#well maybe not so much in body shape but she has the same socks as him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

butlersxbirdy · 2 years

Text

You Light My Morning Sky: Part 13

To You I Can Admit, I’m Just Too Soft For All Of It

Warnings: ass play/plugging, color system, new position, oral (f recieving), dom/sub, panty play, mentions of exhbitionism and body insecurities

The wardrobe consultants come in quickly and set up the dressing area and the makeup chairs.

Austin holds your hand and stays by your side, smiling when he sees the garment bags covered to hide your outfits from each other.

“Remember what we talked about?” Austin says to Anna, your makeup artist, when she gets you in the chair.

“Strong setting spray, so her makeup doesn’t come off, because she gets dressed blindfolded,” Anna grins. “I remember. As if that’s the weirdest request I’ve ever gotten. I think it’s kind of sweet,” She says and gets you seated, in a chair large enough to accommodate Austin half next to you and half under you, arms around your waist. He likes watching this part, and he likes making sure the makeup goes well with the dress only he has seen. You blush and think about when he had suggested it;

"I pick what you wear, you pick what I wear. No peeking until the night of."

It felt marital, as though he was creating ways for you two to surprise each other.

"Aust, baby, I love it," you had smiled. “That doesn’t apply to the wedding, though. I’m picking my dress and it’s gonna knock your fucking socks off.”

He had agreed, and now, the two of you get ready for everything like this; together.

His voice brings you pack to the present when he points to a color you can’t see and says,

“Her dress is that color, so maybe.. This, this and this?” he suggests and Anna makes a counter suggestion. You sit there while they chat and you feel makeup being applied to your face. It’s relaxing, and Austin holds you tighter when one of Anna’s assistants starts working on your hair.

The actual process of getting dressed turns out not to be a horrible ordeal. You make sure no one notices Austin's plug, but even so, he insists on slightly ruining the surprise by being dressed in the same room as you, a piece of black satin tied over your eyes. You agree to let him technically peek by partially dressing himself in light of the secret nestled firmly inside him. He nuzzles and holds and kisses you as much as the process will allow.

You can feel that the dress is flowy and fitted, and strapless. Layers of black wrapped silk with a structured bodice and a-line full skirt with a slit, all come together to show off your chest and legs perfectly; Austin grins smugly at knowing from memory the contours of your shape when the gown fits perfectly. You can feel the details before you see them, and suddenly, there’s a warm body close to you, and you put your hands out. They land on the narrow, fully clothed waist of your fiance, clinging a little to him. He picked out this outfit for you, and you want to love it, or at least not judge it until you see it, but you feel a little self conscious because it's snug around your stomach. Austin, as always, sees the thoughts in your head, and quiets them with a kiss to your jaw.

"You look so fucking delicious, Mama... wanna get on my knees and worship you," he purrs, tugging you close and running his hands all over your stomach. He grabs the black silk bow and tugs, the fabric falling away from your eyes, and you look at the two of you together. With his adoring touch, you can see that the elegance of the gown is perfect. His simple low buttoning shirt and lace blazer with high-waisted pants are the perfect companions to your outfit, as he got the two designers to match color pallets. The pale pink detailing on his ensemble matches the makeup Anna put on you and your hair falls in soft curls. He got every last detail, exactly perfect.

“You look so good, do you like what I picked?” you ask, and he kisses your cheek.

“I do. We look so beautiful. I love you,” he whispers in your ear. “And I’m not done surprising you, so just get ready,” he grins, and you two turn back to looking at yourselves together in the mirror. He looks so handsome and sweet and he only wiggles a little when he sits for his hair to get finished, once you two can be begrudgingly separated.

You look around for the shoes he picked in the many boxes the designers had sent over until he makes a soft noise of distress. You hurry to him, and when he sees you coming and his smile widens as you walk, the layers of the skirt swishing around your bare feet.

"Here she comes, God, have you seen her?" He says proudly to the team surrounding him. They laugh and nod.

"We have. She's beautiful, you're both so lucky," Anna answers him. He winks at you and looks at her.

"You have no idea," he hums, and when you come over to him, his face is lit up with joy.

“You made a noise, handsome, what’s wrong?” you ask, and you place your ear close to his mouth for privacy. He shakes his head and he pulls out his phone, typing something. You hear yours ding and you grab it, reading a text he sent so no one would risk hearing it.

Do not. I mean under any circumstances. Bend over again. Please Mama.

