want strangers calling me "she" though I did and do let my close trusted people call me "she", was immediately ignored by my regular audience and people reading the comic. I got a lot of "you go girl!" kind of messages in response to my comic, and I didn't say anything at the time but it made me deeply uncomfortable. The comic was partly about how the she/her part of my identity is off limits to strangers. How I don't let just anyone she/her me because I work so hard to have the he/him aspect identity acknowledged at all. And it was like what Tumblr decided for me was to go against my wishes. Was to be like "we'll accept your identity for you!" when that's not what I wanted. I did NOT want to be she/her'd by thousands of strangers at the time. And though I'm grateful to have heard the understanding stories of other folks with nonbinary gender identities in the notes, it was deeply humiliating and invalidating to watch as others decided for me to accept the Girl part of my identity. The opening lines of the comic are explicitly a plea to the reader to listen and understand why they're not allowed to use she/her for me even though I'm opening up about the complexities of my identity.

And like. I don't care anymore if people online she/her me. At least I don't care right now that's why she/her is in my bio right now maybe I'll change that. But at the time it was awful. It was something I asked people not to do. And between that and the constant clambering for my attention from people I didn't want to talk to (because I was severely depressed and wasn't looking to make a ton of new friends) and the alienation from my own work I felt like shit. I felt like garbage. I still do. I hate my art sometimes. I really hate it. And for a while, I considered breaking my own fingers just so people would stop acting so entitled to my art and I would have a reason not to post. And honestly the only thing that stopped me was just trying to get by financially. Just watching my follower count and regular notes steadily trend upward so I could do more commissions so I could move out.

And doing things for the numbers, even for a relatively short time, only made things worse. It sounds a little silly even to me, but I get so stressed out when my posts flop, especially if it's art I was really proud of. I'm struggling to detangle my sense of worth in my art from the online numbers game. And I'm proud of the progress I'm making, but it does really suck and it's really hard. And I really wish I was still the same person back in early 2022 who could say "I don't care about the numbers!" and actually mean it because god I WISH I didn't care about the numbers now. Especially now. I dunno if it's me posting more art people don't wanna see or people leaving Tumblr or a shift in the culture of Tumblr but fewer and fewer people interact with my posts despite my follower count ticking up slowly but surely and it kind of bums me the fuck out. But. I am very proud of myself for still drawing the ocs that I want to draw even if they get less notes every time. And even if I'm slightly frustrated they get less notes every time.

I don't really have a neat bow to tie on my personal story right now. I'm still healing and sometimes I backslide and it's hard and it sucks. I don't want to sound ungrateful or to sound like I'm trying to shoo people off my blog because I'm not. I'm really grateful for the attention and interest and I'm not trying to turn people off my art blog. But it's been a rough few years on here. And don't be surprised if you see me take more and more breaks from this website. I do sincerely hope y'all will stick around and watch me continue to post whatever art and say kind things because I do appreciate that a lot. I'm trying really hard to mend my relationship with my own art. To not be so hard on myself. And for the record I don't want any asks telling me to take breaks when necessary or reminding me to draw for me. I appreciate the sentiment, but I already know all that and I personally don't find it helpful to be reminded of things I already know. But anyway. I hope that I will draw more and more of whatever I want to, even if that means I fade back into obscurity.

If you stuck around to read me reflect on the stresses and occasional humiliation of my small amount of online notoriety, then thank you. I appreciate that. And really I do like people looking at my art on here and sharing it and sending asks about my work. And the person I expect to be responsible for my mental health and how much social media is impacting it is Me first and foremost. But sometimes I think that it's important to remember there's a person behind your favorite art blog. And sometimes when you get swept up in parasocial attachment and hype, you kind of treat that person really fucking weirdly. And no that doesn't make you a bad person or a monster. But it does mean you have to learn to deal with it when someone who you might even idolize is like "back off me you're making me uncomfortable".

Anyway. I shouldn't be up as late as I am. A headache has been keeping me up all night. I'm gonna try to rest though. Goodnight.

#otto thoughts

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eclectic-sassycoweyes · 11 days

Text

(A new form of) WIP Wednesday ?

(Life is a) Work In Progress -Wednesday!

Thank you for tagging me @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @emsprovisions @nisbanisba very much congrats on the works published, some I absolutely loved, some I’m beyond excited to read!!

Sorry that this isn’t actual writing of mine, but an update in my life-is-a-work-in-progress that I posted for a Seven Sentence Sunday a while back and promised to update on (mostly for my own sake) - even if I tagged you, if you don’t want to read my personal ramblings or participate, feel free to keep on scrolling!!☺️

(OR if anyone wants to, consider this as encouragement to also share something for WIP Wednesday that YOU have either accomplished, look forward to or want to accomplish in the near future for WIP Wednesday !!☺️✨)

These were 7 sentences of things I was looking forward to and working on, but hadn’t yet accomplished a couple of/maybe one and a half months ago:

1) “Guys, I just bought my first binder !”

I did go an buy my first binder, and it was a wonderful experience! I found a physical store in my home time that sold them, and the staff was incredibly nice and knowledgeable and helpful and gave me great advice (if you don’t have access to that where you are, and want to know more, I’d be happy to share it.)

