#i could’ve pushed through it but i didn’t and now i only have one day left of this three day weekend to pack / buy stuff for the trip / prep

[rotten-dogs]

Hii can I also req a bully bada smut??😫 🙏 I love ur works!!

From Time

cw: general bullying, characters in the grey area, dubious consent wise (power difference) girl cock, umm squirting

an: sure thx 4 the rq this is short and sweet hopefully

The loud sound of lockers slamming pressed mind numbingly against your ears. The chatter from other students became muddled against every other noise in the vicinity. The sound of someone’s shoes squeaking, a backpack unzipping, a teacher yelling to tell off a student running down the hall.

Everything combined made an already hostile day ten times worse. You could feel your brain slowly draining itself of personality, of you. Water dripped from your hair and stained the sleeves of your clothes but nobody noticed. Nobody ever had. The skin around your wrists was inflamed and the length of your skirt covered the mass-ly blue bruises that seemed to be permanently etched into your skin. Everything was blurry, and only one thing remained on your mind in a constant.

Bada Lee.

Ever since grade school she had made it her personal mission to plaster her personal vendetta against you across her whole being. It started out petty, a few sarcastic comments that only the petulant mind of an eight year old could come up with. Stealing your things, holding them above your head.

By middle school it had shifted, but only slightly. A few shoulder checks in the hallway, a little academic intimidation, rumors. Oh the rumors.

By high school it had gotten more physical. It seemed her hate for you only grew, shoving you into lockers, punching your stomach until you were gasping for air behind the school and like today—holding you down while she poured water over your face on a constant. You didn’t know why she did it, you steered clear of her and yet it’s like that wasn’t enough. Like you had burrowed a section out in her brain and now she blames you specifically for that. It’s your fault that she can’t stop thinking about hurting you.

The reality is she made your life a living hell and sometimes you wondered if that’s all it would be. You’d never even been friends with the girl and yet she destroyed your concept of friendships. Anyone you’d gotten close to she easily consumed from you as well. It was easy for her, she was charming and stunning to everyone else. A guiding light. A campus crush that you touch yourself after hours to. Not that you would.

You pull your arms around yourself, attempting to fall inside yourself and avoid the curious eyes drifting your way as you make your way to class. It hardly works, it’s all you can think about as you push your way through what feels like an endless sea of people.

So suddenly you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. That hand tugs, hard on your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled through the stuffy hall; your guiding light expertly weaving through the bustle of your peers.

You don’t have to look up, you know that grip. Felt it many times. Your heart dies a little in your chest at the thought. Just this morning, Bada had grabbed you by the back of your head and told you to sit; wait.

You did, obediently, shaking in fearful anticipation as she came up behind you. You could feel her presence—looming over you before an intense feeling of cold and wet washed over you. You could’ve sworn you felt your body go into shock.

The sound of Bada laughing cruelly behind you filled your ears and you slipped trying to stand up, your body suddenly shaking violently as the cold morning air hit your wet frame. All Bada offered you was, “You looked hot.” Before she turned on her heel and walked the other way.

You thought that would’ve been the end of it today and you were clearly a fool. She tugged you to the far end of the school, the crowd having dissipated into a few stragglers until there was no one around at all.

“Bada.”

You tried, wincing as the grip only tightened on your arm. She pulled you into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind her. The action made her grip on your wrist loosen and you pulled it away into your own chest, rubbing the skin there with your other hand.

“Bada..” You’re searching for words but nothing seems to stick and she’s looking at you with nothing short of hatred in her eyes. It makes you feel small. She takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Did you think I was done?” She raises her eyebrow, expectant of an answer and you turn your head, finding the floor beside you to be all the more interesting. A mistake. Her hand finds itself under your chin easily, pushing it up to look at her. “You know it’s disrespectful to turn away from someone.” Her eyes trail away and the quiet anger is written all over her face. You’ve been here before. You know everything about Bada, and she knows everything about you.

“Sit on that desk.” She juts her chin towards it, letting go of yours and you start to shake your head. “Not h-“ the loud sound of a slap reverberates off the walls and you blink in registry. Red is creeping onto your face from where the sting of her slap imprinted itself on you. You lack shock at her doing it, but rather at how quickly it had happened. “I’m not asking again.” And damn, if that isn’t a threat.

You nod, more to yourself than to her and make your way towards the desk she had pointed out to you, letting your thighs touch the base of it before lifting yourself to sit atop it, feet dangling.

She smiles, a rare occurrence, as she walks towards you. “See? Was that so hard, hm?” She pushes your hair back from your shoulders and slides her hand down suggestively from your neck down to the first button on your blouse. Her fingers are tender, such a contrast to her personality as she unbuttons your top, pulls it down your shoulders. Her grin is toothy, big lips pulled open predatorily as she leans in, leaves a kiss against your shoulder once, before bringing a trail up your neck and to the base of your ear.

You inhale deeply at her actions, eyes closing as you feel a familiar throb make itself known between your legs. Legs that she seems to take an interest in suddenly. Her hands rub over your thighs, rubbing her thumbs into your taut skin there which garners a groan from you. She seems to like that, chuckling breathily to herself before spreading your legs further apart. Embarrassment seeps in and you glance at the door. Locked or not, anyone could walk by.

You feel her breath fan against your neck before she puts her lips to your ear, “You gonna just take it today?” She bites her lip, a hand snaking down your front and ghosting over your core. “Or have I not stretched you enough these days?” And despite the inaccuracy she’s suggesting about the female anatomy; you meet her eyes, they’re gleaming with something only she understands. A look only she knows, something glassy and wide eyed. Beggar.

“Oh…” She smiles, biting back a laugh as she takes it in, “Filthy.” Is what she offers as you two come to some sort of silent understanding.

Then she’s pulling your skirt up, looping her fingers down your panties and pulling them down; but not all the way. No, she wouldn’t bother with that. It all happens so quickly, barely any time passes before she’s pulling herself out of her trousers, precum dripping from her tip.

Her teeth bite at the inside of her cheek as she lines herself up. If she were decent she might ask if you were ready, give you some kind of warning. But she isn’t, so she doesn’t. Just pushes the tip inside, her eyes locking with yours as she does. She watches as your mouth falls open, holding the eye contact as your face quivers with the pain.

She keeps pushing in, forcing her way inside your walls as they try to keep up, relaxing despite the pain. It feels like you’re being torn open, her size massive to the unprepared state you’re in. She’s still holding your gaze as your eyes tear up, a broken moan slipping from your lips. “Bada.” You whine and she smiles, “Shhh.” Is what she offers.

Your arms fly up to wrap around her shoulders as she bottoms out, your eyes forcing themselves closed and a shudder wracking through your body while you try to adjust. She’s no help though, wasting no time before she pulls out to the hilt and slams herself inside again. Which in turn, causes you to scream out, legs flailing on either side of her with the force of it. You bite around her shoulder, trying to quiet yourself as your field of vision becomes slick with tears.

Bada sets out on a pace, finding it quickly. And it’s not kind, her hips fucking against you at a dangerous pace. You stretch around her with each thrust, your body bouncing against the table while you try to hold onto her shoulders for dear life. “Look at you taking it. Speechless?” She mocks, her words breathy as you clench around her and whine in response.

“Can always count on you. My little slut.” Her hands slide down to hold your waist and you cry out, a tear sliding down your face as she pushes you away from her shoulders, sends you back to lay against the desk.

She lifts your hips off the desk, angling her hips upwards before fucking inside of you with a new fervor, fucking into you like you’re a fleshlight. “My little toy. Look at you. Can barely handle it yet you’re moaning for more.” And she’s right, your hands are clenched into fists while your mouth hangs agape, moaning loudly, any thoughts of anyone walking having become uncared for by you. Bada’s name falls from your lips endlessly and your body goes stiff.

“Please.” Is what you offer, “Please please please.” Your back arches even further off the desk and she pulls you further onto her, the sound of your skin against each other filling the space. You can’t help but groan, tears sliding down your face as she speeds up. “There you go baby, that’s it.”

“Taking it so well I knew you could.”

You whine at the praise and shake your head, “I can’t…I can’t..” you can barely think, your hand coming up to try and push Bada’s hands off your hips and that well, she doesn’t like that at all.

Suddenly, her hand is around your throat and her face comes back into your field of view as she fucks inside of you at a new pace. “You can.” She says and you shake your head again, sniffling in between your stolen moans, “You can.” She says again, her voice raspy and darker than it was moments before, her hips snapping up against you.

You can barely breathe, your hand coming up to hold where she has your neck in her grip, “Wait..” you whine out but she doesn’t, barely even slows down before you’re coming all over her cock, a scream falling from your lips. Your hips shake and splutter around her and your head falls back as far as it can, your whole vision goes dark for a moment and you register her letting you go when your back hits the desk again.

It’s quiet, and you can feel her shallowly fucking inside you still, her eyes staring directly down at where you’re swallowing her up. You’re dazed, and a little confused as you try to blink up at her. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and you’re unable to speak so she does it for you. That grin still plays on her lips when she meets your gaze again,

“You fucking squirted.”

[pepprs]

i thiiiink my headache is finally gone. at least i desperately fucking hope so

[navybrat817]

Sergeant Snuggles

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants you to get some much needed rest. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Fluff, swearing, humor, reader is tired, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best boyfriend, okay?). A/N: I'm tired. I want Bucky to fix my schedule. Again! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You should’ve taken the afternoon off. You knew that. There was no reason for you to remain in the building beyond your earlier debriefing. The mission you completed was successful, but you hardly slept over the last few days because of it. Describing yourself as tired was an understatement.

But you had a tendency to stretch yourself thin at times and were stubborn, a trait Bucky both loved and fought you on.

The beautiful brunette you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend leaned over in his chair as you stifled a yawn. “That’s the fifth time you’ve done that in the last two minutes,” he whispered low enough to not draw attention.

“Glad you’re keeping count,” you whispered back, feeling his steel eyes linger on you as before he turned his focus back to Steve. At least he didn’t say he told you so after you turned down his suggestion this morning to call in.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, the stubble on his strong jawline catching your attention. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Hardly slept either. Still looked gorgeous.

How was that fair?

“Just take a break,” he urged, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “It’ll help.”

“No, I’m fine,” you argued, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it, as if it would give you a boost. “We have a busy day. I don’t have time to use one of the pods.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had recently built a lounge area for agents to rest and recoup during the day and between missions. Some of the pods were large enough for two people to rest comfortably together. Why not cuddle with your soldier for a short time? As nice as it sounded, you had to get through a few more hours of work.

“I love you, but you’re about two seconds away from putting your head on the table,” Bucky whispered, your heart skipping a beat. It did that whenever he professed his love for you. But you were also feeling a bit grouchy, even though he was only trying to help

“And I love you, but I’m about two seconds away from flipping this table,” you hissed before Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you added sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault the mission cost you precious sleep.

The blonde’s brow furrowed. Like Bucky, he knew you pushed yourself too hard some days. You had to though. You weren't a super soldier like they were. “It’s okay,” he said before he continued.

Exhaustion veiled your normally bright and attentive gaze. The Captain had a commanding presence, yet your eyelids drooped as he kept talking. You weren’t sure if you were able to fall asleep sitting up and you didn’t want to find out. With a shake of your head, you had to try and fight the waves of drowsiness that crashed in your mind and washed over your body.

It was a losing battle. You used to laugh at memes that talked about meetings that could’ve been done in an email, but it didn’t seem so humorous now that you were living it. Why didn't you just stay home?

You jolted when your boyfriend suddenly placed his hand on your thigh and you wished you could say you blamed it on his touch. “What? What happened?” You asked. Did you fall asleep or just zone out?

“The meeting’s over,” he replied, nodding to the now empty room. You hadn’t seen anyone walk out. That wasn’t good.

“Shit.” You rubbed your temple, an ache building in your head. You’d have to apologize to Steve later because there was no way you retained anything he stated. “What time is it?”

Bucky checked his watch with a slight frown. “It’s 10:55.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s lip twitched in a smile when you realized you said that out loud. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.”

You huffed, your head cloudy again before you slumped in your chair. There was no way you’d make it through the day, as much as you wanted to try. You were useless in this condition. “Okay. I may need a nap,” you admitted.

He smiled softly as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. “I had a feeling. That’s why I booked us one of the pods before we got here,” he said. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew you better than you knew yourself. “Let's go.”

You pouted, but took his outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can't just try and suck it up?” You asked, covering your mouth with your other hand when you yawned yet again. “There’s still work to do.”

“And you're not going to finish it right this second,” he stated firmly, the drop in his voice making your throat go dry. He meant business when he used that tone. “You're going to let everyone else handle it, and they can handle it, and you are going to get some rest.”

You loved this man for putting up with and caring for you. “Yes, Sergeant, but I still don't want a nap,” you grumbled, wondering just how whiny you sounded.

He chuckled, the sound making you giggle. It was infectious. “Just twenty minutes. It’s all I'm asking for to start. You worked hard and deserve a nap,” he said, sneaking a soft kiss in when you pouted again. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me? Please?”

Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away. Nightmares still plagued him and you discovered that he rested easier with you beside him. Your presence didn’t always chase the horrors away, but it helped. Maybe he needed this nap just as much as you did.

What kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

“Okay, Bucko. For you,” you smiled, leaning into his side as he guided you down the hall. You’d do anything for him. “You know, my caffeine let me down,” you added.

“I know, baby.”

“It’s a betrayal. It was supposed to stimulate me,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby,” he said again, going along with your tired rambling. “But we both know I stimulate better than that ever could.”

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. He was very good at that. “And this is a good excuse for us to cuddle.”

“As long as you get some sleep, you can have all the cuddles you want,” he promised.

A tired smile touched your lips. “I should call you Sergeant Snuggles.”

It was at that moment that Sam walked by, the smirk on his face telling you that he at least caught the nickname you just came up with. Your gaze flickered to Bucky’s profile, catching the clench in his jaw as he stared at his colleague and friend. It was a sexy look, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. And Sam, the good man he was, didn't say a word. He nodded and went on his way.

Which likely meant he pocketed the nickname to bring up at a later time.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed him.

Fondness took over Bucky's blue eyes when he swung his gaze back toward you. “Don't be sorry. You can call me whatever you want,” he assured you, taking you into the longue.

The low light created a peaceful atmosphere and you found yourself longing for relaxation as Bucky brought you to the pod furthest in the corner. He helped you in before he climbed in beside you, his massive frame making you feel safe and warm as he held you against him. His fingers moved along your back in a slow and soothing pattern and your breathing began to match his after a minute. It made it easy for your eyes to slip shut.

You still couldn’t believe that you had someone in your life like Bucky. The man did everything in his power to put your needs first and make sure he took care of you. Not because he didn’t think you were strong or capable enough to do so yourself, but because he recognized that you didn’t have to do everything alone. That was why he was your partner.

In work, in love, and in life.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you sighed, wishing you were awake enough to say how much you appreciated him. “Sorry for whining and bitching and being stubborn.”

“You don’t need to thank me and you didn’t whine or bitch. I’ll give you stubborn though,” he said, casually tossing a leg over you before you could move away. If you asked it of him, he’d lay on top of you like a blanket. “Just get some sleep and don’t push yourself today, please. I’ll feel a lot better if you relax.”

You’d feel a lot better, too. “One more question and I will.”

He hummed as he waited for you to speak.

“What's the policy on sex in the pods?” You asked, resting a hand on his chest and feeling his heart start to race. “For future us, for the record. I love you, but we’re not trying somnophilia here today.”

He exhaled a laugh against your forehead before he kissed it, warmth spreading like a balm through your head. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Dragging his lips down to yours. “And I’m sure we can find a way to make it work, but not until you rest, okay? Need you at one hundred percent for that.”

“Yes, Sergeant Snuggles,” you replied, feeling him hold you a little tighter before you finally got some much needed sleep.

I hope this reads well. 🤣 I'm le tired. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[chastiefoul]

stood up pt. 2

characters: alhaitham & ayato

read part one here!

a/n: cannot thank u all of you enough for how well-received the first fic was, hope you can enjoy the second part just as much!! also i hope you can forgive my limited knowledge of flora (and the things i made up) on haitham's part!!

tags: comfort / summary: wallowed in guilt, how will they make it up to you?

Alhaitham

“You look like shit,” Kaveh commented nonchalantly, as if currently watching some character on a show. “Shut it,” Alhaitham replied, having zero intention in dealing with his roomate. It has been a week since he finished his research, but relief didn’t wash over him at all, it was the same day as he had cruelly stood you up, making you wait for three whole hours before he finally came. There were a lot of upsetting feelings he’s been experiencing through for the past few days, but lately he felt giving his past self a good punch for forgetting such an important day. In a way too he had blamed the research that’s been occupying him. Although he quickly perished that thought, since it’d be too easy—blaming something other than himself. When in fact he is wholly at fault for forgetting the date.

Everyday Alhaitham had been coming to your house, wanting to talk to you but what always greet him was your roomate, telling him that you’re busy. Feeling like he had no right to push it further, he left it at that. With clenched fists and a pang on his chest everytime, he was forced to go home. Today he was at his wits’ end, he had no idea what to do and how would he make you to meet him even for a second. Other than forgiveness that he’s looking for, he missed you terribly. With all the times he could’ve spent with you taken by the damn research, he longed to embrace you, to see your smile, and listen to you rambling about what’s been happening in your life.

Alhaitham wasn’t really one to be experienced in ‘love’, he knew that, you knew that. That’s why he loved your patience in guiding him through this thing, but now the only person that would be able to tell him what to do was the very one person he couldn’t talk to. Alhaitham groaned, thinking if you were in his position you’d probably know to do—scratch that. If it’s you, Alhaitham was sure that you wouldn’t even allow yourself to do such a careless act.

☘

“He’s here again,” your roomate claimed, seeing him from the window. “Just tell him the same thing,” you said, hugging your knees as you sat on the couch. It's true that Alhaitham looked horrible, but you weren’t any better. You’ve been crying yourself to sleep every night, it especially hurt, when you had to hold back the sobs over a pillow that your throat hurts; since you didn’t want to disturb your roomate. What happened that day was like a slap to the face, that you were forced to recognize a fact that perhaps you love Alhaitham way more that he loves you.

Your rommate just nodded to what you say and went to the door. Not long she came back bearing a message. “He said he’d wait for you outside until you feel like talking to him.”

“Just leave him be then, I’m sure he’d go back soon, it’s especially cold outside today.” You said, really having no idea just how stubborn the gray-haired male is going to act. “Well, just keep an eye out.” Your roomate went back to her room. Tell that to him. You thought. You turned the television on to distract yourself, but you couldn’t help but peek outside the window every few minutes, to see if he’s still there. And he always was.

And that went for more than an hour, until you felt like you couldn’t do it anymore. You were mad at him, but you’re not heartless. You couldn’t be. However you didn’t intend to forgive him so easily, you told yourself that you were only meeting him to send him home and to not come back everyday.

You approach the front door and opened it.

There he stood, with an hand behind his back. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, but it quickly turns into a look of concern and guilt mixes, seeing your swollen eyes.

“What do you want?” You curtly said, taking a good look of the man in front of you who’s in terrible shape. His complexion doesn’t look good, there are bags under his eyes, he hasn’t been taking care of himself at all. A part of your chest twinge at the fact that not being able to see you was the cause of all this. You weren’t used to seeing Alhaitham so all over the place, when he always showed a perfect picture of a man who got it all together.

“I’m sorry,” He quickly cut to the chase, afraid that you’ll be out of his sight yet again as he revealed a purple hyacinth, handing it to you. The flower that represented regret and remorse. Then he continued meekly, “Of course, I don’t expect you to forgive me with one lousy flower, but I hope you will believe me when I said I truly regret that I had forgotten about our date, it seethes me with terrible anger to remember that I let myself be so caught up in my business, resulting you had to stand in the snow for hours; hours of you thinking of the reason why I didn’t come, and hours of doubting my feelings towards you. It must’ve felt terrible, I am so sorry.” His voice was close to trembling, however he knew to hold it in, since the one who should be upset was you. “I understand if me being in your vision may infuriate you, but please, please don’t shut me out.” He pleaded, it’s the most vulnerable expression you’ve ever seen on him that it tugs on your heartstrings.

Of course the truth is you missed him as much as he does, but you had to be sure of his feelings towards you. And seeing him now yet again after many failed attempts of meeting you over the days with a flower you didn’t even know where it came from since every field should be covered in snow and a heartfelt all-over-the-place apology, you couldn’t help but soften up. You reached to take the flower. “Come in, let’s talk inside.”

You both sat on the couch, your right hand went to rub his cheek. It was incredibly cold. “What were you thinking, standing in the cold like that? What if I hadn’t come out?” You mumbled gently. “It was nothing compared to what I put you through, I would’ve wait even for days.” He frowned as you leaned in to your touch, putting his hand atop of yours. Oh how he missed this. However he didn’t indulge on the touch thinking it was forgiveness, it’s just because you were that kind.

“You really hurt me,” you started, as he listened. “I had been looking forward to the date for days and then seeing you late looking like you just barely woke up—it made think that maybe you didn’t love me as much.” Your voice sounded so small as you reached the end of your sentence. Alhaitham felt pricks on his heart at the confession, swiftly pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed your temple. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. But I can assure you that was not the case. I was so caught up on my research that I mixed up the date of our meeting, though that’s not an excuse for such a careless act.” He paused.

“(y/n), I love you very much.”

Alhaitham was really having trouble telling you just how much he loves you. If you’d asked, he would wait on the cold for days until you’re ready to talk to him, even today he thought that it was okay if it was only a second, he had to see you, to know you’re doing fine and well, that was what he thought the most important thing. Just the way he kissed you so gently at the top of your head, you thought that you had a grasp as to how much he loves you. “Thank you for letting me see you,” he smiled, he cupped your face planting kisses on each of your swollen eyelids.

“Promise me you’ll make up for it, haitham,” you said softly. A chance. Alhaitham felt an unexplainable tingle feeling on his chest, “I promise.” He then said kissing you gently on the lips, as he made a mental note to always, always pick you up at your place for the dates that are more to come.

☘

“The flowers? I.. went to Tighnari first thing in the morning, I asked him about the language of the flowers and what they meant. I came across it as I read a book, fortunately I could find the one I was looking for.” He explained, strangely bashful.

Flower picking? On this weather?

“But where did you even get it, isn’t everything either covered in snow or had withered already?” You asked genuinely curious. “Well Tighnari said there would be some on the cliffs of The Chasm, so I went there.” He said.

Cliff? The Chasm? That terribly dangerous place? Of course it’d be nothing for Alhaitham, you thought. But still, traveling that far and so quickly just for a flower.. you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, I like it.” You smiled, the one where it made Alhaitham’s inside all tingly and warm. At this he felt like he really could do anything, as long as you were the one who asked for it. “Tell me what kind of flower you want on our next date, I’ll definitely bring it to you.” He took your hand, trailing little kisses along your fingertips to your wrist. Your stomach fluttered. You really do love him.

As if lesson was strictly learned, from that day forward Alhaitham had never once made you wait anywhere anymore at all. He's always ready in front of your door, sometimes with a flower, sometimes with something that you'd nonchalantly said the day before; for instance a food you were craving for, a necklace that you stared a second longer than the other that were on display, or even a stuffed toy you mentioned was cute even though you only said it to make a conversation.

