#first I’m in a constant stress since Saturday my stomach hurt all day like when I’m stress when I was okay ????

[yoohyeon]

Can I have a fucking break please 😭

[mirrorforevers]

the wrong side of the bed • damon albarn/reader

smut with feelings, i guess. sorry if is this is too long – this prompt excited me too much. i hope you guys like daft punk - though this is not a songfic, but you’ll get why - and i promise i’ll write something not involving sadness and alcohol someday. this is unbeta’ed, and english is not my first language, so have mercy

thank you so much for the music teacher prompt, anon! hope you enjoy it x also, just in case you haven’t read my graham/reader fic yet, here it is too.

tw: unprotected drunk sex

word count: 4.477

Music has been a very important escape mechanism for you recently. Your job has been hellish, and getting your degree has also been a chore - in the midst of so many deadlines and professional disappointments what has been a light for you is Damon Albarn, your newly divorced music teacher who is old enough to be your dad.

You detail these little “buts” as a mantra whenever the subject is him, whether in internal monologues or when you talk about him with your close friends. You never really believed in relationships between two people of very different ages, and you felt like you needed to remember those details whenever you could to keep that completely carefree crush from becoming something you couldn't control.

You started taking classes with him every Saturday after you were cast on your city’s production of a musical. You knew it was a very small step for a career in the industry, but it was very significant for you. You were exhausted from any activity that involved learning given how tired you were from college, but learning music with Damon was definitely something that you didn't even place in the same mental category. It was with him that you vented about how your week was, how you missed your parents who lived absurdly far away from you, it was with him that you shared the small victories of the day-to-day that were too insignificant even to share with your longtime friends. Which is funny, since this symbolic relationship was built in a matter of 2 months. Damon, in the beginning, was very reserved and “gray”, and it was amazing how in a matter of such a short time he shown himself to be someone so energetic, observant and empathetic; although a little bit of a control freak sometimes. When the wild waves of life seemed to take you everywhere at the same time and left you lost, despite so little time in your life, Damon became a constant.

And it worries you.

What are you going to do when the money to pay for his classes runs out? Certainly, although significant, what you had seemed to be was, above all, a friendship of convenience. You were very different people, with very different aspirations, and especially at very different points in life. As much as you liked each other *as friends* and considered yourselves people you wanted close by, Damon had a well-lived life to sustain. He would not have time much less willpower to listen to your complaints and insecurities in a context that did not involve an exchange relationship. At least, that's what you thought.

Saturday was also one of the two days you could wake up late, so in addition to having a rare time for your leisure, you were able to rest at least a little more than normal. That particular morning, you noticed that there were two missed calls from Maggie on your cell phone. Maggie was one of the producers of the musical. She used to bring you very decisive and very good news. If she called you, you did whatever it took to answer her right away. An unbelievable wave of anxiety takes over you. “Hello, Mags, you called?” You say, excited, but very nervous. Dealing with people who have your dreams constantly in their hands is somewhat stressful. You bite your nails.

“Hey, Y/N, yes. Um. You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for asking. What happened?” You notice that Maggie's tone is different. The funny thing is that everyone is always so apathetic in the artistic world, and Maggie was the only person you knew so far that showed any kind emotion.

“So… you were dropped.”

Ah.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“You… were dropped. We made some changes here and there and you won’t be on our show anymore. If anything changes again, we’ll call. I promise.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

“Good luck, kid.”

Um.

Your stomach drops, and for a moment you feel like you've been punched. Maybe you've been wrong all along.

My God. My God. My God.

You feel like your entire world has collapsed around you. There aren't even reasons for you to keep going to class. All that effort and money spent... are now in the trash.

Artists spend a lot of time investing in themselves. You always have to become better. Faster. Learn techniques. Reinvent yourself. Stay beautiful. And you don't believe that in your first real experience in this world... that happened. Most likely a friend of the director took your place.

My God.

You swallow the tears, after all, you told everyone you knew that you knew how this world worked and you wouldn't be shaken if something like this happened. No one is watching you right now - but you still feel that you would disappoint them if you cried.

But you couldn’t smile anymore. Nothing could take away your expression of shock and uncertainty.

Not even funny posts on Reddit. Not even funny memes sent by your friends in the morning.

Nor the message from Damon confirming the class of the day.

I won't be able to go today ☹, you type, and you erase it.

Hey, I got dropped from the musical. you type, and you erase it.

How are you doing? Definitely not.

I’ll be there! 😅 You hit send.

Hope we finally figure out that bloody solo, he replies.

You do not answer.

You change your clothes, without your motivational playlist playing in the background this time. The beginning of a great plan going on in your life was no longer there. You didn't even pick up your headphones and the subway ride was completely silent, except for the ambient sound.

You arrive at school, and Damon welcomes you with the usual tight hug, and wide smile. You give a yellow smile in response, and he immediately realizes that something is out of place. “Is everything okay?” His expression quickly changes to one of concern. Your stomach drops even lower. Maybe it hit the ground by now.

“I…”

You don't want it to end. Your dream ended, but not this, too. This cannot end. “Can we try another song today? One not from the musical?” You ask, exasperated.

“Uh… I mean-”

“Please?”

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" He laughs nervously. “But... the musical’s why you’re here. I’m confused--”

“I know, but pretty please?” You insist, cringing by now to keep from crying.

“Um. Sure – but did something happen? Tell me. I’m-I’m here to help.”

“I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Please.” You feel your voice weaken more and more. You don’t wanna cry, though your eyes are already burning. “Please, Damon.”

“Right. Okay.” He says, raising his hands in defeat. He starts collecting his material.

“What are you doing?”

“No class today. Something clearly happened and we need to talk it out.”

“I-I got sacked. But there’s no need to…”

“I got it. C’mon. I’m not a monster, I won’t charge you for talking it out. All we’ve worked for… fucking cunts.” There’s the visceral side of him. “You gotta tell me how it happened.”

“Okay.”

He only leaves your two chairs in place.

After you two sit, he starts. “This happens quite a lot in this world. And every student reacts the same.” Though this sounds a little too insensitive, you imagine it’s the truth, and his tone does the job of conveying his compassion. “Did they call you? Or did you find out through somewhere else, like Patti LuPone?”

“Huh. At least they called me. They just straight up told me I’m no longer in the cast.” You say, totally not comforted by that. But it would be even worse if you found out by other means. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Don’t let your spirit be broken by that – you’re really talented, and I don’t like paying compliments. You know that.”

“Talent is not enough sometimes. That’s also something you’ve said to me before.”

He goes silent, and you start apologizing in the same instant.

“No, no, you didn’t hurt my feelings.” He interrupts you. “That’s true. But you’re really young, I shouldn’t have said that to you. Shit like that happens all the time. We learn a lot from it and you have your entire life ahead of you. That was… limited of me.”

“I know I’m almost getting my degree, and there’s other things for me to do… but fuck. I-- I really wanted that. You know how much.”

“I do. I also know exactly how you’re feeling now. We’re always so excited when this kind of thing happens. We plan our entire lives based on that one fragile and uncertain plan, and then boom, it’s gone. We always count on the fact that we’ll eventually have to decide between our career and something else when the choice comes, but what do we do when it doesn’t come? I know how that feels. Also--”

He grabs his guitar. You roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you have a song for that.”

“I don’t.” he answers. “But I do have a story to tell you.”

For the next two hours, he tells you all about a very ambitious audiovisual plan that he tried to engage in his early 30s. Among countless questions and answers, Damon Albarn showed you through his history how very determined he really was. He goes into the most minute details about the ideas he had for a film and several concept albums for a virtual band that, in your opinion, sounds like something very innovative and, at the same time, incredibly palatable to the mainstream. You thought that the band he was part of when he was even younger was already very wronged because, from what you heard from the demos, they were really incredible, but the fact that such a project didn't go ahead ... just proved to you more and more that talent sometimes really wasn’t enough. Just when you thought you couldn't admire that man more.

“So, believe me when I say I know how that feels.” Goddamn. He looks at his clock, and almost jumps at how the time flied. “Bloody hell, I have another student in like, 5 minutes.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is a tale very few people know about. I’m glad I shared it with you.”

“…That had potential. Don’t give up on it.”

“Don’t give up on your plans either. I really mean it when I say you’re talented as fuck.”

You couldn’t help but smile through the dried tears and puffy eyes. You say your rushed goodbyes. But before can you leave the room, he holds your arm. “Wait. I know it’s hard, but don’t spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Do you want to do something tonight?”

“Uhhh—what you have in mind?” You can’t believe your ears.

“I don’t know. Do you drink?”

“More than I should.”

“Perfect. So I know a place we can go. Any preference of hours?”

“After 7 pm, I guess?”

“Works for me. I’ll send you the address soon then.” He says. You stand still, frozen, still processing what just happened. He’s blinking as if he just told you how’s the weather outside. “Now you can go.”

“O-kay. See you in a few hours then, Damon.”

“See you in a few hours, Y/N.”

You tried to hide your excitement, in vain. You smiled like an idiot.

This was one of the scenarios of your daydreams when you were walking around, talking quietly to yourself. Damon Albarn, your newly divorced music teacher who is old enough to be your father, just asked you out. You don't care if it was pity. After such disappointment, you allow yourself to create a little more of that stupid, inconsequential hope that your life would take an exciting turn for the first time.

He sends you the address a few hours after your class/conversation, when you were starting to get ready to meet him. It was a pub that you already knew well, and had visited with some friends in the past. You choose a dress that has become your “uniform” recently, for valuing your body type well and for translating your style in a way that is both stylish and very comfortable. When you finish getting ready, you take a deep breath. There is a world of difference between what you wanted to happen and what you think will happen. But you do not care.

The tragic call you received in the morning barely crosses your mind on your way to the pub.

Upon arriving, you find Damon - always so punctual - sitting in the corner of the lounge fiddling with his cell phone while he takes a few sips of a drink that you have no idea what it is made of. You never took him for a complex drink guy. He is really full of surprises. You feel slightly self-conscious out of a sudden, stomach churning in anticipation. He raises his eyes, and his gaze meets yours. His usual welcoming smile makes all your worries go away. You couldn’t help but smile wide too.

“Hello there. A stark contrast to this morning’s Y/N.” He notes, looking you up and down after you two share a tight hug, that smile still there.

“My plan tonight is to forget everything that happened before we talked, okay? Just let me forget about the call!” You answer, playfully, trying to pretend you weren't in the least ... affected ... by the way he received you.

And the time you spend together goes as usual. It’s amazing how there’s no space for awkward silences between you two. To one thing you tell him, he brings you three more things to tell, and vice-versa. You two just… click. You make each other laugh, and even if things don’t go the way you daydream about, which is totally okay, given that he’s twice your age and you’re not sure if you can handle the implications that age difference has, you’re glad to call him a good friend. He’s amazing, and you’re having a great time with him.

By your fourth beer and his fifth fancy drink, your conversation enters a territory that hasn’t been truly explored by you two yet. His romantic past. You only knew he was divorced because he mentioned it very vaguely one day, nothing else. You didn’t know why, who was her, or when. But apparently, he was about to tell you.

“We were both really… young… and didn’t have a clue of what we were doing with our lives. She was a musician too, Justine. Not anymore.”

“Because of what happened between you two?” You ask, the beers gradually taking the indiscretion filters out of you.

“Maybe. I don’t know. She seemed tired of everything. She wanted a life I’m not sure I would be able to live. I also pressured her a lot, I tried to create a version of her that somehow fitted all my expectations and, long story short, we weren’t right for each other. But I still think she’s incredible. I still admire her a lot. Not sure how she feels about me though.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“Oh, no. There’s a big difference in admiring someone and being in love with them, kid.”

After that sentence of his, for the first time that night, an uncomfortable silence hangs between you - Instant Crush, by Daft Punk, almost ironically, starts playing on the pub's speakers. You feel like you're in a movie.

You're still a kid, aren't you?

“Definitely.” You finally answer him, finishing 70% of the bottle in a few gulps. You become a bit more lightheaded after that, and your eyes start to struggle to focus. You try to hide how slurred your voice wants to sound. “I confess I still don’t know how to really differentiate between the two.”

“Oh yeah?” His wistful tone gives place to one of amusement. “You never told me about your exes. Feel free to.”

“This is not about them.”

He turns to you, after a one-sided staring competition with his own cup. His voice is calm, and somehow even deeper, when he asks you: “Then who is this about?”

You gulp. The cramped space you were sitting on somehow feels even smaller. And hotter. You feel drops of sweat sliding on your belly. You’re sitting by his side, not in front of him, and that interaction feels almost… primal. You two are trapped by a huge table in a corner very few people can see.

“I think I need to go to the loo.”

He lets you, and you feel his eyes following you to the restroom.

My God. My God. My God.

You take a much longer time to do everything than you really need while reflecting on the dialogue you just had. You feel the ground is starting to spin, and the desire to sleep on literally any place grow. You’re drunk. And confused. And anxious.

You spend some good minutes staring at your own face in the mirror before you return to your table. He’s still in the moment, judging by the contemplative look on his face. This is the point of no return.

This is no movie – this is a fucking RPG.

“It was full,” you justify.

“Yeah, it’s always pretty crowded in there.”

That goddamn awkward silence again. You try to talk at the same time, but he wins.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “It’s… about a guy. He’s a…current… thing. Not from the past.”

“Right.” His tone is serious, more teacher-like than he has even acted while actually teaching you.

“I met him through an ad. I was looking for music teachers in my area and I found him. He had a fair price.” He was now smiling in disbelief, shaking his head. You’re both tipsy and you don’t care if your words are slurred anymore.

“And?”

“I have classes with him every Saturday. It’s the event of the bloody week for me. I can’t believe I’m saying that now because at first he seemed quite intimidating and not open to any meaningful interaction. Like, all frowns and monosyllabic answers and all.” You steal his drink, and he’s not even bothered. “We talk a lot, and even though we talk every day I somehow always thought he didn’t give a fuck about me when we were out of class. That he only saw me as a student, not as a friend, you know? I think about that chap every single day too. He’s handsome--like. Fuck. And he pays attention to everything I say. He’s always so nice to me, he makes me feel welcome. A part of… something.” You take a few more sips, and he gently takes the drink out of your hand, mouthing an ‘enough’. “He’s old enough to be my dad and I feel guilty for thinking of him that way. He invited me for drinks when my world fell so I could get my mind out of the shambles my life’s in and I almost died because I’m madly in love with him for a while now, but I don’t want to ruin everything. I don’t know what to do now. People shouldn’t start things thinking of how they’re going to end, but, you know?”

“They should, though. He’s indeed too old for you. And your life isn’t in shambles.”

“But…”

“Everything sounds pretty lovely in theory, but, he’s probably thinking that he’s going to slow you down in a way. You’ve got too much life to live. He’s probably really tired of everything he’s already lived.”

“But I love him. He makes me laugh! I don’t wanna have children.” You whine.

He muffles a laugh. “It’s not that-“

”Please take me home tonight.” You plead; your tone more serious now. “I know what I’m doing, I know where I am. Just please take me home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please, Damon. If you don’t feel the same then fine, call me an Uber and I’ll get over it.”

That triggers something in him, apparently, and he kisses you deeply and intensely. His hands caress your back and the whole kiss, though a little disjointed because of the state you’re both in, is full of affection and love. His lips taste of strawberry vodka, and your mind is spinning.

When your lips part, you stare at each other for a while, thousands upon thousands of thoughts per second, unsaid. “Are you sure you wanna come with me?” He asks, kissing your hand.

“Yes. I am.”

-

After he fumbles with his keys, you’re finally in his apartment – it’s surprisingly nice and tidy. Judging by how carefree he’s with his looks, you imagined that characteristic would overflow to other aspects of his life.

From the Uber drive home to his door, his hand never left yours.

He locks the door, and you stand staring intently at each other, sizing each other up like men before a fight. This time, you start the kiss, with a little less hurry than before. But the desire is still burning hot on both of you.

“Do you have any idea of what you’re doing to me?”, he murmurs, discarding his jacket while he does his best to not break the kiss. You take this as a signal to start taking off your clothes too, starting by kicking off your shoes. It has become a choreography of sorts - his hands grasp your buttocks and pulls you closer after you’re done with them, drawing a gasp from you.

“I wanted you for so long.” You reply, your hands exploring his body below the fine fabric of his shirt. You motion to take it away from him, and he lets you, completely entranced by how red your lips look from everything it went through. He guides you to his sofa, quickly adjusting it so it’s comfortable enough and serves as a bed for both of you.

He lies down first, eagerly waiting for you to stay on top of him. You finally do, and you feel like a goddess from the way he looks at your body. You take off your dress, and now you’re almost fully exposed to him. You have no bra on, and his hands immediately travel to your breasts, fingers running tantalizingly over your nipples to get them stiff and erect before he pinches them between his fingers, smiling at the whimper his actions elicit. You start bucking your hips on the rough fabric of his trousers, and you feel him harden below you. “God, you’re… something else.” he whispers, and you respond with another whimper, biting back a full on moan when your clit hits the perfect spot. You separate your legs a little further so you can feel him better, drawing a groan from him. He takes this a signal to take his jeans off, eyes not leaving your hips.

Now that a distance of an entire layer is shortened between you, the contact is even more intimate, and the bulge of his cock straining against his underwear is driving you mad. You’re aching for him. He brushes against you and your moan is higher than you expected, and you immediately cover your mouth in order not to wake up his neighbors. As he feels the wet heat of you around his painfully hard cock, he takes your hand out of your lips, grip then tightening on your hips as he pushes you down right on to him. Your moan is even louder. “Let them hear.”

“Fuck-Damon-I’m getting so close--” As if you just gave him a command, his hands now grab the flesh of your inner thighs, massaging them further and further up until he reaches the center of your arousal, and the sound you make when he pulls your panties to the side and runs his finger between your folds while still grinding against you is somewhere between a whine and a whimper. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice rough from how excruciatingly aroused he is. “Come for me, baby.” Your clit was more exposed now, pressed more tightly against him and you whine in relief when your orgasm finally floods through your body.  

Before you could fully recover, he finally frees himself from his underwear and, with your help, effortlessly aligns himself with your (quite ready) entrance. You bury your head in his neck the moment he enters you in one swift motion and your moans are almost like cries by now - the overstimulation is driving you insane. You take his face on your hands and give him a passionate kiss while he gradually picks up a merciless pace inside of you, the more heated the kiss becomes the more shamelessly you ride his cock. “Shit,” he mutters, massaging your breasts in an almost desperate way. It’s too much - you’re almost becoming one.

You could tell by how frantically he fucked you now that he wasn’t going to last much longer. His thrusts were becoming irregular and you were so close once again. His head falls forward, buried in between your neck and shoulder - his cock twitches inside of you and his movements become staccato, his mouth curving into a beautiful ‘o’ shape as he comes inside of you. His movements stop before you could reach your second one, but the entire situation you were on was so arousing to you that just by touching yourself while still feeling him inside was enough. Not letting you alone in this, one of his hands focus on one of your nipples while the other one is below yours, providing pressure above your clit. And like that, you come undone a second time, head above his shoulders.

For a few minutes, your panting was the only thing that could be heard inside of the apartment.

“Thank you. You were amazing. ’s been quite a long time.” He notes with a tender kiss on your forehead. After a while, and with much reluctance, he slides out of you, and gets up to fetch a warm, wet cloth and carefully clean you both, finally collapsing next to you with a groan.

“It was everything I expected.” You confess, smiling.

“Did you… think about me like that when you…?”

“Of course. But let’s save this talk for another Saturday.”

[sneyrwrites]

|| Homesick || Kuroo Tetsurou X Reader

✘ Wordcount: 4,5k

✘ Genre: Angst, fluff. smut 

✘ Warnings: NSFW

Author Note: What is it about my need to write angst lately? Anyway, Enjoy! (criticism is always welcome)

This started out as a 500 words drabble, but it got out of hand.

Kuroo had no idea how he would get through this fucking course without breaking down at some point. The worksheets and load of work he had to pull through would get him a few early gray hairs, his psyche suffering tremendously, but oh well... that’s what college was about. 

 The only thing he looked forward to was getting home, where you were probably waiting for him with a warm smile and a heart-melting “welcome”. Those were the time where he could feel all of his stress and negativity dissipate into thin air.

The sound of the lock opening brought a flutter in his stomach, him already anticipating the sweet relief of finding you there upon opening the door.

The cold and dark room was the only thing to receive him.

Oh, right... you were not there anymore.

You had left a long time now, exhausted by his constant neglect. Could he blame you though? Of course not.

If he was honest, in fact, he wouldn’t have put up with his sorry ass for half of the time you did. But seeing the empty shoe rack by the door, and the hangers stripped from that hideous scarf you insisted on wearing, he could not fight the tears that threatened to fall. What was he supposed to do now?

 The click of the switch brought light into his house, which he no longer called home. Kuroo ran a hand through his messier than usual hair, and sighing heavily he left his bag on the floor, not caring about his spilled books.

He didn’t feel like doing his project anymore, and talking to your mutual friends would only bring him more despair, as Bokuto seemed to only know how to talk about you.

The creaking of the mattress when he heavily fell on it used to bring him joy, because it was often accompanied by your soft giggle, followed by the usual “Tough day, huh?”

You had no idea.

You had no idea just how tough his days had been since you left, depriving his apartment from the spark it used to have.

It was unfair for him to feel this sour about the situation. Break-ups sucked, and he had every right to feel hurt about it, but he recognized his actions had lead to the outcome. You tear-streaked face would hunt him for eternity.

“I can’t handle this anymore Kuroo...” Your whispered words, so tiny and fragile, but so powerful at the same time, breaking his heart in a million pieces.

The words died in his mouth, so he just steeped aside, letting you go without even trying to make you stay.

All the I love you’s and promises he never got to make, all the late night snacks and pillow talks you would never share.

Now they were nothing but a wish, an illusion that dissipated into thin air.

The first week you were gone, he was resentful and shady over social media, like he was only a teenager who’s crush rejected. But, as Kenma had put it in simple words. He was just a sore loser.

You had tried your best, but the fights started to rise, In volume, in frequency, in anger. And they were about the stupidest things ever, like him not feeling like getting up on his sparse free moments to go out with you, him refusing to eat with you at the table. Once you were gone, he regretted letting all of his frustration and stress out on you.

Half of his helplessness came from a selfish place if he really thought about it. You were his mini vacation, his heaven on earth, and he had destroyed it, even noticing his mistake until it was too late and the sheets were cold, just like the half-finished cup of tea you had left at the counter, and he still didn’t have the courage to put away.

Akaashi’s couch was soft and comfortable, hugging your body as if it was a cloud.

But it wasn’t Kuroo’s bed. The warmth the boy irradiated as he sleeps was missing. The way he would sometimes mumble nonsense or when his hand would reach for yours in the middle of the night, simply because.

Those were the things you missed the most. At those times at night you couldn’t help but think. Were you over reacting?

You knew he was stressed about school, maybe you shouldn’t have been as harsh, but thinking about letting him go over you like if you were nothing but the shoe mat in the front door, made a bitter taste settle in the back of your mouth and a resentment you never wanted to have towards him bloom.

If you didn’t walk away when you did you would have ended up hating him, or hating him in the tough moments at least, because when everything was going good, Kuroo made you feel like you were floating, and oh so loved.

But he tended to lock himself inside his head, submerging in a spiral of unhealthy habits of insomnia and a full gallon of caffeine to keep going. Shutting you out completely, brushing your attempts at spend time with him off.

Sighing, you rolled on the couch by the tenth time that hour, restless and sad. Akaashi’s apartment was pitch black. The only thing cutting through all the blackness was your phone, displaying a picture of you and Kuroo, smiling at the museum, in front of a painting of Marie Curie. That one was taken in summer vacations, when he still hadn’t started his courses and could spend some time with you while being awake.

Maybe it was unfair of you to disappear from his life out of nowhere, just picking everything up and running to hide behind your friend, not able to confront Kuroo and see his reaction at your abandonment for more than ten seconds.

You turned again, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders slipping to your waist. You didn’t even bother to readjust it.

“You know, I Can hear your sorrow all the way from my room.” Akaashi’s voice startled you, Looking up you noticed his silhouette in the living room entrance. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and started towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea.”

Two heartbeats later, a steaming cup was in your hands, your friend sitting next to you, sipping his green tea in silence.