You return to his side and kiss his cheek, squeezing his hand twice to show you understand, and you switch your phone, wallet, and both passes for the carpet and dinner into the clutch you were loaning for the night. He tugs you closer, and by the time you've settled in his lap, his hair is done and you are showing Anna some ideas.

"What if he just had a little mascara and lip color? Just subtle," you bite your lip, looking at Aust when you talk. His hands touch you everywhere he can, and he tilts his eyes up like he always tells you to do for mascara.

"Good boy," you praise and Anna and her team exchange a look. "None of you heard that," you say firmly and they all blush and nod.

"Yes, of course," they hurriedly agree and they follow your suggestions.

"Do I look good?" He asks when they're done and you lean in and kiss his cheek.

"You are so beautiful," you smile and you try to slip your feet into your heels without bending over, but Austin shakes his head.

"So do you, but no heels until we're downstairs," he reminds you, kissing your cheek softly. The soft pink of his lips and darkening of his eye lashes only add to his ethereal beauty, and you hear a camera snap as the two of you look at each other. You turn around and Anna smiles.

"I'm sending it to you then deleting it," she promises and you grin.

"Thank you," Austin says quietly, and adjusts his stance. You lean in close and whisper,

"Color?" and hug him close by his waist.

"Green," he whispers and you nod. He takes you carefully down the stairs and he hands you a jewelry box.

"I did say there would be more surprises,” he winks at you. “For you, my love," he smiles.

"What-" you ask and he opens it for you to reveal a set of white gold teardrop earrings set with burgundy jewels, and a layered white gold chain with matching gem pendants, one small and one large. The larger jewel rests between your breasts when he puts it on you and the color offsets and brightens the deep black color of your gown. He kisses your neck when he does the clasp, which settles oddly on your neck.

"Baby, the clasp feels heavy," you reach your hands back to feel and he smiles.

"It's a charm. Subtle, but it has my initials on it," he smiles and you blush, looking up at him. He's wearing his engagement ring and the necklace with your initials on it as well, and you run a hand through his hair.

"I love you," you whisper. He leans into the touch and looks at you with wonder and adoration.

"I love you too," he says quietly, then kneels to put your feet one at a time in the Louboutin pumps you selected for the evening. You look down at him and Anna comes down to grab your phone and snap more pictures with it. Austin pushes your skirt up and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. Thankfully Anna gets a photo, and when you help him stand, he gasps a little.

"Color?" You whisper.

"Green, it pressed against my... spot, though," he huffs, a blush dusting his cheeks, and you squeeze his hand.

"Time to go, Prince, you okay?" You ask and he smiles down at you, bringing one hand up to gently cup your cheek and he presses a kiss to your lips.

"I'm great, My love. Come on," he grabs your hand and leads you out the door, Anna and her team hurrying out quickly behind you. They take the first elevator, at Austin's insistence, and he holds you by the waist in his arms.

"You look so beautiful," he hums. "I meant to say earlier. I couldn't find the words, but, thank you for not looking at me differently," he says softly. You turn in his arms and look into his eyes.

"What do you mean, Baby?" You ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes where it had fallen.

"After you touched me, and made me cum by playing with my ass, you still look at me the same way. I'm no less of a man in your eyes for enjoying that," he raises your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckle right above your engagement ring. "Marry me, Mama," he grins and you kiss his lips softly before kissing his ring finger next to his engagement ring.

"Planning on it, Butler. My strong, capable, loving man," you assure him and he smiles, kissing you tenderly until the elevator doors open.

"We're not staying long," he smiles and you shake your head.

"Not long at all, Baby. You're being so good."

The Red Carpet turns out to be an exhilarating experience. Austin holds your hand and leads you everywhere the cameras flash, begging for your attention. You both try to keep your left hands out of sight, and Jenn, your boss, comes up to you both for some pictures, looking fabulous in a black velvet plunging gown.

"Keep smiling," she says through her teeth. You pose together, and she says "Your leave has been approved and I fired Sarah," she tells you both and you and Austin exchange barely concealed looks of unbridled joy. Austin hugs her in full view of the camera.

“You need new clients, right?” He asks. “That’s the point of this?”

“More or less,” she giggles, smiling at him.

“Well, let’s make that happen. Thank you for taking me and my relationship seriously,” he says, giving her the million dollar smile that is just so.. Austin. "Let's take a picture, you and me," he suggests, and he puts her arm around her as they pose for some photos.

"Those will be great for us, Thank you" she says when they come back to your side, and Austin looks happy too.

"Yeah, it will. Just a token of his appreciation," you giggle as Austin poses playfully.