My good friend went with me! The effect was so cool to experience, it felt very great and affirming, and like taking a new step in discovering and being my self - which is a current project of mine that I was happy to act on more and start! My friend got all moved, which was really nice and touching🥹

2) “And the woman with the pretty smile that I danced with at the concert a few weeks ago replied and we’re going on a date🥰”

She did reply! I had been bad at replying to her and after I did, I waited for awhile with no response. I also felt like I had been not very initiative-taking and not very interesting to text with, as my life was very in exam- and stress mode. I decided to show initiative and wrote to her, addressing those things in my message, and she responded really positively, and we begun to find a time for a date! It was supposed to be tomorrow, but today she actually cancelled, explaining that she has been seeing someone over the last month (although nothing exclusive) and she had started to feel serious about and felt she wanted to give that a chance, and so that it wouldn’t be fair to me or that situation, to go on the date. I am actually very okay with that, it was nice that she was so honest and I wished her luck and we ended it on a really nice and respectful note! I’m proud of myself for taking the initiative and not backing out either actively or passively, even though I was very nervous and haven’t dated in a long time! I feel I’m ready to get back in the game and have discovered and been reminded of things that will contribute positively to that!☺️

3) “I handed in my exam before the deadline so now I get to keep my income.”

I sure did!! And I made a new friend along the way. Thank you endlessly to my accountability buddy who I was messaging with the whole night bc of the gift of different time zones while trying to get it done in time @emsprovisions !! I would send you a bunch of flowers if I could💐💐💐 and to desi @herefortarlos for also cheering me on and giving great advice to go touch grass!!!💗💗

This process up until that night was hellish and led me to seriously doubt whether I would make it on time, along with other stuff connected to my mental health and self worth. I’m so relieved and proud that it went okay!!!

3) “And also go to the Diana Ross concert I’ve been looking forward to and have fun without any stress for the first time in the last year!”

She was AMAZING!!! 80 year old Queen of Funk still had it in her I was equally amazed and grateful to experience her.

4) “And otherwise just enjoy the rest of the summer before the semester starts☀️☺️”

I did get some good times with friends and family for sure! It wasn’t everything I’d hoped for bc I was so burned out after my exam, but I feel content and satisfied with the amount of summer vacation in my home town that I managed to have before the semester and fall started🌞🌞

5) “I’ve unpacked all my moving boxes, found my power cable for the TV and picked up my new bike in replacement for the one that was stolen.”

Yep! I love my new little home that is now unpacked and feels lived-in🥰

6) “So now I will sit down in my finished living room after a long day of biking around and enjoying the city in summer and start rewatching Lone Star (again) in preparation for the s5 premiere that is getting closer by the minute!!”

Have been out biking, have sat down in my unpacked living room and watched LS, and am still currently rewatching!! I will need to do some binging to get through all 4 seasons before the premiere which is right around the corner !!! 😬 love rewatching though, I am having so many new thoughts and feelings still after watching so many times so it’s been healing these days as well, to know that it won’t be my last rewatch after the show ends!

7) Whoo!🥳”

That feeling certainly comes and goes, but such is life, I acknowledge😌😌

Sorry and thank you to anyone who made it this far, I’m just really happy that I can actually cross all these things off my list! I struggle a bit with memory and time awareness and I often stress more about new things than remind myself of what I’ve accomplished so I wanted to actually bring this back!

I encourage anyone whether you have writing to share or or not and who wants to (including those of you who’ve already posted a WIP today!) to share some things that you are either working on, wanting to accomplish in the near future, or have accomplished lately and are happy about/proud of!! ✨✨

Call it a new way to participate in WIP tag games, if you will, whether you have writing to share or not☺️

Tagging some people under the cut in case you want to do the same thing, and also some people who responded to my Seven Sentence Sunday so they see the update!:

@carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @thisbuildinghasfeelings @alrightbuckaroo @heartstringsduet @literateowl @ladytessa74 @herefortarlos @emsprovisions @whatsintheboxmh @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @strandnreyes @carlos-tk @pimento-playing-hopscotch @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @corsage @tailoredshirt @nisbanisba @lightningboltreader

#personal #Mar rambles #wip wednesday #(life is a) wip -Wednesday #tag games

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

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kxuke - part 2

kxuke [ˈk’u.kɛ] adj. safe

Request from @myrealmstuff: Part 2 for Kxuke please, it's so beautiful.

Request from @hyunjinoak: Can I request Neteyam x reader story where the reader is pregnant and going through a really tough pregnancy complications and Neteyam is helping it? Nnd when the reader has difficult delivery (heavy bleeding / too long contraction or something like that) Neteyam helps reader and in the end have a healthy baby?

Part 1 [Summary: A Marine avatar, part of Quartich's team, is held captive by the Sullys. She is tough but damaged from an abusive upbringing on earth. Slowly, she and Neteyam fall for each other, and she is granted new life in her avatar body by Eywa. Neteyam's family is not pleased, but Neteyam asks her to be his mate. You should probably read Part 1 before reading Part 2.]

TW: blood, pregnancy

Watching the last remaining ship leave is surreal for me. Everyone I knew in my previous life now gone, suspended in sleep for six years, back to the planet I once called home.

It doesn't feel like home now, when I think it about it. It sort of feels like a nightmare; the abuse I suffered at the hands of my parents, multiple partners; the relief I felt when joining the marines, only to realize I had become the oppressor and abuser.

Never once have I regretted my decision to turn my back on my people. Maybe I should... but they never did a damn thing for me but use and abuse me, my entire life.

Though my new family was hard-won, they have never hurt me, or yelled at me, or made me feel little and stupid.

Tuk and Kiri were the quickest to accept me, with Lo'ak soon after. Then came Jake, because as it turned out, we had quite a lot in common. Rough upbringing. Marine background. Abandoning our race for a new one. You don't often meet other people in that situation. Our mutual understanding turned to friendship, and then a familial like relationship.

Neytiri was the hardest, but it was her mother's heart that got her in the end. It just came out, on a hunt, a story about my own mother, and something she'd done to me when I was barely out of diapers.

Something in Neytiri changed towards me in that moment, and she held me in her arms as I cried, and told me she would try to be a better mother to me.