“Okay...” He said once he finished the cup, leaving it in the table. His voice calm and collected. “What is it? You obviously need to talk.” You kept silence, focusing on the pale color of your drink. It didn’t taste like Kuroo’s tea at all. This one was missing something... You sipped again, still unsure about speaking up about what was bothering you.

“ I know it’s about Kuroo, and I know you need help to figure your feeling out... But understand I Can’t help you if you don’t speak to me... I’ve been patient for the two weeks and a half you’ve been crashing in my couch.” He turned to you, resting his elbow in the back of it, his face supported by his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, i love having you here and all. But it’s obvious you don’t. Judging by the way you’re stabbing daggers at the tea...”

“Sorry, I just...” You didn’t know what to say. That you missed Tetsuro’s bed or his tea? That you could not get the way he sings in the shower to cheesy 80’s songs out of your head? Or the way your hand always felt empty without his in it? “I miss him...” That seemed to sum it up pretty well.

“I thought you couldn’t handle the relationship anymore...” He prompted

You shook your head, setting your still full cup in the table.

“I couldn’t... but I don’t know” You were bad at communicating, maybe that was one of the reasons you chose to escape rather than talk.

“Do you think you could have handle things different with him when it started getting rough?” Akaashi’s words were intense, just like the look he was giving you, his clever gaze analyzing up every single reaction you made.

Yeah, in fact, you thought about that.

Maybe that was why you were so restless, the guilt o knowing you could have done more for the two of you, but choose to do nothing weighted on your conscious

“You know, if you want to go back with him, that doesn’t make you any less strong (Y/N)... Sometimes we just don’t handle our emotions in the right way. And it seems to me that the both of you made a few mistakes... Maybe you should talk to Kuroo. Who knows? This time it could go better...” Akaashi got up and went to his room, throwing a “Try to rest” Over his shoulder.

What were you going to do? The shame of your actions overshadowed all logic and reason.

What if Kuroo told you to fuck off? He could hate you for all you knew.

You hadn’t made up your mind the next morning, still teetering on the edge to throwing your pride to the garbage and just beg him to take you back or just leave everything as it was. Time cured everything, right?

Coincidentally with this debate you were having between logic and feelings, your college sent you an email regarding a few missing papers you needed to hand over in the office. Bad -or good-thing was, you left that folder at Kuroo’s place thinking you wouldn’t need it anymore.

Seems like you would have to see him, you wanted it or not.

Three knocks on his door woke Kuroo up that Saturday morning.

He considered the possibility of just not getting up, too tired by his restless nights to function properly, but by the time whoever was outside the door knocked again he was walking to the door, throwing a random hoodie that was lying around his naked torso to look somewhat presentable. He didn’t want to look like a perv in case it was his landlady, a sweet grandma that was always nice and used to bring you cookies from time to time. Kuroo remembered tenderly those times where the lady and you would spend hours in the corridor sharing recipes and exchanging goodies.

He missed those days.

Kuroo opened the door and froze in the middle of zipping the hoodie up.

Was he dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time, Those weeks without you were a torture, and your memories usually haunted his dreams, you in the arms of someone else were a popular theme in his subconscious.

And now, you were there, right in front of him, close enough to extend his hand and brush the skin on your cheek. He was dumbfounded, not able to emit a word.

He thought you were no longer going to speak to him, sending Akaashi or Bokuto to pick up the remainder of your stuff.

“Um... Hi” You hesitated, trying to look at anything but his exposed mid drift, but failing completely. “Sorry to bother, but I forgot a few important papers the last time I was here.” you tried to say as nonchalantly as possible

“Oh... “ He said, stepping aside, letting you into the apartment you used to share. “Sure... Do you remember where it was?”

You took a step in and the rush of longing took you by surprised.

You missed that tiny and uncomfortable couch so much, and the horrible square pattern blanked Kuroo bought ant kept in the chair next to it. The curtains that would slap you in the face if the windows behind the sofa was open, everything there felt like home, and you knew you were the one to go away in the first place, but still.

Akaashi was right, you didn’t even try to talk to him before running away, too traumatized by past experiences to even try to make it work. Th tears choked you and threaten to fall.

It was too late. Asking to try again would be so selfish, after the mess you caused yourself.

“(Y/N)?” Tetsurō‘s gentle tone broke you out of your trance.

“Huh? Oh yeah, It’s probably in the bedroom...” Was it even appropriate for you to go inside his bedroom still? Kuroo must’ve noticed your hesitation because he signal with his hand for you to go first.. The flash of sadness in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you.

Everything was just as you left it inside the room. The same glass of water on the nightstand, your drawers only halfway closed cause you were in a rush when you left, afraid that you back out of your dumb and rushed plan to break up with him all of the sudden, thinking that way would be better, just like ripping a band-aid.

In the bookcase against the wall you spotted the red folder you came looking for. Once it was in your grasp, you really didn’t have an excuse to delay your exit from Kuroo’s house... that used to be your home, and that you wanted so bad to call it home once again.

Turning back to him, who was standing at the door you hugged the folder to your chest.

“So... this was it. Thank u Tets...” You noticed your mistake and tried to correct it “Kuroo... I better leave now.” You advanced towards the door, but his sulked figure blocked the way. “Kuroo?”

You looked up at him, and the tears in his hazel orbs stunned you. His lips trembled slightly and with a frustrated groan he rubbed his eyes harshly.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, keeping them covered. A broken sigh shaking his shoulders, “I hate this... I hate it so much...”

Your heart clenched, and you regretted not sending Akaashi in your place. He obviously wasn’t okay with you there.

“Oh um... Sorry, I’ll just leave now.” You attempted to sidestep him to get out of the room, but in heart beat his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.

The sobs of the boy you loved made his chest vibrate under your skin, and the pain he was feeling you could feel it too. You didn0t hesitate, and as if it was a second nature to you, you squeezed him harder, kissing the soft bare skin of his chest, as you felt your chest collapse into itself.

Could someone die from sadness and love at the same time? Because that was how you were feeling.

“I’m sorry... I know it’s too late and all... But I really am sorry...” He started, his words coming out strangled by the tears, but you shushed him as the tears slipped over your cheeks, leaving wet trails on them.

“Shh... I’m sorry too.” You chocked on a I love that you refused to let slip past your lips. He could be trying to move on, and this was just a minor setback, you would not be that selfish and just throw your feeling into him.

Still presses against his body, you sighed

You missed so badly the feeling of his arms around you, and the way your body fit into his in all the right places, his hands burying themselves in your hair as he brought you closer to him.

Kuroo Tetsurō was your home. The home you lost the key to, locking yourself out of it in a careless action.

“(Y/N)?... I’m sorry...” You opened your mouth to say it was okay when he spoke again. “I love you so much... and I’m so sorry I pushed you away...” The air was sucker punched out of your lungs. And now it was your body, the one being rocked by uncontrollable sobs.

You loved him too, but were too busy weeping to respond to his declaration.

Kuroo held you in his arms, while the both of you cried.

It was almost therapeutic, finally being able to apologize about his mistakes.

Something muffled came out of your mouth and he didn’t catch it, since the got lost against his skin, your warm breath tickling him.

“What baby?” He asked, and wanted to kick himself for it. He was not respecting your decision of separating with his actions and words, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming waves of emotions that watched over him.

“I want to come back home...” Kuroo stayed silent, processing what you just said. “I’m sorry for not trying to make us work Tetsu... But I miss you like crazy, and I was scared and I don’t know what I was thinking... I’m just so sorry...”

His response was simple. He hugged you closer, picking you up like he had done so many times in that same room.

He sat at the end of the bed, with you sitting on his lap, your head tucked in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your scalp.

Once the sobs retreated, you lifted your head and looked at him in the eyes. Your eyelashes were shimmering with the remaining wetness the tears left behind, your nose was red as well as your cheeks.

Your eyes scanned his face and Kuroo held his breath when you leaned in, your lips softly brushing his, almost as if you feared rejection.

He could never say no to you.

He applied a little more pressure and he finally tasted your lips again. God, how he missed the feeling of your lips against his. Your breath tickled his mouth each time you pulled away to take a breath in between kisses.

Kuroo’s hands went to your back as the kiss rose in intensity. Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your fingers pressing his arm.

Kuroo could feel his erection grow, pressing against his gym shorts, and he was sure you could feel it too by the way your face was getting hotter to the touch.

You readjusted on top of him, your hips straddling his, and the friction from the movement tore a moan from his throat. Embarrassed, he tried to kiss you again to hide his blush, but you pulled away and looked him dead serious in the eyes. He started to feel nervous and was about to apologize, when all of the sudden you moved again, grinding against him. He let out another whiny moan and an entertained glint flashed across your eyes.

Your fingers found the zipper of the hoodie, and the cold skin of your knuckles brushing him as you undid it, exposing his abs. You admired them for a second before kissing him again, breathing in his scent. Slipping the hoodie from his shoulders, a shiver traveled his spine when your fingers brushed the sensitive spot in his clavicle. And an amused smile twitched in the corner of your lips, as you brought your face down to meet your lips with his skin.

Your scorching mouth against his neck made his head spin, and when your teeth made an appearence, he could not help the clench of his stomach, the nibbles you left on his skin sending a tingling to his toes. He sucked in a sharp breath when to licked behind his ear all of the sudden, and the low chuckle on his ear snapped him out of the daze you had him in.

Grabbing your hip and back, he pressed you harder against him, and a gasp left your lips. Smiling smugly, he flipped both of you over.

Kuroo smile above you, as he teasingly trailed his fingers against your sides, until he came to a stop on the edges of your pants, looking at you once again to confirm you were still okay.

Your smirk was the only confirmation he needed.

He unbuttoned your jeans and he took them off, throwing the garment  somewhere behind him. His mouth came down to your lips once again as his hand slipped inside your underwear that was a dripping mess because of him.

Pride swelled his chest at the thought he was the one making you feel like this, craving his touch just as much as he craved yours.

When his fingers brushed your clit, a strangled moan came out of you, and oh how much he missed the sounds you made when he touched you like that.

He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, his mouth claiming yours, teeth pulling your lips and soft words whispered into them as his finger kept stimulating you, a fog settling over your mind.

“I love you so fucking much...” His mouth went to your chin, and kept going down, trailing your skin, an electric shock struck you from head to toe when he kissed that one spot in your hip he knew drove you crazy. “So fucking beautiful...” He praised.

He kept going down, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs and his breath brushing over your cunt and making you whine out his name.

“Kuroo...” You said. Your hand digging into his hair as your eyes flutter closed.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, and you could even hear the mock in his tone. You were going to respond, when his teeth nibbled the sensitive skin, careful not to hurt you.

Pulling aside your underwear, his mouth found your pulsating sex. And a shock wave of ecstasy filled your body. It didn’t take too long for him to have you at the edge, your toes curling and your hand clutching his hair. Heaving breaths rose your chest and with one last flick of Kuroo’s tongue an orgasm hit you full force, his name coming out of your lips.

“Tetsu...” A series of spasms rocked your body, and your legs clenching around his head, and Kuroo Chuckled at your reaction, amazed at the intensity of your pleasure.

Once you came out of your high, Kuroo settled next to you in bed, his erection still present and bothering him a little, but he was content with making you feel good. He needed nothing else. He could take care of his arousal later.

Rolling over you sat on top of him, leaning down you kissed his neck as you dragged your hands down his abs, feeling the smooth muscles underneath your fingertips, and you noticed just how much you had missed the intimacy you both shared. Your hands kept traveling until you found the elastic of his pants and pulled them down, brushing his swelling member as you pulled the garment down, stripping Kuroo of his last garment.

With his pants out of the way, you could feel the heat from his cock against your wet pussy. He helped you take out your shirt and kissed the exposed skin in between your breasts.

You rubbed on him once more, and the friction ignited the fire in your stomach. You circled Kuroo’s neck with your arms, and leaned you damped forehead on his chest, soft moans coming out of your mouth.

Lifting your hips slightly you aligned Kuroo’s dick with your entrance and in one swift motion you were filled to the rim with him.

“Shit (Y/n)!” He threw his head back, fingers digging at your hips, as you slowly adjusted to him. “God, I love you so much, I love you so fucking much baby...” Kuroo hissed. Kissing your temple, he then guided your hips up and down, feeling every inch of you tightening around him.

Your moans were shushed by his mouth, while your hips kept moving, feeling the way his member pushed at your walls, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.

Switching up the pace, Kuroo sat up and picked you up. Laying you on your back you admire the sight of him, his smooth skin and tall frame, his muscular legs and abs, his gentle hands, and his eyes that were so full of love.

You turned around, lifting your ass up and inviting him in. An almost animalistic growl left his throat at the sight.

“Please Tetsu...” You looked at him, with your eyes full of lust and a glint of mischief  in them. “I want you inside of me”

In less than a heartbeat he was inside of you once more, his hips colliding mercilessly with your ass, the lewd sounds of skin against skin mixed with the whimpers that involuntarily came out of your throat as he pounded your pussy like he wanted to.

“Fuck, I missed so much being inside of you.” He grunted, biting his lip.

Kuroo picked up his pace, and you reached for his hand. Intertwining your fingers, he kissed your knuckles, leaning to bite your neck playfully right after.

You could almost feel his abdomen twitching with the need to release his load inside of you. Your chest was flushed against the bed, as Kuroo’s rhythmic movements hit every right spot.

“Tetsu...” You whispered. “Please cum inside of me... I need you.” You begged, aching to be filled by him once more. Your words caused something on him, as if you had stepped on the gas .

The thrust of his hips got more intense and fast, hammering your pussy like it was the sole purpose of his existence. Your thoughts were jumbled and the only coherent thing on your mind was his name, so that all you said.

“Fuck” He moaned, his erratic pace almost matching the beating of your heart. “Oh god baby.... shit.”

With two last powerful you felt him filling you with his cum, releasing three weeks of frustration and desire.

Kuroo tried to pull out of you, but you prevented it, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to rest on top of you, his bare and sweat covered chest against your back.

A content sigh left his lips and he kissed your shoulder, and your heart could have exploded right then and there.

“So... Now what?” He said, asking the question you were too afraid to voice.

You didn’t know how to precede. Did he wanted to try again? Or was this only a fling of the moment and nothing more?

“Hey.” He called your attention, shifting slightly so he could be lying half of his body on the mattress. You turned your head to him and came nose to nose with him. Kuroo placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Quit over-thinking and be honest... I won’t get mad if this is really over and you regret this thing we just shared.” His face showed a vulnerability uncharacteristic of him and your heart clenched.

“What do you want?” You turned the question around, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

Without hesitation in his voice or in his eyes, he answered

“You.” He pecked your lips, pressing your foreheads together. You observed his beautiful eyes as he reassured you. “That’s all I ever wanted... You’re my home (Y/n), this house feels empty without you... My life feels empty if you’re not sharing it with me. So... what do you say baby, do you want to give us another chance?” He asked.

“I’m happy to be home Tetsu...”

[saxxxology]

A Different Kind of Therapy - FIN

When the strains of life, broken relationships, an angry boss, and other stresses get a bit too much to bear, you seek a very particular kind of treatment. 

PAIRING: Sexual Therapist!Sam x Reader WARNINGS: mentions of a breakup, stress/anxiety, sexual therapy, smut, slow burn

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Weeks turn into four months. You go back to Sam every Saturday, and with each passing session you grow more confident baring yourself to him. 

Dating, on the other hand, still fails. You go on two separate dates, one to a bar, the other to an upscale diner in Downtown. Both potential partners are physically attractive, but they lack… attention. They’re more eager to boast about their own lives and accomplishments than they are to listen to yours. When you mention your therapy to the wannabe-DJ who takes you to the bar he works at, he makes an excuse to go to the bathroom and never comes back.

You bring this up to Sam at one session, and he encourages you that the right man is out there. It’ll just take a bit longer to find him. It hurts, though, encouraging you to seek out another man when he himself is so open and willing to take that place in your life.

Like Ruby had said, his first rule is to not get involved with clients, but there’s something about you… he can’t get you out of his damn head and his sense memory is too good to erase the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his fingers or the hard slide of your clit under his thumb. You get to him in the deepest possible way and he can’t take it anymore.

***

Ruby’s out sick for a day, leaving Sam’s left to manage his office on his own. It’s been a rough day. He’s seen six clients, four regulars, a potential newbie, and a referral from St. John’s suffering from postpartum sexual dysfunction. You’re his last client, and while he should feel elated at the prospect of ending his day on a good note, he’s never felt this anxious before.

Telling you how he feels could risk his reputation. But he’s not made to keep secrets like this.

You pull up right at your usual time, and he welcomes you into his private room with his usual questions.

“How are you?” 

“Good.”

“How was your week?”

“Easier. Boss was on a work trip so I didn’t have to deal with him yelling.” 

Sam closes the door behind you, watching as you take in the strangely empty space. You’re used to the massage table, dim lights, and aroma of sandalwood and orange blossoms. Instad, his office looks normal; desk, chair, couch. That’s all.

As if he can read your mind, Sam covers your question with a practiced answer.

“I want to talk to you about something,” he says, inviting you to sit on the couch as he pulls his chair up. “It’s… it’s very important that I voice it, because I want to keep the environment we’ve created as professional as possible.”

“Oh.” You press your knees together, bracing for what he has to say.

“I’ve been wanting to get to know you on a non-professional level,” Sam explains cautiously, “I understand that we’ve signed an agreement to keep you intimacy therapy mainly professional, but lately I’ve been having a difficult time not… I’ve been wanting to go further with you, but I respect our professional relationship enough to hold back. I just want you to know so that you can make choices about your future appointments here.”

You can’t believe your ears. Sam wants you. He wants you. “I—” you swallow thickly, “I don’t know what to say. How long have you wanted this?”

Sam inhales sharply. “Weeks.”

“I didn’t know,” you reply. “I thought… I’m just not your only client, and I thought you might’ve had someone out of work.”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t. If you don’t want to continue here, I completely understand,” Sam says, “I care about you, deeply, and the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.”

You shift in your seat. “I-I mean, you’re attractive, I can’t deny that… and I think that’s why my dates haven’t been working out. Other men can’t give me what you can and I know it.”

Sam’s chest warms with pride. He’s just as deep in you as you are in him. 

You continue slowly, hands clasped. Your eyes can barely stay fixed on his for longer than a few seconds. “I haven’t been able to think of anyone else but you when I… touch myself.”

His cock gives an interested twitch.

“If we were to go farther…” you chew on your lower lip, eyes on your bare knees, “I… I wanna make sure that I’m clear on something.”

“I can’t stop my work,” Sam quickly provides, “that’s the one thing I can’t do.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” You shake your head. “I’m not like that, I don’t make people give up what they want to do. I just… it’s been a long time since I was close with someone. I don’t want it to be just sex.”

“I can give you more,” Sam blurts out. He’s desperate now. He’s got his chance and he can’t waste it. “I’ll give you anything.”

Your cheeks flush. “I want commitment. I don’t care how many women you treat in a day, but I would want a promise that I’m the one that you think about before you go to bed.”

It’s a simple request he’s been fulfilling already for the last several weeks. “I can do that.” He swallows, hungrily eyeing the outline of your bra through your tee shirt. “Y/N, I—”

He’s caught off guard when you close the gap between you and kiss him. Your lips are a little warmer than he expected, and he can taste something sweet-n-sour… candy? He shakes the thought off, deepening the kiss as his hands slide up your thighs. His fingers press into soft flesh, and he leans closer, urging you to lie down on the couch. 

You don’t stop him as he begins to tug at your clothes. He works your skirt and panties down your legs while you pull your shirt over your head. The second you’re bare and spread open for him, he leans down, sucking a nipple between his lips. He’s been dying to get his mouth on your tits… 

“Oh,” you breathe softly, fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to move south, lips soft, longe wet, teeth sharp on your skin. “Sam…”

He answers with a low hum as he strips his button-up over his shoulders. His pants go next, and you’re surprised to see that he’s gone commando. His cock is long and thick in his hand, and you can’t deny that a little quiver of fear makes its way through your stomach. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, shifting to lie with his cheek grazing one of your inner thighs. “I know what I’m doing.”

Before you can reply, his tongue slides though your folds. His lips circle your clit, and you arch up, fingers winding in his hair. How long has he been wanting to do this for?

Two fingers slide in, a welcoming heat deep in your core as his tongue continues to pleasure the most sensitive part of you. A little squeak leaves your throat, and Sam has to sling a forearm over your hips to keep you from squirming away as he adds a third finger, stretching you open for him.

“Oh, fuck.” Your palm hits the arm of the couch over your head. “Sam… Sam, I’m gonna…”

He teases you right to the edge and pulls away, watching you writhe in protest at the loss of stimulation. When you attempt to touch yourself, his fingers lock around your wrist, pulling your hand away. “I wanna feel you cumming on me this first time,” he murmurs, kissing you deep and allowing you to suck your flavor off his lower lip. He leaves you briefly to grab a condom from the front pocket of his bag, and when he’s suited up he wedges himself between your legs, rubbing his cock against your opening. 

“Look at me,” he says, “look at me, baby.”

Your eyes meet his, and he fights the urge to kiss you as he rolls his hips, guiding his cock into your body. The sound you make is breathtaking, a high pitched cry that rises up and cracks off in your throat. He’s so thick and deep inside you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You give a short squeeze, barely able to keep yourself under control, and Sam groans, muffling the sound with a wet, messy kiss.

You clench tighter when Sam begins to move, pressing his knees into the soft couch cushions for leverage. When your hands skim down his sides, he spreads his stance a little more, changing the angle of his hips. His cock hits your sweet spot, and you stiffen, thighs trembling as your legs lock around his waist.

Neither one of you can find the strength to speak. You sink down into the cushions and hold on as Sam fills you over and over again, skin slick and sweaty, muscles bunching as he surges forward. He uses his entire body to fuck you, so much so that you have a difficult time finding something to completely focus on. 

When he gets his hand down between your legs, however, it’s quite easy to lose focus on everything else but that. 

Sam grunts loudly when your nails scrape over his shoulders, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, panting heavily as his movements become sharper and more precise. He already knows what feels best for you when he’s using his hands, but now he has a wider range of tools to use. 

Long, deep thrusts make you shudder and pulse. Quick swirls of his fingers on your clit have always done the trick, but when he ceases the movement and just presses down, delivering a constant pressure on the most sensitive part of your body… Jesus Christ…

He makes you cum like that, building up the pressure until you’re shaking and arching, head thrown back in a silent cry. Your fingers dig into his ass, holding him still and deep inside you, and he quickens his fingers, holding his breath as you squeeze and clench and writhe on his dick like you’re having the time of your life. 

He waits for you to go limp, breath high and ragged in your throat before he starts to move again. He’s close, and when you whimper, he barely stammers out a “close, baby” before his orgasm swells up and he cums inside you. You feel the hard throbbing inside you, the heat of his seed through the condom, the weight of him on top of you, hips wedged firm between your legs…

Sam raises his head when you rock up, testing the aftershocks. With one arm curled under your neck, he presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips. 

“My legs hurt,” you whisper, trying to mask your delirious giggle. “I’ll have bruises.”

Sam chuckles and kisses you again. “I’ll kiss ‘em better.”

You moan when he pulls out, and you gingerly close your legs as he goes to clean himself up in the bathroom. When he comes back, you’re still lying where he left you, and he drapes himself back over your limp body, kissing down the column of your throat. 

“How do you feel?” he asks.

You smile, eyes still closed. “Are you asking as my therapist or the man who just fucked me?”

“I wouldn’t call it fucking,” Sam replies, “but I’m asking as both.”

“Mm.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he nuzzles your jaw. “Better than ever.” 

He settles over you, breathing deep into the crook of your neck. When his watch ticks to the next hour, he sits up, pulling away with a soft grunt. You close your legs and follow as he begins to dress.

“So, what does this mean?” You fix your skirt around your waist. “We can’t just continue as normal.”

Sam pushes buttons through their holes, straightening his collar with a sharp tug. “I know.”

“Do you regret it?”

His brow furrows. “Why would I? I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

“But… now you've had it.” You swallow, folding your arms. “What is this gonna become?”

Sam tucks his shirt into his waistband and leans against the desk. “How about I take you to dinner and we talk about it.”

Your cheeks flush at the promise of spending more time with him, and when he reaches out for you, there’s no hesitation in letting him pull you close. “I’d like that very much.”