Before, Alhaitham usually passive, most times always being the receiving end by your spoiling, but it was because he didn't want to take initiative, he just didn't understand how. Now, he understood just how delightful it was to see his loved one smile because of the things he did, and he only had you to thank for that.

Ayato

“My lord?” Thoma’s voice snapped the blue-haired male train of thoughts. “Ah, yes just leave the tea there Thoma.” He said. “Did something happen, my lord? You’ve been pretty out of it all week.”

“I’m fine, you can return to your duty,” Ayato calmly said. The blond housekeeper only nodded and went out, understanding very well that it was futile to probe any further. Ayato looked blankly at the unattended pile of papers he needed to take care of, he hasn’t been working well—or even at all. Since everytime his mind would wander off to you, to your meek voice that day telling him that you were tired, with a tone so hurt his heart couldn’t help but ache. This regret, this remorse; he wondered if he even had any right to feel them? When even to this day he unconsciously stilll waited for you to barge in to the estate, wanted to see you smile happily while greeting him without a care in the world. But that didn’t happen, of course it didn’t.

Ayato shut his eyes with an unpleasant expression for the nth time that day, remembering the date he had forgotten. For how long you were waiting for him? What were you thinking while waiting for him on such a harsh weather? What was it that finally made you give up? All these questions swirled inside his mind as he couldn’t even imagine how terrible you must’ve felt that day. Ayato was a formidable man, he was responsible and someone with a strong conviction, it was what the political people said at least. But he knew you’d laugh, if you hear it. Responsible? That Ayato? Who made his lover wait for him out in the cold for hours?

He didn’t even realize he’s been clenching his fist until he saw the crinkled paper scattered across his desk. Why the hell did I forget such an important day? He fumed, gritting his teeth. But the truth was he had no excuse, he had simply forgotten, perhaps he could blame the endless meeting he had to go through, but even then he was the one who made the promise that he could come. The guilt overwhelmed him, he hoped it would just swallowed him alive, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. He considered calling one of his soldier to try and punch him in the face so he could feel a little free from the binding shame, but only to realize the person who even had the right to do that was none other than you. So Ayato was determined that he’d do anything to beg for your forgiveness.

But more than forgiveness, he’s been worried about your health. He thought that if you hadn’t forgiven him, at least you could be well and healthy, though it was extremely hypocritical to say since he was the one who made you sick in the first place. Ayato stood up, planning to go to your place yet again even though his work was piling up, there are meetings that are waiting to be attended. But at the moment it was clear to him that nothing else matters except seeing you.

☘

This was truly the worst.

Lying down with a fever with nothing to do, surrounded with nothing but unpleasant thoughts roaming around your mind. You blinked the tears away once again as they keep coming occasionally, remembering that day.

You sighed, your head was throbbing and you couldn’t really sleep as you just woke up an hour ago.

As if on cue, a familiar voice called out from the door. “(y/n)?” Ayato called out. Another tired sigh escaped. Does this man not know how to take a hint? You’ve been driving him away for the past few days, his face was the one thing you couldn’t stand to see.

“Please (y/n) open the door, even just for a few second.” His voice was now strained, laced with desperation and plead. You got up all wobbly from the headache, body still feeling sluggish. “What?” You said, frowning.

Seeing your condition Ayato’s expression contorted into utter displeasure, as if you being this way had hurt him too. What a joke, you almost laughed out loud. He looked like he wanted to say something based of how he gaped and closed his mouth like a fish, still finding the right words to say.

“Your few seconds are up,” you said, already on your way to closing your door. “No, no, please.” He hold the door, and of course with your condition and his ridiculous strength, there’s no way you would win that one. “Can I come in?” He finally said. “Why?” You said, leaning on the doorframe intending to look intimidating as you crossed your arm, but really you needed the support to stand up straight on your currently weak body. This didn’t go unnoticed by the sword-wielder of course as the worried expression deepened across his face. “Please, sweetheart let’s talk inside, I’m worried you’ll faint any minute with your condition.” You let off his slip of a tongue, too tired to reprimand him on that. And honestly you wanted nothing more than to return to your bed but you still had something to say. “Worried?” You laughed mockingly, and Ayato had never felt smaller. “Yes.” Still, he managed to say. “Would’ve been nice if you were worried when I was waiting for you in the snow for hours.” That one stings, and Ayato knew he deserved that.

Too tired to chase him away, you just return to your bed and inside your blanket. Ayato just stood awkwardly near the bed. “Have you been taking medicine? How is your head? Would I be allowed to check your temperature? What do you want to-“

“Ayato.” Your tone was chilling, felt like a definite warning—Ayato knew, it was a warning. Right now he doesn’t have any right, there are other matters he should be groveling to take responsibility of, he thought.

“Will you be willing to listen to me?” He kneeled beside the bed, putting his hand on the edge of it, hesitating whether he should touch your hand or not. Your back was still facing him, but you were quiet. Assuming that it was a permission, Ayato continued to talk.

“First of all, I apologize. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how I regret my action, that you had to stand there alone waiting for me—who stupidly didn’t even remember, I apologize.” He whispered, his voice was weak. “No, even way before that the way you always come to the estate to visit me and stood by my side no matter how crazy my work got and how I never thought how it would take a toll on you, I truly truly apologize.” You felt a little part of your heart melted at how meek his voice was.

“I took your unconditional kindness and patience for granted,” he said. There was silence after that, “you did,” you finally said. “I’m sorry.” Ayato repeated once again. He then very hesitantly grabbed your hand, and as soon as he saw that you gave the okay he brought it to his face, kissing your palm very lovingly. You turned your head to him as you were lying down, he looked disheveled.

“Don’t go to the estate anymore.” The blue-haired male announced suddenly, your stomach dropped as he quickly continued.

“From now on I’ll come to you.”

You blinked. “I’ll make sure to be here every day, greeting you first thing in the morning.” Ayato smiled, determined. He was sure on his decision to do this. “As of now, I know very well I don’t deserve your kindness, so I’ll try hard to do better, to do my best, for you.”

Your heart softened at his words.

“Can you please give me this chance?” He was desperate. Your anger slowly dissipated, a warm light like a candle flickered inside your chest, a hope. “Okay.” Ayato was over the moon hearing the response, that he couldn’t help but kiss your temple. Your stomach fluttered, it knew you missed his touch. “For now can I ask you to eat and take medicine?” He asked while gently tucking your hair behind your ear. You nodded, as he got everything ready. He ended up beside you all day, taking care of your needs.

☘

Since that day Ayato did not break his promise even once. Always coming in the morning, sometimes with gift on his hand, other times with breakfast all ready. Then he shared his schedule with you for the day, and even then he’d always be the one to visit you when he was free, showering you with such overwhelming love. It was clear that the man love you very very much, and now he didn’t let you forget that.

“Ayato, thank you.” You said, on a random night. He just looked at you, adoration was apparent on his expression. “Anything for you, love. I mean it, anything.” He kissed your lips gently, the nightfall continued comfortably.

TAGLIST- <3

@sunsethw4 @ieathairs @96jnie @kipper-s @nambii @tigerpriestess @bearbae4 @wearetherealarmb @squishychongyun @jokerloverparis @katsudonnnnnni @dr3amyxiao @xiamuyi @luningningtala @fuyaa @goldenglow149 @xiaosmaskandspear @acheeseblock @fishsticksonballsacks @rokosbasalisk @stellakito @roguexmoriartea @sageseagrass @irisxiel @lowotad @trecedelabuenasuerte @the-dreaming-city @lilliansstuff @cinaiel @bunny-slvt @orginiallyann @chaotickio @n1tsumi @kunikuzushisbeloved @ilovemarvel99 @lunaizhere @optimisticalmondbananabiscuit @kurohoely @larisanam @chaotichearts-19 @illdoitagainbopbop @mzia642 @childesglove @justgiulia @celestialwinds @traumaramacenter @kazuhaprnt @fou56 @angelkazusstuff @itsyourgirlria @yamtwt @gel0517

i can't seem to tag some of you guys, perhaps it's something to do on the accoun't settings? regardless hope you can still find this fic and thank you all for the interest <3

[ellemj]

Right Here: 12 Days of Smut #6

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: The team decides to interrupt your spicy moment with Bucky. The two of you have to sit through a debate about Christmas movies while being as discrete as possible about what's going on beneath the blanket that's covering both of your laps.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a common area, dirty talk, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 1.8k (it's a lil one)

A/N: I let @littlemiss-yeehaw read this first and her biggest concern was that I originally spelled Santa Clause without an 'e' on the end and she wasn't having it. But special thanks to her for catching my embarrassing mistakes and keeping me from having a big head.

            It’s so damn big. It’s so big that you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to sit still and stay quiet enough to make it through the next fifteen minutes until everyone has gone their separate ways for bed. It’s so big that even just taking a deep breath is too much movement for your body to handle. It is so fucking big that Bucky doesn’t know how you’re taking it so well. He knows his size is pushing you right to the edge of your limits, he knows you’re probably feeling more pain than pleasure in this moment, and honestly, all of that only makes him want to hold you here longer.

            Bucky probably doesn’t even know that there’s a word for what you’re doing right now. You know he’s still a decent bit behind the times when it comes to modern-day dating and sexual education, so there’s no way he would have the vocabulary to accurately describe what this is. It’s cockwarming. If he knew the word for it, he’d add it to his list of favorite things. He might even go as far as writing it down in that little notebook he got from Steve. It’s the best thing he’s experienced since the first time he slept with you.

            “Come on, nothing beats the original Santa Clause movies with Tim Allen. You can’t tell me that you really think Home Alone is better.” Sam says while giving Wanda a look of disbelief. The group has been arguing back and forth about Christmas movies for the last five minutes. You and Bucky had been watching, or more accurately listening to whatever festive flick was suggested first when you’d originally settled in for a movie by yourself.  It wasn’t long before Bucky finished up in the gym, showered, and found you looking all irresistible on the couch. You were curled up under your little fleece blanket with a mug of hot cocoa in one hand and the other hand running through your hair. You barely even noticed Bucky when he joined you on the couch, completely invested in the most mediocre movie you could’ve chosen. That’s when he started running a hand up your thigh, innocently at first. He let his fingertips grace your skin so lightly, gliding back and forth from your knee up to the hem of your little pajama shorts. He liked the way you tried to pretend that it didn’t give you goosebumps or make your panties a little wetter than before. He knew that he had you right where he wanted you when he let his pinky finger brush over the fabric of your panties, just underneath your shorts, and you didn’t make a single move to stop him. In fact, you actually spread your legs a little more for him, giving him a silent go-ahead. Somehow, all of that built up and led to where you are now, firmly seated on his lap with your shorts and panties pulled to the side, silently sitting with Bucky’s entire length buried deep inside of you.          

            The Christmas movie argument drones on around you with no sign of dying off as you fight to breathe as slow and even as you can. Bucky’s impressive girth has always been an adjustment for you, no matter how many times you’ve fucked. He always has to give you a minute or two to get used to his size before pushing himself all the way in, but there wasn’t any time for that tonight. He had been watching the tip of his cock disappear inside of you when you both heard the commotion in the hallway, warning you that you were about to be interrupted by the rest of the team. Your first instinct was to get off of him and take your seat beside him on the couch but Bucky just couldn’t let that happen, so he gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you all the way down onto his lap. You let a whimper escape your lips at the stinging pain you felt increasing with every inch that penetrated your tight little entrance, but quickly silenced yourself and sat still as Bucky arranged the throw blanket just right to cover both of you from prying eyes.

            “You’re so fucking tight. If you don’t relax, you’re going to make me cum in front of everyone.” Bucky grunts in your ear, his words so hushed and whispered that no one could have possibly heard him except for you. You take a deep breath, trying your best to relax around him. You focus in on Wanda’s speech about why Home Alone is the superior Christmas movie, but your focus is quickly broken when you feel Bucky’s right hand slip under the blanket and slide along the outside of your thigh. You want to tell him to keep his hands to himself, to calm the fuck down until you can get away from everyone and have a little privacy, but there’s no way for you to do that without revealing your current situation to everyone. So, you sit there, gently biting on your bottom lip as Bucky’s fingers reach your clit and begin rubbing agonizingly slow circles. After a few seconds of stimulation, you can feel the stinging pain of Bucky’s cock stretching your walls residing.

            “That’s it, you’re getting used to it, aren’t you?” Bucky whispers, referring to the size of his cock. You let out a sigh but don’t even offer him a nod in response, too scared that someone will start to suspect something’s going on underneath the thin blanket. “My cock isn’t too big for you, huh baby?” Fuck. He knows it’s too big for you, but he also knows how determined you always are to get used to it and take it all just for him. You’ve always been ambitious. Bucky speeds up his actions on your clit, and you’re just starting to feel that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach when he spreads his index and middle fingers apart and slides them further in between your legs. It’s a new sensation for both of you as you feel his fingers slip between your folds and go around either side of where his dick is currently buried inside you. You feel Bucky shudder beneath you at how wet you are for him. He so wishes he could try adding a finger in alongside his dick, but he knows it would be too much for you, especially when you’re supposed to be staying quiet. He’ll save it for the next time he has you all to himself.

            You’re sick of the Christmas movie talk. You’re sick of not being able to ride Bucky’s cock until you’re a mutual mess of sweat and cum. You’re sick of sitting here so still and stoic. So, just as you think the Christmas movie talk might be nearing a close, you stretch your arms up above your head and let out an audible yawn. That small movement alone causes Bucky to move his hands to your hips abruptly, gripping you tightly as a warning for you to stop moving. You smile and pretend it’s a smile at whatever the hell Sam is saying about Santa Clause. Testing the waters, you circle your hips once, as discretely as possible. You grind down on Bucky’s cock, letting your clit press against his balls, sending a nice little rush of pleasure throughout your body.

Shit. Bucky needs everyone gone. He needs you alone right fucking now. He needs the chance to flip you over so you’re face down and ass up on the couch, giving him the perfect angle and opportunity to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to remember what holiday you’re celebrating tomorrow. Bucky holds your hips so tightly that he knows your perfect smooth skin will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he couldn’t care less. He keeps you still on his cock until Wanda and Vision finally stand up and bid their goodnights, heading off to bed. That leaves the two of you, Sam, and Torres. The two men remain in the living area for another two minutes until Bucky’s cold stare and your oddly out-of-character lack of conversational skills drives them both back to their separate rooms.

As soon as Bucky hears the final bedroom door shut in the distance, he’s lifting you off of his cock and tossing you onto the couch.

“Bucky, not here.” You laugh lightly at his impatience.

“Oh, we’re doing this right here. Don’t move.” Just to make sure you won’t move, Bucky places his vibranium hand over your middle back and pushes you down until you’re in the exactly position he wanted you in, before pulling your shorts and panties to the side once more with his right hand and slotting the head of his cock into your entrance. He doesn’t give you the usual amount of time to adjust, since you just sat on his entire length for so long. Instead, he slams into you and then watches as you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. He doesn’t care how loud your bodies sound as they collide over and over again with each thrust. He doesn’t give the slightest shit that anyone could walk in right now. All Bucky cares about is feeling you come undone all over his cock.

He fucks you with every bit of pent-up frustration he’s withheld for the last fifteen minutes, dragging his cock out of you before pushing it back in repeatedly. You know he’s close when his vibranium hand leaves your back and he uses both hands to grip your hips and pull you back to meet every thrust. With your hand clamped over your mouth still, you fail to warn Bucky that you’re right on the edge of an orgasm, but you don’t even have to. He can feel the way your walls are clenching around his shaft and the way your legs are fighting to spread even more so he can reach impossibly deeper inside you. You want more, you need more.

Bucky snakes his flesh hand between your legs and begins giving your clit the stimulation that it needs to force an orgasm out of you. He fucking hates when you hold it back. As your orgasm rips through your body, causing your legs to tremble and pussy to tighten around his cock even more, Bucky continues to fuck into you until he can’t contain himself. He copies your annoying little move, refusing to tell you that he’s close. You figure it out yourself when you hear a deep groan rumble past his lips and feel him thrust one final time, making sure he’s balls-deep before filling you with his cum. He ends the night with one simple question, as he pulls his length out of you and situates your panties and pajama shorts back where they belong.

“So, do you have a favorite Christmas movie?”

TAG LIST:

@charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme  @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @twlkdead

[ambskas]

could've been- leah williamson

seeing leah for the first time since you'd broken up couldn’t have fell on a better night, your sisters wedding.

5.3k words shes longggg

first fic please be kind. should i have been completing a 7000 word essay and not this? yes.

leah williamson x mead!reader

here you were, in the back seat of a very expensive car sat next to your sister, holding a bouquet of flowers pulling up to a large stately home. only it wasn’t your wedding, it was beth and viv’s. once upon a time, it might’ve been your wedding, but that dream had long been pushed to the back of your mind. you were here to support your best friend on the happiest day of her life, and that’s it.

“you ready?” your head turned, and beth was already smiling at you, lip between her teeth. “she would’ve been so proud of you bethy, she would’ve loved to be here.” you say, taking beth’s hand in your own, feeling the tight squeeze she gave it as a thank you.

“let’s do this, before viv changes her bloody mind.” beth tries her best to lighten the mood and it works, slightly. she knows what’s on your mind and it isn’t just the thought of your mum not being present today. 

you both exit the car, walking towards the doors of the large manor. it made you feel so small walking through the large double doors and into the ceremony room, with beth just behind you. as the procession music began, all eyes turned to you. the huge building was nothing compared to how small you felt when you saw a certain pair of blue eyes watching you. even after all this time, they refused to blend into the crowd making this short walk down the aisle feel hours long.

you were stood at the front as you watched your sister make her way after you. vivianne’s eyes lit up as the love of her life made her way towards her, and you could’ve sworn you saw her wipe away a tear at one point, which she would vehemently deny to both you and beth later. you took the opportunity to glance around the room at the people who’d been invited to share this day. those same baby blue eye’s catching you off guard when you found them looking straight at you instead of at beth. a small smile was sent your way and a blush emerged on her cheeks as she realised shed been caught admiring you, you simply sent her one back.

on the outside you were calm and cordial, this was your sister’s wedding day. the inside was a whole different story. you felt a pit in your stomach, and you couldn’t tell whether it was simply gut-wrenching anxiety or if it was much worse, butterflies. thoughts that this could’ve been the two of you swirled your head, making you dizzy, but they soon got pushed away when your sister reached you and viv. you sent her a final smile and a squeeze of the arm as she handed her flowers to you, and you took your seat. 

beth and viv stood and exchanged their vows. their love exuded from the words they spoke to each other; you were quite certain everyone in the room could feel it. your heart swelled with pride and adoration for both women stood before you and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes as much as you tried to keep them at bay. 

beth was your role model, always. you put her on a pedestal from the moment you knew how to talk. she could do no wrong.  as much as your parents had been amazing all through your childhood and up to now, it was beth that you had always truly admired. she was your older sister; how could you not want to be like her? it sometimes came out in lightly annoying ways though. like when she was 15 and you were 12 and you wore her favourite t-shirt to own clothes day at school without asking because you wanted to be just like her and ended up spilling pasta sauce all down it. when beth found you in the school bathroom frantically dabbing at the top with a wet tissue, she was livid, but she took one look at the pout on your face and tried her very best to help you get the sauce out and when it didn’t work, she wrapped her jacket around you to save you any further embarrassment. 

you and beth held each other up always, being each other’s rocks when your mother passed away last year. you’d both been there through everything. you held beth up when she tore her acl, with a little help from viv, and beth held you up when you lost who you thought was the love of your life. you knew you’d put beth in an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t care, it was always you over anyone. although, you had a little competition with viv in that department these days.

the ceremony went off without a hitch, your sister and viv were now married. as they both left to have their photos taken, you were now left with beth’s teammates and closest friends. you were always close with the girls from arsenal and england ever since your sister started playing for both teams. you were her little shadow following her to training or cheering the loudest in the stands.  you’d withdrawn from your old friends, not wanting to put anyone in an uncomfortable position, only interacting through an instagram comment or an occasional dm when things went well. 

“hi chick!” steph approached you, giving you a tight and comforting hug, “you look as beautiful as ever.” you thanked her, telling her she did too, and it was only a matter of seconds before the rest of the girls noticed that steph was speaking to you, rushing over themselves.

you were overwhelmed by how many happy faces you saw and the number of questions that were launched at you all at once. you tried your best to keep up with them all as they asked you question after question about your move and your job. 

“oh this is kyra!” alessia introduced as you gave kyra a quick smile and wave, “and this is emily.” you repeated the same action youd just made towards kyra. “heard a lot about you both its lovely to finally meet you!” the smile that was present on your lips quickly faded as a certain blonde returned from the phone call she had to make.

“well i better go, bridesmaid duties to attend to.” you sent a polite smile towards the group and promised to find some of the girls later, hoping the conversations and question would feel a little less awkward after one (or several) drinks. 

“well jesus leah, she definitely doesn’t like you.” kyra let out a loud chuckle at the obvious uncomfortable tension between yourself and leah, not knowing the history that went back four years. leah shoved her away from her as she watched you walk away, over to your best friend.

“oh my god, i think im going to be sick.” you held your stomach as you finally reached your best friend. “why the fuck did i think i could go the whole day and just be fine?”

“you’re okay. you didn’t even speak to her.”

“well if i did speak to her i might actually throw up so that’s probably for the best.” 

“look, its done now. just speak to the other girls when they’re not with her, then you’ll be fine. oh, and you should most definitely have a shot.” she pulled a flask out of her bag, never failing to surprise you. 

“youre joking me, right?” you scoffed but still taking the flask out of her hand and very quickly taking a swig before pulling it back and wincing. “definitely needed it.”

“lets just not talk about her and you can stop thinking about her.” you tried to listen to her as she messed around with putting her flask back into her bag and taking her lipstick out of her bag to reapply but your eyes glanced over to the group you were just standing with.

you watched as leah kept quiet, her hands firmly in her pockets. you wondered if she still had the ring you’d given her on your first anniversary, if she still wore it maybe. she loved that ring, never took it off even once when you were together unless it was football related. whenever you came to a game and they won, she’d subtly kiss the spot where that ring usually lay and you’d melt every single time.

“hey, what did i just say?” your friend nudged you and you shrugged. “no talking about her and no thinking about her, now lets go. we have some partying to do. actually, do you know if any if beth’s friends are single?” you laughed loudly as she linked your arms and dragged you into the room where the reception was taking place and more importantly, where the bar was.

leah’s head raised at the laugh she knew all too well. her favourite sound in the world to this day. what she would do to be the reason you laughed like that again. you’d laughed like that at her reaction to the gift you’d bought her for your first anniversary. you and leah had agreed to no presents and both of you obviously ignored that. she’d pretended to be shocked at the expensive, thoughtful gift but the love and adoration she felt for you and it were real. that same expensive and thoughtful gift still lay on the hand nestled in her pocket. she tried not to wear it too much these days but some days her finger just felt bare without it, especially today.  

slowly but surely all the guests made their way through to the reception room. you were sat at the head of the table and it was just your luck that the table directly opposite you housed beth’s teammates. your gaze did not falter once, you kept it focused on your meal and whoever was speaking on your table, you did not need another slip up with leah today. 