Now I stand with my family, my mate Neteyam, and I place my hand over my swollen stomach as the cheering erupts around me at the joy and relief everyone feels. The baby is kicking again; he must be able to feel my happiness.

We are finally free.

The pregnancy has not been easy on me. I try every day to feel joyful about the new life I'm bringing into the world, and grateful to be staring my own family with Neteyam, but I am so tired, all of the time.

The simplest tasks have become exhausting, especially as the pregnancy has gotten to its final stages. Tsahik tells me I need to rest, and that she thinks the birth will be difficult... so that's something to look forward to.

Neteyam practically carries me in his arms everywhere we go, and dotes on me so aggressively that it sends me to tears at least three times a day.

Everything makes me cry. Neytiri tells me it's normal, but it feels embarrassing nonetheless. I burst into tears when Tuk squeezes my hand as we walk, or when I see another mother with a small child, and nearly every time Neteyam does anything nice for me.

Which is almost constantly. Neteyam is thoughtful, caring, and constantly going the extra mile to make me comfortable. I thought I loved him before, but I know now that every day, I will love him a little bit more - even when it feels like I couldn't possibly love him more, he does something so small but so meaningful, like bringing me home a flower for my hair, and my love for him explodes.

Just a few short weeks after the humans have returned to earth, I wake up in a searing hot pain, all around my abdomen, and shooting through my lower back.

"Oh my god!" I scream in English. "Neteyam! Something's wrong! Or, it's happening, maybe!"

Neteyam leaps up next to me, squatting beside me, grabbing my arm to support me.

"Happening?" he asks, also in English. It's so hard to speak in a second language when I'm in so much pain, even if I would consider myself fluent.

"Get Tsahik. And your mom!" I holler, but there are already footsteps approaching.

"I am here!" Neytiri says, running through the door. I guess that's a benefit to having your in-laws just steps away. "Jake is bringing Ronal. What do you feel?"

"Pain," I reply, switching back to Na'vi. "Here, and here," I gesture all around my waist, and my back.

Neytiri tsks. "Bah, back labor. It will be painful. Ronal will bring medicine to help."

I lean onto Neteyam, wondering what the Na'vi equivalent of an epidural is.

It is not until two days later that I hold my son in my arms. Looking into his eyes here, the pain of the past hours is already fading away in my mind.

The screaming, the blood, the pushing and tearing; the throbbing pain I feel even now... it doesn't matter.

He is beautiful. Four fingers like Neteyam, eyebrows like me, and his hair seems to almost have a reddish shine to it, but it could just be the sunrise. His cheeks are round and when he opens his eyes, they're a beautiful amber color. He has been attached to my breast since the moment he came into the world, but now, he is sleeping peacefully. Ronal has sewn me up and left medicine behind for me to take, and Neteyam's family waits outside until they're given the go-ahead to come in. Only Neytiri has met her grandson; I demanded she be there for the entire birth, and she did not leave my side.

It was the first time in my life that I truly felt a mother's love.

"Take him, Neteyam," I say. "Hold your son."

There are tears in his eyes as he reaches out and takes the swaddled baby.

"Remove his blanket, put him right on your chest. It's good for them, to be skin to skin." I don't know how much of my limited earth knowledge of babies will apply here, but surely that's correct.

"He's so beautiful, and warm," Neteyam says, holding his naked son to his chest. I lay the blanket over him, and Neteyam strokes his tiny back. "I love him so much. I love you so much." He looks at me, the tears falling freely now for both of us.

"You saved my life, Neteyam. I never imagined I would have any of this. I am so grateful to you."

Neteyam leans over gently, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. "Thank you for this gift, Y/N. You are my treasure."

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow #daddy neteyam

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pedrostylez · 11 months

Text

Something Else - pt. 8

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: Frankie and Benny confront Santiago and Will, and the leadup to the mission

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 6.4k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, ptsd, mention of drugs, smut, p in v, honestly pretty tame, tears, drinking, bars/club

A/N: Aaaaannnnddd we’re back! After rude anons and a mini break while I tried to remind myself that this is just for fun, I’m back with part 8. A huge and massive shout out to Hemmy, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for not just cheering me on, and beta reading, but also helping me dissect my own brain to make sure my worries about how I write these characters were put to rest. Imagine the conspiracy theory gif? That was her with spreadsheets. Thank you so much for helping me and being just what I needed. There is 1 more drabble and 1 more part and then that is the end of Something Else! How spooky and scary! There is no timeline for posting at the moment, but just a heads up!

Anyways, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all. There is this lovely little arrow at the top left when you start reading that if you don’t like it anymore, you can click on it to stop reading. However, I am a slut for respectful comments, thoughts, and questions, so feel free to send those to me either privately or on ask. Please support all fanfic writers by liking, reblogging, and interacting. Thank you!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos

Frankie’s anxiety is at an all time high going back to the hangar to tell Santiago that he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t settle, even though he wasn’t the only one-that Benny didn’t want to go again. To be retraumatized again.

His anxiety was put to rest when he stepped into the garage, boots echoing on the concrete to Santiago and Will sitting at the folding table in the corner. A sudden calm over his nerves when he saw Pope’s face. “Fish!” Will exclaimed shortly, nodding at him to come over.

Frankie approached the table and sat down across from the two of them, sighing heavily before clearing his throat. Pope looked like he wasn’t doing well; like he had lost sleep with the bags under his eyes. “I’m not going.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Santiago starts to apologize. “Frankie, I didn’t mean to put you–”

“Stop,” Frankie holds his hand up, taking a deep breath. “I’m not ready to go now, but…in a year? I could…I could be ready by then.”

“Should we really be planning that far in advance?” Will asks, tilting his head toward Pope. Still relying on who he thought should be the leader.