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[talesofpanem]

Peaceful Easy Feeling

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: E

Summary: A camping trip helps a stressed out Peeta find that peaceful, easy feeling…

Author’s Note: This is for the prompt ‘peace’. With apologies to the Eagles for subverting the title of their song (which was stuck in my head nearly the entire time I was writing this story). And in case you can’t tell from the rating, it’s smutty. I make no apologies for needin’ a little everlark lovin’ today.

She wants to take me camping. 

I’ll do almost anything for Katniss, endure almost any torture. But camping? Why on earth would I want to march through the wilderness with an eighty pound pack just to get eaten by bears?

And worse is knowing it’s something she used to do with her ex, so every minute of it she’ll be comparing me to him. To tall, dark and broody, mister I’m so much more of a man than you’ll ever be, something he makes sure I know every time I see him, which is far too often in our small town. 

But how can I refuse? When she looks at me with silver eyes sparkling and tells me it’ll be the perfect cure for all of the stress I’m under running my dad’s bakery while he convalesces and my mother tries to interfere in every damned decision I make? When she somehow convinces my brother Rye and his wife to take over Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday so that we can have a true weekend alone together?

———

The two hour drive to Panem State Park may well be the highlight of my weekend. It’s a perfect late September morning, the sun bright and the sky cloudless. The early morning prep at the bakery went exceedingly smoothly, and Mother didn’t pop in to belittle me before Rye and Dells took over. I have a hot mug of tea in my Jeep’s cupholder and Katniss curled up beside me, singing some pop ditty about me being trouble, trouble, trouble. In her smoky, sultry voice, the lyrics become a dirty promise that has me shifting in my seat. 

But once we park at the station, once I strap on a pack that’s not quite 80 pounds but might be 75, my mood deteriorates. Katniss keeps up a gentle banter as she walks the forest floor with nearly soundless steps. I crash through the brush like a foul-tempered bear, tripping over roots and nearly scratching my eye out several times on low-hanging branches. 

I try, I really try, not to bitch and moan when yet another bug flies up my nose. But it sucks. My new hiking boots are rubbing my heel raw and the old knee injury that killed my scholarship hopes flares up with every staggering misstep. This death march from hell is endless. 

Though Katniss usually has zero patience for, well, anything, she doesn’t lose her temper with my shit mood. Here, in the woods that she’s loved since she was a little girl, she’s luminous. Her bright eyes dance everywhere, and she sees things I’d never have caught - the white tail of a rabbit darting under a bush, mushrooms clinging to a fallen tree, a glistening beehive - and she delights in showing them to me. She’s so comfortable in the wild, so at home, she’s practically a wildling herself. 

Yet she’s stuck with me, a townie to my core. My only previous camping experience was in a cabin at scout camp when I was a kid. And I hated even that. 

She guides us along without ever once looking at the map that the park ranger gave us, even though we’re not following any path that I can figure out. But her steps are sure, as if she’s walked this route a hundred times. And maybe she has. Maybe this is the exact place where she and Gale used to spend time together. The thought makes me sick. 

By the time she stops, I’m sweaty and aching and acting like a jealous asshole, grumbling under my breath and refusing to even answer her questions. She stands in the centre of a small clearing and spins around. “Perfect,” she breathes. 

I grunt. If not for the circle of river rocks, I wouldn’t even know this is a backcountry site. It just looks like a spot where the trees don’t grow quite so closely together. 

Katniss drops onto a fallen log and gestures for me to join her, which I do because my feet are killing me. The bottle of cold water she passes to me soothes my parched throat but doesn’t improve my mood. I slump, scuffing at the pine needle covered dirt with my ridiculous boots. She frowns, but still doesn’t call me on my shit attitude. 

Rummaging in her pack, she pulls out the bag I know contains a tent, then empties it methodically. The sheer number of pieces hurts my head. I’m certain you’d need an engineering degree and a team of technicians to turn it into something shelter-like. I bet Hawthorne can assemble it blindfolded. I wonder if she and Hawthorne used this very tent to— 

“Are you hungry?” she asks, snapping me out of my very painful ponderance. I shrug. I am, frankly I’m hangry at this point, starving on top of morose and irritated. But if she’s going to go off and shoot a squirrel for us to eat she’ll see just how unmanly I am. 

Katniss laughs, warm and husky. “I’m not interested in squirrel either,” she says, and I wonder whether I can kick my own ass with my knee acting up this way. But she digs through her pack and produces a small insulated bag containing hot dogs, of all things. My jaw drops and she winks. “How about you get a fire started while I set up the tent?”

Starting a fire is the one thing I’m capable of out here, good at, in fact. The bakery is all electric convection now, but when I was a tot, my grandfather was still using wood ovens. At his knee, I learned to start a fire no matter the circumstance. I gather fallen branches while Katniss organizes the 846 individual tent pieces, give or take 830. And by the time I have a nice fire going, she’s put up our shelter and set up our bed. 

She ditches her boots to curl her bare toes in the moss and pine, I join her, and roasting hot dogs over the fire calms me, at least a little. We don’t talk much, but with my aching feet freed from their overpriced prison, and with three of Nathan’s finest warming my belly, I start to feel a lot better. 

We watch the small fire burn down to embers, then she tugs me to my feet. “Come with me,” she murmurs. And I do. Because I would follow Katniss anywhere. This gorgeous wood nymph who I’ve loved half my life. 

She doesn’t put her boots back on, so neither do I, though I’m nervous about cutting the shit out of my feet walking through the forest. But the path she leads me along is mostly bare dirt, and we go slowly enough that I can be cautious about the few rocks and pine needles. 

We go no further than a hundred yard before the canopy of trees open and we are standing near the rocky shore of a tiny lake, a perfect blue jewel, partly shaded from the afternoon sun by the thick trees all along what must be the southern and western shores. The water is so calm that the surface is mirror-like, reflecting back the trees and the blue sky above. For several long moments, I just stare, heart filled with gratitude. 

Her hand slips from mine, and after a few beats, I tear my eyes away from the beauty before me to focus on the beauty beside me. She’s watching me with mischief in her silver eyes while unbuttoning her flannel shirt. “How about a swim?” she says. 

“Didn’t bring a suit,” I mutter, distracted by her dainty fingers, by the eroticism of each button slipping free. She’s wearing a thin white tank top underneath, one that emphasizes the swell of each perfect breast. 

She laughs. Her flannel gets tossed over a tree branch and she starts on her cargo shorts. “Did you suddenly get shy, Mellark?”

I snort; I don’t care if she sees me, and she knows it. But she’s usually so reserved, almost pure, that seeing her strip down out in the open has me bewildered. It’s like she’s a completely different person in the woods. And that hurts more than I’d expected. I love seeing her happy, I do. But I can’t help wondering why she’s wasting her time with me, putting up with my seven day work weeks and my toddler-esque bedtime and my near constant stress headaches when she could be out here with Hawthorne all of the time.

I’m still brooding when a splash sounds beside me, and I catch a glimpse of long, lean legs disappearing into the water. I glance at Katniss’s pile of clothes - flannel, shorts and bra, but no tank or panties. So I quickly strip down to my boxers and dive in.

Then shriek in a very unmanly way.

“Damn this is cold!” I yell, my nuts climbing up into my stomach, icy water sluicing from my soaked hair over my shoulders and down my back like so many tiny daggers. Katniss giggles, maybe the first time I’ve ever heard her giggle. I want to bark at her, but she’s standing a few feet away in water only waist deep, and her tank is completely see-through, her dark nipples straining against the wet fabric like magic bullets. Despite the cold, my dick stands up to say hello! 

Katniss is insanely sexy, I don’t think she has any idea how many of the men in our small town lust after her. I know I’ve always been one of them. But she barely noticed me until I came home after college, just over a year ago. That’s when she started coming to the bakery in the early mornings, before her shifts at the veterinary clinic where she’s a technician. We chatted nearly every day for months before I finally gathered enough courage to ask her out.

We’ve been together since.

I stalk towards her now, and she bites her lip, torn between standing her ground and trying to run. Her stubborn nature wins, and she grins defiantly at me just before I scoop her up into my arms, cold, goose-pebbled skin pressed together. I kiss her hard, but only for a moment. Then I toss her back into the water.

She’s laughing when she surfaces, splashing me, and we spend more than a half hour chasing each other through the glassy water, playing like kids. Only when her teeth are chattering so hard I can barely understand her do I call for a time out.

The late afternoon sun illuminates a large, flat rock a few dozen yards from where our clothes await; it’s there that I carry her. Then I cover her shivering body with my own, and kiss her blue-tinged lips until we’re both warm and panting, the sun pounding on my back no match for the heat between us. But as much as I want her, a rock perched in a lake isn’t the best spot to do more than kiss. So with huge reluctance, I force myself up and carry her back to the shore.

We trudge back to the tent hand-in-hand, bare feet still wet and with pine needles sticking to them. I barely notice the discomfort though. Katniss is only wearing her flannel unbuttoned over her damp undergarments, and every step as she leads me teases me with glimpses of those wet panties clinging to her perfect ass.

But when we get back to our campsite, our home for another 24 hours, my fantasies of climbing into that tent and finishing what we started on that rock are shattered. “I know you’re not big on squirrel,” Katniss teases, “but how do you feel about fish?” She pulls a bunch of carbon sticks from her pack and begins twisting them together. I’m a little curious what else she has stowed in the packs, she put everything together, only collecting a single change of clothing from me. Planned every aspect of this weekend. While I puzzle over that, two fishing rods with reels appear almost like magic. 

I like fish, but the idea of catching and cleaning one makes me feel a little green, and worse, it reminds me, yet again, that this is a place she shared with mister oh-so-manly. A place I’ll never truly fit in.

I follow her back to the lake anyway, after tugging my pants back on. Might as well not get my nuts eaten by blackflies.

We wade out again to the large flat rock and settle side by side. At least it’s a beautiful spot to suffer.

I’ve never been fishing before, unless you count those carnival games with the little magnets on the end of the line (everyone wins a prize!). But Katniss is surprisingly patient with me, baiting my hook with some squirming red worm thing, showing me how to cast the line. And thankfully there’s not much to do in fishing but wait, something I’ve always been really good at.

Katniss lays her head against my shoulder and I wrap my free arm around her. She fits so perfectly against me, like I was made for her. For a few minutes, I do feel calmer, like my stress is parked somewhere back on shore. It’s almost like meditation. “I haven’t been here in so long,” she breathes. “I’d almost forgotten how much I love it.”

And now I feel fucking awful, keeping her from the places she loves and things she wants to do. All of those feelings of inadequacy come roaring back. I’m not good enough for Katniss. I’m not good enough for anything. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, my voice hoarse.

“For what?” She glances up at me, confused.

“For keeping you away from this place for so long.” It’s ripping me apart, knowing how being stuck with me has made her life so much duller, so much smaller.

Katniss lifts her head off my shoulder and scowls, and I want to kiss that scowl so bad. Instead, I turn my focus back to the water.

“You haven’t kept me away from here.” They’re the words I expected, but instead of sounding scripted and placating, Katniss sounds pissed off. “Why would you even say that? You’re the reason I finally came back.” I glance back at her, but she’s turned away, staring out over the gloom gathering along the shore. “I knew this place would be full of memories, and I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to face them alone.”

It’s like a spear through the chest, knowing how many memories there are for her here, and how melancholy they make her. I can’t help but wonder how much of what we’re doing is Katniss reliving the good times she had here with Gale.

The rod in my hands jumps; I nearly drop it. Katniss’s somber mood vanishes. With a smile, she sets aside her own rod and shows me how to reel in my line. The fish that emerges from the water, squirming and fighting, is an ugly silvery-green thing, maybe two feet long. I have no idea what it is, but Katniss’s reaction suggests it’ll be good for eating. She’s laughing, holding it by the gills and removing the hook as it continues to squirm. My stomach also squirms. But she’s so happy that I bite my cheek and plaster on the biggest smile I can.

Her expression says I’m not doing a good job of convincing her. But she takes pity on me, not insisting I hold it or asking me to pose for a selfie with it or anything like that. “This will be enough for both of us,” she says. “And I have some dried noodles in my pack too.” Thank goodness for that.

Dusk is falling when we get back to our site, the dense trees blocking much of the twilight. Katniss, of course, has flashlights. She’s thought of everything. While she cleans the fish, something I’m not keen to watch, I stoke a decent fire from our embers, and gather fallen wood, using her tiny, almost useless little hatchet to turn it into manageable pieces. I catch Katniss watching me and grin. She likes my arms, something she’s never been shy about telling me. I wish I had a bigger axe, I could give her a little show. Remind her I have some things going for me.

But then she sends me away to fetch a jug of water from the lake, and I’m forced to pick my way along the path slowly and cautiously in the dark, reminding us both how completely out of my depth I am here.

I boil the noodles and sauce mix and she fries the fish. We eat right out of the pans and I’m surprised and grateful that it’s actually delicious. When I tease her about it, since Katniss is normally a terrible cook, she sticks her tongue out at me. “It’s not a soufflé, mister master baker,” she laughs. “But it’s hard to screw up cooking over a fire.” 

“I doubt that,” I snicker. “I’m pretty sure I could mess it up, if I could find food out here at all.”

Very little moonlight penetrates the trees, we have only the firelight to see by. But Katniss’s smile is unmistakable, a flash of white teeth in the darkness as we rinse out the pot and stow it away. “I have my father to thank for being able to hunt and forage. He taught me so much about survivalism,” she says, melancholy infusing her voice. “He wanted me to be prepared for any scenario.” Her soft laugh is laced with bitterness. “But he couldn’t prepare me for a life without him.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I am. The terror I experienced when my dad collapsed in the bakery is nothing compared to the horror Katniss’s life became when her father was killed in a car crash. We were only in middle school, but the whole town knew that her mom lost her mind when she lost her husband. Even now, I don’t know all of the details. Katniss is loathe to talk about that time, but it was several months before her uncle moved in with them, years before her mother recovered. But the cute, bubbly Katniss I sort of knew in grade school was gone forever.

She reaches over and squeezes my hand, and we sit silently, watching the fire crackle and pop. It’s so peaceful, so relaxing.. “I want to say it’s quiet here,” I muse after a while. “But it’s not.” The woods are practically screaming with crickets and peepers, and other sounds I don’t recognize, but which Katniss identifies for me. It’s like a natural symphony. I’m captivated. 

“Hypnotic,” she says, and she’s right. There’s a rhythm to the night sounds, it’s soothing. 

The fire wanes, but neither of us move to put any more wood on it, simply watching, hand in hand, each lost in our own thoughts. 

“My life has changed so much since the last time I was here,” she whispers, breaking me from my trance. “But this place is exactly the same. Even after ten years.”

“Ten years?”

“Yeah. Well, eleven I guess.” Her fingers flex against mine, as if she’s counting in her head. 

“I just assumed you came out here with Gale,” I admit. 

“Gale?” she scoffs. “Why on earth would you think that?”

I shrug. “You were always doing stuff like this with him. Camping, hiking, fishing…” My voice sounds petulant, I know it does. 

“Hunting, Peeta. We went hunting a few times, with his uncle. For turkeys, mostly. But Gale hates fishing, he doesn’t have the patience for it. He wouldn’t go hiking unless there was a purpose for it, he never thought just enjoying the woods was a good enough reason. We definitely never camped together.” Katniss sighs, turning back to the fire. “And I never brought him here. This was my father’s favourite place. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to share it with.”

“Oh sweetheart,” I breathe. “I didn’t realize.” I pull her snugly against me, and she doesn’t resist. “That’s what you meant about the memories.”

“Yeah,” she says, nestling deeper into my embrace as I press my lips to her sweet hair. “I locked away so much about him, when he died.” I know that’s true. I’ve spilled the dirt on pretty much all of my family’s dysfunction to Katniss, but while she’ll talk about her sister Prim, their mother, and even their crazy uncle Haymitch, her dad is a topic that only rarely comes up. “It’s easier to share him with you,” she murmurs, contradicting my thoughts completely. “Because you’re so much like him.”

I pull back, studying her face in the firelight, mostly shrouded in shadows. Even in the dim I can see she’s not mocking me. But I remember her dad, he was larger than life, a big man with a booming laugh and a smile for everyone. “Katniss,” I say, wary. “I don’t think I’m anything like your dad. He was brave and adventurous and amazing, and I’m just a dumb townie.”

“Stop it,” she barks. “I hate it when you put yourself down. And it’s not even true.” She grabs my face in her hands and I can’t help but lean into her touch. She has no idea, the effect she has on me. “You’re kind,” she says, voice wavering, “and so generous. You’re selfless almost to a fault. And you listen, you really listen, to me and to everyone. And you make me feel safe. Those are the things that made my dad special too.”

“Katniss,” I whisper, but she’s not done.

“I don’t care that you don’t hunt or that you’re not too keen on fishing. I love you, Peeta, exactly the way you are.” I turn my head to kiss her wrist, almost overcome by her words, by the sincerity behind them. “I suck at cooking and I couldn’t care any less about movies or television, but you still love me, right?” She knows I do; she’s trying to make a point.

And succeeding.

“With all of my heart,” I tell her.

“Then stop comparing yourself to Gale,” she says, cutting away everything else to lay my biggest insecurity bare. “I chose you. I love you.” Then she kisses me, lips soft but insistent.

I forget Gale, forget my ineptitude, even forget my job and family stresses. There is only Katniss, only the woman I’ve loved always.

Without breaking our kiss, I haul her into my arms and stand. Her arms fly around my neck, and I walk the half dozen steps to our small tent. Katniss tilts her head back and laughs, husky and warm. 

Getting the zipper open with my arms full of Katniss is a worthy challenge, and my prize is her soft sigh when I lay her on top of our sleeping bag. 

It’s pitch black in the tent, not even a whisper of light from our dying campfire penetrates the nylon walls. I lean over her, but catch her braid under my hand and she yelps. When I pull away to apologize she reaches for my face but instead pokes me in the ear. I try to kiss her again but she moves at the same time and we bash noses like middle schoolers just learning to kiss. 

I sit back on my knees and laugh at the ridiculousness and novelty of it, and after a moment, she joins me, snickering as I stroke her belly blindly. I could search for the flashlight I know she’s stowed somewhere near the door. But I’ve never been in complete darkness like this, it’s never this black in town, and it’s disconcerting but also exciting. 

Katniss wiggles in the darkness, maybe trying to find me. But I grasp her waist and her attention. 

“You just lie still and let me love you,” I say, and she sighs, but stills. I know her body better than my own, have studied every dip and curve and ticklish place. The darkness is no detriment now. With sure hands, I pull off her flannel, and the tank beneath it. She’s still braless from our earlier swim, and though I can’t see her breasts with their dark, pouty nipples, I can certainly feel them. Katniss moans as I pull one perfect peak into the heat of my mouth, sucking hard, the way I know she likes it, rolling the other between my fingers, plucking and teasing it to aching hardness. Then I switch, soothing one nipple with my tongue, pinching the other. 

Katniss squirms and bucks underneath me, trying to hurry me along. But I take my time, worshiping her breasts, lavishing them with attention. It’s so incredibly rare that we have unhurried time to make love. She still lives with her mother and uncle, I’m stuck above the bakery with my mother and eventually my father again, once he’s released from the rehabilitation centre. Far too often, Katniss and I are forced to settle for quick, near silent fucking. She deserves better. She deserves to be savoured, and tonight I’ll do just that. 

It’s with reluctance that I surrender those perfect peaks, but more wonders await. I kiss a path down her belly, trace the riot of goosebumps with my tongue. Her cargo shorts are easily dispatched, and I press a hot kiss to the cotton of her panties, damp again but not from lake water this time. 

“Peeta,” she gasps as I graze her cotton-covered pussy with my teeth, breathing a rush of hot air through the fabric. 

The sheer need in her voice is nearly my undoing. I ease her panties off and she assists, but moves her hands quickly away again, her breathing harsh, expectant. I can’t see her pretty pussy in the stark blackness, but I can smell her arousal, feel the heat emanating from her core. I nuzzle her inner thigh, biting just lightly, and she curses.

I kiss her lower lips softly, and she tilts her hips up, begging for more. Something about the darkness makes teasing her feel cruel; instead, I lick a long line through all of her spicy wetness, from entrance to clit, and she moans her appreciation. 

Katniss keeps moaning and bucking as I feast, alternating between thrusting my tongue inside her like a tiny cock and sucking on her clit. Her hands find my hair, tugging as she writhes against my face. It’s so hot, her uninhibited cries, that I’m practically humping the sleeping pad beneath us, desperate for some friction to ease my own ache. 

When I slide two fingers into her waiting heat, she cries out, like sensual music splitting the night. She’s never been loud like this with me, we’ve never really had an opportunity to be this free. It’s a drug, her sweet sounds, and I want to hear more. I want to hear her forever. 

She chants my name over and over. I suck her clit and her snug walls tighten around my fingers. I know she’s right on the edge, and the gratification of that makes me groan against her flesh. Nothing is as good as pleasuring Katniss. 

Her trembling thighs clamp around my ears, preventing an escape I have no desire to make. Then she comes, and it’s a fucking glorious thing, she arches and wails my name with abandon, pulsing around my fingers. It’s nearly enough to push me over too as my dick begs for release. 

She slumps, sated but still quivering with aftershocks, and I bring my sopping wet fingers to my mouth, sucking away her arousal loudly so she can hear it. Katniss moans. “Come back up here,” she says, and her voice is hoarse in a way that makes me feel like a damned hero. 

I slide off my own shirt before climbing up her body. I’m careful in the darkness, not to crush her or pull her hair again. Kissing Katniss with her bare skin pressed against mine is the best feeling. She tugs at the waistband of my pants. “Lose these,” she demands against my lips. 

“Yes ma’am,” I laugh. I’m so eager to be inside her that just pulling off my boxers makes my dick throb. She kneads my ass muscles, then pulls me closer. She’s so slick and ready that I slide in smoothly, and I have to pause, buried inside her right to the hilt, to catch my breath. “Oh fuck, I gasp.

Her fingernails rake up my back and her calves wrap around my thighs, and she feels so damned good that it’s driving me insane. But I can’t see her gorgeous face and it’s disconcerting. I try fucking her harder, but if anything it makes the disconnect worse.

As if she can feel my uncertainty, Katniss pulls my face against her throat, her mouth against my ear. “Peeta,” she moans. “You’re so sexy.” I groan at her words. She’s not much of a talker during sex, that’s more my thing. But I think she knows how desperately I need that connection right now. “You feel so good. So big and hard,” she sighs.

And I’m a goner.

I grab her thigh, hiking it up over my hip, spreading her wide, and fuck her with fast, brutal strokes. She keeps chanting in my ear, yes and more and harder, Peeta. I bite her neck, not quite hard enough to mark but hard enough to make her swear. Her pussy flutters around me, an unexpected second orgasm that sends me hurtling into the abyss. I come with a shout, my cock pulsing, my ass muscles tensed, every inch of my body on fire.

We lie panting in the darkness, kissing and caressing, loving each other. “I needed that,” she laughs as she pulls away, fumbling for the edges of the sleeping bag, wrapping them haphazardly around us. I know it’s not very late, probably not even ten yet, and I want desperately to lie awake, cuddled together and whispering in the darkness. But after months of having no days off, another in a string of obscenely early mornings and the hike to get here conspire against me, and I drift off to sleep almost the moment her soft body again settles against me.

—

When my eyes pop open, it’s later than I usually awaken, but not by much. The sun isn’t up, but there’s a little bit of thin grey light seeping through the tent. It’s neither my alarm, nor habit that has me awake pre-dawn on the one day in more than three months I could have slept in.

It’s Katniss.

More specifically, it’s my gorgeous girlfriend kissing a path down my body, her lips soft and warm against my chilled skin. “Fuck,” I groan as she bites that spot where my leg connects to my groin, a place she knows I’m sensitive. She laughs.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says, and I’d laugh at the absurdity of that if she wasn’t gazing at me from between my legs, her words ghosting across my hard cock.

“It certainly is,” I murmur, and she laughs.

Unlike last night, I can see her every expression as she teases me, pressing wet kisses to my shaft, using the tip of her tongue to tickle my crown. Can see the love that shines from her eyes, and the pleasure she gets from driving me to the edge. I cup her beautiful face in my hand, and she smiles. That smile feels even better than what she’s doing to my dick.