“hi everyone, thank you for coming.” viv announced through the microphone. it was speech time. you felt your palms sweat as you mentally prepared to pour your heart out in front of this many people. “we didn’t really want to do much if the sappy stuff so we got y/n to do it for us. lets give it up.”

you giggled at viv and stood up, taking the microphone from her as the room cheered and clapped. this time you had no choice but to glance at the table in front of you as you heard katie chanting your name, sending her a quick grin.

you cleared your throat before you started speaking. “hi everyone, it's lovely to see you all celebrating beth and vivianne's special day. for those of you that don't know, i used to be beth's favourite person but i think i've been pushed to second place as of late so thank you for that viv.” beth rolled her eyes as the room laughed. “but seriously, i'm beth's little sister.” you took a mini bow. 

“i've seen people come and go out of beth's life, some i was grateful for and some i wish would've stuck around but there's no one i'm more grateful to for sticking around than viv. seeing a light on my sisters face that i haven't seen in years makes my heart swell every single day so thank you.” you shot viv a smile as you glanced from your paper to the couple and around the room. your gaze caught direct contact with leahs but you shook it off and drew your attention back to your speech.

“i remember the day beth burst through the doors of my flat panicking that viv was never going to ask her out and she was absolutely adamant that she wasn't going to be the one to do it, that she was going to wait for viv. so you can imagine my surprise when a week later, beth rang me to tell me she'd got a little bit impatient and ended up asking vivianne out.” you reminisced fondly. what the audience didn’t know was that leah was with you experiencing the same memory. her and beth were the only ones on the room that knew it was a shared conversation between three, not two. the corners of leahs mouth twitched as she recalled beth’s frantic state. it was you that seemed like the older sister in that moment, not beth.

 “i had the same conversation with beth about 9 months ago, only this time she was talking about a much more serious question that needed asking. trust me when i tell you that beth was doubly adamant she was not going to be asking this question, so obviously i expected her to let me know in a couple weeks’ time that she'd done it again, that she'd bitten the bullet and asked. and lo and behold i did get a phone call from someone telling me they'd asked the question and thank god that it was viv instead of beth because i don't think she would've ever let you live that one down vivianne.” you look down to your left where beth was sat and saw her chuckling to herself and nudging viv as if to agree.

“beth has always been my biggest inspiration in life.” you cleared your throat again as you felt your voice waver and a tear form in the corner of your eye. you wiped at your eye, composing yourself quickly. “i’ve always been her biggest admirer for a lot of things but right now the thing i admire most is that she's truly herself. i've only ever seen beth truly be herself around a handful of people in my life, our family, her teammates and you, viv. she is truly marrying her best friend, which is so important. you're marrying someone who makes you laugh, and its the really ugly laugh beth has where she starts snorting and crying. you're marrying someone who wants to be there for you through your best and worst times, and has been and has somehow made the worst times that little bit easier just by being there.” beth squeezed your hand.

“that's all anyone can really ask for in life, and you two have found it. what people wouldn't give to have a love like yours. a love where you feel safe enough to be vulnerable, where you can truly be yourself and where you are loved for exactly that. i used to daydream about what my wedding would look like one day but now all i would want is just to have the same love that you two share.” you look up from your paper to peak at the audience. you found leahs eyes immediately. the both of you knew what you meant when you spoke about dreaming of your wedding. the wedding you thought you’d be one day sharing with leah, that never came to be.

“i'm a very firm believer in everything happens for a reason, and it's when i get to experience days like this and witness pure and true love that it really embeds that phrase into my mind even more. a person i knew who would've given anything to witness this day, would've said the same thing as me, my mum” you felt beths hand tighten around yours as yet again your voice wavered. “oof, im sorry, emotional day.” you spoke out to ease the emotion in the room at the mention of your late mother and dabbed at the tears slowly falling from your eyes. “she would've said ‘you two were meant to be together, everything that’s happened has led you two to be together. i knew from the very start that you'd be together forever’ and she would've been right as per usual. she would've been so proud of both of you as am i but i know she's watching and probably cursing dad for the shoe choice he's made today.”

you composed yourself for a moment. between speaking about your mother and the love that beth and viv shared, it was all becoming a lot for you. you once thought that you and leah shared this same love, in fact you were sure of it. her obvious gaze felt heavy on you as you continued your speech. 

“beth has tried to teach me a lot of things over the years but this might be the one thing i take away and actually listen to for once. that when you find your someone, you don't let them go. if you find your safe space in a person, you should keep a hold of them forever and some people don't” leah felt her heart drop as you looked directly at her. “but thank god the two of you have. i'd like to raise a glass, and i'm sure there will be several more raised through the night so pace yourselves everybody, but for now a toast to my two sister's beth and vivianne.”

you grabbed a tissue from your bag and wiped under your eyes. "right, that was extremely soppy of me. i promise you i'm normally hilarious and a lot less emotional. cheers!' you grabbed your flute of champagne and necked it as everyone raised their glasses and you sat back into your chair.

“that was perfect y/n/n.” beth spoke to you.

“yeah thank you, y/n. there was obviously no better woman for the job.” viv reached over to squeeze your shoulder in thanks. 

“y/n/n? are you okay?” beth questioned as youd yet to react to their words other than a small smile.

‘yeah, i’m fine bethy don’t worry about me, i’m just going to get some air though.” you shot her a smile as you removed yourself from the room to step out into back gardens of the house. 

beth wasn’t stupid, she knew today wasn’t easy for you. as she married the love of her life, you were coming face to face with yours again for the first time in around a year and a half. seeing leah again and under these circumstances was clearly having an effect on you. beth wanted to follow you but she knew you would’ve scolded her and sent her right back inside, not wanting to draw any attention away from either her or viv on their day. 

you stepped outside and made your way to a little patch of the gardens you’d seen earlier, wanting to take a seat amidst the trees and flowers for a moment. you just needed to compose yourself for a minute then you’d go back inside, back to avoiding leah at all costs. 

“you always did have a way with words.” a voice appeared behind you, a voice that still sent a shiver down your spine, despite not having heard it in person for over a year.

you sucked in a breath, not even turning to face her as you shifted on the bench. “what do you want, leah?” you felt her sit next to you. she wasn’t close and you could still feel the heat radiating off her but you still refused to look up. “just wanted to see if you were okay. i know todays been a lot”.

a scoff and laugh escaped your lips, “you don’t know anything. i haven’t seen you for a year.” you finally turned to look at her.

leah knew you’d be emotional today and seeing her probably didn’t help but she couldn’t help herself, she needed to talk to you. she missed you. “i know but that doesn’t mean i don’t still know you.” she waited to see if you’d respond, maybe jump down her throat again and when you didn’t she continued. “your speech was beautiful by the way, even shed a tear or two of my own.”

maybe you’d been a bit harsh on her, i mean here she was trying to make you feel better. you could handle a friendly conversation with her, right? “thanks, not like you to cry so i must’ve done something right.”

the wind blew slightly, blowing your hair out of your face as a silence enveloped the two of you. leah couldn’t bare the thought of the conversation coming to an end so she did what the two of you never had to do, she made small talk.

“how’s barcelona then?” she inquired, not knowing whether to broach the subject or not. you didn’t seem to mind her bringing it up as you shrugged, “it’s fine, its good. it’s far from home and i miss everyone but its okay. at least the weathers better.”

“and the job?” you’d decided pretty early on in life that you wanted your job to be involved in football, but unfortunately you weren’t as talented as your sister in that department so you settled for the next best thing and fell in love with it. you’d been a physiotherapist at arsenal for nearly as long as beth had played for the club, obviously taking a couple of years to get your degree first. even into your adult life and your career you remained beth’s little shadow and loved every second of it. “same old, same old. plenty of injuries to keep me occupied.” the universe and its timings seemed to have aligned when not long after your breakup with leah, lucy bronze had let you know there was an open position for a physiotherapist for barcelona femeni and before you knew it and with a helpful reference from lucy and kiera, you were on a one-way flight to spain without thinking twice. 

“speaking of physio, how’s your knee?”

“its doing good, i mean i had a different physio than the one i was used to but,” she nudged you as a blush presented itself on your cheeks. leah had over exaggerated injuries quite frequently when you were working at arsenal. “yeah i’m getting there.”

“good.” you paused. “i’m sorry about the world cup, i know how beth felt so i can only imagine how you did. i was gonna text you, but i thought that might not be such a good idea.” 

“you should’ve. i would’ve answered.” leah sent you a soft smile. “everyone misses you too, by the way.”

“hm?”

“earlier you said you miss everyone.’ she reminded you of what you’d said only a couple of minutes ago. “well all the girls miss you too. they talk about you all the time, always asking beth about you and how you’re doing.” you could see where this was going, now terrified that leah was about to ruin your perfectly cordial conversation with words you didn’t need to hear from her right now.

“oh yeah, i haven’t seen them in a while.” you brushed off, “life gets in the way sometimes i suppose.” by life you meant leah. you wouldn’t want to put her teammates and your old friends in between the two of you, so you took yourself out of the equation altogether. 

“i miss you too, a lot.” there it was. she did it, she just opened up a box she wouldn’t be able to close.

“leah.” you sighed, “don’t”

“what? i’m not allowed to miss you?” leah became defensive, half expecting you to just say it back to her because you always had.

“i didn’t say that, just stop.” you scooted to the other end of the bench, needing some space between the two of you.

leah lowered her defences and tried again to make you understand what she was telling you, thinking you didn’t believe her or didn’t understand. “we were together for nearly 3 years, y/n/n. i miss you all the time.” you understood her perfectly. you’d felt exactly the same since the day you walked out the door. “leah please, don’t do this.” the difference was, you knew how unfair it would’ve been to leah to tell her how much you missed her and still loved her because you weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. 

“don’t do what?” she questioned you. “tell you the truth?”

“le-“

“because it is the truth. i’ve missed you every single day since you walked out the house and left me there.” leah’s voice began to raise and she stood from the bench to pace in front of you. she wasn’t sure why you were blaming all of this in her and refusing to even have a conversation about it. you broke up amicably, right?

“well i missed you for a lot longer than that.” you spoke up.

“what?” leah caught what you said, but she didn’t understand it. or maybe she did and just didn’t want to face the facts that maybe this wasn’t the mutual, friendly breakup she thought. 

“at least you’ve only had to miss me for this year leah, i was missing you for months before that and you were still around, except you were around everyone but me.” you stood up, as she had. it was your turn to raise your voice. “so you don’t get to sit here and tell me you miss me now when i was trying to tell you for months”

leah reached for your hands, to comfort you. “we were both busy y/n/n-“

you audibly laughed at her comment, interrupting her. “no you were busy. do you know why i wasn’t busy?” you paused, not that you wanted an answer you just needed to take a breath before you started shouting and attracting attention from inside. “because i put everything on hold for you. my job, my friends, my family and i helped you grow and flourish in everything. i held your hand through the euros, through every game, i was the one in the crowd when there was only 100 people in the stadium. but you always forgot that part.”

“i know you were and i was grateful for it every day.” 

the nerve she had. “grateful? maybe in the beginning.” you couldn’t help but scoff at her words. “but you had a weird way of showing it towards the end, leah. you show gratitude by fucking off to events and awards and different countries without so much as a second thought towards me, towards what i wanted. you left me at home, alone. in the home that was supposed to be ours after i sold my place to be with you more, but you just left anyway.” you wiped a tear from your face, quickly as leah sat back down. 

“you’re not being fair, y/n. i thought you wanted to be with me and live with me.” her head dropped into her hands as she balanced them on her knees. as far as leah was concerned, this was all new information. sure you’d spoken when you’d broken up but all leah knew was that you thought the pair of you had grown apart and she knew you were right, but she didn’t know it was her fault you had. 

“i’m not being fair?” you choked on your own words as your lip quivered and your cheeks felt damp. “do you know what’s not fair leah? sitting here telling me you miss me after i’ve been trying so hard not to miss you for a year. what have you been doing since we ended leah? because i had to move away from my friends and my only sister. i had to get another job, make different friends so i could try and get my old self back because everything here is you.” for the first time that day, both you and leah were looking straight at each other. “you’re everywhere and i used to love that, it used to make me feel safe but there became a point where all it did was make me feel sad, le. all you did was make me feel sad.” you slumped back down onto the bench.

“y/n/n, im sorry.” leah slid over to you, pulling you into a hug. for a minute, you let yourself indulge, you let yourself be comforted by leah again until you remembered why you even needed consoling in the first place.

you pushed her away slightly. “i don’t know why we’re rehashing everything anyway. i told you all this when we broke up so please, just stop.” you wiped at your cheeks, not that it was doing much good at this point.

“you didn’t y/n/n. i would’ve made it better if you’d told me this, if i’d have known.” your face was a mess, cheeks red and eyes bloodshot. leah’s hair was ridiculous, pulled in every which way from running her hands through it over and over.

“yes i did, leah!” as much as you tried to keep your composure through this conversation a shout finally rose from you. “maybe not in that last conversation but i told you that i felt like i was all on my own so many times. every time you were away i told you how lonely i felt.”

“and every time i came back home, to you, we were fine.” she tried to grab your hands again. “i had my y/n, my home with me and everything was fine.”

“you were fine! i wasn’t happy, i haven’t been for a while.” you let out in a whisper, voice tired from the arguing and explaining. 

“i’m sorry, y/n/n. i’m so sorry.” it was leah’s turn for the tears to fall. she’d never want to make you feel like that and it made her physically sick to know that she had. you were the love of her life and she’d hurt you this bad, without even meaning to. “if i could take everything back i would. the only thing i’d want to keep would be you- “

you cut her off, finished with this conversation. your shoulders were feeling lighter with the weight of all you’d had to say finally gone. “leah, stop. this is pointless now, i’m going back inside.” you stood from the bench again, brushing off your dress. “please just drop it. it’s beth and vivs day, it’s not about us.”

you left the garden hastily. you needed to get to the bathroom before anyone had a chance to see you and ask questions, especially if those people were viv or beth. thankfully, no one was in there as you opened the door, taking an opportunity to grasp the basin and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“i’ve got concealer and alcohol, which one do you want first?” the only voice you wanted to hear right now appeared as your best friend opened the bathroom door, tentatively.

“alcohol. definitely alcohol.” she pulled her flask out with no problem, letting you take as many gulps as you needed. “how did you know i was in here?”

“she came and told me. said you might need a friend right now.” leah. 

after a couple more gulps and a few dabs of concealer, you came back out of the bathroom, hoping to god you hadn’t missed your sister’s first dance as you were reminded if the reason you and leah even had to be in the same room again. 

beth was still sat where you left her, thankfully as you rejoined the table. “you okay, bubs?” you reassured beth you were fine, quickly moving the subject along and asking what you’d missed. 

the dance that you’d been dreading missing happened not so long after. an acoustic version of ‘enchanted’ played through the room as everyone stood to watch the pair dance. you watched with a smile as they shut everyone else in the room out, just staring adoringly at each other. 

leah had long been back in the room and she watched you as attentively as you watched them. you were right. this wasn’t about you two, but it could’ve been. 

[zombatss]

𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 — smut, afab!reader, blowjobs & riding, p in v, creampie, face-fucking, slight breeding kink, switch!peeta, overstimulation, squirting, fingering

peeta mellark is a loser.

you often wonder how your boyfriend always radiates charisma whenever he’s in public. infront of cameras, he’s charming, confident, keeps himself composed.

he’ll always keep things professional—even with you. the most you’ll get out of him during a social event is a chaste kiss or a soft peck on the cheek, denying you of anything more.

it amuses you, the way he puts up such an outgoing front. how he treats you like a coworker playing pretend lovers because he can’t keep his dick in his pants whenever you get too touchy.

just imagine the capitol’s reaction if they found out their ‘charming prince’ from district twelve was also just a whining bitch.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“what the hell was that?” peeta sighs as he drags you into the guest bedroom and locks the door behind you.

“i have no idea what you're on about.” you whisper, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

“oh, so you just feeling up on me back there was nothing?” he scoffs.

“it was a light touch. it isn’t my fault you’re sensitive.” you hum, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch his breath hitch.

“the sponsers could’ve seen you.”

“but they didn’t.”

“they could’ve.”

“so what if they did? what’s so wrong with giving them a show? it’s what they want.” you refute, walking closer towards him.

“you—can't just wait till we get back, huh?” he sighs, gulping as you inch closer towards him.

“what did you expect, peeta? how can i keep my hands to myself when you just look so good tonight?” you mock, palming the growing bulge in his pants.

“we can’t—not now.” he sighs.

“we aren’t even tonight's center of attention. nobody will notice that we’ve left.” you smile.

your hands run down his tense thighs as you slowly place your knees on the carpet, gazing up at him with those doll-like eyes that you know drives him crazy.

“you don’t have to do this.” he whispers, his hand making his way down to your cheek as his fingers curl around your jaw—the pad of his thumb rubbing small, gentle circles across your skin.

“you know you won't make it through the night without my help.” you hum, unzipping his pants and pulling his member out. it’s already red and hard, precum leaking out the minute you palm it.

“aren’t you a little excited tonight?” you tease, placing soft kisses over its veins and along the sides.

“you aren’t the only one that’s had to hold back all day.” he mutters, his hand finding a place around the top of your head.

he didn't do anything but watch as the end of your tongue slowly licked up the precum from his tip’s slit. he holds back a moan as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around your hair.

“fuck, you’re—ah—mmhph” he whimpers.

his words are shortly cut off the moment you take him into your mouth. never will he get used to just how warm you feel when he’s inside you.

his cock pushes at the back of your throat as you swallow him whole, struggling to resist the urge to buck his hips into your wet mouth.

thankful for the lively crowd in the room next door, you listen to his quiet whimpers and moans. his eyebrows furrow together in pleasure as he his puppy eyes stare down at you. more, is what they begged, and who were you to deny him of his need?

his hips slowly jerked and twitched as you bobbed your mouth up and down along his length, your moans vibrating onto him. it was cute, how he tried his best to keep his composure and not fuck your mouth dumb—but you wanted more. so, you gave him a reassuring look, pushing yourself as deep as you could go as he stared into your lustful eyes.

peeta had always been able to read you like a book, so it wasn't hard to understand your expression. if you were to so generously invite him to not hold back, who was he to refuse?

he experimentally rolls his hips into you, letting out a shuddering breath when he feels you swallow around him—his free hand laced into your hair. when you gag around him but still try to take him further, he thrusts deeper, his cock twitching. “fuck, you feel so—good—shit.” he moans, quickening his pace.

“wait a minute—hah—don't want to—cum yet.” you slowly pull back as he stops rolling his hips, trying to catch your breath.

the moment you lift yourself up, he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, sliding his tongue into your wet mouth as he tasted the flavour of your spit and his precum mixed with his own saliva. the two of you let out muffled moans as your mouths pressed together. though, it wasn’t long before he broke the kiss and wasted no time to take things one step forward.

“on the bed.” he simply stated. you climbed onto the mattress and sat on your knees, waiting for his next instruction. instead of words, he drew you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist.

“lift yourself a little.” he whispered, watching as you silently raised your hips. you sighed as your short dress was completely unzipped and thrown to the floor, your panties pushed down to your knees, completely exposing you to him.

“gotta make you feel good too.” he mumbles, his large hands rubbing up and down your inner thighs.

you softly moan as he continues to tease you, rubbing right near your cunt but trailing his hand back down before actually touching you. you sigh in relief once his hand finally makes it's way up, gently rubbing against your clit and the folds of your cunt.

it’s embarrassing, how you’re already soaking wet and so welcoming to his fingers as they slowly enter you. you sigh as you feel his hand slowly fill you up, bottoming out.

and the moment his fingers started curling deep inside of you, your silent whimpers turned into growing moans.

“peeta—fuck, you’re so deep, oh my god—” you slurred, your thighs trembling as he picks up his pace. you begin to burst into loud moans the moment he begins thrusting them at an unspeakable pace. feeling so full, you cried out as his fingers plowed into you mercilessly. his hand snaked up to your mouth, muffling your sounds as he went faster.

“don’t be too loud unless you want everyone out there to hear you.” he whispers, replacing his hand with his mouth. you whimpered and cried, trying your best to keep all those pretty sounds inside as his fingers curled inside you, ramming your cunt at an unfathomable speed.

you could feel your climax as heat started to build up in your stomach. you were so, so close. and then, just as you were about to cum, there was nothing. he pulled out, denying you your release.

“don’t look at me like that, i’ll make sure to fill you up real good.” he whispers, taking off his top and removing his bottoms.

your bodies pressed against each other as you strattled yourself back onto him, the folds of your wet cunt rubbing against his leaking member.

“fuck, i’ll never get used to seeing this.” he hitched, placing his hands at your hips as the two of you grinded into each other.

“let me give you want you need, peeta.” you whisper, placing a soft kiss onto his cheek before pulling back. he only watches, his half-lidded eyes following your every move as you palm his shaft, positioning yourself over him. you spread your legs and took your time pushing into him, burrying yourself deep inside, inch by inch.

“fuck—you're so wet.” he moans.

when you finally bottomed out, your hips took control and began painfully slowly riding him out while gradually increasing your pace. you wanted to watch his desperation escalate.

it didn’t take long for his whimpers to turn into growing moans as he began whining your name. he started rolling his hips with yours, picking up the pace, and you weren't sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

his sloppy rolls turned into intense ramming as you continued to ride him. he thrusted into you, hitting that deep spot over and over again. you writhed in pleasure, letting out a loud moan. the unrelenting rhythm was everything, the feeling taking you to your peak.

“fuck, peeta! you’re too—mmph’–fast! hhmmph! oh my god—ah!” you cried, your legs shaking as you bobbed up and down his cock.

“you’re so tight, i need you so bad—i’m gonna—fuck—“ before he could finish his sentence, he pulled you down, suddenly flipping you over. your back was pressed against the mattress as he continued his thrusts.

“i’m gonna cum—peeta, wait–mmmph!” you cried, suddenly feeling his hand press against your overstimulated clit, his fingers pressing down as he plowed into you. your hands pushed at his abs as you were on the verge of cumming.

“please, i need to—inside—ah—“ he slurred, his thrusts reaching the fastest he could possibly go. “let me cum inside you—give you my babies.”

“give the capitol what they want—“ he moaned, applying more pressure onto your clit as he rammed into you.

“peeta! i'm—holy shit—fuck!" you could only scream as as you felt a giant gush of heat pool in your stomach. your entire body trembled as you began squirting on his dick—but peeta wouldn’t pull out, he only thrusted himself further into you as you continued your spasm.

“it feels so good!” you whined, feeling so full from his dick filling your cunt as you continued squirting.

“f-fuck.” he moaned, listening to the juices of your cunt squelch inside and around him.

“don’t… don’t pull out—“ you cried, shaking as you gradually came down from your high. your juices slowly leaked out and soaked the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you.

but your sighs were only interrupted by shrieks the moment peeta started thrusting into you again, overstimulating you after such a short rest.

“wait—ah—peeta! i can’t—'s too much!” you slurred, watching as your juices continued to squirt out every time he thrusted into you.