The door to the garage already opened again, Benny standing off to the side as he listened in. He shook his head in mild disgust, addressing Will. “If we plan now we can avoid what happened last time.” Benny calls, hanging up his hat on the coat rack. “Because clearly it wasn’t planned well last time.”

Will shakes his head with a scoff. “Hey woah–”

“No, let me talk.” Benny stands at the table, tapping his fingers incessantly against the chair. “Frankie and I have changed.” His hand rests gently on Frankie’s shoulder, squeezing to try and tell him that he’s got this. “We aren’t the same loyal dogs you brought last time Pope, and we can’t just go into this without some planning.”

Santiago nods, swallowing roughly. “I had a plan last time, it just…” He blinks, unable to finish his sentence.

“It didn’t go well.” Benny nods, filling in the blanks. “Listen, I get it. You want all of us to be taken care of.”

“I want to make up for last time.” Santiago says quietly, flicking his eyes between Frankie and Benny.

“Is the best way to do that by going back?” Frankie asks just as quietly, eyeing Pope. “How much of this is actually thought through?”

It’s silent for longer than before, as Pope swallows hesitantly. “I just…thought-”

“You can’t be in charge of this.” Benny states. “You’re too emotional, wanting to fix whatever happened. But we need to be logical, take the bull by the horns and think rationally. And you–” He points to Will. “You were just going to go along with this?”

Will shakes his head, pointing at Santiago. “What? No I thought he had a plan–”

“But you didn’t confirm it? Before calling Frankie incessantly and sending him almost over the edge and back to his dealer?” Benny exclaims, causing a silence to fall among the group.

“You’re using again?” Santi asks breathlessly.

“No! Stop.” Frankie turns to Benny. “I am fine. But we need to do what Benny says and handle this rationally. If we want to do this, then we need to be methodical.” Frankie stands his ground, looking between Will and Pope as they look at each other.

Will finally nods, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” He crosses his arms and debates for a moment. “One year from today.”

Frankie and Benny nod, in unison. “One year.”

1 Month Later

“Are you coming with us tonight?” You asked hushed into the phone. Anna is still in the bathroom, and you’ve snuck around the corner to her bedroom where you could speak to Frankie quietly. “I miss you.”

Frankie’s chuckle is dark through the phone, delicious against your ear. “I miss you too, hermosa.” A heavy sigh and some shuffling. “You said it was girls night weeks ago, I can’t crash it now.”

“You know Santi might!” You exclaim quietly, giggling when you hear Frankie’s huff.

“No, he’s going to be here in maybe five minutes. We are going to review logistics.” You swear you can hear Frankie smile after the pause he takes to inhale. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t start.” You say seriously, looking down at your clothes. You resist the urge to cringe at yourself, trying to step into this new found confidence that you’re trying to convince yourself you have. Anna had wanted you to have fun tonight, dress however you felt and she would be the one to watch over you. A change in the routine-something that you’ve noticed she’s been working on. Her ability to apologize and to turn things around had shocked you at first, but it was different-it was better. “You might die if you see it. Would be better if you didn’t come out, actually…”

“Well now I’ve got to know, baby.” Frankie muses, humming when you deny again. “Should I convince Pope that we need to go out?”

As you’re about to answer, Anna steps into her bedroom with a pointed look. “We agreed on girls only! No boys!”

You laugh at the same time that Frankie does, telling him you’ll see him later before hanging up and putting your phone into your purse. “Alright! It’s gone.”

“Good.” Anna laughs, brushing out her hair one more time in the mirror. Her jeans are riding low on her hips, crop top showing off her belly button as she turns to you. “How’s my outfit?” She asks quietly, almost timidly.

“Very belly forward.” You joke, looking down at what you borrowed from Anna’s closet again. You hear her giggle and sigh as you mess with the dress painted on your body, blue and sparkling, strapless with fake sleeves, a cut out just below your chest. This is out of your comfort zone.

You feel slightly self conscious, adjusting until Anna’s hands stop yours. “You look amazing honey. If Frankie doesn’t have a heart attack when you get home later, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You smile, looking into her eyes for a moment before sighing. “Alright, I’ll trust you about this dress. It feels like it’s going to fall down.”

Anna giggles, picking up her phone when it vibrates and sighing. When you give her a questioning look, she shrugs. “Santi has been…strange, recently.”

You frown, following her to the door as she slips on her shoes. “Do you want to talk about it before we leave?”

She hesitates, debating in her head. “He’s just, really insecure right now after Frankie and Benny told him they weren’t ready to help him in South America.” She gives a rueful smile. “I don’t mean to bring up Frankie-”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head, yanking on her arm to bring her to the couch. Anna had updated you on what she had been told from Santiago a few weeks ago, and was flustered when you had told her all the information that Frankie had spilled so early on. While she knew a lot of it, there was some that she hadn’t-such as how their friend died. Anna was on this streak to be blunt with everyone around her, so she had confronted Santiago. “What’s he saying?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “I think I’m being impatient with him. He’s not…saying anything.” She furrows her brow in concentration. “I asked him how much money was on the line a couple weeks ago. He kinda just froze. Said he would take care of me. But I told him that wasn’t what I was asking and–” She hiccups, holding back tears. “Now it’s like he doesn’t hear anything I say. Just stares off into the distance, saying he shouldn’t be the leader of the group. I asked for details about Redfly and he just tells me that I wouldn’t understand the hell he has been through. What is that supposed to mean?”

You take a deep breath with her, nodding. “Give it time, Annie. From what Frankie said it seems like Santiago always has it together, and now he’s trying to…get his footing again.”

Anna nods, agreeing with you. “Yeah, I’m just being too impatient.”