And what she’s doing to my dick is utterly amazing. She draws the tip of me into the heat of her mouth and I can’t hold back my groan of pleasure. Her small, soft hands grip what doesn’t fit in her mouth, stroking just firmly enough to make me crazy, but not quite enough to make me come. Over and over, alternating firm suction with fleeting licks, kissing and tasting and even grazing me oh so lightly with her teeth. Sweat beads on my forehead as I fight the primal urge to thrust upward, to speed her pace. I know she can tell that she has my control in tatters.

Her own control is being tested too, she shifts and squirms and sighs, and I know she’s almost as aroused as I am. “Come here,” I growl, tugging gently on her wrist.

Little minx that she is, she shakes her head and then sucks harder. I arch helplessly. “Please, Katniss,” I beg. “I want you.”

She releases my cock with a soft pop. “I’m yours,” she whispers, silver eyes shining. She slides sinuously back up my body, rubbing her wet pussy against my aching shaft, and I moan. I’m so close to the edge, so primed to explode. She takes pity on me, reaching back, grabbing my cock and notching it in position. I howl as she sinks down, surrounding me in the hottest, tightest prison. 

Her lean thighs flex and she starts to ride me, slowly, pleasure written all over her gorgeous face. I reach for the tie at the end of her braid, slipping it free then unravelling the raven mass with gentle fingers, until her hair floats in rumpled waves around her like a corona. She smiles indulgently. I love her hair, love to sift my fingers through it, love to see it curtaining us when we make love.

I slide my hands all over her body, everywhere I can reach, caressing the gentle curves that were hidden in the darkness last night. Strong thighs and smooth ass, tiny waist and perfect apple tits that sway as she rocks against me. “You are so beautiful,” I murmur. “So incredibly beautiful. I’m so lucky.”

She leans forward, hands bracketing my head, making her hair spill around us, brush against my chest, envelop us in a cloud of lavender and woodsmoke. I cup the back of her neck, pulling her down further to kiss her, and she makes little mewling cries against my lips. I can’t last; her sounds, her scent, the silken vise of her pussy gripping me, it’s too much. 

I wedge my hand between us, finding her clit, swollen and wet with her arousal. I strum it, and she tenses around me, pulling her lips from mine to gasp, a broken wail of pleasure.

And my restraint is gone.

Katniss tucks her face against my throat as I lever my hips upward, pumping into her hard and fast, one hand still cupped around her nape, the other circling her clit firmly. The reverent predawn silence is broken only by our panting breaths and the slapping of flesh against flesh. She whimpers my name, then murmurs “I love you,” against my throat and I come, shuddering and groaning, filling her with pulse after pulse. She follows me just a heartbeat later, her cry almost a scream and the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I cradle her against my chest, pressing kisses to her hair while my breathing calms. She’s sweaty and disheveled, completely magnificent. “I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now and live in it forever,” I whisper.

Katniss lifts her head to look at me. Usually, when I get too sentimental, she rolls her eyes or gets uncomfortable. Today, she simply smiles. “We have so many more good moments ahead of us, Peeta,” she says softly.

She’s right. We do.

She only lets us tarry in bed a few moments longer, then sits up and pulls my t-shirt from last night over her head. “Come on,” she says. And of course I do.

We pad towards the lake, hand in hand, me in boxers, her in only my shirt, though it’s practically a dress on her. It’s not quite warm out yet, but I don’t feel even a speck of discomfort. “Are we going fishing?” I ask. I enjoyed the fish well enough last night, but I’m not sure how I feel about fish for breakfast.

She laughs. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Katniss laugh as much as she has the past twenty hours or so. “Not just yet,” she says.

We emerge from the tree cover to the shore, and I stop dead in my tracks. The forest had obscured the sky from me; here in the open, it’s a masterpiece. Glowing gold and muted orange, streaked with pink, the sunrise has painted not only the sky, but the mirror-like surface of the small lake as well. It’s hands down the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Or the second most beautiful, actually. “You like?” Katniss asks, her tone smug, but also just a little bit tentative. I tear my eyes away from the splendor of nature to gaze at the love of my life. She’s chewing her lip, the rising sun burnishing her skin, crowning her in gold.

I can only gasp her name, overcome by awe. She pulls my hand to her lips, kissing my knuckles. “Come on,” she whispers again, and leads me through the shallows to the flat rock we’d fished from yesterday.

She sits between my knees, her back flush against my chest, my arms wrapped around her collarbones, and we keep each other warm as we watch the shifting colour show play out before us. The artist inside me, the part of me beaten down by life and familial expectations, roars to life. I try to commit every bit of the spectacle before me to memory, aching to capture it in pastels, or even in oil paints. Though I’m awake long before dawn every single day, I can’t remember the last time I watched the sun rise. The bakery kitchen is all but windowless, and I haven’t had a day off since before Dad’s stroke. I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything together for him that I’ve forgotten the simple pleasure of taking ten minutes to watch the sun paint the sky in fire. 

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass in silence. The sun clears the horizon, streaking the water with platinum.  Waterfowl float lazily by. Emotion clogs my throat, burns my nose. I have no doubt this is exactly the reason Katniss brought me here. Not to relive her past, not to enjoy the outdoors the way she hasn’t been able to lately, but to give me this perfect moment in time, this peaceful easy feeling, surrounded by beauty, far removed from all of the stress. It was never about Gale. It was always about me. 

There’s only a hint of pink edging the fluffy clouds when she turns to face me. She traces my face with gentle fingers. “There you are,” she says. I raise a brow, and she shrugs, smoothing her fingers across my forehead. “You’ve been so stressed out,” she says. “It’s nice to see the worry lines gone.” 

“Are you calling me a wrinkled old man?” I grin. I know she’s not. She shakes her head at me, but doesn’t let me joke away her concern.

“You can’t keep going the way you have been,” she says. 

“What choice do I have though?” I know she’s right, but it’ll be months yet before my dad can come back to work. He’s improving, day by day, regaining his speech and mobility. Doing better than we’d hoped in those first dark days. But it’s a long road.

“Your mother is taking advantage of you.” Her words are quiet, tentative. But while she’s voicing a thought I’ve had myself, many times over, I feel compelled to defend Mother. Katniss doesn’t let me, shushing me as soon as I open my mouth. “You dad never worked seven days a week. He always had someone to help. You’re shouldering everything.”

“I know,” I sigh, and I do. Dad had not only me, but a full time manager in addition to his part time staff. But Mother fired Dalton while Dad was still in the ICU, somehow convinced that he was too expensive, though Dad paid him a fair wage, not an extravagance. Without his expertise, I’m working just to keep the bakery in business at this point, running myself absolutely ragged not only doing everything, but doing things I’m not even very good at, like ordering and keeping the ledgers. I haven’t had time to even think about looking for a replacement. And telling Mother that we need help invariably leads to more of her complaining that they paid for my fancy business degree - the one I didn’t want - for this very reason. So that I could run the bakery. And how could I possibly betray them now?

“Your dad doesn’t know, does he? That she’s working you to death.” I shake my head. I can’t even argue with her phrasing. “He needs to know.”

“I don’t want to stress him out,” I tell her. “He has enough to deal with right now.”

“He can handle the truth, Peeta. He wants to know what’s going on. He’s worried about you, about why you look so miserable.” Katniss visits my dad more often than I do, between the hours I keep and the exhaustion that has me asleep before 9 every night, I’m barely getting to the rehab centre twice a week, and I’m crappy company when I am there.

“I don’t want to make things worse with Mother,” I admit. It’s already hard enough living with her without Dad as a buffer. I can’t imagine the hell that would result from talking to Dad about her interference. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Katniss says after a pause. “What if you weren’t living with your mother any more?”

I nod, it would make life easier for certain. “I know I need a place of my own,” I admit. “But I can’t afford it.” It hurts to tell her that, I should be able to take care of myself, I’m 23 after all. But the salary I draw from the bakery isn’t fantastic, and a big enough chunk of it goes to Mother for rent that I feel like I’ll never climb out of this hole.

“We could afford it, if we did it together.” Her voice shakes a little. 

“You want to live together?” I hope that’s what she means, not that she wants to give me charity or something. But she nods solemnly. 

“Yeah, I mean, if you do.” She sighs and turns away, looking over the water. “It’s the logical next step.”

I don’t give a shit about logic. I catch her cheek, turning her back to face me again. “But is it what you want, Katniss?” I can’t risk this not being for the right reasons. I want real. 

“Yes.” She searches my face, and when I break out into a huge, shit-eating grin her expression softens. “I want more days like this with you,” she admits. 

“I’ll still be working stupid hours,” I remind her. I trust my dad will insist we hire a new manager once he finds out what Mother has been doing. But the bakery is in my blood and early mornings are par for the course. 

“I know,” she says. “But I want to crawl into bed every night with you, even if it’s not quite dark outside.” I snicker, and she grins at me. “I want to build a life together, Peeta. And I want to start now.”

My whoop startles the ducks milling around the lake’s edge as I scoop Katniss onto my lap and kiss her until she’s squirming and laughing against my lips. 

We decide the big flat rock is a great place to make love after all, with the sun beating on my back and the granite scraping our knees and our passion echoing across the water. 

We swim a little, and eat packets of instant oatmeal instead of breakfast fish. Then we crawl back into our sleeping bag and chat about our future all cuddled up together, just like I’d longed to do last night. 

And though my boots are still uncomfortable as hell, the hike back to my car is far more pleasant. Accompanied by Katniss’s smoky bourbon impression of the Eagles, I’m filled with hope for our future, and with a peace I haven’t felt in forever. All thanks to the beauty by my side who insisted on taking me camping. 

[hockeylvr59]

Life Changes Part 5 || Paul Bissonnette

Summary: It’s crazy how quickly your life can change...one minute you’re a struggling personal injury lawyer and the next you’re working for one of the hottest sports podcasts to supplement your income. A new job and the end of a long-term relationship was just the beginning for Leigh Thompson when it comes to life changes. Thankfully she has the one and only Paul Bissonnette at her side to help her handle them all. 

Authors Note: I have finally finished my rewrite!!! *Cue happy dance* While previous parts had an hundred words added here, four hundred added there....I basically doubled the length of what this was previously. You can expect multiple fluffy parts and as before I swear Paul will physically be in the next part. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4,541 (plus all the added image content)

“Will it be easy? Nope. Worth it? Absolutely.” 

The rest of my trip to Arizona was filled with more morning sickness, more tears, and more emotional uncertainty. I had tried sleeping in the guest bedroom again the night after ending up in Paul’s bed after finding out I was pregnant, but it only led to tossing and turning. Just like he’d noticed something was wrong with me being sick, Paul also noticed that I clearly hadn’t slept so after that he’d insisted that I stay in his bed with him so he could hold me, allowing me to actually feel calm enough for sleep to come. 

Though I had initially protested because I was worried it would cross the lines of friends and coworkers, he assured me that his intentions were purely platonic and that he just wanted me to get the sleep my body needed to function and to support the little one growing inside me. My agreement was tentative, but when his actions fully supported his words, I found myself eager to steal as much comfort from his presence and touch as I could. The fact that his body was warm and I had always run cold certainly didn’t hurt either.

I wasn’t ready for my week in Arizona with Paul to come to an end, but the morning of my flight arrived and I found myself reluctantly boarding the plane back east. Returning home meant losing Paul’s physical comfort and support but not once did I lose the emotional, and some days it felt like he was the only thing getting me through. There were nights where I couldn’t fall asleep if I didn’t have his voice speaking softly in my ear. Sometimes it was the podcast or his radio broadcast for Arizona but if I was lucky, he’d call and just talk to me about random things until I would drift off to sleep. While we had texted frequently before I went to Arizona, our conversations were now constant. He was always quick with a supportive pick-me-up or with a joke that never failed to make me smile. At a time where so much was change occurring in my life and my brain was struggling to adapt, he was a constant that steadied me and reminded me that I could handle everything that was coming my way. He had become an unexpected friend, but one that I desperately needed. 

Slowly over the next few weeks, I acclimated to the knowledge that I was expecting a child, that I was going to be a single mother, and I did my best to begin planning for the changes I would need to make. 

One of the first things I needed to do was to see an ob-gyn to make sure that everything was actually going okay with the pregnancy. An appointment soon after arriving home established that I was indeed pregnant, if there had been any doubt left, and I’d gotten to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. 

It was no surprise that I’d cried hearing it and when I sent Paul the little audio clip during our text conversation after the appointment, his response was once again everything I didn’t know that I needed to hear. 

The doctor had a rough guess of my due date based on my hormone levels and what I’d told her about the last time I’d had sex, but I was scheduled for an ultrasound mid-April in order to cement the timeframe for my pregnancy. I knew that I should tell my parents, that keeping this from them was probably a bad idea, but I convinced myself that it wouldn’t hurt to wait until I was certain I was out of the first trimester and that the baby was healthy. Considering that my mother and her cousin had both lost babies at the end of their pregnancies and that none of my mom’s successful pregnancies had been without some complication I felt justified in needing to keep this to myself until the risk of miscarriage decreased. I had shared my concerns with my doctor and with Paul and surprisingly he echoed my doctor’s statements that I was not my mother and that just because she had had complications didn’t mean that I would as well. 

____

Two weeks later, I had my first ultrasound and after leaving the doctor’s office I couldn’t stop staring at the photos. The doctor had assured me that the baby was perfectly healthy and its development was where it should be at 12 weeks along. Pure joy was the predominant emotion of the day and I couldn’t help but want to share that feeling with someone. Since Paul was the only person who knew about the baby aside from my doctor, I couldn’t help but take a picture of my sonogram and text it to him. 

Since he was currently in Toronto and had gone to the Leafs game the night before, I wasn’t expecting a response right away. So when my phone rang only about fifteen minutes after I’d sent the photo and Paul’s picture lit up the screen I couldn’t help but smile. 

“Hey.” I murmured in greeting, setting aside the mail I’d grabbed when I’d gotten home so that I could go curl up on my couch to talk to him. Instead of the greeting I expected on the other end of the line, I instead heard a sharp intake of breath. 

“Wow…that’s…that’s the baby?” He inquired, his tone hinting at wonderment. 

“Yeah, Paul. That’s the little human who has been making me sick for the past month. Pretty cool huh…I can’t stop staring at it.” 

“Yeah..no. I can see why Leigh. So everything’s okay?” He didn’t say it but his tone implied that he knew that I had been worried about the baby’s health and though the doctor had said everything seemed fine weeks ago, visual confirmation was reassuring. 

“Perfect. The baby is healthy, right where they should be development wise. The doctor would like me to get my stress levels down but understands why they’ve been up. Otherwise, I’m healthy too. All is good.” 

“Good. I’m glad. Did you find out your due date?” There was really no way to describe how much I loved that Paul seemed interested in my pregnancy. We were just friends but there was no doubt in my mind that I could go to him about anything and he would listen with no judgment. 

“Yeah. November 5th. Right before the holidays.” It was crazy how fast things seemed to be moving and I was sure that that date would be here before I knew it. 

“That seems so far away but it’s really not.” Again it was like Paul could read my mind and I giggled softly, pressing a palm to my stomach. 

“I know.” Closing my eyes for a moment I yawned softly. “So you’ve been busy in Toronto. Having a good time?” 

Listening to Paul talk about his visit to his parents and his upcoming flight to Vancouver to close on a house made me smile, more occasional yawns escaping my mouth. 

“Hey… you sound tired. Why don’t you and the dustbunny go lay down for a nap?” It took my mind a moment to process that he had just nicknamed the baby and my face crinkled curiously. 

“Dustbunny?” I questioned softly. “Why is my baby a dustbunny Paul?” Teasing affection laced my voice as I waited for an explanation. Though I couldn’t see him, I felt like if I could he would certainly be running his fingers across his scalp with an  embarrassed expression on his face. 

“Are you really going to make me explain my nickname for your child?” He mumbled and I quickly nodded before it processed that he couldn’t see me either. 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“Fine. I don’t know. A Duster…a duster is a guy that sits on the bench a lot collecting dust during games. Which I kind of was.” I could kind of see where he was going with this but kept quiet wanting to see what he’d say. “And you know...I kinda knew about the baby before anyone else so I’m a little attached okay, and so when I started thinking about what I wanted to call the baby that’s what popped into my head and I don’t know...I kinda like it.” 

The fact that he had actually thought about a nickname for the baby instead of just calling it an ‘it’ or ‘baby’ or something like ‘peanut’ made me smile and the fact that what he came up with was attached to him in a way made it even better. It was adorable. 

“That’s really cute. I suppose you can call the baby that and I’m okay with it.” My voice was moist, as it didn’t take too much to make me emotional these days. 

“I’m glad you approve.” He replied, slight sarcasm lingering in the words. “Now go take the dustbunny and lay down for a nap. Doctor says you’re stressing too much so go take it easy. Biz’s orders.” 

“Alright fine. I will. Once I stop staring at the pictures of the baby.” Again if I could see him he would totally be rolling his eyes at me and as I hung up, I couldn’t help but smile at the conversation we’d just had. 

“Guess you’ve got your first nickname little one. You’re a little dustbunny.” 

_______

It was the Thursday before Mother’s Day weekend and I was driving back to my parents’ house because my middle sister was graduating high school on Saturday. Every mile driven was another mile closer to having to tell my parents that I was having a baby. I was already fifteen weeks pregnant and my bump was becoming more and more obvious every day. And now that I was out of the first trimester, my excuse for keeping the news a secret had disappeared. 

But knowing that I had to tell my family, and that it was time didn’t mean that I wasn’t freaking out. Part of me felt silly for being so nervous because yes I was single, but I had a graduate degree and two solid jobs; when my parents had me they had been half a decade younger, unmarried, and had just barely graduated with undergraduate degrees. I was in a much better position than they had been and yet I still worried about what they’d think about the fact that my baby’s father was never going to be in the picture. 

After stopping for lunch and gas, I climbed back into my car and just sat there trying to calm the nerves that were building inside me. Almost like he knew I needed him, my phone rang with Paul’s picture appearing and I answered softly, the hitch in my breath alerting him to my distress as always. There was something about hearing his voice that was immediately calming and I closed my eyes for a moment just listening to him telling me to breathe and counting softly until I was finally able to push away some of the anxiety that was creeping into my mind. Deciding that I was of sound enough mind to start driving again, I put Paul on speaker through my car’s sound system. 

“So hey…” Paul started, his tone changing a bit from consoling me to trying to provide a distraction so that I didn’t end up drowning in my own mind again. “I was bored on my flight to Vancouver yesterday and I ended up googling some stuff you’ll find pretty cool. Dustbunny is currently the size of a pear. That’s still pretty fucking tiny but I know he or she still has lots of time to keep growing.” I had an app on my phone that told me this kind of thing every week but his attempt at distraction was working and I was amused by the fact that he had researched this of all things on his flight yesterday. 

“Dustbunny also has see-through skin which is weird but awesome and it’s made even cooler by the fact that he or she finally has bones that are becoming hard and can be seen on xray.” The awe that laced Paul’s voice had my smile widening and I couldn’t help but think that even though my baby didn’t have a dad, they had an awesome Uncle Paul and that made him or her pretty lucky. 

“Also...dustbunny’s ears and eyes are finally almost where they should be on his or her head which is good because otherwise I’d have to beat up a bunch of kids for teasing them and I figure that’s probably frowned upon.” He was so matter of fact with the statement of protection that I felt a chuckle slipping from my throat and when he spoke again it was obvious he’d heard it and was now smiling. “And you haven’t mentioned feeling the baby yet, but I read that little dustbunny is moving around in there like crazy, kicking and moving his or her arms and legs, practicing so that he or she can become an awesome hockey player like their favorite uncle.” 

It was then that Paul transitioned from what he’d read about the baby’s development to all of the things he wanted to teach them when they finally arrived. The conversation between the two of us continued…well he did most of the talking and I mostly listened...until I was pulling off the exit ramp in my hometown. Paul must have realized I was almost home when I cracked the windows for a bit of fresh air now that I was on back roads because he stopped mid-sentence and spoke my name softly. 

“Hey...just so you know, it’s all gonna be fine. I know you’re nervous but your parents love you and they’re gonna have your back. Plus you’ve said you’re fairly sure your sisters are going to be excited so if nothing else, just focus on that.” He declared and I took a deep breath, nodding to myself. “And you know you can call me whenever. I’m just a few taps on a screen away.” 

________

Upon arriving home, my middle sister, Amanda, let me inside pulling me into a hug and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking about her plans now that she was finally done with her primary education. Shortly after, my baby sister Taylor, and mom arrived home and when I hugged the latter I prayed that she wouldn’t notice the baby bump sticking from my front. With so much to prepare before more family drove out tomorrow, the four of us set to work in the kitchen, preparing as much of the food for the weekend as we could ahead of time. 

As long as I kept myself busy, it was easy to pretend that I wasn’t about to drop a bombshell on my family. But eventually my dad arrived home from work and we sat down in the living room to eat dinner and watch whatever game show was on tv. I knew that I needed to eat but now that I had stopped moving my stomach was flopping back and forth with nerves. As they all wrapped up eating, I set my still half-full plate aside and bit my lip for a moment. 

“Can I talk to you guys about something for a minute?” I found that as soon as the words came out in a whisper that I had the full attention of everyone else in the room. With my mom looking to my dad to mute the TV, she murmured that of course I could and instantly all the feelings I had bottled up caused tears to prick at my eyes. 

“So um ...your first grandbaby slash niece or nephew is going to be here by Thanksgiving this year.” The silence was overwhelming and I found myself unable to meet the gaze of anyone in the room. 

“Are you pregnant?” It was Taylor that asked the million dollar question and when I simply nodded she squealed before dashing around the couch to hug me. Neither of my parents said a word for a long moment and I swallowed hard awaiting their reaction. 

“How?” The question that left my mom’s mouth wasn’t the most appropriate one because I knew that she obviously knew the answer to that, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here. When further questions of ‘how far along I was’ and ‘where was the father’ came forth I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, one hand falling to my stomach. 

“I’m fifteen weeks...and he’s not in the picture.” Though my mother masked her anger well, I could tell that she was upset so after taking a sip of water to clear my throat I continued. “I...I didn’t know how to tell you. I….I didn’t take the news so well myself at first and by the time I adjusted I had myself so worked up over everything that I decided to wait until I was out of the first trimester before I told anyone.” By this point, Amanda had shifted across the couch and was rubbing my back gently as I attempted to explain myself.

“But the baby and I are healthy. And we’re gonna be okay. I just hope you guys can support me through this because I really need you.” Wrapped in the arms of both my sisters, I let myself cry for a moment. I had counted on them being the fastest to adapt because I was their big sister and not viewed in the same light as I was by my parents. “As for baby’s dad...I’ll be honest with you. The story the world is going to hear is that he was a one night stand and I don’t know who he is; because that’s just easier. The truth...the truth is that we were together for eight months before he broke up with me and I have no plans on telling him about the baby. I know you might think that’s wrong but shortly after he ended things I found out that he’d been cheating on his long-time girlfriend with me and that they’re now married. I am not putting my baby through the hassle of a split home and custody issues when I can do this by myself. He did nothing but lie to me and I don’t want my baby around him.” 

Finishing my spiel, I realized that my father was no longer in the room and I held my breath trying not to assume the worst from that fact. My mother was silent before eventually coming over, pulling me to my feet, and giving me a hug. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom sweetheart. I’ve never had any doubts about that.” That validation from her was exactly what I needed and I sunk into her embrace feeling more of the tension I’d been holding in leave. “I just wish you hadn’t waited so long to tell me...I hate that you’ve been dealing with this on your own for months.” After a moment, I pulled back just a bit and sighed. 

“I uh...technically there’s one person that knows besides my doctor. I was visiting one of my coworkers and he’s actually the one that figured out I was pregnant. So he knows and has talked me down from the ledge a few times, he’s been a really good friend.” Surprisingly, my mother seemed okay with that and just held me close for a few minutes, her fingers carding through my hair drawing most of the remaining tension from my body. Eventually though, Taylor spoke up again, her tone full of excitement. 

“Well..do you have any pictures of the baby?” She asked and I found myself laughing at her eagerness as I nodded. 

“Of course I do. I also have a recording of the baby’s heartbeat.” From the moment I played the audio for the first time and pulled up the set of ultrasound pictures on my phone I knew that at least most of my family was on my side. Showing off my growing baby bump and hearing their reactions as to how cute it was lifted my spirits even further. 