“i’m—i’m gonna cum—mmph—ah—come on, please, cum with me again, please—” he whined, rutting into you like an animal. as he felt you tighten onto him once again, he pulled you into a kiss, his tongue swirling around yours as his hand pushed your back up, your whole bodies fully pressed against each other as he fucked you stupid.

you whimpered against his mouth as the heat began to build up once more, but his lips muffling your moans as you squirted around him for the second time. his cock stuffed you, slowly grinding but never fully leaving your cunt as the squelches of your wetness slowly squirted out everytime he thrusted.

he let out a long moan as he came inside you, followed by whines and whimpers of your name as the two of you rode your highs together.

once you both finally relaxed, he pulled out. you watched as a gush of your liquid spilled out of you, his semen slowly seeping out and dripping down your cunt.

“i should provoke you more often.” you weakly sigh, brushing the hair out out of your face with your fingers. he only scoffs as he pulls you into a soft, gentle kiss.

you wonder how long the two of you were gone for from the event, but you had bigger things to worry about—like how in the world you’ll possibly be able to walk back home.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Lonely

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, pervy Nat, innocent reader, (legal) age gap, masturbation, intersex nat, oral, fingering, p in v, slight degradation, pet names, anal play, manhandling, fluff at the end, implied aftercare,

Word count: 1.8k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: @xxforeverinadayxx it’s a bit late but I hope you like it

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

Natasha knew very well how morally wrong her behavior was but how could she help herself when you were this cute. She was aware of the fact that Steve had an adult daughter but until this burning summer in Italy she had yet to meet you. But time came and Natasha found herself living with the most beautiful girl alive. Natasha had tried to spend as much time as she could with you, trying to find out everything about you. She’d take you on cycling trips and read to you your favorite novel while laying in the grass. You had been enchanted by Natashas presence. She was kind and yet smart. She happened to like the same authors as you and treated you like an adult, and not like your father who always shielded you. You didn’t want to accept it but you quickly had a crush on the older woman. In your eyes she was just perfect.

Who could’ve known that all of that was just a facade Natasha had put on to hide her true perverted fantasies. She had wanted you from the moment you first stepped down the stairs only wearing a light summer dress who looked so beautiful on you. She couldn’t flirt with you like she would with any other girl. No. Natasha had to be smart about it. She couldn’t risk Steve picking up on her true intentions with you. Natasha also of course didn’t want to do anything to you that you didn’t want. She might have been a pervert but she wouldn’t step over that boundary. Natasha knew exactly what she was searching for when she forged through your drawer. Her long fingers delicately caressing over the light pink cotton fabric of your panties. Her breathing was heavy as she quickly stuffs the the piece of fabric into the back pocket of her suit pants.

She’d do it like she did many times before on her summer vacation at your fathers mansion. Natasha would take the piece of clothing to her room and deep in the night when everyone else would be asleep her hands would find their way into her boxers. Moving her hand up and down her shaft as she whimpers your name quietly wishing it would be your smaller hands instead. She would grunt and moan muffled by her pillowcase. She’d cum into your panties cleaning her seed from the deep red tip of her cock. The next day while you would be in the garden she would put it back neatly folded hoping you would notice the difference which was a false hope. You weren’t aware why your “fresh” underwear had crusty but you chose to ignore it.

She quickly fled the room through the connected bathroom as she quickly hides the panty in one of the drawers of her nightstand. She moved on her turning to her bed as she grabs some book and pretended to read as she hears your light knocking on her door. “Come in Bambi” you could her her mumble as you pushed the heavy wooden door open. Her nicknames never failing to make you want to melt. Your feet make their way across the floor before you take a seat on the side of Natashas bed. “What brings you here” her voice was husky coming out almost as a whisper. You had your eyes located on your lap as you could hear Natasha move behind you. “I felt lonely” You could hear her chuckle in response as she moves beside you. “Is Steve home” You shook your head “He said that he won’t be home till late at night today”

Natashas smirk was devilish as she knew now was the time she could finally shoot her shoot. “And he left you all alone with me?” You didn’t answer her. The question was more rhetorical than anything. “Tell me pretty girl” her hands moved to your chin making you meet her lustful gaze “Do you feel something 'down there' when I touch you” Your cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were too embarrassed to say it but she was right. You slowly nod and making Natasha the happiest woman alive. “What do you do then” “W-Well I-” Natasha cut you off “No Олененок I want you to show me. Show me what you do to make those feelings go away” Your movements were shaky as you laid your fragile body on her kingsized bed. Your hands had found their way towards the waistband of your shorts as you slowly dragged them down your feminine legs. You had revealed your undergarments, a white pair with flowers on them. Natasha smirked as she saw the pair. She was familiar with it once having right her under her hips as she wished she had you instead. However her time had come, she had finally had you all to herself. You disposed of your panty too as you left your dripping cunt on full display for Natasha who was sitting between your spread ankles. Her breathing got more rapid as she could feel herself het harder and harder. Your hands had found their way towards your clit rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight circles as you kept releasing moan after. Natasha looked at you with a pitiful expression it was clear that you didn’t really knew what you were doing. The older woman highly doubt that you’ve ever managed to made yourself cum judging by your inexperienced movements.

“Let me help you pretty girl” Natasha was fast to strip from her shirt throwing it somewhere behind herself as she moved between your legs. Your legs were thrown over her shoulder as she took a long lick from the bottom of your cunt right up to your clit. Your hands carefully grabbed Natashas hair not wanting to hurt her. Natasha kitten licking between your folds, the taste making her hum deeply. The vibrations making you release soft moans. You tried to buckle your hips making the release seem closer. Natasha responded in slamming her forearm down on your hips grounding your hips. You whimpered and Natasha just laughed “Have you ever tried to you know use your little fingers Зайка” she mumbled against your puffy cunt. Forming words seemed incredibly difficult even through Natasha hadn’t really done anything “N-Never” you managed to get out. Natasha gave you a fake look of pity between your legs “Let’s pop that cherry shall we?” It was again a rhetorical question, how could you ever say no to Natasha. “Will it hurt” I whimpered looking at Natasha through hooded eyes. “Зайка, I’m not gonna lie it will hurt a bit but you will feel so good” She rubbed my thighs trying comfort me into believing her and I did.

“Do it… but be gentle… please” the last part came out mote desperate than you had intended to. “I’ll try Зайка” she whispered against the soft flesh of My stomach kissing her way down again. She carefully inserted one of her long fingers making me groan in pain as she ripped my hymen even drawing a few drops of blood on the white sheets. Natasha groaned as she saw and felt it. She knew it was wrong being obsessed with taking her friends daughters virginity but she couldn’t help herself. “Fuck baby you’re so tight” he breathed out as she can feel your walls clenching around her finger as she pushed it in and out. The pain of her fingers soon turned into pure pleasure as you moaned like a whore in a brothel. She added a second finger on which you clench down even harder sucking her in. “Fuck you’re even tighter then you thought you little slut.” Her movements got faster and rougher having me moan louder as you climax all over Natashas fingers and hand. You eyes are glued shut as you try to calm yourself.

You can feel Natashas strong hands on your hips turning you onto your stomach. Your face is pressed into the pillows as she pushes your hips up your knees touching the soft fabric of the sheets. You can hear the sipper of her pants followed by the sounds of her undressing. Natasha was painfully hard, her large member standing proud as she places herself behind you. Her tip pressed against your clit as you whimpered for her. “Are you ready for the real deal Зайка” She didn’t give you much time to respond as she pushed inside your hole making you scream out only for it to be muffled by the pillow case. She bottomed you out giving you some time to adjust to her girth. She whispered sweet nothings against you back until you gave her the go to go further.

Her pace started out slow not wanting to make you uncomfortable as the wet sound of skin clapping against each other filled the room mixed with both your groans and moans. Natasha pace was steady as the moans you released got louder and louder. Natashas hands gripped the flesh of you ass kneeling it before she got an idea. She spread your cheeks giving her the perfect look at your muscle ring. She spit on it only making you consciously of her actions. “Natty what are yo-” you got interrupted by your own scream as Natashas finger pushed past the ring the spit and your cum making a perfect lube. You clammed down hard in Natashas shaft as you were unexpectedly an anal whore. Your moans turned into screams the mixture of both penetrations making you climax in recored time. “Fuck you dirty slut you can deem yourself lucky I haven’t made you my breeding bitch yet” she mumbled pulling out of both holes before roughly throwing you to your back again. After a few more pumps with her large hands she came all of your stomach before laying down next to you.

She didn’t need long to recover from her high as she pushed some sweaty strands of hair behind your ear smiling like she didn’t just turn you into her whore. “Are you still lonely” you shook your head being too tired to even speak. She finally kissed your lips before picking you up bridal style and caring you into your shared bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up in a nice and warm bath shall we baby” she was just the woman for you.

:)

[tasteleeknow]

EVERYTHING AND NO ONE

PAIRING: prince!minho x maidservant!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. angst. royal!au. forbidden love. CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. unprotected intercourse. major injury. pet names. WORD COUNT: 14.3k (and i could've kept going)

SUMMARY: you're a royal servant, someone who was supposed to sink into the shadows and speak only when spoken to. power: you had none... except when it came to the crown prince.

NOTE: thank you to @lino-nyangi, @tasteracha, and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading and helping me edit this beast.

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

You’d never forget the first time you saw him. Pushed forward by the momentum of the crowd, you found yourself in a prime position to see the royal procession through the city. Leading an annual hunt in celebration of his birth, Minho sat astride his horse, offering small waves to the cheering crowd as he passed. It was only then, seeing him in the flesh that the reality of your new role as a royal maidservant finally sunk in. You were due to start the next day, to train while they were away and be prepared to serve when they returned.

Two years later you prepare his bath in preparation for his first night returned from this year's hunt. It’s a process of lugging buckets of hot water from the pump at the end of the hallway, enough to fill the large tub that sat in the corner of his large room. Then, when the tub is full and you’ve tested the water temperature, you place a small offering on the stool beside it. A bar of soap. In the little free time you had, that is what you did: make soap. It was calming, and using the soap you’d infused with sumptuous scents was one of the few luxuries you had. You shared any extras with the prince. He was kind. 

He wasn’t like the other members of the court, he’d acknowledge your presence, he’d speak to you like you were a person as complex as he was. It wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. When he’d started, it had thrown you off kilter. You weren’t prepared to have conversations with the crowned prince. You’d been told in your training to not be heard, and if you could help it, not seen either. Still, he’d persevered, chatting to you like you weren’t supposed to complete your tasks and get out of the way with as little disturbance as possible. 

You stand as the door opens, brushing down your apron and making yourself presentable for his entrance, just as you were supposed to. He sweeps into the room as he always does, ignoring any sense of decorum and addressing you directly. 

“Are you making me a bath, little dove?” he says, unbuckling his sword belt. 

It wasn’t a new nickname. He’d taken to calling you that a year prior. You had no idea what to make of it, apart from that he couldn’t mean anything bad by it. He didn’t have an unkind bone in his body. Even towards someone like you. 

“Stop calling me that,” you sigh, returning to your task of filling the large tub with warm water. You tip the final bucket in. 

“What should I call you instead?” 

“Nothing. You know you cannot talk to me at all.” 

“Cannot?” he questions, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Should not,” you correct. “Of course, you can do anything you like.” 

“You know that’s not true.” 

“Is it not?” you question, placing the bucket down beside you. 

“There are… many things you can do that I cannot.” 

You huff out a laugh, swirling your fingers through the bath water to check its temperature. He may be kind, but he was still a prince, he couldn’t help his ignorance. “Unless you mean make a bed or scrub a floor, I’ll have to disagree.” 

He ignores your snarky comment, like always. It’s a dangerous line you toe, you remind yourself. 

“You can marry who you like,” he says. 

You stand, lifting your now empty bucket onto your hip. “Can I?” 

“Of course. You’ll marry someone you love. I’ll wed someone chosen for me.” 

“I’m not sure I’ll marry at all.” 

He takes a step towards you and holds his cuff out, silently asking for help to unfasten the buttons. You lower your bucket to the floor and close the distance between you. 

“Why is that?” he asks as you work on unbuttoning each cuff. 

“I have my work here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and you think he’s dropped the subject. Then he speaks again. 

“You wouldn’t leave for love?” 

You shrug. “I love my life; my work. I don’t need anything else.” You don’t add that he was a major part of the reason why, that you enjoyed talking to him too. “Whoever is chosen for you, you might come to love her.” 

He’s quiet. 

“I don’t think I will,” he pauses, and when he speaks again, the sorrow leaking from his tone takes you off guard. “I don’t think I can love again.” 

You lift your eyes to his. “Again?” you question. You had never known him to court anyone. Perhaps before you arrived? Although surely that’s gossip you would have overheard downstairs. 

“No, little dove. Not again.” 

“Are you courting? A secret courtship?” 

He smiles. “No, I don’t think I’d call it a courtship.” 

“But you’re in love?” 

He nods. 

“Don’t let them hurt you.” 

“I don’t think I can promise that,” he says, one corner of his mouth tilting up into a sad smile. 

“You think they’ll hurt you?” 

“Not on purpose.” 

He laughs when you frown, concerned. “Don’t fret, dove. I’m prepared for it. I’ve always known she wasn’t for me. I can’t have everything I want, remember.” 

—

It’s only a few weeks later that an announcement is made: the crowned prince is to marry. You’re prepared for it, you knew it was coming any day and still… you cry. You let yourself have one night of tears. Then, the next morning, you put it from your mind. It’s not your place to mourn the loss of him, he was never yours in the first place. The only consolation you can take from the news is that it helped explain his low mood over the past week, he wasn’t losing interest in your company, he was processing his soon to be announced nuptials. 

He’s quiet as you move around the room, preparing his room for the day. He sits solemnly on the edge of his bed. You can feel his eyes on you. His silence is unnerving, out of character. It’s so unnerving you eventually spin to face him. 

“Are you going to continue staring until I leave the room?” 

It’s enough to be thrown from the palace: addressing him directly, speaking to him like this. You were too comfortable. Sometimes you wondered if you’d ever slip up when you weren’t alone, speak to him in such a way when others could overhear. 

He smiles. It’s a sad smile, all of his smiles were recently. You didn’t like it. It was only over the past week you’d realised how much his smiles got you through your days. He was depriving you. 

“If you don’t mind,” he answers. 

You replace your poker in the small stand beside the fireplace and pull yourself to your feet. He looks sunken, bare shoulders hunched over. Fix him, your heart instructs. 

“She’s very beautiful, apparently,” you say, taking small steps towards him. “That’s all anyone downstairs could talk about this morning. She’s known for it.” 

He frowns. “Do you think that matters to me? That it will make it better?” 

“I just think you should be open to the idea that you might come to love her, that you might be happy.” 

He stands suddenly, linen pants falling low on his hips. You saw him shirtless everyday, waking him in the morning, helping him change, it was a part of your job. Still, the way he’s looking at you now, chest bare and hair tousled from sleep….you unconsciously press your palm over your racing heart. He’s not for you, you beg it to understand. 

“Will you be happy?” he asks. 

You frown, confused. “What does this have to do with me?” 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he says, taking one step towards you. “You’ll be happy for me?” 

“I’m your servant.” 

He covers his face with his hands suddenly before turning away from you. You watch his shoulders rise and fall as he paces across the room and then turns. You stand across the room from each other, facing off. 

“If you weren’t working here. If… you were—” 

“Your equal?” you finish. 

“Would you consider us friends? In a world where we were allowed to be.” 

I’d tell you I love you. “I guess so.” 

“So in this hypothetical world, where we are friends… you’ll be happy if I marry her?” 

“When,” you correct. “When you marry her, I’ll be wishing you all the happiness in the world.” 

He moves towards you suddenly, closing the distance between you. When he’s a few steps from you he stops. His lips part and press together a few times, like he’s struggling to find the words he wants to say next. You wait. 

“I thought I’d prepared myself for this. I thought I’d talked myself through it, that I was ready to let—” he cuts himself off, running his fingers through his already messy hair. “I wasn’t meant to be this person, to be self-sacrificing and putting the good of the people above my own desires. I desire, I crave, and I’m selfish. I want to give in.” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say, you have to keep yourself from laughing. You couldn’t imagine there was a person on earth more suited to have all the power he would inherit. 

“You are not selfish. You are kind, and giving, and no one would be more suited to the role you’ve been given,” you say. He drops his arms to his side as you continue. “I’m happy. I’m happy now and I’ll be happy when you marry and I’ll be happy when you become King. I’ll be proud to have known you and happy that my life and everyone around me will be made better because of you.” 

He narrows the space between you a little more. “I am selfish, little dove,” he says, his hushed tone is too intimate. You take a step back. He follows. “I don’t want to do it without you.” 

“Will I be… let go?” you question, confused. “When you marry?” 

He shakes his head.

“Then I’ll be here. I don’t plan on leaving.” 

“I want you beside me.” 

“Beside… you?” 

He hums, fingers reaching out to play with the frills on your apron. You don’t understand where this conversation has led. You’d assumed he was gloomy because of the girl he loved, the secret courtship he’d mentioned a few weeks ago and the interference his arranged betrothal had caused. What did you have to do with any of this?

“Beside me, little dove. Doing it with me.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

His fingers trace the neckline of your apron, up to the straps over your shoulder. His eyes track his fingers, like there is something fascinating about the simple fabric that makes up your uniform. 

“Have I ever touched you?” he mumbles as his finger brushes the skin at your neck, where your dress ends. A shiver runs up your spine. You’re sure he must notice. “I haven’t,” he says. “I would remember.” 

You take a large step backwards, suddenly completely overwhelmed. “I have other duties. I should—I should go,” you say, curtseying quickly and escaping without looking back. 

—

You replay it in your head that night, everything he’d said, the feeling of his fingers on your skin. You can’t make sense of it; why he was suddenly touching you, speaking to you about desire, like he—

You sit up suddenly, your bedsheets pooling around your hips. He loved someone. You were sure that was why he was upset, and then he’d started making it about you, asking you strange questions and touching your skin. It couldn’t be you. It didn’t make sense. Your heart races as you throw your legs over the side of your bed. Sliding your feet into your slippers, you stand and reach for your small oil lamp. Your fingers shake as you light it and you freeze as you knock your hairbrush onto the hard floor, silently praying no one was still walking the halls. Silence. 

The path to his room is ingrained into your mind, you could make it there with your eyes closed tight. The guards outside his room don’t question you. They merely give you an odd look at your state of attire. You’d visited his room late previously, to stoke a fire in the dead of winter or deliver materials he might need when he was writing late. 

You freeze when the door closes gently behind you, suddenly completely unsure what you were doing. The revelation you’d thought you had seems ridiculous now, standing here in his room, the crown prince sleeping soundly in his bed. Why would he love you? You were nothing. You press your hand over your heart. He’s not for you. 

You turn just as his soft, sleep laden voice breaks the heavy silence. “Little dove?” he questions. “What’s wrong?” 

You turn slowly, grateful the darkness might shield some of your shame. “Nothing is wrong, your highness.” 

He huffs out a laugh, pulling himself up from the bed and swinging his legs over the side to stand. “Your highness?” he questions, amusement clear in his tone. He takes a few steps towards you before stopping suddenly, eyes dropping down your figure and then flicking back to your face. “What are you wearing?” 

“I—” 

“Has something happened?” he interrupts urgently.

You shake your head quickly. “I wanted to ask you about this morning.” 

He sighs, shoulders sagging as he switches from panic to dejection. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you, I was…. overwhelmed. This week has—” 

“I didn’t come here for an apology.” 

Interrupting the crown prince. You imagine your mother knowing. She’d likely drop dead from shock. 

“I owe you one anyway,” he says. 

“If you are going to start apologising for crossing boundaries, you have two years of talking to me like I’m not your servant to make up for.” 

“Oh, I’m not sorry for that,” he says quickly, straightening a little. 

“No, I didn’t think you were,” you murmur, smiling softly. Your kind prince. 

“What are you here for, then? If not an apology,” he says, taking a step towards you. 

You suck in a deep breath, preparing yourself. You were in his room in your nightgown. If you turned around and left now you’d toss and turn and get no sleep. Then tomorrow would be tortuous. You were exhausted enough on a normal day. That’s what you tell yourself. That’s how you force the question from your lips. 

“What did you mean by ‘beside you’? You’ll be moving to another wing of the castle when you marry. I assume you mean you want me to come with you and if that’s the case it’s already decided that your staff will—” you cut yourself off, distracted by the amused smirk on his face. “What?” 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well for heaven’s sake would you just say what you mean?!” you blurt out. 

He grins at your outburst. You’d officially shouted at the crown prince, at the man who would one day have absolute rule over you and everyone you knew. This was the danger of it all, of his treatment of you. You were too comfortable. 

“I think you know what I mean, little dove. You came to me in the middle of the night, in your nightdress, to ask me. I think if you truly had no idea, this could have waited until morning.” 

You want to hit him, to stomp across the room and beat against his chest. Could he not see he was hurting you? Dangling you on a string when you were so much less powerful than him, when he had all the power. It was for him to say. He had less to lose. 

“You said you were prepared to be hurt, for this person you love to hurt you,” you say after calming yourself a little.  

He frowns. “Yes.” 

“What about her? Have you considered how you may hurt her? If she’s prepared?” 

“Yes. It’s why I’ve tried my best to… resist her.” 

Speak plainly! you want to scream. Break me out of this foolish delusion. 

“What did you mean? Tell me what you meant. It’s cruel to play games with me, you know it is. I’m no one, I can’t afford to play games,” you plead. 

“No one?” he laughs, taking another small step towards you. Then he smiles, a lopsided smile that doesn’t prepare you at all for what he says next. “I want you to be my Queen.” 

He catches you by the wrist when you stagger back, taking the oil lamp from you before you can drop it. You were sure he’d have a reasonable explanation, anything but this. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t—

“Look at me,” he says, voice soothing and calm. Your eyes are fixed on where his fingers wrap around your wrist. “My love, look at me.” 

Your eyes snap to his. His face is lit by the soft glow of the lamp he holds, brown eyes wide with worry and… something else. My love, my love, my love, your heart chants. “Love?” you whisper.

He nods. “Don’t hurt me,” he whispers.

You suck in a deep breath, suddenly feeling starved of oxygen. “You can’t,” you blurt out, pulling your wrist from his grip and taking a step backwards. “It’s not right.” 

“I’ll make it right,” he says, taking your hand in his again. “I’ll refuse the marriage. They can’t force me down the aisle. We’ll wait until I’m King, until I can make any choice I like.” 

You pull your hand from his again, backing up until your back hits the door. He takes one step towards you and then stops, letting his arm drop to his side. “You don’t want me?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t matter what I—”

“It—” he interrupts. 

“Listen to me,” you demand. “Just listen.” 

He presses his lips together and nods reluctantly.

“I’m no one. You can argue with me about it for the rest of the night but it doesn’t change the fact that if anyone found out the way I spoke to you, the things you’ve just said to me, I’d be thrown out. I’d have nowhere to go and no way to make money and I’d be quickly, desperately hopeless. Everyone would know I’d been thrown out of the palace with no reference and I’d have to leave… somewhere far away. Do you understand?” 