You go to tell her that’s not the case, that she’s really just trying to navigate a situation with a man that doesn’t know what he’s doing either, but she stands suddenly and plasters on a smile. “Come on, let's have fun. Sprite for me, rum and coke for you.”

You’re shit faced.

It’s probably the first time in a while that you’ve actually had more than a couple drinks, which frankly has always been plenty, but tonight you’ve indulged much more. It reminds you of the first night you met Frankie, when you indulged and had to spend the night at his place, and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face, dancing with Anna in the center of the room.

You never dance.

“You look fucking hot!” Anna yells in your ear, giving you a thumbs up before twirling and giving an excited squeal. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes!” You yell back, laughing at how ridiculous you’re both being, yelling to each other in the middle of a dance floor that very few people are attending around you.

As it gets more packed, you squish closer to Anna, keeping a protective hand over her shoulder, her opposite hand on yours. You’re a wall together, only having fun with and for each other. The bass of one song begins to hurt your ears, wincing when the beat drops. You go to tell Anna, hoping that you both can step away from where the speakers are focused, when you feel a large hand slide on to your waist.

Anna’s eyebrows come together in concern, looking around your shoulder to see who has their hand on you. She relaxes almost instantly, smile appearing. “Hey!” She yells, removing her hand from your shoulder. “I knew you would show up anyways!”

“Pope is by the bar, buying you a drink.” A familiar voice booms next to you, and you immediately know it is Frankie. You turn around in his embrace, watching the smirk on his face creep up into a smile when he looks down at you. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi, Fishy.” You slur, giggling when his eyebrows shoot up at your nickname for him. You hadn’t called him Fish, even after learning of the nickname.

“How many drinks have you had?” He asks, leaning into your ear to speak more softly. He brings one hand up to your cheek, lightly stroking at your jaw with his thumb as if he knows the music is too loud for you.

You bite your cheek, swaying in his arms before holding up your hand. “Plenty!” You yell, slapping your hand on to your jaw over his fingers. “The music is too loud.”

Frankie nods, pulling you with him over to the bar. You’re smiling at him, eyes unable to move away from his face until he sits you down on a barstool with a quick kiss on the cheek. He looks over to where Anna is leaning against the counter before raising his eyebrows subtly at you. Her arms crossed and annoyed next to Santiago. “Alright over here?” Frankie asks, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, man.” Santiago calls, looking over to Anna who downs a shot. She looks over at you, softening her gaze.

“Are you all set?” She asks, looking only at you.

You nod, pushing away from Frankie. “Let’s go to the bathroom, and then I’ll have Fishy take me home.” You hold your hand out for her, snatching it and letting her pull you along to the bathroom as Frankie watches you. He winks, making you giggle happily before stepping into the low lit room. “Are you okay? You want to come home with me instead of Santi?” You slur out.

“No, it’s okay.” She sighs, laughing as you step into a stall and stumble to sit. “He and I need to talk anyway.”

You hum, sitting quietly before blurting out. “I feel hot in this dress, I get why you have so many now.”

You hear Anna laugh through the stall door, your coordination slow and clumsy as you stand. “It’s all about how you feel in the dress, honey.” You open the door, looking at her and smiling. “And, sometimes, it’s the alcohol too.”

When you say your goodbyes to Anna, hugging her tightly and waiting for her to get into Santiago’s truck, you’re whisked away by a smiling Frankie. “You’re very funny.” He muses, helping you into the passenger seat of his own vehicle.

“What did I do?” You question, pushing crunchy hair out of your face unsuccessfully. The hairspray you and Anna had thought you needed suddenly feels too heavy on your head.

“Fishy? Really?” He laughs, shutting the door and walking around to get into the driver’s seat. “Where did that come from?”

You shrug, tilting your head to look out the window as he pulls away from the curb. “It’s just the rum.”

He hums again, placing his hand on your knee and driving with just one hand. His thumb traces circles into your skin, causing you to break out in goosebumps that he smiles at. “That’s a very pretty dress, hermosa.”

You smile, looking at him and attempting to bat your eyelashes. You think you’re probably unsuccessful. “It’s sparkly.” You whisper. The sober part of your brain wants to hit you, as that was not what you intended to say.

He chuckles, giving your knee a squeeze. “Very sparkly. Lots of skin too.” He husks out, pulling into a parking spot in front of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He helps you out of his truck, sliding your key out of your fingers to help you into the apartment. You sink into your couch, leaning back and eyeing him as he slips off his boots at the door, and his hat on your coat stand. “How was your meeting with Santi?”

“Good.” He confirms, standing straight and walking over to you. “Need help with your shoes?” He smirks when he kneels down and you gasp, nodding happily with a blush painting your cheeks. God, him on his knees– “No funny business tonight.”

You give a small pout as his fingers clasp the strap, wiggling it through the buckle and sliding it off your arched foot. You sigh happily when he sets it down on the carpet, moving to the other foot. “Got some things planned out for this trip, and we’ll make some adjustments as needed. Need to get a bank ready too, even though it seems too soon.”

“Anna and Santiago are having issues.” You hiccup, watching as he looks up your legs before to your face. “She says he just stares off into the distance.”

He nods, patting the side of your leg. “He’s upset. Thinks he’s going to let us down.” Frankie admits, wincing when you frown. “Do you need help putting on pajamas? Or can I make us some food and you won’t fall asleep on the bed?”

You clock that he has changed the subject, but can’t help it when you say. “You don’t want to help me? Take off this dress?” You wiggle your shoulders as tantalizingly as you can, making him laugh.

“As tempting as that is hermosa, you get too handsy when you’re tipsy.” He laughs, helping you to stand and petting the hair in your face to be behind your ear. “Go get changed, I’ll make you something.”