It wasn’t until I stepped into the kitchen a little while later to get more water that I truly got my father’s reaction. Part of me was surprised when he tapped my shoulder before wrapping me in another hug where he mumbled that he loves me and was there for whatever I needed. Overall, the conversation with my parents and sisters had gone for the most part how I’d expected and hoped that it would. Unsurprisingly, there was a bit of disappointment at the situation, but once everyone got past that initial reaction it was clear that I had their support and that this baby was going to be very loved. As I snuggled up on the sofa bed to sleep that night, I texted Paul just to let him know that everything was okay and to thank him for earlier. 

______

The arrival of extended family for Amanda’s graduation made me nervous. It was another group of people I needed to tell that I was expecting and another group of people whose reactions I wasn’t certain of. Unsure of how to break the news and wanting the weekend to be about my sister, I kept quiet both Friday and Saturday, just enjoying the time I had with my family. 

On Sunday morning, my mom was hosting a big brunch for everyone to celebrate my sister’s graduation as well as Mother’s Day. Getting up early, I hopped in the shower before getting dressed in a pair of shorts and a flowy blouse which would once again hide my bump. My grandmother was already in the kitchen with my mom while Taylor and my dad set up the backyard so that there was room for people to sit. It wasn’t more than two minutes after I’d stepped into the kitchen offering to help that Amanda came into the room carrying a bouquet of flowers. 

The flowers took me by surprise because my mom already had the bouquet from my dad in a vase on the counter, so I wasn’t sure where these came from or who they were for. After all, the house was going to be full of women today who were moms and could be getting flowers delivered. Setting the flowers down, Amanda handed me the card that was inside them and seeing my name on the front of the envelope I opened it, slipping the card out. 

Inside the card was a slip of paper which listed the flowers as anemones and explained that they represented anticipation and protection. 

Reading the card to myself twice I couldn’t help but start crying, the gesture meaning more than I could explain. The flowers were absolutely perfect and the fact that he sent something so fitting sent a chill down my spine. Amanda sent me a smile as I excused myself for a moment, needing to pull myself together. 

By the time I’d returned to the kitchen, card securely tucked into my pocket, more of my family had arrived and were chatting in the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of orange juice I listened as my aunt commented on the flowers and how different and pretty they were to my mother, believing they had been sent for her. 

Quickly my mother pointed out her own mother’s day bouquet and my aunt then questioned whether they had been delivered for Amanda’s graduation. When my sister shook her head everyone looked around curiously and after a nod of encouragement from both my mom and sister I spoke up. 

“They were delivered for me.” I explained, a soft blush gracing my cheeks. “A friend sent them for Mother's Day,” I added, watching as everyone’s faces started to shift processing the implications of my words. 

“You’re pregnant?” It was a family friend who was like an aunt to me that asked the question, and the excitement in her tone forced a beaming smile onto my face. 

“Yeah. I’m pregnant.” I admitted causing the room to burst with a mixture of excitement, disbelief, and concern. Accepting some hugs I tried not to let my emotions become too much. Addressing the more reserved members of my family I spoke as confidently as I could manage. 

“This wasn’t planned and no the father isn’t in the picture. But that’s okay, I’ve made my peace with it and I know it won’t be easy, trust me it has been anything but so far, but I’m excited, I already love this baby so much.” 

After a moment, the rest of my family seemed to come to terms with the announcement and I was pulled into more hugs, causing me to tear up while laughing to myself softly. 

My grandmother was the first to ask if I had any pictures. Nodding, I smiled and opened my phone to show off my baby’s first ultrasound photos. Everyone wanted to know how far along I was and seemed shocked when I admitted that I was almost sixteen weeks along. 

After about fifteen minutes of baby talk, it was my cousin that moved the conversation back to the flowers in a way, asking about who had sent them. 

“Just a friend and one of the guys I work on the podcast with.” I stated softly. I knew that everyone would wonder how many people knew before they did and so I answered the question before it was asked. “He’s the only one besides the people in this house that knows. He was with me when I found out. Actually, he suspected that I was pregnant and insisted on taking me to the doctor. He’s kept me from losing my mind as I processed the news.” 

“And the card?” Laughing, I pulled the card from my pocket, reading it aloud. Everyone was impressed by the fact that he even put the effort in to pick out something beyond the standard carnation and when I explained what the flowers were supposed to mean they ‘awe’d’ commenting on how fitting that was. As expected the next question was about the term dustbunny and I shook my head declaring that there wasn’t really an explanation for it other than that it was hockey lingo that he’d adapted into a nickname for the baby. I mentioned that it was something I loved because it was different and personal and unique to my baby given to it by someone who had been in our corner from the start. 

Now that the news was out there, I couldn’t help but feel relieved that my baby was no longer a secret. It was the perfect way to spend my first Mother's Day and I couldn’t help but be grateful that Paul made it so easy to share the news by providing a natural transition into the subject. 

Somehow he made everything easier and I was so grateful to have him in my life. 

Social Media Updates: 

[mf-despair-queen]

Wishes Do Come True - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Summary: Dylan doesn’t expect all of his birthday wishes to come true when he is away from his girlfriend filming. But, they do and he couldn’t be happier.

Word Count: 14,778

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (both receiving), Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Make Outs, Romantic Hand Holding, Boob Job, Side Sex, Choking, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Bath Sex, Face Riding, Cowgirl, Doggy

Notes: Two days and 15k later. Happy 27th Birthday to our dearest Dylan O’Brien. I hope he’s been having the best birthday ever. And this, naturally goes toward’s @brien-odylan‘s Dylan Birthday Week. Hope y’all enjoy! Thanks to her, @roscoeknows and @lara-stilinski for lurking and helping develop the plot!

“I’m glad you guys are having fun filming. I’m sorry I can’t be there to support you and distract you like normal, Dyl. You know how work can be.”

Dylan let out an inaudible sigh into his phone, running a hand through his greased from sweat hair. His jacket scrunched up against his shoulders as he slunk deeper into his seat, beginning to dread the call he had made. His stomach churned with unhappiness, the sense of yearning he had unquenchable. He anxiously bit at his thumb nail, his eyes glued to the ground.

“Baby, it’s fine. You know you don’t have to be sorry. I can’t expect you to travel everywhere with me when I’m working. You have a job and you have to pay your rent, even though I told you to come live with me. You know I wish I could see your face every day. You know I miss you more than anything, almost as much as my Mets,” he chuckled solemnly. “But I get it. It’s nice hearing your voice though, especially when it’s super early for you.”

“It’s eight AM. It’s not that early.”

“It’s Saturday. You should be sleeping in, not talking to my sorry ass,” he teased. He smiled when he heard your giggle.

“I like talking to your sorry ass though. It’s a fine little ass and I love it very much. Just like I love you.”

The confession made Dylan’s heart stop, the frown coming again. “I love you too,” he whispered, fighting back a sniffle. “Fuck, I miss you so much, Y/N. It’s just not the same here without you. I miss seeing your face every day.”

“I know, Dyl. You know I miss you too. The bed is lonely without you.”

Dylan chuckled to himself, wiping at his eyes. He knew he was ready to cry and was battling not to. “Too bad you couldn’t come down for my birthday tomorrow.”

“I wish I could have. But Mr. Hartford wants me in the office first thing in the morning. We have that article to finish and he’s getting antsy about it.”

“You should have told him no,” Dylan grumbled. “Get someone else to do it.”

“But if I want that promotion-”

“I know, I know.”

“I promise we will do something when you come back, Dylie. We’ll go to a Mets game or to your favorite club. Whatever you want,” you told him. “I know you have a few more weeks, but we will do something the second you are back.”

“Alright,” he sighed, licking his lips. He glanced up to see the scene finishing, Kaya walking off set. “I have to go. They finished the scene they were filming so I’m probably gonna be needed. You know they can’t do anything without me.”

You laughed, imagining the smirk he held. “Ok, cocky asshole.”

“Hurtful!” he whined. “But seriously, I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sending you lots of hugs and kisses. And I will give you a call tomorrow to wish you happy birthday.”

“You should do more than just call,” he implied, biting his lip. “I’d love to see you. In… multiple ways.”

“We’ll see. I have a plan for you, birthday boy. Don’t work too hard, alright?”

He heard you yawn, shaking his head. “I won’t. Get some rest, angel.”

“Bye, Dylie.”

“Bye.”

Dylan ended the call, dropping his phone with his stuff beside his chair. He let out a louder sigh this time, ruffling his hair. Being away from home for so long was stressful, especially when your loved ones are back in Los Angeles while he sat working in South Africa. He enjoyed his work and what he had seen of the country, but he was missing affection and love. Being away from you, his girlfriend of four years, made him depressed. And seeing as his birthday was tomorrow, August twenty-sixth, he had wished you would be able to come out to spend time with him. That was until you dejectedly spilled the news to him about work. You also told him that funds were tight, though he offered to pay for your ticket. Your stubborn attitude didn’t let him, naturally.

He felt alone. Sure, Dylan had his castmates. They were his second or third family outside his own family and the Teen Wolf family, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to feel your constant, warming love surrounding him. He wanted to spend much deserved time with you since you had barely been able to see each other as of late. And he definitely wanted to indulge in a heaping helping of birthday sex where you rode him like a cowgirl, getting drunk on your kisses while his hands roamed every inch of your body. He wanted the things he could only share with you, but they were things he wouldn’t get this year.

Dylan wiped his eyes dry on his way towards the set, draping his arm around Kaya. “So. What scene is next?”

“None,” Wes told them all before anyone could answer. Dylan’s brow rose, jaw dropping in question. He glanced at a nearby camera that held the time, seeing it was barely after five pm.

“But don’t we have more to film? We had to do those retakes the other day-”

“We’re fine, Dylan,” Wes told the young man. He gave Dylan’s shoulder a firm pat. “We’re right on schedule. Ahead, actually. So, going home early isn’t an issue at all. Get some rest and be ready for tomorrow.”

“Oh ya. I love working on my birthday,” Dylan told him sarcastically, sticking his tongue out in amusement. “But you’re sure that we’re ok to head back now?”

“Of course,” Wes said.

“Come on, mate,” Thomas laughed, leaning on Dylan’s shoulder. “Don’t argue. It’s an early night off. We can head back to the hotel, order take out, take a hot shower, and sleep earlier!”

“I could definitely go for a good night of sleep,” Dylan hummed. He rolled his neck, shrugging his shoulders to ease the tension that had built up in them. “Well, we will see you tomorrow then, Wes.”

“Sounds good,” the director chimed. Before the cast walked away, he called out one last thing. “And happy birthday, Dylan!”

Dylan’s forehead scrunched together, but he thanked his boss nonetheless. He didn’t understand the point in wishing him a happy birthday now when he could easily do it the next day, but he wouldn’t dismiss the kind gesture.

Dylan ended up keeping to himself the entire way back to hotel, the heartache beginning to seep deeper. The others all talked happily, yet he sat quietly, lost his the sea of his thoughts. When the car dropped them off, he was quick to decline on the offer for chinese take out, telling everyone that he was just going to shower and sleep earlier. No one questions, but they gave sad looks to the man, sympathizing with the actor’s predicament. They watched him hurry into the hotel, making a beeline for the elevator without acknowledging anyone.

After an hour, Dylan had crash onto his hotel bed, freshly showered and not sweaty. The smell of mint and strawberry lingered in the room, the steam from his searing hot shower still wafting through the air. He took extra long under the rain shower just to relax and to clear his thoughts, though the latter didn’t happen. He barely managed to pull on a pair of shorts afterwards, feeling physically and emotionally drained from his constant anxiety and depression.

He grabbed his phone from the table, clicking it on to see the picture on his lockscreen. It was a black and white filtered photo of you both during a day at the pool. You both had confined yourselves to the jacuzzi, Posey cracking up that his OTP was having alone time. Your arms were around his neck, the actor pulling you into his side. His eyes were hidden by his Raybans and yours were shut tightly, your lips pressed to his scruffy cheek happily. When he unlocked his phone, you were inside as well, curled up on the couch in his California home in nothing but a Mets sweater that hid your shorts and thigh high socks. Your face was nearly hidden in your knees, one eye poking out and the corner of your smile peering at him cheekily.

Seeing your face made him want to call you like nothing else. He was tempted to facetime you just so he could see your face. His finger hovered over the button before promptly locking his phone and dropping it beside him, pulling his pillow into his hold instead. He resisted the urge, knowing that you were sleeping again from the time difference. He turned on his TV to distract himself, minding some mindless comedy on Comedy Central to numb his mind too.

The ringing of his phone broke him from his thoughts, begrudgingly grabbing it from the duvet. He was skeptical as to why Thomas was calling him since he was only a few doors down, but he slid the green button to answer anyway, pressing it to his ear. “What?”

“Come here please. I need help with something.”

“Do I have to?” Dylan asked tiredly. He didn’t want to move. “Can’t you ask Ki Hong or something.”

“You’re the only person i can trust with this. Please, mate. I need you help.”

Dylan groaned. “Fine. Give me a second to find a shirt.”

“You’re the best. Thank you. I knew I could count on you!” Thomas mused before hanging up.

Dylan hurriedly grabbed a black shirt from his suitcase, pocketing his phone and wallet that had his room key on his way out the door. He skirted down the hall to Thomas’ door, knocking loudly. No one answered the first time, Dylan growing increasingly frustrated. “Thomas?”

“Sorry, sorry!” his friend called on the other side of the door, opening it. The room behind him was dark, Dylan growing cautious. “I’m glad you could come. I need your help.”

“I’m here to help,” Dylan murmured sarcastically. He stepped in, the door shutting behind them. The men were engulfed in complete darkness. “Why are the lights off?”

“That’s what I need help with,” Thomas said. Dylan had to contain his scoff at the lame reasoning he was hearing. “I think my lights are out.”

“And you called me instead of housekeeping?” Dylan pondered aloud. Thomas only hummed in response. “Did you try the light switch?”

“There’s a switch?” Thomas asked.

“Seriously, dude?” Dylan asked again. He stumbled forward, cursing when he kicked a suitcase and the ironing board, tripping over Thomas’ shoes. “It’s right here. Somewhere.”

His fingers brushed the switch, hearing it click when he pressed it. The lights in the room flickered on, Dylan freezing when he was welcomed with a booming “Surprise!” Almost falling over in shock, he stared at his castmates - his Maze Runner family - that were sitting in Thomas’ room with trays of chicken, pasta and veggies, a case of beer on the table. Mario Kart was set up for nostalgia on the sixty inch tv. Some balloons were floating about, some streamers draping the walls while there was party confetti littering the tables around the food.

“W-what’s all of this?” he asked, peering around at his friends.

“We know you’ve been a bit down lately since Y/N couldn’t come and you aren’t seeing your family at all for your birthday. So, we thought we would try to cheer you up a bit by throwing you a birthday party early!” Will told him.

“We just want you to be happy, mate,” Thomas told him.

“We were planning to celebrate tomorrow, but this is better,” Ki Hong grinned.

“You guys didn’t have to do this for me,” Dylan muttered. “You know I hate celebrating my birthday.”

“Come on, Dyl,” Kaya whined. “Let’s have some fun.”

She pouted at the lead actor, making him chuckle. “Fine, fine. Crack me open a beer and decide who’s asses I’m going to kick in Mario Kart.”

“My man!” Ki Hong laughed.

Time flew by, Dylan beginning to lighten up. Alcohol was a godsend, his best friend at this time. It made his mind buzz and his strained body ease. His stomach was full and his hands hurt from the multiple rounds of Mario Kart that were played. Yet, his heart still felt empty with longing. All of the fun he was having, yet he wanted to share it with the one person that mattered most to him. You weren’t by his side to enjoy this with him, and that made him feel cold despite the warmth that came from the drinks, food and fun.

“I think it’s cake time!” Thomas said. Dylan stuck his tongue out.

“Guys, you know you didn’t have to get a cake.”

“What kind of birthday would it be without cake?” Will asked. “Come on, man. It’s chocolate with this Bailey’s frosting. It sounded superb.”

“I do like booy chocolate,” he chuckled. “Fine. One slice.”

“Oh no,” Rosa said, bringing it out and placing it on the table in front of him. “You have to blow out the candles. All twenty-seven of them.” She shook the pack of candles in her hand, popping it open to start placing them in.

“Oh God. You guys are crazy.”

He watched Rosa strategically place each candle, faintly hearing a phone go off behind him. He heard faint murmuring before Kaya spoke up. “Hey guys. It’s Ben so I’m going to go talk to him for a few. Go ahead with the cake. I’ll be back in a few. Leave the door cracked for me.”

“Got it.”

Dylan stayed put, watching as they finally started to light the candles. No one bothered to turn the lights down. They just broke into singing horribly to make the man laugh. When they finished, everyone around him began urging him to make a wish before blowing out the candles. Dylan didn’t to think hard on it. He knew exactly what he wanted. He had known for a while. So, even if it was pathetically unrealistic, he would still wish for it.

I wish Y/N could be here to celebrate my birthday with me.

With his focus on the cake and the wish he was making, he didn’t hear the door open and close and two - not one - set of footsteps approaching him slowly. Just as he blew out the candles, his world went dark, two hands covering his eyes. He blinked once, eyelashes fluttering against the person’s hands. He felt a pair of lips against his ear that felt both refreshing an scandalous, a shiver running up his spine.

“Guess who,” he heard.

He quickly snapped up from his seat, the hands falling from his face. He turned to fast for his buzzed mind, the world spinning and his body tumbling into the couch. But his eyes weren’t deceiving him. You were standing in front of him, giving your classic smile that made him melt. “Oh my God,” he mumbled.

“Hi Dyl,” you bemused cheerfully.

“Y/N,” he said. He rushed around the couch to face you fully, cupping your face. His thumbs rubbed your cheeks, getting a sense of reality. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“I’m here.”

“How? Why? What?” he rambled. “How is this possible? How are you here?”

“I’ve been here all day,” you told him. “I got in this morning and have been in Kaya’s room waiting for… well, this.”

“So, when I called you-”

“I was here.”

“But, I don’t get it. How are you here?” he asked.

“Well, I sort of lied about the work thing. I wasn’t lying about funds, but everyone pitched in to buy me a ticket to come visit for a few days,” you told him. His brow furrowed, lips puckering in dismay.

“You let them pay for a ticket but you won’t let your boyfriend?”

You giggled. “Dylan, they flew me out as a birthday surprise for you.”

“Oh…”

“Yes. Oh.”

His smile grew, tugging your face closer to his. “Well, I’m glad they did then,” he whispered. “They made my birthday wish come true.”

“Did they?”

“They sure did. I wished just now that you could be here to celebrate my birthday with me. And, here you are. My wish came true,” he hummed.

“That’s good then,” you told him, arms wrapping around him. “You deserve all your wishes to come true.”

He pulled you into a kiss, your body melting into his. Unfortunately, it was short lived, Ki Hong making a sour face. “Save that for your own time. Like tomorrow when I’m not around to puke on you.”

Dylan pulled away, glancing to his running friend. “Tomorrow? What are you talking about? We have work.”

“No, you don’t,” everyone said. Dylan blinked.

“What?”

“Wes agreed to give you tomorrow off to spend time with Y/N. His birthday gift to you,” Kaya said.

“Really?” Everyone nodded. “You guys did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “You’re family. We wanted to give you a nice birthday. And we knew this would be the best way to do that. You’ve been missing Y/N, so what better way to spend your birthday than sightseeing with your girlfriend?”

Dylan smiled. “Thanks guys. This really is a wish come true. You guys are the best.”

“You’re making me emotional,” Ki Hong faked. “Group hug!”

“Nope,” Dylan was quick to say, taking your hand. “We’re gonna head to bed. I appreciate everything you guys did, though. You are the best!”

“Be safe!” Ki Hong yelled.

“Happy birthday!” everyone else called, not bothering to fight the retreating man. They knew this would happen, but it was beyond understandable. The way Dylan smiled made the room radiate, his mood doing a full one-eighty. That was all they needed.

You laughed to yourself at Dylan eagerness, strutting into his room when he slammed the door, locking it. He looked out the peephole to make sure no one had followed from the party before backing into the room. When he turned around, he was met by your body, your form pressed solidly to his and your arms around his neck. Dylan sighed in contentment, resting his hands on your waist.

“Now, no one can disturb us,” he reminded you. His fingers danced against your waist, pushing up your tank top slightly. “So, you were saying before?”

“I was saying how much I love you and miss you,” you laughed. Dylan chuckled, knowing those words were never spoken, but he didn’t argue. He loved hearing them. You pushed up against him, your lips almost on his. “Happy birthday, Dylie.”

“I love you,” he said before pressing his lips to yours. The second they made connection, you melted in his arms. You pushed up desperately, trying to feel more of him, needing to feel his lips to yours. You pushed up harder than normal, the desire fueling your actions. The force from your push made him stumble backwards, his legs hitting the end of the bed. You both went toppling with short yelps, laughing when you realized what happened.

You laid on top of him, Dylan tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He gave a gentle smile, taking your chin in his hand and pulling you forward into a sensual kiss. You moaned instantly, tilting your head to mash your lips together better. It was slow to start, lips dragging against each other, disconnecting in subtle smacks that roamed the air around you. Your noses brushed with each kiss. Your hands threaded through his luscious locks and his tugged at your tank top.

You rolled around on the bed, the kissing growing into a more intense make out. Every roll of your bodies led to a piece of clothed shed from your skin, discarded precariously into the room. When you sat up together, Dylan on top, his shirt came off, yours following the next time you rolled over with you on top. His hips shimmied to wiggle free from his shorts, yours coming off much easier with Dylan’s skilled hands working on them.

Laying in just your underwear, you finally ended up in a single position with you straddling his hips, your lips feverishly attacking his. Lips parted so tongues could play, twisting together in a swirl of saliva. Your hips would roll into his, moaning into the smoldering kiss when his covered erection would roll against your core. The fabric you both wore impeded the connection you were trying to get to on instinct, only making you antsier and hornier. Your core ached and became moist, Dylan’s cock growing hard and straining against his underwear.

Dylan worked your bra off, tossing it behind you without breaking the kiss. His hands cupped your breasts, running the pads of his thumbs of the nipples. They were kneaded gently between his fingers, your moans growing more frequently and your rocking hips speeding up, digging deeper against him. Your nails scratched at his scalp, tugging at his chocolate locks.

“Dyl,” you murmured, pulling from the kiss. “Please. I need you. I need to feel you. God, it’s been too long.”

“Agreed,” he said, nodding at you. He placed another kiss to your lips, grinning widely. “God, I missed you. I’ve been dying to feel you in my arms again. I can’t wait to feel you.”

He rolled you onto your back, pulling off your cheekster panties. He scurried off the bed to rummage through his suitcase, finding the box of emergency condoms he brought with him. “Grab a couple,” you laughed, seeing Dylan’s eyes light up. The man came back with a small handful of the XL condoms, placing them on the table beside the bed. He pushed his boxers down to reveal his erect cock, tip red and shaft sticking straight out towards you. Dylan rolled the first condom on hastily, resuming his position on the bed over you, settled between your legs. You mewled in contentment when he slid through your folds a few times, getting the rubber lubricated.

“Ready?” he asked. You gave him a pointed look, Dylan chuckling. “I just wanted to make sure. I don’t just want to shove myself inside you and you aren’t ready for it.”

“I love how sweet you are,” you told him. “But, I need you inside me. Stop wasting time.”

“Temper, temper,” he teased.

The tip poked at your core once before he slid inside completely, bottoming out in one flawless motion. You moaned at the feeling, a smile forming on your face. You missed the feeling, suddenly feeling complete and full with him inside you. You missed how Dylan’s body would press to yours just as he did now, your limbs tangled together in a sea of twists and turns. You missed the way your hands molded together like they were meant to be, two jigsaw pieces linking together through laced fingers extended above your head. You missed the way he would kiss you whenever he got the chance, lips never leaving yours even as he began to thrust into you.

It was slow. It was tender. It was passionate. Every thrust of his hips so his shaft rubbed against your sensitive walls made you shiver and moan. Your body was burning and you saw fireworks popping behind him in an explosion of colors. His movements were somewhat calculated and not the way he normally would move, but you were enjoying everything regardless. Every emotion he had - every minute of you both missing each other - was conveyed and it was the focal point of the feelings you felt.