“I wouldn’t—

“Do you understand what I just said?” you interrupt. “This is less for you… this means less. You have nothing to lose.” 

He closes the distance between you quickly and presses his hands to the wood either side of your head, caging you in. He’s quiet for a moment as he studies your face in the dim light, the oil lamp he’d placed on the small table beside the door the only illumination besides the fireplace.  “Nothing to lose?” he whispers. “I could lose you.” 

“I could lose everything.” 

“Same thing,” he says easily. 

“It’s not!” you shout as your eyes well with tears, shoving his chest until he’s forced to take a step away. “It’s not the same,” you repeat, lowering your voice. 

“You think I don’t know that? I know that. I know what this means for you, how dangerous it is. Why do you think I’ve kept away.” 

“Kept away?” you laugh. “I’m a servant, I’m your servant and you speak to me like I’m—” 

“Yeah, well… I’m not a saint,” he interrupts. “I told you, I’m selfish. I did the best I could.” 

When you say nothing in return he presses his hand to the wood again, the other lifting your chin to direct your eyes to his. “Tell me you love me, little dove,” he pleads, desperation leaking from his hushed tone. 

You sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly drained. “What good would it do?”

“For me? A world of it.” 

“Are you sure?” you whisper. “Are you sure it won’t…make it all worse.” 

“Please,” he whispers.

You sigh again. He’s quiet as you cup his cheek with your palm, as you brush your thumb across his soft skin. You wonder if he’d smell like your soap, if you were to lean forward and press your nose to the crook of his neck. “Of course I love you,” you confess. 

You can’t help matching the grin that spreads across his face, overwhelmed by the beauty of it. Then he’s pressing his lips to your forehead, a slow, drawn out kiss that he only pulls away from just when you think he might have attached himself to you permanently. 

The spell breaks as he pulls away, reality crashing down onto your shoulders. “Not that it matters,” you mutter, dropping your eyes to the floor.

Then he’s laughing and you find yourself spinning around, feet dangling against his legs. He spins you around, his laughter vibrating through your chest. When he sets you on your feet he’s practically breathless and you find yourself unwilling to say anything at all, not when his eyes are so full of joy and his cheeks pink from laughter. 

“Doesn’t matter?” he says, through the remnants of his laughter. “It changes everything, little dove. I didn’t realise… I didn’t realise how much until you said it. I’m going to keep you safe, I’m going to have you. I can.” 

You frown, wondering if maybe he’d bumped his head at some point. Perhaps when he was catching you as you’d stumbled? 

“It changes nothing,” you correct, stepping back out of his arms. “You will be getting married soon and I will stay your maidservant and that’s the way it was always going to be.” 

“Have a little faith in me, dove? Hm?” 

“I have faith in you. It’s everyone else, your parents, the court… you think they’ll let you back out of the arrangement they’ve agreed to?” you question. “You really think they’ll let you marry… me?” 

“I won’t give them a choice.” 

“It’s not up to you!” you cry, suddenly overwhelmed again. It’s all.. So much. So much. A tortuous sliver of hope in a world that had only ever been cruel to you. “Please—Please, just stop. It’s not—”

He steps towards you, taking each of your hands in his. “Give me a chance… give me a chance to try?” 

When you say nothing he drops to his knees at your feet. You swear your heart skips a beat. You look to the door, imagining anyone walking in and seeing the crown prince kneeling at the feet of a servant; of someone who he shouldn’t even acknowledge. 

“I have a chance… you’ve given me a chance at having everything I’ve ever wanted… I can taste it, I—” he pauses, pulling one of your palms to his lips and pressing a kiss to your skin. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear it. Let me try?” 

It’s silly, childish, it’s everything you thought you werent, but seeing him there—gazing up at you like he might actually… love you—it feels like your knees are knocked out from under you as you collapse to the floor with him.

“I’m scared,” you whisper. 

He tugs you forward into his arms, wrapping you up tightly. Your nightdress is thin enough that the warmth from his bare chest easily radiates through to your skin. You sigh, dropping your face to the crook of his neck. He smells like your soap.

“You’ve taken care of me for so long… every day… let me take care of you now, hm?”

You want to say yes, to give in to him. Your heart thumps hard in your chest, like it’s begging you to give in, banging his fists against your ribs and screaming ‘Let me out! Let me have him!’. It would be foolish to trust someone with so much power, especially when you had none. You should walk away now, ideally find employment somewhere far away from him, before you can be hurt. It’s too late, a small voice reminds you. You’ll be hurt either way now. 

“Do you promise?” 

He lifts your face from his neck, warm hands cradling your face. You feel exposed, even in the dim light of the room. When he says nothing and merely trails his eyes over your features, you’re not sure what he’s looking for. There’s nothing interesting or unique about your face. You’d always thought you were well suited to a job where you were supposed to blend in. 

“I’ve got you, little dove. I promise,” he whispers. He kisses your forehead again. “You should get some sleep,” he says before helping you to your feet. You expect him to drop your hand once you’re up, but he doesn’t. He stares down at where your hands join for a moment. It’s a comfortable silence. You were always comfortable with him, you realise. 

When he finally releases you, it’s with a whispered goodnight and one last press of his lips to your forehead. You find yourself making your way back through the palace to the servants' wing on autopilot. You’re completely spaced out, trying to process what has just happened, how your life has changed. When you crawl into bed, you find yourself shaking. You roll onto your back and close your eyes, concentrating on the rise and fall of your chest as you inhale and exhale. He… loves you. You’d never even let yourself consider the idea before tonight and now you had his whispered promises bouncing around your head. 

—

You’re pressed up to a wall the next morning, gathering yourself before you have to round the corner and enter his room to begin your morning routine. You had done the same thing almost every day for the past two years but never hours after he’d confessed… to loving you. 

He’s still sleeping when you creep into the room. Usually you’d pull the curtains aside without hesitation, waking him with the bright morning sunlight, but not today. You creep around the room, completing all of your tasks as quickly and quietly as possible. He mumbles at one point and you freeze, fearing for a moment he’s awake. But his mumbling is incoherent and when he falls silent again, he doesn’t move. It isn’t long until you’re forced to face the task you’d been avoiding: the curtains. He’ll wake when you open them, he always did. You consider the distance to the doors, how long it will take you to reach them if you run. You suck in a deep breath. Be brave. You pull them open. 

He stirs as you’re tying the first curtain aside. He mumbles something you don’t make out as you’re tying the second. 

“Good morning,” he says as you turn to face him. He’s grinning, hair messed and flopping over his forehead. The sunlight streaming into the room lights his face. It’s blinding. 

You head for the door. 

“You’re leaving?” he asks. You pause.

“I’ve finished in here.” 

He stands and makes his way towards you slowly. “Are you alright?” he questions. 

“I have lots of work today. Do you need anything else?” 

He frowns. “Have you changed your mind?” 

“Have you?” you ask in return.

He smiles, closing the distance between you. His fingers play with the frills on your uniform, a new habit. You know the second the words leave your lips it's a stupid question. He didn’t make decisions lightly, not important ones. He’d spent the last two years chatting to you like you were a close friend and not someone employed to lay his clothes out and make his baths. You knew how long he spent thinking things through, how sure he had to be about someone before he trusted them. You remember when he started talking to you about things you’re sure he wasn’t supposed to. It felt like a shift. You sensed he trusted you, even if you weren’t sure what you’d done to warrant it.

“Do you trust me, little dove?” he asks. 

You nod without hesitation. Whether it was foolish or not, you did trust him in return. A year into your time here you’d received news your brother had passed. You’d thought you could handle it, that working a normal day would take your mind off it. It had only taken him minutes to pick up on your mood. The second he’d questioned you, you’d broken into heavy sobs. He’d insisted you go to your family, that he’d cover for your absence. You’d thanked him meekly when you returned and he’d brushed it off, asking instead if there was anything else he could do. You trusted him. He was reliable and sure.

“I won’t change. I don’t make decisions until I know and I know this more than anything: I love you,” he says. 

“Is my soap that nice?” you offer in return, unused to simple compliments let alone declarations of love.

He huffs out a laugh. “Mm,” he hums. “I simply can’t live without it.” 

“You don’t have to wed me to get more soap.” 

“Yes, but you could leave at any time.” 

“Ah, so you have to entrap me into a marriage…” 

He nods, failing to keep his lopsided grin at bay. 

“For my soap,” you finish. 

“For your soap,” he agrees. 

—

You do your best to continue on as normal, to trust him to work on getting out of his betrothal. You were powerless and with everyday that passed (and with his increasing frustration) you were only evermore aware of that fact. 

Then he falls. You’re just sitting down to a late lunch in the servants hall when everyone is suddenly rushing around, panicked commands and chaos throwing the entire servants wing into disarray. A pile of fresh linen is shoved in your hands with a quick, “Take these to the prince’s rooms.” 

Your heart drops. 

“What’s happened?!” you shout at her turned back. 

“He’s injured,” she says impatiently. “Now will you go. Strip his bed. There may be blood.” 

You stagger back a step, suddenly dizzy. Then someone shoves you from behind and you’re running. You expect the worst, for him to be dying. It’s not right, it’s not right. You crash into a body as you round a corner, struggling to keep the linens from falling onto the floor. You imagine never waking him again, never seeing the way the rays of morning sun would light his skin and deep brown eyes. 

The room is full when you arrive, other servants scurrying around to light the fire and strip the bed of the expensive embroidered covers. You find yourself standing there, holding the pile of white linen in your arms, motionless. 

Then he arrives.

You find yourself backed up into the wall as a swarm of bodies move into the room. All you can make out of your prince is a limp hand, dangling off the side of the makeshift stretcher he’s lying upon. Someone snatches the linens from your arms. Your eyes don’t shift from that hand, watching until it’s out of your sight, swallowed by the swarm of bodies. 

“Go get more water!” someone shouts, and it’s only when a hand wraps around your arm that you realise they’re addressing you. “Water. Go.” 

You obey, stumbling from the room. 

—

You stare at the ceiling late that night. You hadn’t been allowed back in again. All you knew, all anyone knew, was that he was alive. You’ve talked yourself out of trying to see him over, and over, and over. Your uniform lays at the end of the bed from where you’d started dressing yourself and then undressing again. He’d be watched overnight; supervised. You couldn’t see him, not until morning. 

Only, you find after a sleepless night that you can’t see him at all. No one is allowed to enter his room apart from a select few staff. Your superiors, longer serving and more trusted. You go about your days attempting to gather as much information about his progressing condition as possible. It isn’t suspicious to be curious about the wellbeing of the heir. No one questions your persistent enquiries. He’d fallen from his horse, thrown off. You couldn’t picture it, him being hurt. Vulnerable was the last word you’d ever associate with him. He was always strong, self-assured, calm. Him being anything but strong and healthy was wrong, unnatural. 

You give in on the fourth night. The news had spread through the palace at lunch time that he was conscious; that he’d live. It’s too much to bear, to spend another night tossing and turning and having the last image of him in your mind be his limp muddy hand. So you dress as you prepare a speech for if he is still being supervised and you’re questioned. It’s risky to disobey clear orders. But you’d given into risk and danger the night he’d confessed. 

To your surprise, the guards let you through. They recognise you and clearly assume you have permission to be here. You smile politely as you pass, pushing his doors open. You’re prepared to face an interrogation by his supervisor. He’s alone. It’s a good sign. He’s improved enough that there’s no fear of him worsening through the night. You approach slowly, reminding yourself you don’t know the extent of his injuries, to be prepared. He looks like himself, his expression peaceful and face free from any scars or bruises. You sigh, pressing your hand over your chest. A sense of calm falls over you for the first time in days. You can replace the image of his limp hand in your mind with his peaceful face, unmarred by injury. 

You lean down to gently press your lips to his forehead. He doesn’t stir and you watch his chest rise and fall steadily for a minute or so before turning to leave. He was alive. You’d seen it. Now you can rest. 

Three days after that you’re instructed to continue on as normal, to wake him and prepare him for the day as you had for the past two years. It seems too soon. But you have no power, so you say nothing. You hesitate at the door, sucking in one final deep breath. 

You go for the curtains first this time, selfishly perhaps. You want to speak to him, to hear his voice, to have as much time with him as you can before you’re forced to continue on with your day. The first hum of his voice as he stirs is too much to resist. You rush to his bedside before you’ve finished tying the curtains aside. 

He blinks up at you, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. Then he smiles. It takes your breath away. 

“Good morning, little dove.” 

You throw yourself over him, pressing your face into his neck and breathing him in. His short breath of laughter tickles your skin. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles. 

“You were unconscious for half of it,” you point out, lifting yourself off him. “Are you feeling okay? I don’t know why they’re letting me back in so soon. You should rest.” 

He grins, tilting his head a little. Ah. 

“You talked them into this?” you question, already knowing the answer.

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Like I said, I missed you.” 

“You’re not getting up.” 

“I’m not?” he asks, smiling up at you. 

“No.” 

“Are you ordering me around, little dove?”

“Yes.” 

“I like it.” 

—

He agrees to rest three more days and then he’s done. You know it the moment you enter. The curtains are drawn and he’s pacing by the fireplace. 

“There you are,” he says, marching towards you. You were no later than every other day. He takes your hands and pulls you towards the window seat, a long bench that fills the window alcove. “I’m leaving,” he announces once you’re both seated. “Today.” 

Be calm, you self instruct. He’s alive.

“Leaving?” 

He lifts your wrist to his mouth and brushes his lips lightly back and forth against your skin. 

“Father is sending me to Draemore. He says if I want to back out of the arrangement, I have to negotiate a deal myself.” 

The arrangement for his marriage. He was to marry Draemore’s princess, to unite the two powerful kingdoms. It was a long journey. 

“You can’t go anywhere, you’re hurt,” you insist, sensing a panic rising in your chest. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You—”

“Trust me,” he says. “Let me do this. Please?” 

“You can do what you like,” you say, attempting not to clench your jaw. Powerless. 

“Tell me it’s okay. That I can go.” 

A shameful part of you wants to tell him it isn’t okay. That you’re afraid he might be hurt again and leave you forever. An even more shameful part is even afraid he might meet Draemore’s princess and be tempted by her beauty. That he might realise she’s the better option, that you aren’t worth it. You aren’t ready to be parted from him. Each night you resist the temptation to visit him, to tell him you struggle to spend any time away from him at all.

“Is it… what you want?” you ask.

“I want to get out of this betrothal. I want to be free of it.” 

You fiddle with his fingers. You’d always thought he had beautiful hands. “How long will you be gone?” you murmur.

“I don’t know. As long as I need to be.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’ll be gone as long as I need to be so that when I come back I’m yours,” he says, voice soft and soothing. 

Mine, mine, mine, mine, your heart thrums. “I’ll miss you,” you whisper. 

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Mm? How much?” 

“Only a little.” 

“Ah, only a little…” 

“Don’t fall off another horse,” you mumble, adjusting his collar. “Please.” 

“Is that an order?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, no falling,” he says, smile containing a hint of sorrow. “Can I ask something of you in return?” 

“Is it more soap? Because you’ve got all I’ve made recently.” 

“No.” 

“Go on, then.” 

“Kiss me goodbye,” he whispers. 

You look to the door, reminding yourself that no one ever came in at this time of day besides you. It was always a risk, nonetheless. Everything you were doing with him was. 

He has a soft smile on his face as he waits for you to decide. His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist where your hand rests in his lap. If he does decide while away that you aren’t worth the hassle, that he can see something in her that he can come to love, you want to have this one moment to keep. To know that at one point he wanted to be yours. You know now that he could slip away at any moment, either because of a princess or an accident. 

You watch the corner of his mouth lift slightly as you lean forward. Then you’re brushing his lips with yours, barely touching, sharing his breath. His hand lifts to the back of your head and then you’re joined. Your heart leaps. Finally, it rejoices as you get your fill of him. Don’t forget, you beg. Remember this, remember having him. His lips move over yours like he’s doing the same, savouring you. 

You think about how his plush lips had felt on yours all day, up until you’re lined up with the rest of the staff to see him off. That’s the only moment that is more important, watching him climb into the carriage and disappear from your sight for the foreseeable future. You press your hand to your chest. 

—

The first time you find yourself standing in front of his bedroom doors, he’s only been gone a week. There’s no guards. They have no one to guard. Minho isn’t here. Still, here you are. 

You push the doors open and close them quietly behind you, not that there’s anyone around to hear. The room is dark, cold, and empty. Your small oil lamp is the only light and heat provided now that he’s gone. 

You look at the door one last time before placing the lamp on the small table beside his bed and crawling onto the mattress. It’s a world away from the thin mattress on your own bed. You sink into it, resisting the urge to pull the covers back and fully envelop yourself. 

It reminds of sneaking into your aunt and uncle's room with your brother while they were at the market. Of climbing into the bed with your dirty clothes and giggling as your brother bounced on the mattress at your feet. You’d spent some time with your cousins as a child, when your parents were struggling to feed you and your siblings. As the two oldest, you and your brother were sent away. You were just grateful to not be alone. 

—

You spend some time at his bookshelves on some nights, perusing his personal library. You pick a new one out each time and crawl back into his bed. The words weren’t his, but he’d chosen them, decided to keep them in his room. You scour the pages as if he’d written them himself. 

You save one book until last, he’d made you read it to him on one of the days he’d spent in bed. “Don’t stop,” he’d ordered. “Even if I fall asleep.”

He’d nearly died. He’d nearly left you and just as you’d been settled in the fact he was okay, he left you for real. 

—

Any news you hear of him or his return is passed through a chain of whispers so long the information is entirely unreliable by the time it reaches you. Still, you grasp onto the whispers, they are all you have. No one knows the purpose of his visit. The assumption you hear passed around is that he’s simply gone to visit his soon to be bride, to get to know her, to fall in love with her. 

“Perhaps he’ll be bringing her back,” someone comments from across the table as you shovel porridge into your mouth. 

“I doubt it. It’s a long journey to have to do twice. She’ll come for the wedding in a few months,” someone else chimes in. 

“What if he isn’t back until then? It’s been four months, what’s a few more?”

You stand abruptly, stool scraping along the floorboards. You feel a few eyes on you as you leave the room. Your appetite still hasn’t returned by supper. 

—

You stab your finger with your sewing needle as the door slams open. You stick your bleeding finger in your mouth as the only person here (aside from Minho) you consider a friend rushes into the room and slams her hands on your small desk. 

“He’s back,” she gasps, clearly out of breath. 

You pull your finger from your mouth with a pop. 

“What?” 

“They’re having a dinner for his return and no one is prepared. It’s chaos out there.” 

“He’s back?” you whisper. 

She nods. 

Chaos is an understatement. No one is prepared for his arrival. You’re one of many forced to help the cooks as they scramble to put together the celebratory meal. You narrowly miss cutting your fingers as you chop vegetables, distracted by the gossip surrounding you. No one knew if he’d arrived alone, if she was with him. 

You’re reminded again how powerless you are, how little you are, when you realise there is no way you’ll be allowed anywhere near him the rest of the day. He’ll be surrounded by the members of the court, by his family, and you’re no one. You aren’t even allowed to be in the dining hall when dinner is served, too low on the staff pecking order for it to be considered appropriate. At least you discover he’d returned alone. He hadn’t brought her. 

Late that night, when you’re finally released from cleaning, it’s the knowledge that he hadn’t returned with her that pushes you out of bed and towards his room. Whether he had failed in his mission to free himself from the arrangement hardly concerned you after months away from him. You needed to see him, hear his voice. 

You don’t hesitate as you pass the guards, doing nothing to disguise your eagerness as you burst through the doors. Minho stands at the end of his bed with a book in hand, clearly taken off guard by your dramatic entrance. 

It’s a protracted moment of silence that follows. You aren’t sure how long it lasts, too preoccupied with taking him in. After running your eyes over him for any obvious sign of injury, you do a more thorough inspection. His hair is longer, soft dark locks falling into his eyes as stares right back at you. You desperately want to brush it from his eyes, to run your fingers through it, to grasp a handful and hold him against you so he can’t leave you again. 

“You’re back,” you finally breathe, disturbing the heavy silence. 

“Ran out of soap.” 

You burst into tears. 

His warmth envelops you almost immediately as he wraps himself around you and tucks your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. He’s quiet as you collect yourself, basking in the feeling of his body against yours. You snake your hands up around his neck to thread your fingers into his hair, the long strands giving you plenty to grasp onto. He hums when you begin pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, trailing up to a small mole near his jaw. 

“You missed me then?” he asks.

He attempts to pull back from you slightly when you don’t reply but your desperate grip around his neck prevents him. It’s enough to pull a breathy laugh from his lips. 

“Don’t you want to know how I did?” he asks. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. 

“You don’t wanna know if I’m yours?” 

“You are. You’re mine. I don’t care what any of them say… you’re mine.” 

He lifts you off your feet and falls back onto his bed, pulling you down onto him. Your leg slots between his and your dress bunches up at your thighs. He huffs out a small laugh at the squeak that escapes you at the sudden fall. 

“Is that right?” he grins. 

You lift yourself onto your elbows to take him in properly. He blinks and shakes his head a little, attempting to dislodge some hair from his eye. You brush it away for him, tucking it behind his ear gently. 

“You’re mine, Minho.” 

The smile drops from his face, a few slow blinks following. “Say it again,” he whispers. 

“You’re mine.” 

“Say my name.” 

Ah. You suppose that’s the first time you’d ever addressed him by his name, the first time you’d ever spoken it aloud at all. You can’t help laughing a little at the idea of it, at anyone you worked with knowing you’d addressed him by his given name, while lying across his half naked form. Then you find yourself on your back, the heir to the throne hovering above you. 

“Say it,” he commands again. 

“Promise you won’t leave me again.” 

“Hm?” he hums.

“Just…. promise you won’t leave me alone again. Promise me.” 

“Did you miss me that much, little dove?” he asks, tone soft and gentle.

“Desperately.” 

His lips curve into a sad smile. “I won’t leave you again.” 

“Promise.” 

“God himself will have to drag me from you, I promise.” 

“No, not even that.” 

“Alright, not even that. I’ll die a natural death many, many years from now.” 

You nod, satisfied. “Can I stay with you?” you ask, feeling brave. His absence had unlocked something in you. Your fear of rejection seemed inconsequential compared to being parted from him. 

“Stay… here?” 

“I’ve… gotten used to your bed.” 

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Have you been slipping between my sheets while I’ve been away, little dove?” 

“I read most of your books, too.” 

“I like it, the idea of you making yourself at home in my space. Our little nest, hm?” 

“So I can stay?” 

“If you ask nicely.” 

You roll your eyes and reach up to tug at his earlobe. “Please, can I stay with you?” 

His nose scrunches. “Nicer.” 

Nicer than—Oh. 

“Please, Minho? Please can I sleep here with you?” 

He hums. “Anytime, my love,” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. You lift your head slightly, attempting to kiss him properly. He lets you have one taste, one taste of his upper lip and then he’s pulling you to your feet and detaching himself from you. It’s incredibly upsetting. Before you can announce your displeasure his fingers slip into the neckline of your uniform, barely ghosting over your skin. 