You watch him go to the kitchen, pouting for a moment longer before flouncing into the bedroom and finding comfortable pants and a shirt of Frankie’s he had left recently. You could get used to this.

6 months later

Frankie finishes the sentence on the page in front of him, glancing his eyes up to your face. He sees the way you’re biting your lip, anxiously tapping your foot against the carpet. “Querida–”

“You can tell me it’s bad.” You spit out, running a shaking hand through your hair. “I have to read this to the class, and if it’s not good then you need to tell me. I have to rewrite it.” The clock is ticking as far as you’re concerned, and Frankie is acutely aware of it. He has tried to coax you away from the assignment, over and over to no avail. You’re dead set on finishing it.

“No.” Frankie says firmly, smiling at you as he holds the page close to his chest. “It’s beautiful. Really, really good.” He means it, to his core. Just as he had with all your other work, but something about this one was different.

Your face softens, an embarrassed flush creeping up your neck at the tone of his voice. “You’re just saying that?” You question, holding out your hand for the piece of paper.

He shakes his head, refusing to give it up. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” He says quietly, looking down at your words again.

Your poetry was what he would describe as easy. Smooth reading, vivid in painting a picture, without large and confusing words for dummies like him. He could feel your voice, hear you in his head as he read it silently. Ever since you had taken the courage to start school again in creative writing, he could see the improvements. He could see the passion as you sat next to him most nights, his couch or yours, scribbling away until you were satisfied, leaning against him to fall asleep after the words had consumed your every thought. Between your class and him being at the hangar more, he had opted to start driving you to work just to spend more time with you.

You cleared your throat, shaking your hand at him to give back your work. He stood, taking a couple steps over to you and setting the paper on your desk. Leaning in, his lips pressed softly to your forehead. “I want to see your name on a book.” He whispered quietly.

You gasped, eyes wide as you pulled away from him. “I’m nowhere near close to something like that!”

“Eventually.” He shrugs, resting his hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place. “Your cute little smile on the back cover.” He smirks, squeezing the tension out of your muscles. “You’re talented, baby. You’ll write poetry for a generation. Do you hear me?”

You try to brush him off, but he’s not having any of it. He refuses to let you speak negatively about your writing as he leans over you and presses kisses to your face, over and over until you are giggling in delight. He laughs with you, pressing a final kiss to the underside of your jaw and holding his breath as he feels you relax against him. “I hear you.” You sigh, eyeing him sleepily.

“Good.” He husks, pulling you away from your desk and on to your bed, where his hands find purchase at your thighs. You hum as he maneuvers you to be cuddled against him, legs wrapped around his body and his arms around your shoulders. His hand trails up and down your back slowly, soothing himself as your breathing gets heavier with each passing of his fingers. “Relax with me.”

It isn’t long before you nod off with the setting sun, exhausted from self-induced stress and worry of the assignment you took on. Frankie feels you slack against him, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you dream, warm in his embrace. He feels peaceful, after months with you supporting him and him returning it for you.

Frankie shuts his eyes at the thought of how close he was to caving into his addiction when Santiago first suggested going back. How you, unknowingly, had kept him grounded enough to seek the help he needed.

“You can’t rely on just one or two people, Francisco.” You said quietly, eyes flicking to Benny who was sitting in the corner of his couch. He nodded along with your words. “It’s your decision on what to do, and I’m so thankful you’ve been honest, but I need your help in finding what works best for you.”

“Do you want to do AA or therapy?” Benny gruffed out bluntly, wincing when you shot him a look in warning.

Frankie laughed quietly, shaking his head from the doorway. It wasn’t the ambush he thought he would get, but it was the appropriate one. “The AA meetings around here aren’t great. So, which therapist is it then?”

He feels lucky to have you.

You adjust in his hold, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply. The humid breath against his skin makes him smile, his hands twitching to tighten around you. He thinks he’s in love with you, whispering it into existing as you continue to sleep soundly in his arms.

1 year later

You’re nervously pacing around your kitchen, phone stuck to your ear as Anna tries to soothe you. “They’ll be alright honey. This is why they waited the whole year, right?” Anna confirms, but you hear the sound of her biting at her nails. She’s nervous too.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me talking about this?” You cringe, bringing your shoulders up to your ears as you hear the tell tale huff of her trying to control her emotions. She’s been sad-it’s been months since the girls night out where her and Santiago broke up, but Anna continues to be the sounding board for your nerves about Frankie going to South America.

“Yes, of course it’s okay that you talk to me about this.” You hear running water through the line. “I still…care about him. You already know how I feel about Santiago. He needs to do this before he’s normal again and Frankie is your boyfriend, you’re allowed to be concerned about him. This is…not a typical thing to have to deal with.” Anna amends, the water stopping and a dull thump. “These dishes have to be soaked anyway.”

“I knew you were doing dishes.” You say triumphantly, stopping in your tracks and looking to your own sink. You had avoided doing dishes for a couple days, and now you thought they were piling too high. Maybe you should do some too…

“Focus, honey.” Anna giggles, taking a deep breath. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Well…they could die. And we won’t know.” You immediately blurt, tears threatening to bubble over at the mention of it.

Anna hums thoughtfully, carefully answering. “Frankie won’t keep you wondering.”

You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “I know.”

“It’s alright to be scared.” She whispers through the phone, and you swear you hear her sniffle. “You love him, don’t you?”

“We haven’t…” You stutter at the thought, a soft knock on the door before Frankie’s head peeks around the corner of your entryway. He smiles, silently stepping in and sliding off his boots. “He’s just gotten here.”

“I’ll text you.” She sighs. “Keep me updated tomorrow? Love you.”