Sadly, the slow motion didn’t spur enough arousal for you. It only managed to turn you on more, your blood pumping with the plea for something else. You wanted to feel him pound you. You wanted to feel the adrenaline that came from sex with him. As much as you enjoyed the passionate sex with the man you loved, you wanted to get wild too. The need for ecstasy was uncontainable, making you want to feel the high you knew came with Dylan O’Brien.

“More,” you told him. His movements ceased for a second to stare into your eyes, seeing the lust that had formed with the need for release. That seemed to be the spark he needed, his eyes flashing a dark color and glistening with readiness. “Faster. Harder. Deeper. I love this passionate sex because I’m missed you, but it’s taking too long to please me. I need you, Dyl.”

“I can do that.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a fiercer kiss, his hips pulling back to slam harder into your core. Your moan was muffled, clenching his hands harder. The motions repeated, speeding up until he was rapidly pistoning into you, hitting the spots that always made you soar into the heavens. This was when he was able to hit your g-spot with every thrust, his hips clapping noisily against yours. Your hands disconnected so he could hold himself up, focusing on his powerful thrusts into you.

Even through the condom, he was sensitive. He would feel every inch of warmth and every moist drop you secreted. You loved the way your walls hugged his length, making his thrusts harder to accomplish, but he pushed on because it felt too wonderful to stop. He figured the time apart was the deciding factor. Not having seen you and feel you, not having been able to have sex with you for far too long, made everything ten times better than normal. He twitched at the thought of cumming inside you, a smidge depressed that he was still confined to the condom around him.

“Fuck,” he cursed lowly, feeling himself twitch against your walls. Your moans rang in his ears, his breathing increasing into heavy pants. His chest heaved, eyes closing to chase the high he was at. He barely felt your arms circle his neck and pull him close, you murmurs telling him that you were close. The second he sped up, you were goo and you were at that point that you were overcome with joy. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too,” you whimpered at him, though you weren’t sure if he heard. His forehead laid to your collarbone, sloppy thrusts pushing harder. The twitching increased, pulsing seeping through your walls to spur your high. You blinked back the dots of your high, letting out an ear piercing moan. Your juices spilled out around the rubber and your walls clung to him, your nails ending up down his back in trails of red scratches. Your core around him grew hotter, his cock sliding with ease from the wetness. He felt it all through the condom, though he didn’t fill you up when he, too, came. The strings of his hot, white seed spilled into the gap at the tip of the rubber, your tightened walls milking every last drop he had built up into the condom.

He stilled to let your both relax, pulling out and discarding the filled condom when your arms fell from around him. He chuckled at the lopsided grin you had, arms sprawled to embrace your happiness. You were exposed to him, Dylan’s eyes falling to your chest naturally. His tongue ran over his lips, any chances for his cock to go limp now squandered. He felt himself harder three times in that single second, his mouth watering. He loved your breasts beyond belief. They were the perfect size to him no matter how many times you thought they were imperfect through your relationship. They were perky with the nipples boisterous and upright. They were round and fit perfectly in his palms and mouth. He didn’t care if they were large or small because, in his eyes, they were the best breasts around. And they were all his.

He didn’t say anything when he leaned down, taking a nipple between his lips. You mewled happily, back arching into him as he ravished the bud with sucks, licks and countless numbers of kisses. Your hands wove through his hair once more, enjoying the way his lips tugged at your nipples when he pulled away, flicking it up and down before it was back in his mouth for another kiss. His hips ground against yours, feeling you shake in delight.

“I love your tits,” he mused, his hot breath fanning over your nipple. You arched into him in response, giving his hair a sharp tug. “You know what else I love about them? I love when they wrap around my cock and I can fuck your tits until I cum on your face.”

You shivered, licking your lips. “Well, what are you waiting for?” you asked, eyes glinting when you looked up at him. Dylan’s lips curled upwards in a devious smile, hips slithering their way up your body until he was resting over your chest, trying not to crush you with his large, muscled form. His fully erect cock rested against your chestplate, in the valley between your breasts. He slid between them a few times, Dylan adding a bit of spit, pumping himself with it, to lube himself for the task he was about to do.

“Hold them together for me, angel,” he commanded. You did as he asked, pushing your breasts together until they were hugging him completely, constricting his shaft between them. Dylan grunted to himself, tousling his hair in a single swipe of the hand. “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Come on, Dylie,” you mused. “Give me everything you got.”

His thrusts were uneven and messy, shaft sliding in the gap between your breasts hurriedly. Even if it was the least skilled he ever was, he moaned loudly, almost breathlessly. You could see the pure joy on his face, knowing he was loving it just as much as you were. There was something erotic about the position, something sexy about him sliding between your breasts quickly. It felt odd at times, but it also felt uniquely marvelous. Your tongue poked out to lick teasingly at his tip when he neared you, tasting the precum that came out of it.

“Oh god. So good,” he moaned, speeding up. You moaned in response, trying to taste more of him between thrusts. You pushed your breasts together more, making the feeling around him tighter. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He seemed close, twitching sporadically against each breast. He seeped more fluids, making you mewl with every slurp you managed to get in. You were preparing for the beads of cum to dot your face, wanting to taste him on your tongue. You wanted to swallow every last drop that would inevitably land in your mouth, the remains dribbling onto your chest like a pearl necklace.

But it never came. He pushed your hands away from your chest, releasing himself from the breast gap he had occupied. He moved off of you, turning you onto your side with a swift yelp. You heard his hand slap onto the bedside table to grab a condom, his grunts and curses growing louder and more frequent when he failed in sliding the rubber on a few times, the rubber almost slipping from his hands a few times.

Finally managing to slid it on, you felt his chest to your back, your leg lifted and slung carelessly over his bony waist. The tip slid into you once or twice, sliding in completely before he left you vacant, his lips finding your cheek when you let out a string of whimpers and mewls. He slid into you entirely, seating himself as far in as he could. There he sat, taking a moment to slid an arm under your head and grabbing your breast while the other hand rubbed at your swollen clit leisurely.

“Dyl,” you moaned at him, turning to face him as best you could. He grinned, leaning down to place a lingering kiss to your lips, the two barely separating when he started thrusting. They skimmed to each other when your body shook from his powerful thrusts, his hips clapping into your ass and his balls hitting your folds. His hand on your breast gave a tight squeeze, pushing harder and faster. “Oh God, yes!”

“God, I love you,” he told you, burying his face in your hair, listening to you moan. He felt your walls contracting, spontaneously clutching him completely. The hand on your clit rubbed faster, increasing your moans in frequency and volume. The hand on your chest moved up to your neck, giving it a squeeze to keep you close to him. It wasn’t hard enough to restrict the flow of air, but choking you always managed to make you more wet, the pleasure you felt amplified to levels that were out of this world. You clawed at the bed, tugging at the duvet and sheets, hearing his ever so consistent compliments and confessions of love, mumbling things at you that he admired.

“Dyl,” you whined. “Kiss me. Please. I’m cumming.”

“Me too,” he huffed breathlessly. “You feel so good, angel. Fuck, you feel so good.”

He rubbed harder to your clit, nudging you to the final high you needed. Your were spilling around him with waves of arousal, your moan filling the room. You turned to kiss him, Dylan enveloping your lips completely in a needy connection. That was the flame he needed that burned the knot inside him, his grunt covered while he released into you - well, the condom inside you. He filled the tip of the rubber just as he did before, giving a few extra drops when he felt your toes curling against his lower half and your hand cover his that rested on your clit, giving a loving hold. He thrust until there was nothing left inside him, your body going limp in his hold slightly.

He pulled out and tossed the second condom, lying on his back. Your turned in his arm, resting against his chest. The man was still hard, already reaching for a third condom, preparing to push you back again and fuck you until you were seeing stars and fireworks. But you caught his hand halfway, stopping him. He blinked in confusion, turning to look at you.

“I’m tired,” you told him, letting out a loud yawn. “I’m still kind of jetlagged.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you scolded, tapping his nose playfully. It scrunched up in annoyance, wrinkling cutely. “Besides, you know there is more of that to come, birthday boy.”

“There is?” he asked, smiling gleefully.

“What kind of birthday would it be without sex?” you teased, kissing his lips lightly. “Just you wait. Definitely more to come.”

“Can I have it now?” he pleaded.

“Nope. You can wait,” you told the stubborn man. Without waiting for his protest, you curled into his chest, lacing your fingers with his against his stomach. He sighed to himself. Shifting your forms so he could cover your nude bodies with the duvet, he kissed the top of your head, turning off the light by his bed. “Also, happy birthday, Dyldo-Brien.”

Dylan glanced at the clack, smiling sleepily to himself. He felt the wave of exhaustion hit him when he realizing how late it was. In fact, it was so late, he didn’t realize it was officially his birthday. He hugged you close, nuzzling into your hair. “Thank you, angel. I love you.”

“Love you,” came your slurred response, both of you falling into a restful night of sleep that neither had in a long while.

~

“Wake up!” you screamed, jumping on the bed. Dylan groaned, burying further into his pillow. You huffed in annoyance, dragging the duvet off his bare body, giving his behind a firm smack. “Get up!”

“No!” he whined.

“Dyl, it’s your birthday! We have lots of fun planned for today! So get up!”

“Five more minutes.”

You pouted, staring down at the handsome man. Slowly, your lips curled and you said, “Well, I guess we can’t start off your big day with some sex. I’m just standing here, naked. Waiting for you to take me.”

“I’m up!” he yelped, sitting upright. He was rather disappointed when he heard you crack up, finding you fully dressed in shorts and a loose shirt that hung off one shoulder. You jumped off the bed, tossing him a pair of blue board shorts and a black shirt. “You’re a horrible person.”

“I love you too,” you laughed. Dylan fell back on the bed, making you huff. “Dylan.”

“Five more minutes.”

You sighed, moving to hover over him. He cracked an eye open, his smile tugging upwards when he saw you. You couldn’t stop your own smile, pressing your lips to his. Your hair ticked his face, Dylan ready to pull you onto the bed. You backed away before he could, pushing his hands from your waist. “Happy birthday. Now, get up. We have to be at the waterfront soon.”

“What?” he asked, rolling out of bed to get dressed. “Why?”

“You sent me pictures of that time you went boating when Julia came out to visit, right? Well, now, we are going!”

Dylan chuckled, pulling on his shoes. You already had bags packed, standing at the door with them in hand. You were bouncing, your sunglasses ready to fall off the top of your head. “You’re super excited, aren’t you?” he asked, grabbing his phone and wallet.

“Absolutely!” you chimed. You followed Dylan out of the room, tugging him down into a kiss in the middle of the hallway. His smile was obvious against your lips, making you melt into him. “I definitely look forward most to spending the time with you today. I have lots of fun things planned.”

“Is that so?” he chuckled, dragging you towards the elevator, taking the bags from you and throwing it over his shoulder. Your hands stayed interlocked the entire way out of the hotel to the car that was taking you to your destination. “We are going boating for a few hours. I figured we can go swimming a little bit while we are out. Then when we get back, I want to go shopping, or at least browsing. Just wandering around together.”

“What about dinner?” he asked.

“I figured we could go to Foxcroft. I think you mentioned it once, so I thought that would be a good place to go. Have a few beers and some food before we head back to the room for the night,” you told him.

“You really have this planned out,” he chuckled.

“Only the best for you.”

You were taken to the waterfront where a boat was waiting, both of you cuddling together when it left the dock. Dylan played with your hair while you took pictures, basking in the sunlight that rained down on you. Both of you wore sunglasses that hid your eyes. The ocean breeze flowed over your forms, you both sharing a multitude of laughs while you stared off into the horizon.

When the boat came to a stop, bobbing in the water, you escaped his grasp, leaving him sitting on the padded seat drinking his soda. He watched you like a hawk as you started digging through the bag, pulling out a towel. His eyes were trained on your backside, licking his lips.

Man, I wish she has that blue bikini with the white flowers on under her clothes. She always looks so good with that. It’s my favorite one she has, he thought to himself.

Slowly, you pulled off your shirt, adjusting your bikini top. Dylan gaped a bit, seeing the specific bikini on your form that he wanted to see. “Holy…”

“What?” you asked, wiggling out of your shorts. Dylan leaned forward on his knees to watch your hips shake from side to side, the denim dropped to the deck of the boat and kicked off.

“I love my birthday,” he muttered to himself. You heard him clearly, making your way over to him. “Birthday wishes are the best. Wishes come true, baby. And I got a true angel in front of me.”

“You, good sir, are being cheesy. And you aren’t drunk yet,” you giggled. You carefully straddled his waist, running your hands up and down his chest sensually, massaging his muscles through his shirt. “Now, why doesn’t we just take this off of you and get this party started.”

Dylan nodded, leaning down to kiss you. You hummed into it, letting him control it like he always did, even if you were on top. Your lips parted to let his tongue roam your mouth, his lips dragging along yours slowly and tastefully. When you disconnected, his arms raised above his hair, the shirt removed from his body and tossed away. His hands found your waist and yours rubbed at his shoulders, resuming the kisses you had started.

His hands move to your butt, giving it a firm squeeze through your bottoms. You mewled against his lips, rubbing your hands back down his body, feeling his muscles flex under your touch before playing with the hairs of his happy trail. Your heads tilted in different directions so your lips could smash together perfectly. Your tongues played between your cheeks, the kiss growing heated faster than you would expect.

Just as his hands started moving upwards towards your bikini top, you pushed off of him, hearing him groan in disapproval. “Angel-”

“Last one in’s a rotten egg!” you told him. You kicked the boat’s ladder into the water, placing your sunglasses with your stuff before climbing onto the side of the boat, jumping over the edge. You screamed happily, doing a pose in the air before you hit the water. Dylan had managed to pull out his phone to record you before you jumped into the water, posting it to the instagram he caved and made. “Come on, Dyl!”

“I’m coming!” he hollered, removing his sunglasses. He raced towards the edge, laughing when he went flying off the edge. “Cannonball!”

The water splashed you when he hit, knees tucked against his chest. He disappeared under the water, making you start to wonder where he was. “Dylan?” you called, treading the water as you spun in circles. You ended up shrieking when you felt his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you partially out of the water when he resurfaced. You peered down at him, gazing at the bright smile he had. “Well, hello.”

“Hello, my angel,” he murmured to you, letting you slide back down his body into the water. Your breasts were mashed against his chest, Dylan’s arms tightly clung to your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs circling his own waist. “Do you come here often?”

“I don’t,” you hummed. Dylan swam in circles with you in his arms, letting the water splash around your bodies in the coolness it offered. “But, I’m glad I came.”

“Me too,” he whispered, placing a hand at the back of your head, giving you a solid kiss that made your body melt happily. You eagerly returned the kiss, the two of you floating through the water for a long while, sharing kisses while swimming around the boat casually. The entire time, you were glad you were able to come, overjoyed to be spending time with the man you loved in a beautiful place such as Cape Town, South Africa. But, what made everything the best, was being in his arms, floating in the water and enjoying his birthday.

Around midday, you returned to town, heading into town to peruse the shops. You walked hand in hand through the streets, taking pictures together and of the things you saw. You roamed the street vendors, trying food and messing with the items you saw. You jokingly modeled some clothes to make Dylan laugh, buying things every once in a while as memories. You bought him Cape Town keychain that had his name on it as a joke birthday gift, the vendor giving you a discount when he learned it was your boyfriend’s big day.

“Excuse me,” some girls said, catching yours and Dylan’s attention. They were holding their phones, staring up at the actor with twinkling eyes. They seemed awestruck by the man in front of them. “Are you Dylan O’Brien?”

Dylan chuckled, nodding. “Yeah. I am.”

“C-can we, um,” one of the girls stuttered. “Can we get a picture please?”

“Um…” Dylan started, unsure what to answer. He felt bad. He was out with you for his birthday, yet he still managed to get stopped by fans. He turned to you, relaxing slightly when he saw the smile on your face.

“It’s fine, Dyl. I’m gonna go check out a store really quick. Just wait here and I will be back,” you told him. You gave him a quick kiss, the girls squealing cutely when they saw it. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he called to your quickly retreating form. He turned back to the fans, giving them a completely genuine grin. “Now, how about those pictures?”

“Was that your girlfriend?” they asked. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” he hummed dreamily. “She came out to visit and celebrate my birthday.”

“Oh, that’s right! It’s your birthday!” the tallest one said.

“Happy birthday Dylan!” they hummed happily.

“Thanks girls,” he told them wholeheartedly.

He took the camera from them, taking a selfie with them. He gave each of them a hug afterwards, signing a few autographs. People seemed to notice what was going on, Dylan getting roped into more pictures and autographs that made him antsy. He just wanted to get back to you and get back to spending time together.

When he finally escaped the crowd, he stood outside a store by himself, waiting for you to return. Glancing around, there was no sign of you, only making him sigh. He turned to the store he was standing in front of out of pure curiosity, trying to distract himself as he waited. He somehow ended up in front of a Victoria Secret-like store, the display in the window showing off a set of sexy lingerie. It made him choke slightly, mostly being caught off guard.

He stared at the display, admiring it slightly. He began to picture it on your, the dark blue silky material ending just below your ass. The bodice was partially see-through, lace rimming the top of each breasts and a flower-like design on the see-through material. It had a set of matching cheeksters that he wished he could see on you. He wanted to run in the store and buy the set, begging you to wear it when you returned to the hotel.

God, I wish I could see her wearing that. What if I just…

“Dylan~!” you sang, making him jump. Watching the man trip over his own feet and almost faceplant, you laughed, holding your bags behind your back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” he stated. He glanced at the bags in your hand, quirking a brow. “So, what did you get?”

“It’s a surprise,” you mused. “You’ll see later tonight.”

“Oh, really?” he hummed with a wiggle of his brow. “Will I like it?”

“I sure hope so,” you quipped. Taking his hand, you began to drag him off down the street. “Now, come on. There’s this store I found that I think you might like. Or not, I don’t know. But, the clothes are really cool and I thought it’d be fun to try some stuff on before we go to dinner. Just as some entertainment for a time killer.”

“Lead the way angel. Whatever you want to do.”

“That shouldn’t be how this works,” you pouted playfully. “It’s your birthday, baby. I should be doing anything you want.”

“Well, I already got my wish,” he said, pulling you to a stop. You were spun back into his arms, the man placing a tender kiss to your lips. “I am here, on my birthday, with the most beautiful girl in the entire world. I am out with the love of my life. I am spending my birthday with you, Y/N. And that’s all I need, all I want, every year for my birthday for the rest of my life. I love you will all my heart.”

“It almost sounds like a cheesy proposal,” you giggled.

“Would it be so wrong if it was?” he teased. “Would you say no?”

“Well, no…”

“Good,” he grinned. “But, I’m not proposing to you. Right now, at least. I will keep that for when you least expect it and when we feel we are ready. I don’t want to rush anything with you, and even if it’s be the greatest four years of my life, I don’t want to push you into anything. I mean, I want to marry you more than anything, but I want us to be in a good place and I don’t want to hurry and get married. We can definitely wait.”

“You’re rambling,” you joked, making the actor blush. “But, I understand. Propose when you want, Dylan, and I guarantee I will say yes. Spoilers, I know, but you are the love of my life and I want nothing more than to be by your side for the rest of my life. Even if we don’t get married for ten years, I would stay by your side forever.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he bemused.

“Maybe you made a birthday wish,” you teased.

“You’re a little minx, angel,” he laughed, wrapping his arm around you and leading you away to the store you mentioned earlier.

One day, I will marry this girl.

You pulled him into the store, pulling out random shirts you thought he would enjoy. You held a few against his chest to test how they would look before you dropped them back on the rack. You grabbed a few things that you could try on as well, Dylan laughing at how excited you were, videoing you occasionally as memories.

When your arms were full, you pulled him towards the changing rooms, glancing around cautiously. Dylan looked at you suspiciously, questioning what you were doing. With a tug of the hand, he was yanked into one of the vacant rooms with you, the door locked when it shut behind you. The space was tight, but there was enough room you could both move. You took the clothes from his arms, hanging them on the hooks in the wall, pushing him back against the wall.

“Baby?”

“Shh,” you whispered. “Don’t want to get caught now, Dyl.”

“What are you doing, angel?” he asked lowly.

“Giving you a birthday present,” you smirked, dropping to your knees. You pulled down the board shorts he was wearing. You pushed up his shirt with one hand, playing with the hairs on his happy trail. “Hold this.”

He took it from you, holding it against his chest. “Angel, is this really the best time-”

“Yup,” you grinned. “Now, don’t be too noisy, Dyl. We don’t wanna get caught. But, I’m a bit thirsty and want you to cum down my throat. Isn’t that something you have been wishing for?”

“W-well, I…”

“You were just telling me like, last week how you wanted to cum down my throat and how sexy I look when you’re fucking my mouth,” you quipped, running the tips of your fingers along his shaft. He was growing harder, cock getting thicker and longer with casual twitches, with every tremble he had from your nails running along his length. He grunted noisily, using a hand to cover his mouth. “So, don’t you want me to suck you, Dyl? Right here, right now?”

“Well, we could wait for the hotel-” he tried to say, getting cut off when you kissed the bright red tip that glistened with precum. “Or here works. Oh god, here works.”

You laughed, kissing it again. “You want to fuck my mouth, Dyl? You want to cum down my throat?” you asked him again, giving him the sexiest voice you could muster. “Do you want this gift from me right now?”

“Yes please,” he gasped. “You’re a horrible person for turning me on in public, but this is also super hot and now I can’t wait till we get back. I hate you.”

“That’s a lie,” you mused, stroking his shaft with your hand. He muffled his gasps of pleasure, giving you a sharp look that made you giggle. “You love me.”

“Ok, so I love you. And?”

“Now, I show you I love you,” you hummed. “Now, I make you feel good. I please you and make you happy.”

Dylan went to retort, silenced by your lips wrapping around his tip. He watched you with ever growing hazy eyes, mouth parting at the ecstasy he got. Your cheeks were hollowed around the head of his cock, sucking profusely at it. Your tongue smoothed over the slit, your moans at his salty, sweet taste making it vibrate. Your hand stroked him quickly, your free hand fondling his balls playfully.

“Holy fuck,” he rasped louder than he meant to, seeing you pull away with a glare. “Shit. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

“Quiet,” you reminded him. “I know I’m good, but you’re gonna get us caught.”

“Cocky bitch,” he laughed.

You smiled, resuming what you were doing, this time bobbing along his shaft more. Dylan struggled to keep silent, wanting to dirty talk you through sucking him off. Instead, he focused his attention on watching you bob against him and the way your tongue swirled around his shaft, tracing up and down the pulsating veins happily. Your hands had dropped from his length and balls, circling his body to grip at his perfectly round ass. You gave it a few playful smacks that filled the room only, Dylan’s breathing increasing every time.

“You’re mean, angel,” he let out, threading his fingers through your hair. He aided your movements, bucking his hips forward to shove his length deeper down your throat. You gagged once, having to get accustomed to his length, but took it gratefully, feeling it hit the back of your throat repeatedly. You moaned, vibrating him completely, making him moan aloud. “Fuck.”

You hummed at him, trying to tell him nonverbally to let go. He was trying to hold back, prolonging the pleasure, and it was only ruining the mood by putting him in pain. You gazed up at him, meeting the honey brown colored orbs you fell madly for. The shared look was enough to tell him what to do, the actor’s eyes drifting closed so he could chase his orgasm that came rather quickly after he gave himself up to the bliss. You moaned, his seed shooting out and down your throat, sliding down it in waves of warmth. His hips stopped, but you bobs didn’t, slurping up every last drop he had. You willfully swallowed every last drop, licking your lips clean when he had nothing else to release.

You pulled back, seeing the man before you panting heavily. But he smiled; he had a gorgeous smile that showed his undying contentment and pleasure that resulted from what you did.

“Good?” you asked, helping to fix his shorts before standing up. He pulled you into a solid hug, kissing your forehead.

“Not good,” he mumbled. “Great. Amazing. Fantastic. Out of this world. Not just good. It was perfect, Y/N.”

“I love you, Dyl,” you said.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied. “Now, about these clothes…”

~

Dinner was a blast. The food was delicious and you had multiple drinks that made your mind buzz happily. You shared many laughs, feeding Dylan bites of your food from across the table. He got a free slice of cake for it being his birthday, his face red when you sang to him. You were glad there were minimal interruptions, only a few fans recognizing Dylan in the restaurant and cutting in with an apology to ask for a picture or autograph.