“Are you going to sleep in your uniform?” he whispers. 

“It’s clean. I—” 

“Doesn’t look comfortable.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him. 

“Get in,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and nudging you gently towards the bed. You don’t hesitate, crawling up the huge mattress to settle under the covers. 

It’s not until you’ve pulled the heavy blankets up to your chin that you notice what he’s doing: stoking the fire. You sit up to watch, unable to resist watching him do something so simple and yet entirely new. He smiles a little when he turns to see you staring. 

“Warm enough?” he asks. 

You nod eagerly. “I’m used to no fire at all.” 

He frowns, halting where he’s climbing into the bed. “You don’t have a fire?” 

“Downstairs? We have fires. I just—I didn’t want to risk lighting yours… while you were away.” 

He crawls in beside you and you lower your head to the luxurious pillow to face him. 

“It’s been freezing for weeks,” he mutters, shuffling closer. “You really slept in here with no fire at all?” 

“You have lots of blankets.” 

He grumbles something under his breath and then he’s tugging you towards him. He’s quiet once you’re settled against him, breathing even. 

“These frills are scratchy,” he whines just when you think he’s fallen asleep. 

You huff out a small laugh as you pull away from him. “Fine, since you want me unclothed that badly.” 

“My intentions are pure. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“Your highness?” he huffs, offended. 

You grin at him as you untie your apron and carefully fold it. His eyes don’t leave you as you work at removing your dress as well. You’re forced to look away first. When your flowy chemise is the only thing remaining, you crawl back in, avoiding his gaze. He tugs you towards him again, warmth seeping quickly through the single layer of fabric separating you. 

“Better,” he hums. 

He’s quiet again for a while, but you are never fooled twice and you’re prepared when he speaks up again. “I negotiated a new arrangement. I had to correspond back and forth with my father to figure out the details. That’s why I… was away longer than I would have liked.” 

A new arrangement… one where he didn’t have to marry her?

“You’re… free?” 

“Mm, little dove. I’m yours.” 

You cling to him, wrapping your leg around his hip. “I want to be yours, too.” 

“Hm? Who says you aren’t?” 

“I’m no one,” you mumble. 

“Says who?” 

“Everyone except you. I’m invisible.” 

“Well I say you’re everything,” he says softly. “I say you’re mine. Whose opinion matters more to you?” 

“Yours,” you whisper. 

“Mm, good girl,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Get some sleep.” 

“Minho?” you whisper after a moment of silence. 

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask something of you?” 

“If you’re going to say my name like that, anything.” 

“Goodnight kiss?” 

“That’s a big ask,” he says, clearly teasing. “Do I get something in return?” 

“What do you want?” 

“One tomorrow night.” 

“Then I get one the night after that.” 

“Then I—” 

You cut him off with your lips. 

—

You wake before him, used to a much earlier start. You can’t resist watching him for a while, taking in his longer hair and parted lips. 

Then you get dressed, pulling your uniform on and tying yourself into it like you do any other morning. The guards should have changed shifts only a half hour ago, hopefully enough time to assume you’d simply started on your duties early—rather than… spent the night with your limbs wrapped around the crown prince. It was ridiculous to be paranoid at all, you tell yourself. You’re invisible. 

When you return an hour later, Minho is still asleep. He’s rolled over, spread out across your side of the bed, like he’d been reaching out for you in his sleep. Your heart jumps a little at the idea of it. 

He’s ready for you when you return that night, perched in bed with a book he wants to read with you. It’s a new one. You hadn’t found it on his shelves. 

The night after that he kisses your neck, rolling over you and slipping your chemise off your shoulder a little to give him more skin to work with. It leaves you breathless. 

A week later you wake to him pressed up against you, hardness grinding into you as he mumbles in his sleep. You kiss him awake, playing with his ear and asking him if he’d been dreaming. He pulls you into his chest, hiding his face from you. 

Two nighters after that, he watches you prepare his bath. He’s been quiet all day, mind somewhere far away. You’d hoped he’d open up, trust you enough to share whatever was bothering him. He’d offered nothing. 

“It’s ready,” you announce, placing a new bar of soap from your newest batch on the small stool beside the tub. 

He says nothing, unmoving from his perch at the side of his mattress. 

“Do you need help with your cuffs?” 

He looks up at you, brows furrowed. “You should have it,” he says.

“The bath? Are you saying I smell?” 

He laughs, the first laugh you’d seen from him today. “I just want you to have it. You’re always putting so much care into it, I—I don’t imagine you take as much care when you’re preparing your own.” 

“Not usually, no.” 

“I'll make sure no one disturbs you,” he says as he stands. 

“I—” 

“I’m not using it. Don’t let it go to waste,” he says, marching for the door and leaving you there, dumbstruck. 

It’s the nicest bath you’ve had in your life. You can’t remember the last time you’d bothered to heat the water, let alone soak for an entire hour. 

When he wraps himself around you later that night, you whisper a thank you into his neck. “Don’t thank me, little dove. I’ve done nothing.” 

—

“Remember when I said I was selfish?” he murmurs in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. 

“Mm,” you hum, only partially listening. 

“I’m greedy too, and impatient, and—”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I want you, little dove. I want you so badly.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“I want to taste you, I want to feel you, I want to bury myself inside you and hear my name on your lips.” 

“I-I want that too.” 

He groans. “Don’t… don’t say that. It’s not—” 

“Right?” you finish. “According to everyone else, we’re not right at all..” 

“I shouldn’t be letting you sleep here, I should wait. You deserve—” 

He was royalty, tradition and formality was baked into his blood. He believed in virtue and consummation on the night of a wedding and everything proper. 

“You think I care about any of that nonsense?” 

“But I do. The fact we’ve been sharing a bed together before—”

“We’re married?” you grin. 

When he doesn’t return your smile, you know he’s serious.

“We can wait,” you soothe, playing with the hair that hangs down between you. “If it’s what you want.” 

“I want to strip you bare and bury myself inside you.” 

“Alright,” you grin. “If that’s what you want.” 

He rolls off you with a groan before grumbling a goodnight, keeping his distance until he falls asleep. He reaches towards you a little while later, mumbling something incomprehensible into your hair as he drapes himself over you.  

—

“I was wondering… if maybe I could bathe in here again?” you ask from the end of his bed. 

You suppose it’s cruel to tease him. But it’s fun. You haven’t had much time for fun in your life, nor opportunity for it. It makes you feel powerful, seeing the way he clenches his jaw and drops his eyes down your legs each time you step out of your dress. You weren’t used to power either. 

“It’s… late. You want to… now?” 

“Please?” 

“I—Yeah, if that’s what you’d like.” 

“I’d like it.” 

He throws the covers back. “I’ll be in the library if—” 

“You can stay,” you interrupt.  

He stumbles over nothing and whips his head over to you. It’s so comical you can’t hold back the tiny huff of laughter that escapes your lips. 

His eyes darken at the sound. “Are you teasing me, little dove?” 

“I’d like you to stay.” 

A switch back to timidity. “You want me to… stay as you…”

“Bathe, yes.” 

He sits at the edge of the mattress as you prepare the bath, standing only to take full buckets of water from you when you enter the room. He’d taken to doing things like that, take up some of the tasks that fell under your job description. You’d even found the bed made up one morning. You’d had to redo it, it was a sincere effort, but not quite up to standard. He’d noticed of course and the next morning he’d asked if you could teach him to do it properly. 

He blinks at you from the side of his bed as you walk towards him. Then he holds his hand up, palm facing you. The universal symbol for stop. You do. 

“I can’t—I—”

“You don’t have to touch me,” you whisper. “Is it wrong if you don’t touch me?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s also wrong to want to marry me though, isn’t it? You’re ignoring that rule.” 

He’s quiet as you undress… apron… dress… stockings… His eyes fix on the piece of ribbon tied together at your chemise’s neckline. It’s the only thing keeping the fabric from slipping off your shoulders and falling to your ankles, leaving you entirely bare. 

“No touching?” he whispers. 

“No touching.” 

His hand drops to his lap. You tug the ribbon free, keeping your eyes on him as the fabric slips off one of your shoulders. This was as much as he’d seen up until now, as much as he’d dared to explore when he presses kisses down your neck at night. 

You shrug the other shoulder off, then let the flimsy fabric drop down to your ankles. It should be scary, being this vulnerable, completely bare. His eyes rake over you. It’s the way he looks at you, like he was starved and you were something he desperately craved. How could you possibly be afraid when he looked at you like that?

When you move closer, he leans slightly back, like you’re a threat. “Are you okay?” you whisper as you reach him. 

He doesn’t look up from your breasts and when he speaks, his warm breath ghosts over your nipples. “No touching,” he breathes. 

“Good boy,” you whisper.

You’re tempted to close the distance, to feel the brush of his plush lips against you. You resist. He stands as you take a few steps away from him, following you as if there’s an invisible line of string attaching him to you. Power. 

When you nudge the small stool by the side of the tub with your calf, the sound of the wood bumping against the tub snaps him from his haze. He pauses, hands limp at his sides as you climb over the side and into the warm water. It’s heaven, the tub curving perfectly around your spine and neck, offering a relaxing headrest. You drop your head back and close your eyes, aware of the silent prince watching from the sidelines. 

“The stool might be more comfortable,” you mutter after a moment of silence. “Unless you prefer to stand.” 

You blink your eyes open when he doesn’t answer to find him still standing, looking completely lost. 

“Minho?” 

He blinks slowly, then tugs his eyes up to yours. 

“You can sit on the stool,” you repeat. 

He nods slightly then clumsily positions himself on the small wooden stool at the side of the tub. Clumsy wasn’t a word you’d found yourself associating with him. He was poised, talented with a sword. He’d dance around his opponent like it was no effort at all. He was in control, always, even of his own body. 

“Could you pass me the soap?” you ask after a moment. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, reaching for the soap without pulling his eyes from you. He passes it to you absentmindedly, like his fulfilment of your request was entirely subconscious. 

“Says who?” 

He smiles, catching on quickly. He was quick, your prince. Witty and smart and kind. 

“Everyone except you.” 

“And whose opinion matters more?” 

“Yours, my love.” 

“Good boy.” 

He grins. 

He looks forlorn as you slip back into your chemise when you’re done. You can’t help laughing a little at his sad eyes and pouty bottom lip. He suggests you take another bath the following night. 

—

Your encounters with the rest of the royal family were few and far between. You were assigned to the prince’s wing, that was where you spent most of your days. So when you’re summoned to the Queen’s rooms, your heart drops into your stomach. You’ve been found out, it screams. They’ll take him from you. Or more accurately, take you from him. It’s all that races through your mind as you climb the stairs with shaky legs. You wonder if you’ll even get a chance to say goodbye, to tell him you don’t regret it. That the only thing you regret is not having him completely, just once. 

She doesn’t look up as you enter, preoccupied with something on her dresser. You stand patiently, attempting to calm your breathing. 

When she eventually stands and turns to face you, a tiny sliver of hope creeps its way into your chest at her lack of apparent anger. She doesn’t look like she’s about to scream at you to leave the palace and never return for threat of imprisonment. Her eyes trail up and down your form, inspecting you. She knows. 

“I want my son to be happy,” she says finally. “I want it more than anything else. You will understand that feeling one day, I’m sure.” 

You’re quiet, waiting for permission to speak. She doesn’t give it. 

“He has been distracted for a long while,” she continues, taking a few slow steps towards you. “It became evident to me why, when he expressed how displeased he was at his betrothal. He was in love.”

She closes the distance between you and lifts her hand to adjust the apron strap over your shoulder. It feels entirely different to the way Minho does it.

“I want my son to be happy but I also want him to be a good King, a glorious King. A king who puts his people above his own wants and desires. I’m sure you understand.” 

You understood, you understood completely. You were his ‘wants and desires’ and clearly he was putting you above what was best for everyone else. Remove yourself, she was saying. 

“Do you think he will make a good King, child?” 

“Yes, your grace. I—I know he will.” 

“I do not blame you for loving him, he is easy to love. But you cannot encourage him any longer. You have intelligent eyes, I’ve learned over these many years to understand people very soon after I make their acquaintance. You are not foolish. My son would not love a fool. You must know it’s unreasonable to expect him to make you Queen.” 

“I—”

“I imagine he’ll be just as happy to have you by his side as his concubine.”

“His… concubine?” 

“It is not unheard of for concubines to come from common families, my dear. I hope you… can understand my position. I do not consider myself a cruel or unreasonable woman. I want my son to be happy and the kingdom to thrive. This is for the good of all, you understand.” 

“I—I understand.” 

“Good. As long as you remain discreet, and you make him understand the importance of him marrying for the good of the kingdom, then we shall put this behind us.” 

“Me?” 

“You must make him understand. I’m afraid, my dear, you have found yourself in a position of great influence over him.” 

“I… can’t make him do anything.” 

“Are you sure of that?” 

—

You hardly sleep that night, shaken from your encounter with Minho’s mother—the Queen—and unused to sleeping alone. It makes the next morning even harder as you trudge up the many stairs and hallways to his room. You’re not prepared, but you have no choice. This is your role. 

You’re not surprised when you find him pacing, curtains drawn and bed made. If you weren’t so consumed with anxiety you’d find it amusing, how you had the crown prince trained. 

He marches towards you, placing each hand on your shoulder and running his eyes over you. “Has something happened?” he questions, panic evident in his voice. “You didn’t come. Are you ill?” 

“I’m well,” you answer simply. 

He drops his arms and takes a small step back. “You didn’t come.” 

“Must I sleep here every night?” 

He frowns. “I—I suppose not. I just thought—” 

“The Queen summoned me to her rooms.” 

“What?” 

“She knows.” 

Panic flickers across his face before he can mask it. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Minho.” 

“They won’t take you from me,” he continues. “It’s not—”

“She wants me to convince you to make me your concubine, when you become King. To convince you to choose a Queen who is… right for the kingdom.” 

“I have. You are right.” 

“Be serious.” 

“I’ve never been more serious. I’m not making you—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath and drawing his hands down his face. “I will not demean you by giving you a position in my life less than anyone else. You’ll be my Queen, you’ll be beside me and below no one. That’s it.” 

“She knows, Minho. If you…refuse. I think she’ll take it into her own hands.” 

“She won’t take you from me. I’ll make it clear I’ll never forgive her if she tries.” 

You sigh, tempted to drop to the floor where you stand. You’ve been in denial, blissful denial, and so—clearly—was he. He steps into you, lifting your chin with his fingers. 

“I will have you, little dove. I’ve decided. I decided long ago,” he says, brown eyes swirling with emotion. “Have faith in me. That’s all you have to do.” 

You offer him a sad smile and a small nod. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms so tightly around you, you almost can’t breathe. You bask in it. 

“Come to me tonight. Please,” he pleads. “Tell me you’ll come.” 

“Okay.” 

—

He’s quieter than usual in the following days, offering little conversation and simply wrapping himself around you when you come to him at night. It hurts, seeing him anything but full of joy. You have no power, you’re reminded yet again. You want to have power over everyone and everything that dares to make him feel anything but joy. 

Then he’s angry, you feel it the minute you enter his room. He’s hunched over his desk and doesn’t look up at you when you enter. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t even grumble, he just radiates anger. It’s not directed at you, you know that. He drapes his leg over you and presses his lips to your neck when he finally crawls into bed with you. 

When his mood still hasn’t lifted the following night, you’ve had enough. You roll over him, pressing his hands into the bed beside his head. “Tell me,” you command. “Tell me what’s bothering you. I want to help you.” 

“You help me every night.” 

“I want to be more than a warm body. You’ve… stopped telling me things.” 

“Let me handle it. You don’t need to be upset by them.” 

“Beside you, you told me you wanted me beside you, not behind you.” 

His lips curve into a small smile. “Will you release me first? Please?” 

You lift your weight from his hands, letting him stroke the hair from your face. 

“She’s threatening to tell my father. He… won’t be as agreeable as my mother was. I don’t know what he’ll do if—” 

“She wants you to agree to another marriage?” 

“She wants me to promise I’ll consider someone else, that I’ll consider making you—” 

“Agree to it, then,” you interrupt. 

“What?” he frowns, hand dropping from where he’d been idly playing with your hair. 

“Tell her you won’t marry until you’re King, that you’ll consider making me a concubine but you won’t marry anyone else until then.” 

He frowns. “It would be a lie.” 

“She wants you to be happy, Minho. She loves you and if she can see hope for having what she believes to be best for you, she’ll take it.” 

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles, pulling you into his chest again. 

You trace over his chest with your finger, something you often did when lying in his arms this way. You want him stress free. He doesn’t react at first when you snake you arm up over his hip to fiddle with the waistband of his linen pants. It’s not until your fingers slip beneath the fabric that he jolts, practically jumping away from you. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers. 

“I want to feel you.” 

“We can’t.” 

“You don’t want to?” 

“You know that’s not why.” 

“Let me feel you, Minho. Please? It’s just touching, it’s not—” 

He lips are on yours before you finish. He tugs you over him, slipping his hand up from your waist to hold the back of your head as he takes his fill of you. You imagine pulling your chemise over your head, feeling his skin against yours properly for the first time. Just the thought of it pulls a small noise from your throat. He hums into your mouth, fingers tightening their desperate grip in your hair.

It’s all the encouragement you need to slip your hand down between you and into his pants. He gasps into your mouth as you wrap your fingers around him, smooth, and warm, and only for you. 

“Is that nice?” you whisper against his lips. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, plush lips brushing yours as he takes deep uneven breaths. 

There’s no going back, you realise. Now you’ve seen the way his pretty features transform with pleasure. The way you touch him is not based on knowledge or experience, you’re guided by his reactions. The way his hips jump off the mattress or the small noises he releases into your mouth. 

Then he’s over you, consuming you, hips rolling into your thigh. “Just touching,” he gasps as he tears and claws at your chemise, practically ripping it off your shoulders. He pauses his frantic exploration when your nipples are freed, that same trance falling over him from the first time you’d bathed in his presence. 

His hand hovers over your breasts as you watch the way his lips press together and part again, wet from kisses. “Just touching,” he breathes again, still hovering. You reach up to take his hand, pressing lightly until his warm palm cups you. His thumb moves back and forth instantly, brushing over your nipple as he squeezes a little. Then he sits back, readjusting himself over you so he can do the same with the other. 

You lie there under him, chemise pulled down under your breasts as he palms them, eyes glazed and lips parted. The way he looks at you has always made up for the way others don’t. When you aren’t with him you are nothing, unseen and unimportant. But your prince? He sees you when you speak and he sees you when you don’t, he sees you and he looks at you like no one more important has ever lived. 

“More,” you whisper. “Touch me more.” 

His eyes flick up to yours and at first you think he might be about to cry. They’re almost watery and so full of emotion, it takes your breath away. 

He leans forward, lips brushing over yours and then pressing firm. It’s almost punishing before he melts, leaving messy, lazy kisses across your mouth. 

When he begins kissing a trail from your lips down to your neck you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him to you. His ear is perfectly positioned at your mouth. You can’t resist tugging his earlobe between your teeth. “Touch me, Minho,” you whisper into his ear. 

“Shouldn’t,” he mumbles into your neck. 

You entangle your fingers in his hair and tug his face from your shoulder, forcing him to look at you. 

“You’re going to marry me?” 

“Yes,” he answers simply. 

“I trust you,” you whisper. “I want you to touch me. I’m yours now. I’m yours—” 

He kisses the words from your lips, desperate and consuming. It’s been months, months of tangling your limbs around each other and being pinned beneath him when you roll your hips one too many times against him. He’d bite into your shoulder, a gentle reprimand for teasing, for seeking more when he thought he couldn’t. It’s been months of desperately wishing he’d venture below your neckline, or up your thighs. 

He leaves open mouthed kisses down your neck, laving his tongue across your skin until he reaches your breasts. You throw your head back as he tears at the fabric still covering your lower half, like after months and months of restraint he can’t bear to wait another second. He tugs it down your legs and tosses it aside before covering you again, pressing his bare torso down over you. Skin to skin, finally. 

He’s warm… and heavy… and safe… and yours. You inhale deeply as he drops his face to your neck again, the smell of your handmade soap seeping out of him. It felt a little like a mark, like leaving a trace of you on him he could carry around with him throughout the day. Mine, it said. Mine. 

“Just touching,” he mumbles into your neck again, like he’s attempting to remind himself of his own rule. 

You tug at his hair, forcing him up onto his elbows. It gives you the space you need to reach down between your bodies and tug a little at his waistband. He squeezes his eyes shut again. 

“Just touching,” you breathe. 

His eyes flutter open. He blinks down at you for a moment, then you see it, the decision being formed. His jaw clenches and he leans down, tugging his linen pants down his legs. You tug him back down before he finishes, desperate to feel all of him against you. He fits against you perfectly, one of his thick thighs slotting between your legs. 

You can also feel him pressing against your lower stomach, hard and warm and leaking a little wetness onto your skin. You wonder for a moment if anyone else has had him like this, pressed up against them, skin to skin. He hasn’t mentioned anyone else, never showed interest. 

“So soft,” he mutters against your temple, wet lips brushing your skin. “My love, my heart, my little do—” 

“Yours,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders like he can’t possibly ever be close enough. Inside, inside, you want him inside you, as close as it’s conceivable to be. There’s an emptiness inside you, one that throbs between your legs, one that begs to be filled. 

You’re completely pinned beneath him, unable to lift your hips even a little despite your desperation. You find yourself whimpering instead. 

“What is it, hm? Need me to touch you?” 

He lifts off you a little so he can move down your body and press kisses between your breasts, slow and soft, so soft they almost tickle. 

“Say my name.” 

“Mi-Min—” 

He latches onto your breast, sucking the soft skin into his mouth. You tangle your fingers into his hair as he works, a slow methodical marking across your chest that only relents when he spends a few minutes at each nipple. His tongue flicks out across each one, leaving them wet.  

“You can’t take these from me now, little dove. I’ve tasted you.” 

“Won’t,” you gasp. “Yours.” 

Then he’s wrapping his lips around one and sucking hard, tongue lapping over it once he frees you, like he’s trying to apologise, to soothe you. But then he does the same to the other, roughly sucking your nipple into his mouth and trapping you in a state of bliss. 

You can feel him against your thigh, heavy and thick. He finally detaches from you with a groan when you roll a little against him. 

He lifts off you. Your heart leaps at the loss. 

But then he’s between your legs. You rise onto your elbows to watch him. He keeps his eyes closed as he kisses the inside of your thighs, trailing his way towards your centre. Hurry, you want to whine. Kick your legs and beg him to go faster like an insolent child. 

He doesn’t. 

He takes his time, practically worshipping the soft skin between your legs so leisurely you start to doubt he ever intends to stop. 

“Minho,” you gasp eventually. 

He looks up from between your legs, hair flopping down into his eyes. You snake your hand down your stomach, fingers slipping down to your folds. “Here,” you breathe. 

He blinks slowly, then you watch as his eyes fall to where you want him most. He mutters something under his breath, something you can’t make out. Then he lifts his finger and lightly traces it down to your opening, collecting your wetness as he goes. You watch him part his lips as he presses slightly, not enough to enter, just a slight pressure, like he’s testing you. Then he pulls away and presses his finger between his lips up to his knuckle, sucking you from his skin. 