“Of course, love you.” With a quick click, you slide your phone into your back pocket and turn to Frankie, whose hands are in his pockets as he observes you. “What?”

He shrugs, smirking. “You look wound tight, querida.”

You scoff, walking toward the couch and sitting heavily. “Well, one of us should be.” You mumble, pushing him away from you half-heartedly when he sits down and wraps an arm around you.

Frankie waits for you to settle, watching you intently as his eyes flick back and forth between your lips and eyes. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” He says lowly, tightening his hand around your shoulder.

“I’m asking because…I’m concerned.” Frankie was running his fingers through his hair like his life depended on it, yanking at the roots before sitting down on your couch. “Do you remember how you shut down in the coffee shop? What happened there?”

Frankie had been more open about his feelings since starting therapy, and you wanted to encourage that. Sitting down next to him, you sigh. “I was insecure.”

“Why?” Is his immediate response. He didn’t understand how you could be insecure-he was absolutely infatuated with you.

“I thought that Anna wanted to…try and…” You shuffle and readjust, embarrassed next to him. “It feels silly now, but I thought she wanted to like…take you away from me. Even though we weren’t together.”

Frankie pauses tilting his head. It suddenly clicks in his head, the day he was hiding in your closet and the face you made after her comment. “Was she serious? That day I was hiding?”

You shake your head. “No, no. She and I have this, stupid running joke from high school that I grew out of and she…well she didn’t. And, I didn’t tell her sooner–”

“Why?” Again Frankie pushes, clenching his teeth.

“So many questions.” You smile as he leans back, mumbling to himself to chill out. You take a deep breath and try to start somewhere in the story that makes the most sense. “A couple years ago, I was trying to rebound off a guy that had been dating me that was really in love with her.” He grumbles more, not giving a true response but frowning deeply. “And the rebound, he was just a fuck boy…didn’t mean anything, but I was getting attached because it had been so long since I felt like someone wanted me, you know? And he had sex with Anna in the bathroom like that night anyway.”

“She knew you liked him and fucked him anyways?” Frankie’s anger is apparent now, and your cheeks heat with both embarrassment and happiness. Frankie being protective over you was a nice change.

“I thought she knew, yeah.” You say quietly. “But she didn’t know. I’m giving her a chance to…fix it.”

Frankie pauses, trying to go through his memories of Anna interacting with him before he cuts them short and grabs your hands. “Thank you for telling me.” He brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering kisses to your knuckles until you lean back on the couch with him. He pauses when you sigh, a small smile appearing as you look at him. “I don’t like guessing what you’re feeling.”

You nod, clearing your throat of any lingering emotion. “I’m working on it.”

A final kiss to your cheek before he squeezes your hand. “We can work on it together.”

You take a deep breath, trying to avoid his gaze. You’re still trying to make sure you say exactly what you’re feeling-no room for guessing. No room for error, just like you both had agreed on. “I’m worried.”

He hums, bringing his other hand up to your cheek and lightly tracing your jaw. “I am too. Anything specific?”

You bite your lip, wincing at how the immediate thought was of him dying. “I’m worried about whether you will be okay.” You whisper, trying your best to hold back tears.

You don’t succeed when Frankie tilts his head and blinks slowly at you, a small but sad smile appearing on his face. His thumb brushes under your eyes, willing your tears away. “You know there’s a plane ticket for you, for two weeks from now, to come down there with a list of locations and names if you don’t hear from me.” He whispers back. “Do you want me to not go?”

You scoff again, pulling your face away from his hold and wiping at your own eyes. “Of course I don’t want you to go.”

“But do you really not want me to go?” He asks again, resting his hand on your knee.

You pause, shaking your head. “That’s not up to me.”

He waits, squeezing your leg to get your attention back on him. “Let me bring back this money, with all of us in one piece.”

You nod, letting tears flow freely now. “I’m scared, Francisco.”

He gasps lightly, the sound of his full name rare to come out of your mouth. “I’m scared too.” He goes to stand, but falls on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs to let him shuffle between them, to be closer to you. “Look at me, baby.” He pulls your attention with a sudden jolt at how serious his tone has become. “I can’t make promises to you. I can’t tell you I will come back without it eating at me while I’m there. I would hate to make you a promise and for the worst to happen. But everything has been thought of, from every angle possible.”

You nod, wiping at your face again. He grabs at your wrists, holding you firm before pulling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue against yours, aggressive in how he shows his want for you, and something tells you that he needs it like this–that its the only way to distract him from his own worries.

You think it will distract you too.

Burying your hands into his hair, you press your mouth to his desperately again. He groans in surprise, but lets you lead and slides his hands down your sides, pulling at the hem of your shirt. You pull back enough to nip at his jaw, at the bald spot in his beard before sucking a mark into his skin.

He hisses, pulling you flush to him and silently lifting you and himself, blindly walking toward your bedroom. You stay attached to his neck, desperate for something he can feel for the next few days while he is gone. He drops you on the bed, laughing when you squeak in surprise and bobbing up and down on the mattress as he reaches for the band of your shorts.

You’re trying to commit it to memory. The sound of his moans, his laugh, the way his skin slides against yours. There’s this voice deep in your brain warning you to not forget, because you don’t know what will happen. It distracts you enough that suddenly you look up when Frankie calls your name, waiting for your eyes to flick to his. “Come back to me, baby.”

You shakily inhale, reaching for him to lean over you rather than sitting above, pressing your lips to his again lightly. You’re naked together, skin to skin as he breathes deeply and watches you. The words are stuck in your throat, dry and unable to emerge.

Frankie brings one hand to your cheek, holding you steady. You feel his press against your center, wet with want and anticipation. “I love you, querida.”