By the time you had left the restaurant, it was dark out, but it didn’t stop you from making one last stop on the way back to the hotel. You stopped to take a romantic picture to finish the night at the Company’s Garden, a main centerpiece of Cape Town. You took a few photos together in front of the monument in the middle of the botanical gardens. The one that Dylan instantly fell in love with was the one of you both kissing, smiles evident in the glow of the lamps around you.

You were ready to collapse when you trudged into his room, kicking off your shoes at the foot of is bed. Dylan placed the large number of bags on the table in his room, following your lead in kicking off his Adidas and ripping off his shirt. He fanned himself from the heat, cranking up the AC in the room. He rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles screaming at him for being out all day.

“I’m going to be hurting tomorrow,” he joked, hearing you laugh. “That was a long and fulfilling day though. I definitely enjoyed myself, baby. So thank you for such a great birthday.”

He stood at the end of the bed, pulling you into a hug. Your chin rested on his stomach, looking up at him. “I’m glad, Dyl. You deserve it.”

“You’re too good to me,” he said, running his hand through your hair.

“I think you’re too good to me,” you laughed. “But, how about I draw you a bath? I bought this really nice bath salt while we were out that is supposed to help relax you, unless you are too manly for that.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “A bath sounds amazing, but you don’t have to do that for me.”

“It’s your birthday. Let me pamper you,” you told him, tapping his nose. You stood and started for the bathroom, Dylan catching your wrist. You turned back to him, staring in question.

“You can pamper me on one condition.” Your head cocked to the side. “Join me in my bath please.”

You blinked before you smiled, nodding. “Alright. Then, after the bath, I have a present for you.”

Dylan whined, letting you lead him to the bathroom. “Haven’t you done enough for me?”

“Nope. This was all part of the plan, Dyl. I’m spoiling you for your birthday. So, deal with it,” you taunted him.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I know.” you flicked on the light, staring in awe at the bathroom. “Man, I never can get over how amazing the bathrooms are here.”

“That’s what I said when we arrived,” Dylan chuckled. He sat himself on the counter, watching you start the bath. You ran out of the room, returning with a bag. He recognized it as one of the ones you got when you disappeared earlier in the market, his curiosity piquing at what was inside. Though you pulled the bath salts from it, he knew there was more hidden in the tissue paper.

You pulled his focus away from the mysterious bag, stripping him of his remaining clothes. You let him strip you in return, giggling when he showered you with kisses. He carefully climbed into the tub, extending a hand to help you in after him, You sunk into the hot water, nestling between his legs so you could lean back against his chest. His arms wove around your waist, the pair of you relaxing in the heat mixed with the lavender scent.

You laid your head on his collar bone, playing with his fingers. He kissed the side of your head, your head turning to him. He never blinked, he never took his eyes off you. And slowly, he leaned forward, kissing you passionately like he did everytime that day. His lips formed perfectly with yours, moving against them slowly at first to test the waters.

You straddled his waist when it started to get faster, your noses bumping with every delve in. Your lips were parted for his tongue to attack yours, circling it like a shark ready to attack its prey. His hands roamed your body, pulling you closer to him. Your core slid against his hardening cock, feeling it twitch into you. Your arms went around his neck, pulling his closer into you so you were flesh against him, scratching and scraping at his scalp. The hasty make out made the bath hotter around you, the feeling of his hands skimming your sensitive parts sending shivers up your spine. Your lips smacked when he pulled away for air, panting heavily.

“God, what I would give to be inside you right now,” he mumbled. He made your body roll into him move, grunting at the feeling it gave. “Fuck, I wish I could fuck you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” you asked. You gave him a soft kiss, trailing your lips along his jaw. “No one is stopping you, Dylie.”

“But, I don’t have a condom,” he told you.

“Well, what’s stopping us from going bareback?”

Dylan pulled away, letting you sit back on his lap. “Well, you don’t like to…”

“But, it’s your birthday. And I know you’ve been dying for it. We haven’t done it for a while without the condom.”

“But, birth control?”

“I got a new shot a little over a week ago,” you hummed. “So, we should be ok.”

“Seriously?” he asked, gaping. “You’re ok with this?”

“I want to make you happy, Dylan. I know you prefer it. And, it does feel good, so it’ll be totally worth it. So, yes, we can go bareback.”

“You are a true angel,” he hummed, pulling you back into the messy kiss. You lifted yourself off of him long enough for him to align himself at your core, your body sliding down slowly. You moaned into him, stilling when he was hilt deep inside of you. Your lips continued to move against his in a heated connection, his hands kneading your breasts for a moment before finding home on your waist.

The thrusts started slow, your body rocking against his steadily. The water moved with your motions, swaying back and forth in time with your body. His cock slid in and out of you easily, the tip pressing to your sweet spot every time you seated yourself back on him. Dylan facilitated your movements, your hands on his shoulders to make your thrusts easier.

It sped up fairly quickly, his hips bucking up into you. You moaned at him, crescent-shaped marks left on embedded in his skin. The water splashing got worse, spilling over the edge of the tub onto the floor in noisy splatters. His cock dug deeper into you, making your stomach clench and your head spin. You moaned his name, Dylan’s moaning yours. Dylan loved the feeling of you around him without restriction, the sensation of sex a million times greater. You couldn’t agree more, your walls overly sensitive to his large cock thrusting up into you.

He pulled you into a kiss, the feeling overwhelming to him. His cock twitched, his stomach releasing the tension it held. His seed seeped into you in long strings, making you quiver at the warmth that ran through your veins. Your walls clung around him, milking every drop he had, adding to the juices inside you. Your juices spilled out around him, mixing in a sea of arousal in your womb.

Dylan slowed to a stop, peppering your face with light kisses. He removed himself from you, bits of your combined juices getting washed away by the bath. He mumbled multiple ‘I love you’s’ before starting to drain the tub, lifting you from the water. Warily stepping out, trying his best not to slip on the water that flooded the floor now, he placed you on the sink, wrapping you in a towel. He wrapped another around his waist, pushing the rest onto the floor to absorb as much water as he could. You couldn’t stop laughing when he tried to wring out excess droplets, crouching to clean the floor.

“Your fault,” he hummed.

“Your thrusts.”

“You enticed me into the sex,” he declared. He draped the wet towels over the edge of the tub, moving towards you. “But, you know, we can gladly continue this conversation in the room. Maybe in bed? And you can show me more about how you enticed me with sex so much that it made the water cover the floor from our bath.”

“I like that idea,” you told him. Dylan grinned, preparing to pick you up, but you stopped him. “But, I have a surprise for you.”

“You’re a mood killer.”

“You don’t know that,” you frowned. “Just go wait in the room, on the bed. You don’t have to get dressed because I have a feeling you will like what I have for you and we will be continuing what was started.”

“Well, I like that thought,” he mused. He kissed you quickly, heading out the door. “Don’t be long.”

You slammed the bathroom door behind him, the man laughing lightly. Dylan discarded his towel on a chair, not caring that we was nude when he fell back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling while he waiting, wondering what you were planning. He would only imagine what was coming up, his mind wandering to the depths. He played with his shaft as he dreamt of what things you had up your sleeve, keeping him semi-erect.

“Hey, birthday boy,” you broke into his thoughts. Dylan sat up on his elbows, eyeing your form from afar. You were leaning against the wall while twirling a strand of hair around your finger, giving him a seductive look. But he was awestruck by your attire. You were in the same set of lingerie he saw earlier, looking as beautiful as he thought you would. He licked his lips, never leaving your form as your strut towards him, almost like a model. “How do I look?”

“I love my birthday,” he breathed. “I have the most perfect girlfriend standing before me and I will never forget the sight I have been given.”

“I’m not perfect,” you fought. “But, I’m glad you like it.”

He pulled you onto the bed, hovering over you and pressing you back into the mattress. “Not like. Absolutely love and adore. It’s remarkable and I never want to forget it. It’s been burned into my memory so I can always see how beautiful you are.”

He slid down your body leisurely, tracing along the edge of your breasts before skipping to the end of the top. He lifted the bottom to find the matching cheeksters, casually pulling them down your legs. A tender kiss hit your folds, making you moan. He made his way back up to your face, giving you a kiss to the lips.

“So, did you have something you wanted to do?” he asked.

“There is,” you hummed, using all of your weight to flip him onto his back. “I want to please you.”

“I’m ok with that,” he breathed. “Definitely ok. What did you have in mind?”

“I want to ride your face.”

He blinked. “Come again? I think that’s me pleasing you, sweetie.”

“Yes and no. You like eating me out, and it gets me started for the rest of the night.”

“I do like the taste of you,” he hummed. “But, um… if we are going to continue…”

“Yes?” you asked. “What is it, Dyl?”

“Can we do it bareback still?” he asked hurriedly. “I-I’d really like that. It felt really good.”

“Of course,” you told him. “Whatever you want, Dyl.” You paused, biting your lip. “And it did feel really good.”

“I always feel good,” came his cocky remark.

You shook your head, adjusting his body into the position you wanted. When he was situated and comfortable, you eased up his body, lifting the bottom of the lingerie top. Your core was settled just above Dylan’s face, his heated breath hitting your core. It seemed to hitch once when it came right into his view, but he was proactive after that, giving it light kisses to get your juices flowing.

You placed both hands to the wall for support, sinking down onto his face more. His tongue dove into your instantly, earning Dylan a loud, rippling moan with the sweet taste on his tongue. The skillful article in his mouth twisted in circles inside you, running up and down your walls. He loved the way your body shook above him, picturing you clawing at the wall in front of you. He would surely get an earful for that, but he didn’t care at that moment. He was busy savoring your fluids, lapping at them attentively. The juices slid down his throat in waves, warming his body.

His blood was pumping harder the longer he ate you out, his tongue working to find the spots that made you scream for him. With the adrenaline in his body, the ecstasy that came from the oral, he felt his lower region throb. The pumping blood ran up up his length, making it harder and harder with every passing second and ever passing lick of your slit. It twitched against his stomach, begging for attention - more from you than from him, but it would take what it could get in that moment.

His hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking it quickly. His tongue never stopped, managing to dip deep inside you while alternating to flick at your clit. His thumb smeared the precum on his tip, working himself close to a high. His hand wasn’t nearly as pleasing though. He wanted to feel you around him, your wet, tight pussy clenching around him while you bounced happily against his hips. Your breasts would bounce in time with your movements. Your hips would rock just like they did against his face, swaying to making yourself feel good. The thoughts made his hand and tongue go faster, but the pleasure was stagnant, making his insides hurt with craving.

He pushed you up slightly with one hand, his tongue retracting from your core. “Baby,” he let out. “Angel.”

“What?” you asked breathlessly.

“I don’t want to cum like this,” he let out. You were puzzled, crawling off of him. Dylan saw the look on your face, jumping to continue. “Not that I don’t like when you cum in my mouth, babe! I just, I want to feel you around me. I want to cum inside you. I loved tasting you, and I love pleasing you, but I want us to enjoy this together. I want to be in you, Y/N. So fucking bad.”

“Calm down,” you laughed. “I get it, Dyl. Just relax and let me handle this.”

You gave him a slow, lingering kiss, his lips still puckered when you pulled away. You heard his disgruntled moan when you straddled him, running your wet core against his shaft before sliding down on him, his cock vanishing inside you. He was fully sheathed in one fell swoop, your hips circling against him to make him moan.

“Holy shit, yes,” he gasped. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

You laughed, rolling against him. His cock slid free from your core before disappearing again when you slammed back down on him. Dylan grunted in approval, shaking hands taking your waist to help with your thrusts. Steadily - though it was quick as well - your thrusts sped up until you were bouncing on his shaft at high speeds. Your hips clapped together, mixing with the moans you both released to fill the entire hotel room. Your hands pressed to his chest, scratching down it in long trails of red.

Dylan pushed the lingerie up, sitting up long enough to lift your arms up and pull the top off of you. It disappeared into the room, lost from thought. The actor collapsed back to the bed, licking his lips when your thrusts resumed. With nothing to bind them, your breasts bounced with your new motions, Dylan’s eyes lighting up. He was drooling at the delicious sight, panting like Pavlov’s dog. He wanted to attack them, ravishing them with his lips and tongue, but he stayed with the sight alone, giving your behind a few smacks to get you aroused more.

His legs bent, feet pressed flat to the bed. His hands settled on your waist in a firm hold, his hips bucking upwards into you. You let out a sharp yelp of pleasure, leaning further on his chest. His hands on your waist kept you still, keeping you from moving so he could do the work instead. He was antsy, you could tell, so you let him command the sex for a bit. The feeling was way better with him leading anyway; he was able to snap deeper into you, hitting spots you couldn’t manage to with your own thrusts. And with that, you both were a mess of moans and yells, screaming for each other.

He hit your g-spot repeatedly, making your eyes roll back in your head. You yelled his name, Dylan grunting at the noise. Your breasts continued to bounce with his godly thrusts, your arms shaking to hold you up. You were seeing spots, Dylan managing to hit every spot that made you feel incredible. His balls flounced against your backside, the sound of skin on skin contact growing louder and more desperate.

Dylan abruptly sat up, adjusting you so your legs were around his waist. His legs were still bent and he had to lean back on his hands to keep himself up. But with your arms going around his neck, he was kept taut to your body, chests pressed to each other. He started thrusting back into you, your lips connecting in a sensual kiss. His lips dragged against yours throughout the entire connection. The aura around you was filled with steam and smelled of sex, but it radiated passion, excitement and happiness. It exuded love and you wouldn’t change anything. Your stomach was tight in a knot, ecstasy and bliss building from his powerful thrusts.

“Cum,” he commanded deeply, voice gruff and husky. “I can’t last much longer. Cum with me, angel.”

All you could muster was a nod and moan, hugging him closer. Your head disappeared in his neck, his in yours sucking dark marks to your skin. The thrusts he did were sloppy, pushing you both closer until you were unraveling in his arms. You kissed his neck just as your came, juices coating his bare shaft inside you. Your toes curled into his back and your nails dug into his shoulders, walls clinging to his shaft like life depended on it. The second Dylan felt your juices splatter out around him, he was a mess, melting himself. His seed shot off in strings of white, mixing with your juices inside you. His thrusts continued, though slowed considerably, riding out the highs you both felt.

He lifted you off of his lap, placing you beside him on the bed. You were sitting on your knees, still shaking from your orgasm. You were busy blinking away the dots in your eyes when you were pushed forward into the pillows, moaning when you were filled again. Struggling to glance back, you found Dylan staring down at you, already thrusting into you from behind. Your hands gripped at the pillows, tugging them closer to you.

“W-what-” you tried to ask, getting shut down with a screaming moan when he hit your sweet spot harshly.

“I’m not done,” he whispered, biting at his lip. “I need you, baby. I need to feel you, to hear you moan. Fuck, I need you to cum again. God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you let out. “I won’t last long though. You know what this does to me.”

“I know,” he chuckled deeply. “I’m still pretty sensitive. Two orgasms and bareback doggy style sex will have me exploding really soon.”

“Well, get to it. Make me scream, Dylan.”

“Damn, that’s hot,” he mumbled.

He thrusts picked up, his hips colliding noisily with your backside, making it jiggle. Your breasts still jostled with the movements, Dylan unable to see them moving this time. He was content with watching his cock emerge from your pussy covered in your juices before disappearing with your loud moans of his name. Your walls were tight from your tensed body having already cum twice and the angle of the position, amplifying the pleasure he was feeling. He hit your sweet spot, adding to the pleasure you both felt by slapping your ass mid thrust.

“Oh God, Dylan!” you moaned, shaking violently. “Oh god! It’s so good. I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead,” he urged, using one hand to circle your body, rubbing the swollen nub that was your clit. His other hand moved forward to tug at your hair so he could clearly hear your words amidst your moans. Your walls sporadically lung to his length, making it harder for him to concentrate when the coil inside him was about to burst. “Please, cum for me, baby. I want you to cum for my birthday. I wish you would cum for me.”

You let out one prolonged moan, juices spilling out around him. It was considerably less than before, but it was enough to soak into his skin and cover his shaft, giving him the warmth and moisture he desired. His body hunched forward, spilling into you with every last drop he could, his seed seeping into your core in drops of hot, white glop.

He pulled out of you, letting you collapse to the bed. He scurried off the mattress, ramming into a wall on his way to the bathroom. He wobbled unsteadily in his post-orgasm state, nearly slipping on bit of water he missed in the bathroom. He heard you laughing when he cursed loudly, shaking his head while grabbing a warm washcloth. His groin was cleaned before he left, find you having rolled onto your back on the bed. He gently cleaned you up, tossing the towel with his from earlier.

He laid next to you in bed, pulling the covers over you forms. You melted into his side, resting on his chest. His heartbeat was still fast, slowly evening out to a rhythmic beat. The sound was calming, allowing you to snuggle deeply into him. Dylan hugged you close, grabbing his phone while you both were relaxing into each other. He set his lock screen as the kissing picture you took earlier for his birthday, posting it on his social media accounts, grinning at his caption.

Dylanobrien: Best birthday with the best girl. Thank you for making this day unforgettable. I love you, Y/N.

He frowned slightly when he hadn’t received many messages from his friends back home, not seeing any from his family. He stared at the time, figuring there was still time for them to say anything. It was nearly midnight for him, so they were barely through their days.

“Y/N,” he said, hearing you hum at him. “Thank you for everything today. It was the best birthday I’ve had in awhile.”

“It’s no problem at all, Dyl,” you told him. “I want to make all your wishes come true. You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I think now the only thing that would make this better was if everyone else was here too. I wish they could have been here to celebrate with us.”

He didn’t get much of a response. When he looked down at you, you were already asleep on him, your breathing evened out with your bare chest steadily pressing against him. Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you slept, Dylan admiring your peaceful face. Carefully, he placed his phone back on the table, noting the time hit midnight just as he did. He brought you form closer to his, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Goodnight, angel. I love you.”

~

“Wakie wakie! Eggs and bakie!” you sang at him, shaking his side. Dylan groaned, shaking his head.

“I’m not falling for it again. You can’t seduce me this time, you evil temptress!”

You pouted, taking his hand and placing it on your bare chest. His head snapped up, gawking to find you still naked beside him. You gave him a fulfilled smile, sticking your tongue out at him. “You were saying.”

“Are we fucking again?” he asked sleepily, giving your breast a firm squeeze.

Before you could answer, you were pressed back to the bed, his lips on your chest. They moved along the valley of your breasts before finding your nipple, assaulting it with loving kisses. You moaned and arched into him, tangling your hands in his hair. The man took as much of your breast into his mouth as he could, tugging the erect nipple with his teeth and lips until it was hard to the touch, standing upright. He would swap between them, his hand slithering between your legs while his lips were preoccupied to toy with your now wet entrance.

“Dyl, stop,” you said, trying to stay strong.

“Why?” he asked, cool breath fanning your breast.

“Because I have a surprise for you.”

Dylan stopped just as his fingers were about to slide into you so he could finger you restlessly in the morning. He sat up to look at you, questioning what you had said. “Baby, it’s not my birthday anymore.”

“I know. It’s one last birthday surprise though,” you told him. “We need to get ready.”

Dylan groaned in annoyance, rolling onto his back. “And here, I thought I was about to get morning sex.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you told him, kissing his lips. “You can even do it in any position you like. You know, like that one where my leg is up-”

“Stop trying to turn me on!” he cried. “Otherwise, we won’t be leaving anytime soon. You will be pressed against his bed ad I will be fucking you all morning long.”

“Fine,” you pouted jokingly.

You forced him to get dressed, fixing his hair for him since he refused to brush it in his laziness. The man reluctantly allowed you to drag him out of the room and out of the hotel. The car was waiting when you got outside, taking you to the beach not far from the hotel.

“What are we doing here?” he asked when you arrived, pouting while you dragged him through the sand.

“You’ll see,” you laughed. “Now, do me a favor and close your eyes.”

“Are you about to murder me and set me adrift at sea so I get eaten by sharks?” he teased, doing as you said. You were more careful now leading him through the sand, both of his hands in yours.

“You’ve watched too many movies, Dylan,” you laughed. You stopped him after a short walk, only the sound of the water hitting the shore sounding around him. “Alright. On the count of three, open your eyes. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ok. One, two… three.”

When he opened, he was met by a loud ‘SURPRISE!’ He blinked once, unsure if he was seeing things correctly. Standing before him was the whole Maze Runner cast and crew, Tyler Posey, his family and your family. They were all holding up blue and orange solo cups to represent his Mets, the decoir on the tables matching the theme. It was a breakfast feast with all of his favorite foods, with more ice chests of food for whatever lunch they were going to barbeque. Dylan figured the plan was a beach party, but he was flabbergasted at the people that were attending.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Happy birthday,” you told him, giving him a side hug. “I knew you’d want to see your family too, so I convinced them to come visit too.”

“You…” he started, tearing up. He pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head. “You are a true angel. I know I say that all the time, but you really are. You are the best girlfriend a guy could ask for. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Now, go greet your guests!” you told him, smacking his butt to make him go.

Dylan gave everyone giant hugs, thanking them for coming. He was glad to see everyone, even your family that he was surprised made the effort to travel half the work just for him. They were family to him, having welcomed him with open arms when you both started dating. But to see that they cared enough to fly to South Africa for his birthday made his heart flutter.

Your dad gave Dylan a firm handshake, pulling him into a hug just so he could whisper into his ear, “Have you decided when yet?”

“Not yet,” Dylan mumbled.

“Do you have it on you?” your dad asked. Dylan nodded. “So, go do it.”

“But-”

“Go. It’s the right time,” your dad told him.

Patrick O’Brien slid over, wrapping an arm around his son. “I agree. This is the best time, son. If you don’t get her now, you will regret it, I promise.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” Dylan asked, messing with his fingers.

“She loves you,” you dad said.

“And you love her,” his dad continued.

“Alright,” Dylan let out. He pulled out his wallet, finding the item he kept safely wrapped for safety. He stumbled towards you, taking your hand. You had been in mid conversation with Rosa and Kaya, turning to see the honey eyes of your lover. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course,” you said, the girls getting the hint and heading back to the group. Everyone seemed to quiet down, watching what was about to happen. It added to Dylan’s anxiety, but he cleared his throat to start.

“I know it’s not my birthday anymore, but I have one final birthday wish this year, Y/N,” he said, licking his dry lips. You watched him with wondering eyes, not stopping him. Slowly, he revealed the ring he kept on him always held between two fingers. It was a simple silver band, one large diamond in the center and four smaller diamonds lining the twisted bands. You gaped at it, tears filling your eyes. “I know I’ve been holding off, but I know one thousand percent this is the right thing to do and the right time to ask. My wish is that you will be my wife. My wish is that you will say yes right here and now when I ask you to marry me, to make me the happiest and most fulfilled man in existence. I wish that you will spend the rest of your life with me, have a family with me and let me love you unconditionally for all eternity.”

“Dylan…”

“Will you grant my final birthday wish, Y/N?”

Everyone seemed to lean forward, anticipating your response. It was like the spotlight was on you, waiting for you to reply. Dylan stared at you, biting at his lip, the hand holding the ring beginning to tremble. Dylan was scared he would drop it and embarrass himself. But, your answer came before he had to worry.

“I told you already that when you asked, I could guarantee the answer. So, the answer is obviously yes. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes. I will grant your wish, Dylan O’Brien, and I will be your wife. I want nothing more than to marry you, have a family with you, and live every day with you by my side for the rest of my life.”

“Really?” he asked lowly. You laughed, nodding.

“Yes, Dyl. I will marry you.”

“Say it again,” he hummed, pulling you closer with one arm. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Oh my God. I want to marry you, Dylan O’Brien!” you screamed.

He lifted you off the ground, hugging you close as he spun in circles, both of you laughing. Everyone around you clapped and cheered, a few whistling in approval. When your feet hit the sand again, Dylan slid the ring onto your finger, kissing it before cupping your face and kissing you. You could feel his smile, your arms weaving around his neck to hug him close.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because,” he mused, tucking your hair back. “Now I know that wishes really do come true.”