He crawls up your body and hovers over you, mouth hovering over yours so closely they brush you when he speaks. “Sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’ve been starved of you all my life.” 

You can’t help laughing as he kisses you, struggling to return the way his lips caress yours. 

“Are you laughing at me, little dove?” he says, amusement clear in his tone. He lifts himself off you a little, giving you a clear view of his smile. 

“I want you inside me.”

His smile drops. 

You watch as he gets shy, as he avoids your eyes. This was one of your favourite things about him, his gentle core, the way he could be in line to be the most powerful person in the kingdom and still get shy. The first time you’d seen his ears tinge red you’d only been working here a little over two months. He’d been quietly reading when you’d snagged your stocking on a loose nail in the floorboards. The tearing had been audible. His eyes had dropped down your legs, to the skin that was now newly bare. 

“Are you�� alright?” he’d asked. 

“Just some ruined stockings,” you’d shyly smiled back, still unused to a member of the royal family paying any attention to you at all. 

You flicked your eyes over to him once he’d settled back down with his book, noticing the way the tips of his ears had clearly darkened to a pretty red. It was a reaction you’d become familiar with over the next two years. 

“Are you getting shy on me, my love?” you whisper now, cupping his cheek with your hand and drawing his attention back to you. 

“We can’t—” 

“I have five younger siblings. I know the risks.” 

“I can’t be… inside you until we’re—I won’t risk you—” 

“Just a little… please. I need you,” you plead, lifting your head a little to taste his swollen lips. “I’m so empty.” 

His brow furrows as he hums into your mouth, almost a pained sound. Then he’s moving back down your body to trace his fingers through your folds again. “Empty,” he mutters. His finger presses into you, a gradual, almost hesitant, exploration into your tight heat. It’s enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut, having him inside you even in this way. “So hot…” he mutters, breath brushing over you. “You’re so warm here…” 

“You’re warm,” you mutter. 

He pulls out of you, lifting his head to look up at you. 

“What was that?” 

“You’re warm,” you repeat a little clearer, stronger. “You’re so warm.” 

“Am I?” he asks, a little amusement leaking into his tone. 

“Mm, warm and kind and—” 

“Have you gone and fallen in love with me, little dove? You sound hopelessly in love.” 

“Love? That sounds horribly embarrassing.” 

“Horribly,” he agrees, crawling up to cover you with his body again. “It makes me want to do foolish things.” 

“Wha—” 

You’re interrupted by the feeling of his heavy cock slipping through your thighs and through your folds. 

“Like this, little dove. I want to be foolish, I want to feel your heat around me. Tell me not to, tell me—” 

“Please,” you whine, rolling your hips against him. 

He lifts off you before you can grab at him, hands reaching out at his retreating form. Then he’s grasping at your thighs, tugging you down the bed a little and settling himself between your legs. He drapes your thighs over his, using them to spread you open for him. “Not inside,” he says, more to himself than anything. 

Then he lays his heavy cock over your cunt. It’s too much, too close. You plant your feet on the bed so you can lift your hips to milk any friction you can. 

One of his hands grips your thigh, the other wraps around his cock, guiding it through your folds as you roll your hips. You’re whimpering at this point, desperate little sounds that do more than any words to convey your craving. You keep your eyes open as much as you can, entranced by the way he gazes down at your core. 

“Can’t be inside,” he mutters, reminding himself. 

The way you roll your hips makes it dangerous, twisting and writhing against the head of his cock. It nudges at your entrance occasionally, but then he takes control, readjusting himself before you can fuck down onto him. 

“Minho,” you whimper. “Minho, please. So empty…” you practically sob. 

His eyes flick up to yours. You plead with your eyes, one small tear leaking out and rolling down your cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Just a little,” you beg. “I’m warm, I promise, I’m so warm for you.” 

With his eyes fixed between your legs again, you rub your hungry cunt against him, languorous rolls of your hips. This time, when he nudges your entrance, he doesn’t pull back. There’s a slight nudge of resistance, and then his tip is inside you, warm walls gripping him. You freeze, watching your gentle prince pant as his brows draw together. 

“Gonna have you,” he mutters breathlessly. “Gonna keep you… beside me… have you like this every night. I will.” 

You nod, even knowing he can’t see you, eyes still squeezed shut. He pulls back a little as they flutter open. Then he moves forward, drooling cockhead pressing back into you before you can beg him not to stop. He fucks you like this, just pressing the fat tip into you again and again. It's a risk, you both know it. He knows it well. He was always so responsible, thinking everything he did through and weighing the pros and cons. You’ve corrupted him. If he didn’t feel so delicious pressing into you right now, you might work up a little guilt about it. 

Your cunt throbs at the feeling of him pressing into you and retreating, pushing and retreating. You clench down over him when he pushes inside, a small part of you hoping he’ll be tempted to venture further. You’d be so full, so close to him. He’d stretch you so perfectly, you know it. He’d make pretty noises and you’d bask in this one small way you could give. Power to give him joy.

Then he gasps your name and falls over you, lips attaching to your neck. He grinds against you, cock throbbing against your sensitive cunt. You’re leaking wetness onto the sheets now. You can feel it on your thighs. “I’ll have you properly,” he mumbles into your skin. “I’ll—” 

He cuts himself off with a low groan, reaching down to tug his cock from between your legs and up your body. He rolls against your stomach, one, two, three, four times, then he’s releasing—warm cum spilling over you. He continues grinding into you, only falling limp after one final whimper. 

It clicks in your head as you bask in the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, of his heavy breath against your neck. If someone tried to take him from you, you’d fight them with your bare hands. You were no one, but he was everything, and he was yours. 

please don’t forget to leave feedback, it took me lots of time and effort and hearing your thoughts is what makes me want to write more. thank you.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

[derpy-dogs-n-cats]

Ignorance

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Man whore! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sexual themes, sexual thoughts, irresponsible parenting.

Summary: Gojo never cares about any of his hookups, it was only a matter of time until he made a mistake.

W/C: 1.4k+

A loud ringing pierces through a pair of ears that triggers a grunt to elicit from parted lips that’s quickly followed by more groans of annoyance, a hand reaching for the nightstand next to the bed to search for the ringing phone only to knock it over. Gojo throws his bed sheets off of him with a louder grunt and swipes his phone off of the floor to set his eyes on the brightness of the screen that cuts through the darkness of the room with an even louder groan falling from his mouth with an eye roll.

It was the fourth time you were calling him, in just one day, and in the dead of night. A string of curses leaves him as he’s quick to decline your call again, this time having had enough and immediately going to the settings of your number to block it. He lets out a raspy sigh and drops his phone back down before tossing over on his bed to lay on his back, desperately trying to catch whatever sliver of sleepiness was left in him.

It’d been two weeks of your incessant calls, two weeks of nonstop work, back and forth, work, calls, work, more calls, he’d been so busy he’d been forgetting to block your number, and now that he was finally going to be able to sleep in, wake up when he wanted to, you called. He could’ve silenced his phone, but what if there was an emergency? He could only do so much when it came to disconnecting from his work, in his type of work line, one could never fully disconnect.

He admits you were a good fuck, though he thinks that’d be putting it mildly, and he hadn’t had a virgin in a while, and you took longer than he initially thought in calling him at all, but ever since the first call, it’s just been nonstop. First, two weeks of nothing, and then two weeks of calls, one after the other, the first of which he was going to answer, maybe… but he was just so busy with work, and when you kept calling him, he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to go back with you.

If you were losing it after just one time with him, he didn’t even want to think of twice. “Damn.” He curses under his breath. “I forgot virgins could be so clingy.” He mutters, managing to blink some drowsiness back into his head, taking in a few slow breaths as he feels his body grow heavier, making him feel as though he sinks deeper into the mattress until he manages to fall back asleep again.

One Year Later.

A beep is heard at the doors of the grocery store opening with Gojo walking in and moving past the produce section onto the aisles at the back. He doesn’t usually come in this store, but this was the only store still open this late at night given that it’s a 24-hour store and that he had only barely finished with his latest task given to him by the higher-ups, one that he would’ve finished sooner if he hadn’t been pushing it off for so long.

He walks by the aisles and checks each one in search for the snacks aisles, just wanting to eat something quick before he gets back to his place and passes out on his bed. Walking by the aisles, he sees a few people lingering by, some seeming to be grabbing their entire weeks-worth of grocery shopping at almost midnight but other than that, none of them really seeming to catch his attention, none but one in particular.

Just as he’s passing by the cereal aisle, he nearly passes onto the next one before stopping and backtracking to said aisle. He raises one of his hands to dip a finger behind his blindfold and pull it down slightly to peek at the only person standing in the cereal aisle with his own eyes. He sets his eyes on a woman from a side angle and rakes his eyes from the pair of legs leading up to the swell of the ass, and slowly trailing higher up to you.

His eyes widen at the sight of your familiar face and briefly widen even more, taking in how much you’ve changed. Your breasts… are visibly bigger, they even seem somewhat swollen, he knows you were young when he bedded you, but could they have really grown that much in a year? He didn’t think it was possible but how he ached to bury his face in the pair of tits, hold them in his hands to press them tight as he fucks them…

The ¾ profile from behind you provided him with perfect view of the swell of your tits and hips, which seemed fuller as well. Your hips must’ve grown in the past year, and were just begging him to grip at them hard enough to bruise while he held you still to fuck into your sopping cunt. And your ass… the added fat on your ass would bounce on his hips when he decides he wants to pull at your waist for you to meet his thrusts from behind.

Your legs had gotten thicker as well, it made him wonder how it’d feel now to have them wrapped around his head, waist, pulling him in deeper with your soft legs wrapped around his him, would you press them against his behind to keep him from pulling out? The same way everything seemed to have grown to a pleasant size, your stomach looked like it had a few more pounds than last time too, it made the challenge of reaching deep enough into you until the print of his cock was prominent sound all the more entertaining.

He wonders if you’ll let him pound you until he’s ever so slightly stretching the skin of your stomach to slightly poke his dick through after having ignored you for a whole year. It shouldn’t be too hard to get you to spread your pretty legs for him again, after all, it wouldn’t be the first time he managed to get back in the pants of someone he had already ghosted, and he’s sure you’ll be begging him to rearrange the insides of your plush tummy.

A small cry interrupts his fantasies much to his annoyance to which he rolls his eyes only to stop mid eye roll, seeing you instantly set the cereal in your hand back down and bring out from your other side a newborn baby. The baby lets out a louder cry as you quickly embrace him with both arms to hold him against your chest and press a kiss on top of his head. As soon as the kiss is placed on his head, the crying starts to fade into small grunts and moans while Gojo’s head is overwhelmed with questions.

A baby? Why did you have a baby? What were you doing out so late at night? And with a baby? Did you not know how dangerous it could be at night? And the baby, is it… his? He doesn’t really have much to go by, the baby barely even has any hair yet except for a light peach fuzz that hardly shows any color. “Mm.” The baby wiggles in your arms before sniffling against your shoulder and finally opens his eyes.

Gojo’s body stiffens and he freezes in place, his eyes widening and staring into the pair identical to his. The baby stares back at him with his own bright blue eyes, slightly glossy from the crying and after staring for a few seconds, he lets out another cry and turns away. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” You smile at the newborn and gently rock him in your arms, your words drawing his attention back up to you and finally noticing your actual appearance.

There’s deep dark rings under your eyes that make him wonder when was the last time you’ve slept, if maybe that’s why you’re at the store at midnight, because time’s so short. The thought of how back when he first met you, you were just barely starting your first year of college makes his heart clench, were you even able to get through it? Did he really just… ruin your life? Did he keep you from furthering your studies? Do you even have a job? … Anybody to help you?

If you did, you wouldn’t be out all alone.

He watches as you bring the baby up in your arms and press a kiss on his cheek to which he lets out a small giggle, and despite how sleep deprived you look, you still smile at the little being in your hands, and Gojo decides he won’t leave you alone again.

[blegh-110]

iii. "im not a princess, this aint a fairytale"

Pairing: older brother's best friend!Sam x fem!reader

Summary: Older brother’s best friend!Sam Monroe who was the first to break your heart when you were 14 and he was 16.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.5k

Next Part

You were ecstatic when you entered high school, there were more opportunities for you to see Sam instead of only seeing him when he came over. The night before your first day you imagined all the ways you could possibly see him; in the hallways, having lunch together, maybe and hopefully just one class together. 

And your first semester didn’t disappoint. The first few weeks were equally nerve-wracking and exciting. As you were entering a brand new, bigger school, you didn’t know where your classes were. And you got lost often, getting swept away by the larger crows in the narrow halls into some part of the school you had never been in. But Sam was somehow always there to save you by grabbing your heavy textbooks in one hand, your hand in the other and quickly leading you to your class. 

“I know it’s hard, but you have to push your way through these assholes. Especially the ones who stand right in the middle of the fucking hall.” And he gestured to the group who were indeed standing in the middle of the hall and walked right through them, taking you with him. You apologized to the girl you shouldered.

“Sam, we could’ve just gone around them!”

“Yeah, we could’ve. But what do they expect standing there?:

“I don’t think it’s that serious.” 

“Yes it is, now's the time to learn how to put your foot down or they’ll walk all over you.”

Or when he helped you learn how to open your locker because you just couldn’t get it, “It’s clockwise, then counterclockwise but skip the second number, then go directly to the last number clockwise.”

Maybe the lockers were just old, but you remember the time when he was sure he got the combination right but it just wouldn’t open. And he kept trying, whispering “fuck you, fuck you.”

“Sam, my class is about to start, hurry!” You were only half serious, the other part of you couldn’t help but find his frustration and growing panic funny. You covered your laugh with your hand as he looked at you with wide eyes, “it’s not fucking opening.”

You burst out laughing when he finally got it open because it took him aggressively pulling at the lock and a fall to the ground.

And you loved walking to your third hour because the two of you would cross paths, and not a day would go by where he wouldn’t say hi with a small wave, and a gentle ruffle to your hair if he was close enough. You felt special because out of all the people and his own friends he’d see, you were the one he’d acknowledge. 

But your favorite times together was when he would walk you home and carry your extremely heavy backpack for you. It was the best way to end the school day, the two of you recapping your days. How hard a test was, what you had for lunch, how annoying a particular teacher was, and any other anecdotes. You thought whatever the two of you were would only grow.

-

You weren’t exactly when it began happening, all you knew was that the boy you once got all starry eyed about was turning into the ones you didn’t like.  

Maybe it was when he got into the wrong crowd, the ones who always stunk of smoke and ditched school. You found it strange when you saw him being friendly with a few of them since he was always the one who turned you away from them, “Promise me you won’t end up like one of those morons, (y/n). That stuff is too fucking vile for you.” 

Or when he slowly stopped walking you home to go hang out with them. It made you sad but you understood that he couldn’t dedicate all of his time after school to you. He had his own friends and hobbies. But were you right to be concerned when you noticed he started cutting classes and skipping school to be with said friends? You caught him one time, trying to sneak away and he seemed surprised to see you had seen him. 

“Hey, (y/n).”

“Hi, Sam. Where are you going?” You asked softly, not wanting to anger him. He just seemed so angry and jumpy these days. 

“We’re just… gonna get an early lunch,” He could tell you didn’t really believe him when all you gave was a small, tight lipped smile and single head nod, he came closer and dipped his head down as he whispered “I’ll be back, I promise. And I’ll get you something if you keep quiet, okay?”

You felt like you didn’t have a choice, you obviously weren’t going to say no and force him to stay. And the bribe just didn’t seem right, it gave you a strange feeling in your gut. 

“No, that’s okay. I, um, I really have to get to class.” And you left with a small smile and quick turn, wanting the entire interaction to be over. It was weird to see him this way, and it left a weight on your shoulders to just let him go. Should you have at least tried to stop him? You looked out the window and were even more upset to see your brother with that group as well. Maybe it was seeing both of them this way, but you had the sudden urge to cry. 

Sam did end up getting you a large Dr. Pepper, but you just couldn’t will yourself to drink it and you threw it away.  

With each passing day he was getting further and further away from you, but you continued to push through it, hoping that the boy who taught you how to ride a bike and saved your winter dance night was still in there. He had to be. 

So you kept trying to talk to him. Which included helping him cut classes, reminding him of tests, telling him about your day. And maybe you were doing too much, and maybe you were embarrassing him in front of his cool friends. And maybe you should’ve expected such a response. 

“Jesus, you are so fucking annoying. Don’t you have any of your own friends?”

That one hurt the most. It wasn’t just the fact that he knew you weren’t the most sociable girl. In fact, it was hard for you to talk to others and to keep a conversation going. So the answer was no. 

It was also the angry look he gave you. The furrowed brows, clenched jaw, and the eye roll he gave when you didn’t answer. You’d never seen him this way. It was always playful smiles and soft words. The closest you had seen him this angry was when you didn’t bother to look both ways before crossing the street and you almost got run over, “you could’ve gotten killed, I shouldn’t have to tell you to look both ways when crossing a street.”

But that was tough love if anything, and he hugged you right after to calm you down because you were pretty shaken up and close to tears, “alright, that’s enough, you’re fine.”

You stood there in front of him, eyes wide and chest rising and falling rapidly, willing yourself to stay collected and calm while it felt like your whole world was crumbling in front of you. 

“Just… stay the hell away from me.” And he left. 

The rest of the day was a blur since Sam’s words left you dejected and shattered. You weren’t focused in your classes and didn’t pay any mind to what the people around you said. It was a constant replay of what he said to you and a constant fight to keep your emotions in. Who were you supposed to turn to for this?

You cried the entire night. You thought you were only being helpful, and to know that he actually saw you as a burden made you panic. For every little problem you had, you did end up going to him for help. For every stupid, little story you had, you ended up telling him. And when you felt lonely, you ended up going to him. But you couldn’t help it. Sam always seemed so happy to fix whatever issue it was you were having, and he looked like he was deeply interested in your trivial tales, and he was just so fun to be around. He was funny and kind and gentle and where is he now?

Or did he always feel that way and put up a good front? No, it couldn’t be that, it was too genuine. Did you happen to read too much into his actions? Possibly. Then you thought if the roles were reversed, kind of. If there was a younger girl in your life you certainly wouldn’t treat her meanly. You would always have a helping hand extended out just in case she needed it. Like a big sister. 

These thoughts and questions swirled in your mind until you came to the conclusion that you were just a young girl very in love with the older boy who only saw you as his best friend's young sister. And that he was done entertaining her and moving with his own crowd.

It was this that finally opened your eyes and made you go to sleep. It was your turn now to grow up and move on.  

divider by @dollywons

[updownlately]

but i’m scared (of what life without you’s like)

| leah williamson x reader | angst with a dash of hurt/comfort | 1.9k | a/n: got this req in today based of this fic from yesterday. was listening to 'how do i say goodbye' by dean lewis, and well, the stars aligned themselves. i tried to make this short but angsty so someone lmk if i was successful! anyways, happy reading 🫶 read part i. here

~~~

It’s a warm May day yet your blood runs cold.

You know football’s a physical sport, having been on the receiving end of brutal physicality many times.

Pushes, shoves, stud-up tackles, you’ve had your fair share of bruises to show for multiple ninety minutes of running around chasing a little sphere. 

Accidents happen, and you were very well aware. 

But accidents weren’t supposed to be like this.

Accidents weren’t supposed to be accidents.

Accidents weren’t supposed to involve stretchers immediately rushing to the field. 

Nor a silent crowd in a fully sold-out stadium. 

Swallowing hard, you helplessly felt your adrenaline kick in, body subconsciously sprinting faster than you’d ever ran before. 

Maybe you should’ve checked up on Leah after the blonde had taken the corner to the face. Maybe you should’ve been overbearing. Or looked into her eyes, so that you could’ve noticed the dazed look. 

You could’ve stuck around a second longer instead of running back on defence. 

You could have, you could have, you could have…but now you couldn’t.

There’s something about seeing an unmoving lump of limbs on the floor, especially of a loved one, chest tightening ever so cruelly, so painfully.

As you come to an abrupt stop beside Leah, you do your best to stay out of the medics' way. 

Your hands shake, eyes wide at the blood streaming down the side of her face, the gash above her eye nothing but a waterfall of red. 

You don’t realize it when the other girls reach you. 

You don’t feel it as Alessia gently wraps her arms around your waist, trying to gently usher you away.

You don’t move an inch though. You can’t. 

Your feet are rooted to the spot, eyes fixating on the way Leah’s chest isn’t moving up and down. 

She was supposed to be breathing heavily. She had to be. 

Sure she had insane fitness, but none of you on the team were yet at the point where seventy minutes of football didn’t feel tiresome- she surely wasn’t. 

So why wasn’t her chest moving up and down? Why wasn’t it in the steady rhythm that you loved to listen to when you’d cuddle up to her on late nights after a tiresome day. 

Why wasn’t her cheeky smile on her face? The consistent response of her ‘I’m fine’ she would mumble to you each and every time she took a hit or a particularly hard tackle. 

Why was she not up yet? 

It’s sometime between Lia stepping between you and your view of your girlfriend do you find your voice, panic and realization clear as you call for Leah. 

Once. 

Twice.

Then another time.

Yet no response.

You feel your own breathing pick up, blood rushing through your ears.

No.

No. No. No. No. NO. 

You don’t realize you’ve screamed the words out loud, teammates and opposing players alike sharing grim looks of sympathy as many of them turned away from the sight of the medics.

Doing your best to claw your way out of the striker's tight grasp, you fight Alessia, feet digging into the grass as you try to gain the momentum to be near the English skipper.

Each try though, left you more defeated, the blonde’s grip strong as the ground between you and Leah somehow only increased with each attempt. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. 

The words rattle in your brain as you see a stretcher in your vision, sounds of sirens ringing faintly, so far away yet so close. 

Begging Alessia to let you go, you put all your effort into breaking her hold on you, your hands trying to unlock her linked ones, the striker only pulling you back into her chest in retaliation, gentle murmurs being whispered into your ears.

Tears streaming down your face, heart in your stomach, throat sore from all your screaming, you watch in horror as the sea of medics slowly fade from your view, Leah’s cleats oddly the only thing left on the pitch- no trace of blood, of cleat marks, of the weight of the medical bag- the blonde gone without a trace.

Falling to your knees as Alessia finally let go of you, you curled into yourself, sobs wracking your body as your forehead hit the ground, your hands coming to cover your ears as you tried to block out the shrill noise of the ambulances. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. 

~~~

It’s the same words ringing in your head that has you jolting awake, you taking a deep inhale when you realize where you are, the familiar walls of your shared bedroom with Leah bringing you immediate comfort that has you slumping back into your pillow.

Feeling wetness on the fabric as you laid down, you realized you’d been crying in your sleep, your cheeks damp, forehead and body covered in a layer of swear as your shirt clung to you. 

Fear kicking in as you realized why you were awake at this ungodly hour, you whipped your head to the side, eyes adjusting to the darkness just enough for you to make out your girlfriend’s sprawled out form beside you.

Swallowing hard, the images from earlier haunting your mind, you held your breath as you tried to listen for Leah’s quiet breathing, unable to see her chest rising from the bundle of blankets she was buried beneath. 