You gasp at the words, him slowly sliding into you and holding his position fully seated inside. He groans, closing his eyes for a moment before locking them back on yours. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.”

“I hear you.” You whine, shutting your eyes tightly and wincing at the feeling in your heart-how it breaks that he might not come back. “I love you.”

He sighs in relief, sliding out of you before pressing in again and setting a slow pace. “That’s it baby. Take me. You’re so fucking good for me, huh?” He holds himself above you, leaning back to sit up straight as he watches you squirm, clutching at the bed sheets, for one of his arms. He keeps eyes contact with you as he gathers spit in his mouth, letting it slowly drop on to your clit before pulling back again and setting a rougher pace. “Fuck–I love you so much.”

You begin to cry, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you, of the feeling of him loving you. He leans forward worriedly, asking if you’re alright but continues when you dig nails into his back. “Keep going. Fuck–p-please.”

He shushes you, keeping close to you as he brings you and himself to release. He whispers how much he loves you, and you to him, resting on top of you while still inside. You revel in the feeling of each other, only realizing you’ve started to doze off when he leans away. “You’ll either love it, or you’ll hate it.”

You frown, confused by what he’s saying while trying to be conscious enough to understand. Frankie slides off the bed, naked as he walks back into your living room and shuffles around in the duffle he brought with him.

When he comes back he smiles, hands behind his back before kneeling on to the bed and relaxing next to you. He pulls his hat out from behind him, holding it out to you expectantly. “I…I want you to hold on to this.”

With shaking fingers you reach out, rubbing the worn fabric between your thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure? It’s your favorite.”

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah, baby. Don’t want to lose it in the jungle.” Your breath hitches, tears coming to your eyes. You nod, watery and worn as you lean into him for a hug. You feel his own breath hitch with your ear against his chest. “I love you, baby.”

You sniffle, trying to control yourself. “I love you too.”

You swallow your tears as Frankie drives up the long dirt road to the hangar. “Covertly leaving.” He said early this morning, kissing you lightly at the crook of your neck. “Don’t want to be stopped at the airport like last time.”

He can feel your nerves, and he works hard to keep his own at bay as he holds on to your knee. The bumpy road doesn’t affect you like it did on the first date, the early morning light just barely peeking over the horizon.

You’ve been silent since you left the apartment with him, stoic in how you present. You’re trying to keep it together.

When Frankie pulls up to the building, Will’s truck is tucked behind a few trees and covered with a tarp just as planned. You’ve been given explicit instructions to drive Frankie’s truck back to your apartment and to work as if he is staying with you, as well as where all of the paperwork is for what he owns and who to contact. You’re a crucial part to the plan.

Frankie grabs his spare hat from the backseat, old and ratty, placing it on his head with a sigh. He swallows roughly as he steps out and around to your side, opening the passenger door to find you still sitting and staring straight forward. “Alright?”

You nod, grabbing onto his outstretched hand and hopping out of his truck. You clear your throat as you step into the hangar, Frankie’s fingers squeezing yours briefly before he stepped away to the helicopter that had been brought in for the mission. You stand awkwardly at the doorway, eyes flicking over to the other boys who are around the folding table where hot coffee is made.

“Up early, aren’t you?” Santiago’s voice filters through your thoughts, his gentle smile filling your vision.

“A-a little.” You flash a smile, accepting the coffee from Santi’s outstretched hand and holding it with shaking fingers. You hope it will keep your hands warm.

Santiago stands in front of you awkwardly, watching Will and Benny gather duffles and loading them into the helicopter while Frankie does his routine of checking the helicopter in the pit. Santiago’s brow furrows for a moment before he looks up to you again. “Is…a-are you and Anna, doing better?”

The question disarms you, shaking your head in confusion. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. I just ask because…well, you know.” Santiago clears his throat awkwardly again. “Sorry, I uh…is Anna doing okay?”

You sigh, seeing where this is going. “She’s okay. Yeah.” You pause for a moment, debating how much to share. “She…worries about you.”

Santiago’s eyes brighten in what you think is hope before dampening. You stare at it for a long moment, his eyes are dark, tired and drooping. He looks to be frowning, but you think it’s just how his face has stayed since him and Anna broke up. “I worry about her too.”

He nods at Frankie as he approaches, stepping away without another word. His hand rests on the small of your back, your hands still clutching the cup of coffee Santiago gave you. It’s purple out now, the sun filtering through the trees in a way that makes everything appear different. The air is still crisp, biting against your skin.

When Frankie turns you to face him, his fingers pushing your chin up to look him in the eye. “It’s time for you to go home, baby.”

You breath catches as you nod. “O-okay.” You swallow before blurting out. “Please be safe.”

He blinks slowly, smiling. “Two weeks. I left my wallet on my bedside, I want you to buy yourself groceries while I’m away with my card.” You go to tell him no, but he stops you with a heavy sigh. “I love you. Do you hear me?”

“Frankie, I’m not using your card, there won’t be a trace of you leaving anyways. I’ll drive your truck I swear–”

“Do you hear me?” He interrupts, holding you still as he looks to be committing you to memory.

You sigh, nodding once. “I love you, too.”

You wait by the driver’s door of his truck, as he takes a step back. “Buy food with my card. Not because of the mission, but because I want you to eat. Two weeks, and I’ll be back.” He says quietly, waiting for you to open the door and drive away.

It’s awkward for a moment, as your mind is racing but your body is still. “Right. Two weeks.” You agree, finally turning to his truck and shutting the door. You look at him as you start the ignition, pulling the gear into reverse. He stands in the drive as you go down the dirt road, watching him in the rearview mirror. He stands tall, hands in his pockets as he watches you before waving just once. Tears sprout out of your eyes the moment he disappears over the hill.

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