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @voidkitsune24; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @twilightparker; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @offthewallspidey; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @ashotofblues; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo;@supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @lara-stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5; @mischiefandi; @myrandomzshit; @disbestiles; @mxtchsbxtch; @dafine18; @avadakedabitch; @girlwiththerubyslippers; @xpinkyprincess; @ssweet-empowerment; @jackles-jadalecki; @dobseventeen; @dylnobrien1911, @redstringlovers; @brien-odylan @xxxxdelenaxxxx; @katlovey14; @deajm2116

[all-of-the-imagines-for-eve]

Tattoo ~ S.P. (Part 10)

A/n: Man y’all did not like that last part did you? Sorry this took me so long it just feels like I’ve lost my groove and I’m not writing well? Ya know? Anyway, here’s part 10 :)

Word Count: 3393

It was stressful that while waiting for Jughead to wake up. Betty and Y/n ended up just staying with him all day every day. His best friend and his girlfriend. The two got to know each other very well and grew quite close. At some point Y/n started to tell the blonde about Sweet Pea and how she felt about him. She talked so long and so thoroughly that day that Betty blushed from second hand experience as well as remembering her own experience with her own boyfriend.

When the dark haired serpent boy woke up and was reunited with his awaiting friend/family group (the others had joined the two girls that day) there was a lot of explaining and fixing to do. They got him checked out and dove head first into everything.

And it all seemed to pass in one stressful, choking blur. The election where Hermione Lodge won and Y/n grumbled and cursed and broke things because FUCK. The Black Hood investigation where Y/n visited Betty after everything went down and the blonde cling to her and sobbed for hours and the two girls stayed the night in a little getaway Y/n always had when things got especially bad at home- an abandoned little cave in the woods that she had sparsely filled and covered with a blanket so that the chill stayed outside for the most part. Archie getting arrested for a murder he didn't commit. Veronica and Y/n became super close friends too at some point. It was weird, being so close with so many North Siders. Unless you counted Jughead and Betty both official Souther Siders only now. Which would be fair to do.

Summer was rolling close and Veronica and Betty were losing their minds with worry over Archie. Jughead too, but it seemed like the girls were more worried somehow. Or maybe they just showed it more intensely.

Y/n did all she could to help but with school in the way, these last few days they really couldn't do anything major. Too much of the days were being taken up.

It wasn't until she saw THEM together that Y/b remembered there were other people and things in her life other than Jughead, Betty, Archie, and Veronica. It was all too easy to get lost in their bustle, but the second she saw Sweet Pea and Josie of all people together, she couldn't have cared less about anyone but the Serpent that she had thought was hers only.

Josie had her hand on Sweet's arm, brushing her fingers across his skin randomly and laughing. She looked stunning and Y/n felt sick. Her face twisted into an expression of vulnerable pain. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows scrunched bad her lips parted a bit in a shocked frown. She felt her eyes prickle with the threat of tears, even.

Had he moved on in this last week or two that she'd been busy? Did he really need such constant watch and attention that leaving not even a month to do other things and give them the space they'd promised to give each other until school ended gave him enough time to find someone else?

Maybe he'd always intended to move on from her. Maybe once she got busy he was relieved. How long had he and Josie been flirty and touchy like this? How long had they been talking? When did it start? How? Why? Didn't everyone know he was HERS? Was he... not?

Feeling eyes on him he looked over and caught Y/n's panicked, pained expression for a split second before she ripped her eyes away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and practically sprinting down the hallway to get away from him. His smile dropped and he watched her go, his chest constructing. Shit.

Josie followed his gaze to see Y/n push out the school doors into the warming outside and leave. She sighed. "Look, Sweet Pea." The voy looked back at her. "You're... very good looking. And don't get me wrong, a summer fling would be nice. But you're taken. And I deserve better than someone who can't give all of themselves to me and you deserve better than someone who we both know is going to be a temporary option. Go after her." Sweet Pea went to argue but she held a hand up. "Go."

Nodding, the tall boy sighed and then took off after Y/n. Josie watched him go. She sighed to herself, shaking her head. "That girl better figure her crap out before someone less observant or less merciful takes him from her."

Ironically, Y/n was thinking exactly along those lines.

She ran a hand through her hair, closing her eyes tight as she reached her bike. She put her hands on the seat, leaning forward and closing her eyes. A lost of names and faces ran through her mind as every girl and Josie flirted and smiled at Sweet Pea. In her mind he was with them all. Everyone but her. But Josie stuck in her head. She could really see that happening, just for a short while. Sweet Pea was charming and Josie was successful and confident and stunning. What boy wouldn't fall for her? What high school girl wouldn't fall for him? Just for a little while. Josie wasn't looking for a relationship right now but she'd make it a worthwhile ride while it lasted.

Y/n couldn't see them together as clear as if it was happening. His hand on her thigh. Her hand trailing along his arm. Their lips together, eyes closed, moans echoing around the room as they lowered themselves down...

Arms wrapped around her stomach, pulling her back into a firm chest. She jumped but couldn't turn around to see who it was because they were holding her too tight.

After a second the person lay their head on her shoulder and she recognized the soft, dark hair and the way they rested their forehead and their fingers brushed over her shirt. "Sweets?" He hummed un confirmation and Y/n relaxed despite herself. He was here. He wasn't with Josie.

Josie.

Y/n's eyes closed and she kept still, unlike how she would usually melt into him and fold her arms over his, becoming one and closing her eyes and basking in his proximity. She wanted to. It felt like so long since she'd done that and she wanted too so badly. But all she could see when she closed her eyes were Josie and Sweet Pea heatedly kissing and she was almost tempted to pull away from Sweets and just drive far, far away. But she didn't.

He held her just a little tighter, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Do you like her?" Y/n asked before she could stop herself. Sweet Pea didn't have to ask who,  it he was shocked at how hurt and almost angry she sounded. He was stunned into silence, having been sure before that she didn't care. "Josie," Y/n clarified unnecessarily. "Because I mean if you like her, go for it. I won't stop you. If she makes you happy. I know I've been gone and even before I was so dodgy and I mean I betrayed you so maybe you'd like someone new compared to someone you have so much complicated history with and that's totally understandable-"

Sweet Pea tugged her around so that she was facing him and teen grabbed her face, looking at her very seriously. "I was flirting with Josie to distract myself from the fact that I thought you didn't care about me anymore." Y/n's eyes exploded with pain and Sweet Pea flinched. From so close he could see every streak of the terrible emotion. "I love you. Only you. I meant it when I said it. And I honestly don't want to be with anyone else. I... I'm sorry."

Y/n didn't verbally respond. Instead she smiled, softly. Her hands rose to wrap around his face and his hands found their way to her waist. What he didn't expect was her to pull him close, pressing his lips to hers. He responded instantly though, his fingers digging into her sides. The kiss was slow and purposeful and passionate and people anywhere near by made all kinds of noises as they interrupted the couple like the bunch of teenage ass holes they were.

When she pulled back, her fingers softly ran across his cheek and jaw. "I love you too. Is it close enough to Summer that I can say fuck it all cause I want to be with you?"

Sweet Pea genuinely grinned. "Fuck yes." Y/n giggled again as she pulled him close once more, the pair kissing again.

This time people didn't shout, but a few chuckles sounded.

Neither Y/n or Sweet Pea noticed.

They were both too busy internally sighing a thought, finally.

-

The next days passed fairly quickly. Y/n spent most of her time with Pea as the two used all of their free time to do the last thing they hadn't yet done since Y/n had been back.

"I'm serious," Toni snapped. "It's STILL the same dance."

Y/n groaned, her head tilting back. "THIS is what I have to do to get back in with the Serpents?" She asked, her voice complaining. "I've already done this once."

Sweet Pea chuckled in her ear. "Just means that this time I'll get to see it." Y/n blushed, covering it up with a wink and a smirk. Toni laughed.

Y/n hadn't thought about that though.

The last days of school were leading up to the weekend that would mark the beginning of summer vacation. That Saturday, Y/n was to do the Serpent dance and be initiated back into the Serpents. Get her tattoo back. Be official.

Jughead's has gotten his back when his skin had healed enough, just recently actually. No hassle. But the Serpents felt that Y/n should have to initiate again. And Y/n wasn't about to argue with them. The fact that they were letting her come back at all already felt like more than she deserved. No matter how much Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni had argued with her and how much Jughead and even Betty would butt in about it, Y/n still hated herself for her betrayal. Giving information. Letting herself be used as a tool against the Serpents.

So this was the compromise.

One which everyone could agree on.

When the Saturday came and Sophomore year ended, Y/n caught her breath as she headed to the Wyrm. The first time she'd done it she'd been so incredibly young. She barely remembered it and everyone diverted their eyes because she was so tiny that they felt uncomfortable with her moving her body like that. But this time she was far older and had grown into herself. How many people would be looking at her, noticing her mistakes? Or not noticing because they were too busy watching?

Her stomach turned as she stood just off stage, looking at the awaiting microphone. She felt hands on her shoulder, turning to look behind her. There stood FP. "Are you ready?" He asked.

Y/n nodded, slight terror in her eyes. FP didn't bother telling her she didn't have to do this. She did have to, if she wanted to be a Serpent again. Unfortunately. He patted her on the back, nodding her forward. She took a deep breath before stirring up to the microphone.

Quiet fell over the crowd as the lights dimmed and the only source of it was over her, drawing eyes to her. The music started and she set her face.

She WOULD do this.

If tiny, terrified her with no confidence or body shape could get in this damned stage and be confident and sexy, so could developed, older her. And so she did.

Her face smoothed and her eyes happened to land on Sweet Pea through the darkness. He was diverting his eyes like a gentleman but Y/n shot Toni - who was next to him - a meaningful look. She started singing along to the music, pulling her skirt and shirt away by the little ties that held them. She'd borrowed a deep yellow bathing suit from Veronica, who said that with the lighting on stage would look even better on her than it already did.

Sweet Pea's eyes locked on Y/n's and he swallowed harshly, a little smile rising to his face. The girl smirked, moving to the pole and curving around it. As she watched, Sweet's eyes widened a bit and she was suddenly filled with the feeling that he was the only person in the room. He was all who mattered.

Her hand went from her hip, up, following the curve of her body tightly, rubbing over her chest and through her hair. She bit her lip, raking her teeth slowly over the skin. Sweet Pea couldn't even blink.

"Creep" by Radiohead played and Y/n moved to the back of the pole, her hands wrapping around the metal before she leaned back, letting her hair dangle as her lower body pressed to the pole then slowly rolling her body up to press against the pole as well. She spun, sliding so that she was in front of the pole and facing the audience.

Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want.

She put her hands over her head, slowly moving to the floor as she didn't look away from Pea. Her knees parted, revealing my covered core for all to see. She stood up again, just as slowly, her legs now spread shoulder width apart as she stared down her boyfriend ferociously.

This was different than when Betty had done it. Jughead has been kind of... horrified. And when Toni had done it, she hadn't been aiming her dance at anyone. She was just aiming to impress generally.

It was very rare for anyone to be old enough to have a boyfriend - or girlfriend - to aim it at, but the way Y/n was aiming it was... intimate. Sweet Pea was bright red and wide eyed and people were looking away. Same as they had when Y/n was younger, but for the completely opposite reason. Now they felt uncomfortable because this felt private and sexy and definitely not for anyone's eyes but Sweet Pea's. The boy hadn't even thought to look around and yell at people but the idea of watching his girlfriend put on a show for him was... wrong.

I guess if you can't stand to be looked at and you can't simply blend in and hide, make it really hard to keep looking.

When the song ended, Sweet Pea stood there frozen as Y/b glided back stage, accepting her jacket back from FP who was waiting, eyes casted far away. "Was it too much?" The girl asked, suddenly her reserved, self conscious self again.

FP laughed. "That was definitely a side of you I NEVER wanted to see if you. But you got your point across. You're back in. That's what matters, right?" Y/n nodded, smiling sheepishly and they both chuckled.

Suddenly Sweet Pea was there, lingering back a bit and simply admiring Y/n. The girl noticed him and FP followed her gaze. He chuckled again at the look on Sweet Pea’s face before making some excuse and then leaving the two alone. Sweet Pea moved to Y/n, calmly putting his arms around her shoulders. He guided her through the bar and outside, away from any possible prying eyes - which was ironic every single person inside the Wyrm was purposefully looking ANYWHERE but the pair - and guided her to his bike. They’d left hers chained up at her house tonight.

When they got back to Sweet Pea’s, he pulled her towards the house rather eagerly and she wondered if he was anxious about people seeing her dressed as she was.

But, when they got inside, his lips attached to hers and he was pushing her inside desperately.

She moaned in surprise and when his hands moved under her legs, pulling her up, she hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. He kneeled on the bed, slowly, laying her down gently. Breaking the kiss as little as possible, she pulled off his short sleeved flannel and then his shirt, pulling it over his head. His styled hair was already all fluffy and messed up with Y/n’s fingers having run through it. The urgency between the two increased as the kissed got more passionate and the mood got more full of tension.

Sweet Pea groaned, pulling back squeezing his eyes tight. He couldn’t see her. He’d loose it again. “Are you sure?”

Y/n giggled. “Oh Sweets...” She held his face. “Look at me.” He opened his eyes slowly, his eyes raking her body. She smirked, her legs still around his waist pulling their hips together to create friction. Sweet Pea moaned gruffly, Laing his forehead on her chest. Y/n tilted her head back into the bed, both of them breathing heavily. “Yes I do.”

“You don’t have to,” Sweets whispered weakly, trying to control himself. “We’ve only been dating a few days and I know that people are always using you for that stuff. I can handle my own needs. I have been for years.” It’s meant as a joke but comes out as a sputtered while almost and Y/n pulls up his chin so their eyes meet.

Her eyes are warm and soft and as she bites her lip, Sweet Pea’s eyes darken. “Sweets?” The boy hummed at his name. “Did you know I’ve never had slow sex? Slow and passionate and meaningful? It’s always messy and rough and painfully fast paced. Will you be slow with me? Teach me how to make love instead of just having sex?”

Sweet Pea swallowed again, his mouth perpetually dry. “Only if you want me to.”

Smiling, Y/n nodded. “I’d love that, actually.” Her fingers trailed down his chest and stomach, her fingers catching in his belt and pulling it loose. “You’re so good looking, you know that? So pretty.” Sweet Pea went incredibly red and Y/n grew suddenly shy. She moved skillfully though, pulling his pants down and off of him.

Sweet Pea’s breath caught in his throat as her hands pressed against him through his boxers and he caught her wrist. “I’ve never had sex before.” Their eyes locked and he quickly looked away from her widened gaze. “I mean, not like... sex, you know? Like oral and hand jobs sure but never, SEX.”

Y/n retracted her legs from him. “Well you don’t have to do anything either, Sweets,” Y/n gently whispered, her fingers trailing over his face. “It’s your choice as much as mine.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I WANT to. Heaven above I want to.” Y/n chuckled. “But... I don’t know what to do. I thought you should know.”

Leaning up, Y/n locked his lips with hers and drew him closer by laying back down again so they were pressed up together against the bed. “Let me show you,” Y/n mumbled against his lips. She pushed him until he was laying on his back, crawling on top of him and straddling him, catching his lips again. They kissed as she reached up, pulling her bathing suit off of her shoulders before moving his hands to show him to pull it down. “Come on,” She urges softly.

Sweet Pea tugged her bathing suit lower and lower, exposing more and more of her body. He couldn’t help but look at her as she kicked off her suit once it hit her calves. She blushed, smiling shyly at his awed gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered gently.

“You know for a big, bad Serpent boy you’re really SUCH a teddy bear.”

Sweet Pea smirked. “Do you want to see my bad boy side?” He pulled himself down and I watched him as he hovered underneath my core. I bit my lip. “Oh Princess,” he breathed, a shiver running up my spine as his breath hit my skin. “You are so in for it.”

-

FTL: @iwannadiehere @alexa-playafricabytoto

TTL: @wavyjassy @skeletoresinthebasement @chipster-21 @slytherinintj13 @pokiekatherine @bcfangirlthatswhy @kaylaphantomhive @savy-girl @keepingupwiththelaufeysons  @pixiiiie

[helloworlddemo1122-yahoopar-blog]

EXCLUSIVE: Aaron Carter Tearfully Opens Up About His Eating Disorder: 'I Am Sorry For the Way I Look'

Aaron Carter is sharing a tremendously personal story about his health.

During an exclusive sit-down interview with ET on Tuesday, the 29-year-old singer shut down recent drug rumors, revealing he actually suffers from an eating disorder.

WATCH: Aaron Carter Says He and Brother Nick Might Never Reconcile: 'There's Too Much Animosity'

"I am not a meth head," he told ET's Jennifer Peros, slamming reports that claim he's become heavily into drugs over the years. "I have never touched it in my life."

Carter told ET he has hiatal hernia, a condition in which part of the stomach pushes up through the diaphragm muscle. He's suffered from the abnormality since he was 19 years old, about seven years after his hit, "I Want Candy," was released.

"I have a stress condition of an 80-year-old man," he explained. "I am also lactose intolerant."

The Tampa, Florida, native told ET that he's dropped approximately 20 pounds since he was first diagnosed with the hiatal hernia.

"[I weigh] 135, 140," he said. "Yeah, and I'm 5'8. [Doctors] said avoid stress. Because I can develop cancer."

Carter is well aware that up until this point, many of his fans didn't know about his battle with the disorder, but he admits the struggle goes far beyond the disorder itself -- he says it's troubling to even look at himself in the mirror.

"Oh my God, it hurts so badly," he said. "It hurts so badly because there's like nothing I can do about it."

Doctors have told Carter to "avoid stressful situations," which has prompted him to deactivate his social media accounts every once in awhile due to all the negative comments he receives. He said he does read what people write, but tries to "have love" in his heart for them -- even the cyber bullies who tell him to "die" or constantly ask him to explain the reason behind his looks.

RELATED: Aaron Carter Goes on Twitter Rant After His Arrest: ‘Never Be Bullied Into Silence'

"How would you feel every two seconds, seeing a tweet, 'You have AIDS. Go die. Oh, look at this meth head. Oh, meth kills. Crack kills,'" he asked. "It's body shaming and it’s the toughest thing to deal with."

Things took an extra emotional turn when ET then asked Carter, "What's one thing you want to say to all the nasty fans out there?"

"I… I'm sorry," he said, as tears erupted. "I am sorry for the way that I look."

"I am going to a training camp called D1 Combine Training and I'm going to transform my body. And get healthy," he revealed. "Hopefully tomorrow. We're already working on it, I've been asking for a year."

"To everybody I say, 'Give me a break so I can look better, so I can eat,'" he urged.

Carter continued on, telling ET that in addition to the disorder, he gets Voluma fillers to "fill my face."

"It's just how I'm built. This is how I look," he explained, admitting he uses JUVÉDERM and Restylane treatments. "If you look at my grandpa Carter, if you look at Douglas Spalding, my grandpa, he was a track runner."

"Unless you're in my body, you don't know. I mean, look at that," he said, lifting his shirt to reveal his abs. "I have an eight-pack."

Despite his constant struggles, Carter said he has found a positive in all of this.

"To keep it 100 percent with you, there are so many other guys out there that have been reaching out to me on Twitter that have said, 'Thank you so much Aaron, you're the first man that stepped up about weight issues,'" he explained. "I'm actually becoming a voice for people who are going through this."

"You don't [see it a lot with male celebrities] but it does happen. A lot more," he continued. "The difference is, men are a lot more prideful. We don't want to admit it. I don't want to admit I don't look good."

WATCH: Aaron Carter Breaks Down in Tears Over Arrest, Reveals What Drugs He Takes

The interview comes just three days after Carter was arrested in Habersham County, Georgia, on charges of DUI, possession of marijuana less than one ounce and possession of drug related objects.

Carter also broke down in tears as he recalled the incident, explaining he hadn't slept since Saturday. More on that in the video below:

[potentiallyahuman]

LONG POST | let me know if I should add any more tags. sorry in advance

I was in the hospital from 6'30 this morning until 8pm having surgery and on an IV for the entire day being closely monitored.

yesterday during 1st period, I had an exam and towards the end, the teacher told me to go stand outside near the exit and have a drink because I looked pale. He sent my friend out with me. I refused to go home because I was already missing one class for a form representative meeting 4th period. I struggled through the rest of the day and my mom called the school saying I had a doctord appointment at 3'30 so I needed to leave at 3 instead of 3'35.

Through the day I was dizzy, asked by every teacher if I was ok and two sent me to matron, who suggested I went home. I still refused.

When I saw a doctor, she told me that I should have taken the day off and i potentially had glandular fever.

My mom played hell at me for staying until she picked me up for the appointment.

I was half dressed for school this morning (5am) when I ran into the bathroom, violently sick, dizzy and hurting everywhere. On the doctors recommendations, she took me straight to the hospital where they put me straight onto an IV and I was closely monitored all morning, up until 10am where they sent me for emergency surgery.

As they were taking me down to theatre for prep, they had to get me to say I consented to the surgery as it was too much of an emergency and I was too weak to sign the document. As my parents were both at work, neither of them could sign.

I had a surgery on my chest and stomach, where they removed damaged and infected tissue. They told me the chances of me surviving if I wasn't sent straight in were less than 10%. It was minor, yes, but life saving.

I was adament that I was going to school this morning, because missing 1 lesson yesterday stressed me out enough, emailing a teacher and catching up on the lesson in my "free" time, which is usually time I spend drawing or sleeping.

I cried when they admitted me to the ward because I didn't want to have to miss any school. I now have to catch up on 5 lessons, homework and PE. I'm annoyed I couldn't have gone to the lessons and stressed about catching them up.

I didnt go to school, simply because I couldn't stand. If I'd have thrown up and blacked out and still been ready by 7'15, I'd have gone to school. I, potentially, could have been dead by now.

I work on Saturdays. I help around the house every day, but do a lot more on Saturdays. Mondays and Fridays, I run a tutor group for lower school, helping kids aged 11-14 with science and math. Tuesdays I play netball until 4'30 and dance until 6, Wednesdays I play on the schools netball team, and help and dance after until 7. Thursdays, I help run a STEM group until 5'30, and am working towards my silver CREST award. Every night, I clean and prepare food for my family.

Sundays are the only time I get to see my friends, and I leave homework until Sunday. it's the only day I have the majority of the day free. Monday to Saturday I get up at 5 and don't go to bed until around 9-10. I put my education before my health and wellbeing. I put my education before my family.

Since September 3rd, I've delayed family meals six times so I could complete homework. I've moved doctors appointments to lunch times when I have no clubs on, as that's my only free time.

My dad came to see me during a break today, as he wouldn't be home until late. I have seen this man cry exactly twice. When his dad died, and when the family dog of almost 14 years died. I have seen this man break his leg, watch his brother die and hear a doctor tell him his 7 year old child could die. He cried at none. The look on his face when he walked into the ward is something I will never forget.

I should have taken yesterday off and seen a specialist sooner, I see that now. But I put my education first, as I always do. And I suffered massively for it. I want to go to school tomorrow, I don't know how I'll handle having to catch up 5 lessons, nevermind 9.

I hate school. I hate the place with a burning passion. I hate the stress and homework. I hate being told "you only have to do an hour of homework" fifteen to twenty times a week. I hate getting up at 5am so I can be at school for 8. I hate the long days and the types of people. I hate the people who delay classes by being stupid. I hate disruptive students. But I love learning things. I love learning two more languages. I love joking with teachers. I love helping lower school students. I love going to the science labs at lunch and helping in there. I love being treat like an equal, and not a child. But I have been admitted to a psychological ward several times from stress-related conditions linking to school. And this is the fourth time now I've had life-saving surgery but wanted to go to school that morning in fear of dropping behind in classes.

I'm a straight-A student. I'm predicted 9's across the board (on a system of 1-9 with 9 being the equivalent of an A++) and achieve 8s and 9's a year early. And the price I pay regularly is my health. My friends get 7s and 8s, occasionally 9s. they're a lot healthier than me. They take a few days off a year, but not a lot.

I took 2 last year. 1 for a surgery, 1 for a hospital appointment where I was monitored for an entire day. I went into school last year for an entire week with no stamina, constant and painful fatigue, unable to eat and almost unable To write. You know what I got a day before I was due to receive an attendance award, the day I was in hospital with a punctured lung that school had been notified of? "Bring [deadname] in by a 11'30 and we will still give [them] the award."

And despite all of this, I'm still fighting to go to school in the morning and "learn" things I probably already learned.