She was awake, right?

Raising a shaking hand, you contemplated whether you should touch the blonde to soothe your worries. 

You didn’t want to bother Leah, well aware of just how long it took her to sleep tonight, the constant pounding in her head frustrating her more than she’d like to admit, only able to get her rest as her body slowly succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. 

Yet, with each second that passed, you got flashes of Leah lying face first in the graph, medics around her, the grass stained bright red, taunting you, teasing you as you wondered if you were imagining the breaths you were hearing. 

Heart pounding yet again, you wanted to be safe. Sorry didn’t seem like an option. 

Sorry wasn’t an option, not when it came to the love of your life.

Holding your breath, you tentatively reached out, hand shaking, moving mere millimetres every few seconds. 

You didn’t want to wake her, but you needed to feel that she was alright. 

Hand making gentle contact with the nape of the other girl’s neck, you froze as you felt her tense at your touch, muscles taut for a mere second before she relaxed into the feeling. 

Waiting a second for her to adapt to your slightly cooler touch, you softly traced the length of her spine, following the bony pattern down to the space between her shoulder blades, hand coming to a rest as your fingers splayed out, trying to maximize the contact you had with her. 

Feeling a sob of relief escape you as you felt Leah’s body move in time with her gentle breaths, you brought your other hand to cover your mouth, stifling the sound as you felt your chest wrack with the weight of the tension slowly dissipating. 

Doing your best not to move too much as your body shook, you wiped your tears with the hand covering your mouth, not yet ready to let go of your girlfriend, her mere physical presence providing you comfort you couldn’t ever express in words. 

Fabric of your sleep shirt tucked into your mouth as you held back shaky pants, you moved to lay on your side, needing to be able to see Leah before you’d feel your heart settle for the night.

You couldn’t lose her. You couldn’t afford to. Not now, and not ever.

Sunshine on your darkest days, the constant light at the end of the tunnel, the woman was your rock through thick and thin. 

She was the first person you’d ever truly trusted, and the last you ever would. 

She was cocky, over-confident, a cheeky tease, an energetic kid at heart. 

She was determined, loving, caring, attentive, respectful, thoughtful. 

She was the best thing you had and god did it terrify you that you could’ve lost her yesterday. 

A piece of your mind knew her injury wasn’t that serious, the lack of the blonde out-right fainting immediately a good sign, a comforting one really.

Yet, your heart still couldn't believe it, not yet at least. 

Letting your hand come to gently brush away the messy strands that had come to cover her face in her sleep, you let your thumb run over her eyebrow as you sighed gratefully. 

She was okay. 

She was here.

You repeated the words like a mantra in your head, trying to get your racing heard to settle.

Nodding to yourself as you tried to believe the statements, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Leah stir at your ministrations, your hand coming to an abrupt stop as she just barely opened an eye, taking a second to register that it was still late, nearly the middle of the night. 

Keeping your voice low as you watched her sleep-laden eyes briefly search yours, you resumed your earlier actions, hoping it would bring the blonde the same level of comfort if brought you.

“Go to sleep, yeah? I’ve got you. You’re safe….”

Feeling Leah sleepily nod at your quiet words, you felt your heart melt as she sluggishly pulled herself towards your body, a blonde mop coming to rest on your chest as she curled around your side, an arm coming to wrap around your waist as she held on tightly. 

“Love you…” 

The words were muffled, being mumbled into the cotton of the old t-shirt you’d stolen from the defender eons ago, yet you heard them clear as day.

“I love you too…so so so much…”

Your words were hoarse, but in her sleepy state Leah didn’t notice and you couldn't help but be glad.

Placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head, your lips lingering for a second, you inhaled deeply, trying to commit the easing restlessness in your body to memory, the weight of the blonde on your chest bringing you the reassurance you so desperately craved, the pair of you breathing in tandem as sleep overtook her again, content in the solace that your arms around her form brought.

You didn’t want to worry about what life would be like without the blonde, and thankfully, you didn’t have to. 

Here, with her on your chest, small breaths puffing against the arms you held her close with, you let your worries fall away, lump in your throat easing rapidly with each second. 

She was okay. 

She was okay and here in your arms.

She was okay, and so you were okay- and you couldn’t thank the universe enough for either of the two. 

And so with sleep beginning to creep up on you, you wiped the last few tears of relief away with the back of your hand, finally truly believing the words.

It would all eventually be okay- all of it- just as long as she was here with you.

[iconicstoner]

i found you

gn!reader x spencer reid (fluff)

words: 1778

summary: You and Spencer have been friends for years, so it only makes sense you went to a local St. Patrick’s Day parade together. However, when he loses you at the parade he realizes how important it is that you know how much he loves you, so of course he confesses.

Spencer pushed through the crowd, fighting to find you. You had been his best friend for years. You’d helped him through the fear his work caused, and you were even there during his addiction. He thought of you as his whole world. You reminded him of why it was worth it to deal with the horrors he saw every day. You were his light in the darkness, and now you were lost in a giant crowd of people. It was packed, and there had to be thousands of people around. It was one of the biggest St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in the entire country. 

Spencer’s mind started to race with different ideas. You could’ve been kidnapped, or even killed. He knew the statistics on that, but he tried not to think about them for his own sanity. His mind flashed with different victims he’d seen over the years. You could be in the same situation as any of them right now, but he prayed you weren’t. 

He called out your name as loud as he could, trying to make himself see above the crowd, but the only response he got was a disapproving side eye from a mother carrying her child. He felt embarrassed but knew he couldn’t stop till he found you. His heart was beating in his ears, and his breathing was shallow. He knew this could turn into a panic attack at any second, and as much as he wanted to break down he knew it wouldn’t help him find you. 

He quickly turned around, thinking he heard your voice, but instead found a visibly drunk man. 

“Sorry about that,” the man said as he stumbled, spilling beer all over Spencer’s shirt. The beer smelled awful, and now his shirt was uncomfortably sticky, but the thought of finding you kept him together.

“It’s fine,” Spencer responded before quickly darting off, still set on finding you unharmed. He tried to clear out the horrific images in his mind, but there was little he could do. He rushed back to where he’d last seen you, deciding maybe you hadn’t gone that far after all. The sun was starting to set, and it put him on edge. When it went dark it’d be so much harder to find you. 

He regretted walking away from you earlier. He told you that he had to go to the bathroom, but he actually wanted to surprise you with a drink he noticed you eyeing at one of the drink carts. He had to wait in an excruciatingly long line, but he thought it would be worth it because it meant getting to see your beautiful smile. When he returned to where you were supposed to be waiting for him you were already gone. Looking back, it was stupid, but in the moment he didn’t think twice. He was an intelligent and trained FBI agent who was carrying a gun, so he felt safe, but he didn’t think twice about the fact you didn’t have any experience with dangerous criminals. 

He pushed through people, standing once again in front of the drink cart. He looked around, but there was no one there. He considered calling Garcia. Maybe she’d be able to hack into the security footage and use facial recognition software to see where you went and who you were with, but Spencer knew that would take too much time. Besides, it would be way too embarrassing to admit he was freaking out so much over losing you for 20 minutes. Garcia knew all about his feelings for you, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her teasing at a time like this.

Spencer noticed the street lamps starting to flicker on. They were the only light left now that the sun had set. As embarrassing as it was, he decided maybe it actually would be a good idea to call the BAU. Or Garcia at least. 

He noticed the diner sitting on the road’s edge in front of him and decided to wait there while he called. Running around in a packed crowd clearly wouldn’t help him find you, and it definitely wasn’t making him feel better. 

The diner had a muted brown roof with big white letters that spelled out Tony’s Place. It hardly had walls at all, as most of the sides were large glass windows. There was a quaint wooden bench outside of it facing the street. It was unsuspecting and matched every other building on the street.

Spencer Walked through the door, hearing a bell ring as he did. The place was crowded, but much less crowded than the parade was. The interior looked something straight out of the ’50s. There were black and white checkered tiles, booths with red leather seats, and a bar where people sat sipping their drinks. He could smell french fries and apple pie coming from the kitchen. 

“How can I help ya, sugar?” An older waitress with dirty blonde curls asked him. She looked tired, and Spencer noticed the pack of cigarettes in her apron. Her name tag read Darlene. 

“I just need a place to sit,” he told her nervously. She smiled at him with an understanding, motherly smile. 

“Sounds great,” she told him as she ushered him over to a booth. It was next to a giant window that faced the parade. He looked around, but there was no one who even looked like you. “Can I get you anything to drink?” She asked sympathetically. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that he was upset. 

“Coffee please,” he responded quickly. She nodded and quickly left to get him a cup. He fished his phone out of his pocket and let out a sigh. He anxiously dialed Garcia’s number, almost hitting the wrong keys in a rush.

“Hello, Mighty Professor. It’s not like you to call me like this when you’re not at work,” she said joyfully. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond. He almost felt bad telling her what was wrong. She loved you too. “What can I help you with, sweetie?” She asked again. Spencer was usually eager to ask questions and get her help, but now he wasn’t saying anything at all. 

“Well, it’s just-“ he stopped himself, not sure how to even explain it. His leg was anxiously bouncing, and every second that passed felt like an hour. Before he got the chance to explain it all to Garcia the waitress had come back with his cup of coffee. He could see the steam emitting from it and he thanked her. 

“Just doin’ my job baby,” she told him in a reassuring voice. He could tell she was used to dealing with people who were upset, and just this once he didn’t mind being treated like a kid. 

“Who’s that?” Garcia questioned from the phone.

“It’s no one, just a waitress,” he responded. “That’s not the point. I need your help, Garcia.” Even from over the phone, Garcia could tell Spencer was anxiously biting his lip.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“I need help finding-” Spencer quickly cut himself off. Across the diner he noticed you. Even though your back was to him, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind it was you. He knew everything about you like the back of his hand. It was your hair, your clothes, your body. 

“Nevermind. Thanks, Garcia. Gotta go,” he told her before quickly hanging up. He stood up and quickly ran across the diner to you. He didn’t even realize it, but he was starting to cry. “Thank God it’s you,” he said. You quickly turned around and he wrapped his arms around you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” You asked, feeling one of his hands around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He held onto you tightly, not ready to ever let you go. 

“I couldn’t find you,” he breathed out. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“Spencer, I’d never leave you,” you respond. He nods and you look at him to see the tears running down his face. 

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the abduction cases I’ve seen before. All those people who died. I wasn’t ready to lose you too,” he tells you. You’ve never seen him so upset before. Working at the BAU wasn’t easy, and he was finally letting it show. You hold onto him, trying to let him know that you’re safe now. You hear his heartbeat, and it’s pounding quickly. His hands are shaky as they hold you, and his breathing is still shallow. 

“I found you,” he whispers in your ear. He pulls away from you just enough to kiss you. He keeps one hand on your waist and moves the other to your jaw, holding onto it as he kisses you passionately. He slowly pulls away, wanting to be as close to you as possible. 

“Take it outside!” An older man sitting at the bar playfully exclaimed, causing Spencer’s face to flush. He grabbed onto your hand, leaving a twenty on the table for Darlene, and led you outside to the wooden bench in front of the diner. The two of you sat down together, the soft glow from the street lamp illuminating him. A few stars could be seen shining brightly above you. There was a chilly breeze, but with how close Spencer was keeping you the two of you were plenty warm. He wasn’t crying anymore. He just sat next to you, admiring your presence. 

“I need to tell you something,” he says, gently squeezing your hand.

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“When I lost you, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the bad things I’ve seen. I didn’t know what I’d ever do without you, and because of that, I don’t ever wanna be without you again. I know dating can be really complicated when you’re in the BAU. Plenty of relationships fail. But I love you so much, and I really think if you gave me a chance this might work, even if it’s statistically unli-” You interrupt him, softly kissing his lips. He leans into the kiss, and you can smell the aroma of coffee and leather that lingers on him. Reluctantly, you both pull away, but only by a few centimeters. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, “did you do that because I was rambling again?”

“I did that because I love you too,” you whisper back. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he mumbles before kissing you again.

He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time. He hoped he’d never have to.

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

a/n: Special St. Patrick's Day post lol! Also, I know I’ve been getting a lot of Twilight requests- and I’m so happy about it!! (and I am working on them)- but I wanted to take a break to write a fun Spencer Reid oneshot bc I love him sm lol

[mvybanks]

the one with the tiktok prank - w/ frat!rafe

a/n: was i thinking about this while getting a wax? 100% + i don’t know if you guys know about this trend and it’s kinda toxic but anyway…🫣

warnings: a little bit suggestive, jealous!rafe

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add yourself to my taglist <3

add yourself to my rafe taglist <3

Scrolling on TikTok has never been more boring than today. Every single video you stumble upon looks the same and it’s making you want to throw your phone across the room. There’s only so far of videos you can watch of bottles and jars being pushed down some stairs, it’s getting too old already. Your boyfriend is no help either as he’s gaming with his friends and talking to them through the big headphones on his head while you lie on his bed.

You huff in annoyance until something finally catches your eye. “Telling my boyfriend I got waxed by a guy” the white, bold letters on your screen read, which gets your undivided attention. When the guy, apparently the boyfriend of the girl who’s making the TikTok, turns around at the speed of light at the realization that some other man touched and saw his girlfriend naked, you giggle, knowing full well that your own man would go insane.

Suddenly, a wicked smile etched on your face as you got an idea to make your day more interesting. After all, Rafe is having his own fun, why shouldn’t you entertain yourself as well?

Propping his phone on his nightstand and pressing the recording button, you take your own phone and press it against your ear as you fake a phone call. It’s hard to keep your laughter in, but oh, you know this is going to rile him up and you can’t wait for it.

“Hey Emma,” you say into your phone, knowing that Rafe won’t suspect anything if he hears you talking to your best friend. “Yeah, this day’s been so boring. I got a brazilian wax for the first time though,” you add the last part nonchalantly. You swear you can see your boyfriend’s head slightly turn at your words, which makes you notice that one of his ears is uncovered and free from his headphones.

“Mh, it was okay. I went to the guy you recommended and he didn’t make me feel a thing, I swear.”

Rafe almost falls from the chair when he whips around to face you, an unreadable look on his features as you try your best to not completely burst into laughter at the sight of his expression.

“Guy?!” He asks, raising his voice and throwing his headphones behind him.

You place your hand on the microphone of your phone, as if anyone could even listen to your conversation, and shrug, “What? What’s your problem?”

“What’s a brazilian wax? Is that on your legs or armpits or something?”

You chuckle, “It’s…down there.”

He raises from the chair and walks closer to his bed, “And a guy did that?! How is that even allowed? Did he touch you?”

You can basically see smoke coming out of his ears, but does he look hot when he gets jealous. You pretend to end your phone call, then you crawl to the foot of the bed until you’re sitting on your knees and looking up at your very angry boyfriend. “I don’t get what you’re getting so mad about. It’s not like anything happened.”

Gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he bends his neck down to meet you. “What happened is that another guy touched my girl and maybe now I have to remind her who she belongs to,” he smirks, causing you to trap your bottom lip between your teeth in order to stop the smile that wants to take over your features.

“Yeah, I guess you have to,” you whisper against his lips.

You close your eyes, waiting for his mouth to find yours; you can feel his hot breath on your lips, when suddenly he mumbles, “If you wanted me to take your clothes off, you could’ve just asked instead of making this all up.”

When you reopen your eyes, his signature smirk is still lingering and you only want for him to drop the cocky attitude and give you what you want. “Shut up and kiss me, Cameron.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart.”

taglist:

@gemofthenight @vigilanteshitposting @m-indkiller @buckysdogtagss @yoonabeo @iruzias @babypoguelife @poppet05 @earth2starkey @illicitfixations @palmwinemami @marzipaanz @wildflwrdarlin @sweetestdesire @guililove @colbysbrocks @magnificantmermaid @chaostudee @rafesmoon @mistalli @fangirl-madz @canarysposts @screan @fishingirl12 @cilliansangel @mattyskies @rafecluver @jjsunrolledblunt @pedrosprincess @jjmaybankisbae @em-dee @rentaldarling @houseofperfecttaste @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @jjsbank444 @taintedxkisses @hallecarey1 @savage-aespa @dogmomalsop @gh0stb4e3 @maybankslover @aris-void @dreamingwithrafe @slvt4starkey @angelofcigs @lovelyxtom @kiamilax @colsongunkelly @congratsloserr @urmomswashingmachine @loveu-always @gumdropgirl @wpdailyminimeta @rentaldarling @bee6r @savagemickey03

[mr-mandalorian]

ghost x f reader, hurt/comfort, blood & violence, ghost gives reader his mask

she could only ever see his eyes and yet at times it was still too much. shutting the door behind her, she found him at the entrance of the med bay. he was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, and with what she could only guess, a permanent scowl fixed on his face.

“you didn’t have to wait.”

“you disobeyed a direct order.”

she sighed, not in a mood for a lecture. while she’d never admit it, even with tolerance trained to bear it, her side was absolutely killing her.

“and yet it got us a lead.”

“you put yourself in unnecessary danger. what if the bullet moved just a little bit to the left? you could’ve died.”

“if i did, i’m sure you’d be more than happy to find yourself an obedient replacement.” she pressed further, holding his gaze. she knew she was being unfair, stepping over a line with her lieutenant. and yet she still wished to strip them of their titles, have him admit that there’s more than just friendly comradery making him wait for her to get patched up.

ghost didn’t respond and she could feel months of bonding crumbling before her feet. it’s the way his eyes changed, glazing over with the same coldness when she had just met him. before she felt his flesh on hers, before there was a warmth reserved just for her.

so the silent treatment it was.

readjusting her position, she could feel the stitches at her side pulling. it’s only been two days, but the lead that was the reward of her disobedience could not wait. it didn’t help that the comms were silent, her ears deaf to any usual silly banter that would ensue during a mission. even if she tried to utter a whisper to soap or gaz, ghost would cut in, deeming it unnecessary and distracting.

“entering basement now, how’s it looking on the upper floors?” she voiced an update, slowly ascending down the stairs, finger ready on the trigger as she looked down the narrow hall.

she waited for ghost to confirm, but when no response came she could only roll her eyes. so now even necessities were off the table?

positioning her heavy boots with feather like steps, she made her way down the stuffy hall. the only light illuminating the walls was coming from the door at the end and it didn’t take long for her to spot shadows coming from the gap at the bottom.

“movement spotted, permission to go in?” she quietly tried again only to be met with more silence. “Lt, how copy?”

with a minute to spare and another roll of her eyes, she slowly pushed the door open. a secret tunnel system underneath the building, at least eight goons loading a truck for their escape. but the target was there, a sleek silver briefcase handcuffed to a man.

with the element of surprise on her side, she fully kicked the door open. static filled her ears with ghost’s cursing coming in broken through the comms. four men gunned down, she pressed herself back against the wall, holding her breath and counting down the shots. when the noise died down, she waited. she waited and waited, until a silhouette appeared before her. wasting no time, she kicked the man’s gun up, jabbing him in the neck with her knife. with more goons to follow after, she used the man’s body as a shield as she finally stepped through the doorway. she released the body when the ammunition stopped, throwing herself at another man to slice his throat.

with two men left, she tossed her knife at one of them. a mistake on her part as the briefcase goon pulled it out of his shoulder unfazed. before she could reach for her handgun, the other man flung himself at her, kicking and ripping the stitches at her side. movements slowed by the pain, she danced around the man, missing briefcase coming at her. barely yet not enough out of reach, he launched at her with her own knife, slicing the left side of her face. with blood dripping into her eye and vision turning red, she could only scream in misery and continue to stand.

when the team had finally made their way down underground, they found a bloodbath cooling in the basement. surrounded by corpses, y/n laid in a pool of blood on the floor, briefcase tightly clutched to her chest.

nine days without any communication with ghost. the nurses that tended to y/n, while at first a little terrified of the giant man lingering around the med bay, have grown to admire his patience and started guilt tripping y/n into letting him come inside her ward. but how could she? even with one eye left to see, she could not face his disappointed gaze.

they were removing her face bandages today. dreadful stitching starting from her chin all the way up to her eyebrow that she refused to catch sight of in a mirror.

“you know, it’s not only him today. the whole task force is here to see you.” the nurse spoke finishing up, her tone sympathetic.

“well, let’s get it over it then. tell ghost he can have the honor of chewing me out first, i’ll see the others after.”

moments later ghost entered the room. he looked so out of place, a dark looming shadow a stark contrast to the med bay’s sanitary white. only his mask matched, concerned eyes behind a pale skull boring into her own.

silence seemed to follow ghost everywhere he went. but it was no longer some petty treatment, it was uncertainty. he was overwhelmed, seeing her up and about when the image of her unmoving body still haunted him. he’s endured trauma beyond belief throughout his life yet somehow nothing compared to the nausea he felt when he saw her sliced up face.

“you went in without permission.”

“here we fucking go.” turning away, she hung her head low, hoping to hide herself as much as possible. “i did ask for permission, but when you didn’t respond i thought you were just being prick. only later did i realize the comms got fucked when i went underground.”

“you still should’ve waited for backup. look where it got you-“

“i did wait, but they were about to escape! i got the briefcase, didn’t i? what else matters?”

“what else-? fucking hell, y/n, i thought i lost you!” grabbing her arm, he twirled her around to face him. “i thought i lost you for good. a pain in my ass you are, doing whatever the fuck you want with no regard for your own safety.”

she shrunk under his frame, eyes still glued to the floor. a gloved hand raised her face, cupping her jaw gently to make her look at him. she never understood how a man of his size and talents could be so tender with his touch, always holding her like a porcelain doll that was bound to shatter at any moment.

“keeping me waiting all these days like a fucking dog, trying to break my heart or somethin’?”

her stomach twisting with butterflies, she held his gaze. there was nothing but sincerity behind the hollow curves of his mask.

“you started it.”

“for fuck’s sake-“

“i’m okay, Lt. as okay as i can be, but it’ll take time getting used to this.” she gestured towards her eye. “it’s why i didn’t want to see you, or anyone else. any chance you have a spare to share?”

she gently tugged on the bottom of his balaclava, a sad smile painted on her face.

“love, you took eight men down. the boys were speechless when we got there, it was like a fucking massacre. you’re the most divine woman i have ever laid eyes on, but now there’s a pretty scar on your pretty face to remind me not to fuck around. god knows, you could fucking take me if i act a fool again.”

“mmm, i don’t know.” she hummed, breaking into a genuine smile. “i don’t feel ready yet, you know? i appreciate everyone coming to see me but-“

before she could finish talking, she was cut off by something getting shoved down her head. she gasped as realization set in, immediately raising her hands to cover her eyes.

“simon! what are you doing?” she gaped, pressing her palms further into the fabric of the skull mask that covered her face.

“i trust you.” taking her hands into his own, he lowered them without any intent of ever letting go. “besides, what’s the harm? you only have one good eye left to look at me.”

her cheeks hurt from smiling, she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. she stood on her toes, reaching up to ruffle his hair, ghost closing his eyes in content. she only ever hoped for him to confirm that the yearning was mutual, she never expected to receive a gift as precious as adorning his infamous mask.

“now go on, go wave hello to the lads. i’ve waited days to see you, what’s a few minutes more?”