"I guess I'm the bell of the ball, although looking at you two, I don't know how that's possible," he winks at Jenn and he kisses your cheek. His mascara and lip color look amazing in the light and when he stands next to you once more, he gives you the look he gets in his eyes when he can't see anything in the world but you. You guide him gently towards the next section of hungry cameras, and when all eyes are on the both of you once more, he takes your left hand and places it on his cheek.

"My Mrs. Butler," he whispers, and twirls you into a low dip and a passionate kiss. The crowd goes wild, and the flashing lights get brighter, but you don't really notice. When he pulls you back up, you pose in his arms and he gives a smoldering look before you continue on down the parade of people wanting your attention.

Dinner is quick thankfully, but after the first course, you can see trouble stirring. The room is warm, and the lights are bright. Austin is charming and gracious as ever, but he doesn't have time to breathe much, and, he notices, neither do you. Young male stars of every type approach you and give you the sparkle he knows well; it’s how he looks at you. What makes it all the worse is at some point your hand left its place on his leg. The plug feels so present inside him, and he wants to whine and cry and make you pay attention. Checking the time, constantly, he knows you haven’t looked at him in almost 45 minutes. After they clear the final course, Austin practically yanks your hand to him, double taps the inside of your palm and whispers, "Yellow, Mama, come on," and he stands on wobbly legs. You hold his hand and when you're out of sight and ear shot of the crowd, he pauses and looks at you.

"Bathroom?" He asks, jaw tight and eyes hardened and cold. You nod, electing to take him to the private VIP bathroom

"We can lock this, and there's places to sit," you explain and he nods, breathing through his nose as you lock the door behind you. When you turn to him, you take his hands.

"What can I do, Baby Boy?" You ask and he tugs you down on to the couch. His hands wander over you, feverish with possessive rage, and then land on your waist, gripping a little.

“You can stop shoving your tits in the face of Miles Fucking Teller,” he growls. “I am plugged. I am dressed in clothes you picked,” his voice is rough but the push on to the couch he gave you was so gentle.

“Austin, I’m sorry, I was working!” you say firmly, trying to set some boundaries. He isn’t having it; he looks perfectly coiffed and debauched all at once, and you know you won’t be able to hold out. He gets on his knees and pushes your dress up, once hand resting on your stomach.

“Austin, what are you doing?” you ask. You’ve been passive to his anger since leaving the table, letting him get his frustrations out, but at some point you know you need to offer grounding and consistency. As much as you like it when he runs wild and free with your body as his sub, you don’t appreciate the attitude when the roles are reversed.

“I’m your baby. You are my mama,” his eyes glint angrily. “I’m reminding you of why you like it that way. Why you don’t like it when other people touch me. Why I don’t like it when other people stare at you,” he pouts and you bite your lip. He sounds distraught, and wrecked.

“Okay, baby,” you nod. “Take what you need.”

“Yes, Mama.” His head disappears under the fabric of your dress, hands caressing your thighs, and then his mouth is on you. His teeth clamp down on your panties over your clit, and you feel the scraping sensation against your sensitive swollen bud. He sucks the dampening fabric hungrily, then tugs them down your legs with his mouth.

“Baby!” you whine, and he smirks.

“Glad to see your attention is finally where it belongs,” he smiles, rubbing and kissing your thighs before diving back in. His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly, then pushes inside you, sucking hungrily at every part of your pussy he could possibly access without using his hands. He loves this; even when you don’t limit him, he challenges himself. Only his fingers, only his mouth, only his cock. He loves the feeling that just part of him is better for you than the whole body of any other lover, and he’s infuriatingly correct. You are painfully close already just from the attention on your clit and his tongue paying loving attention to your g spot. He pulls away from your entrance to go back to sucking your clit, and all it takes is him humming against you while licking you where you need his touch most. You cum with a soft cry, and then a louder shout of his name as he swirls his tongue over the outside of your clit, and a more powerful orgasm pours out of you, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“Holy shit! Baby Boy!” you gasp, panting as he licks you clean, then pockets your panties, looking up at you. He spreads your legs and snaps a pic, and you hide your face.

“Panties, a pussy pic, what next? What can I get you?” You want to be sarcastic but it comes out as a moan.

“Look,” he grins, getting up and laying next to you, showing you the photo with his head on your chest.

“Holy shit, how rough were you?” you gasp, looking at the pink abrasions across your pussy.

“Mama, it’s my lip color,” he whispers. “I would never hurt you,” he soothes you. “But to be honest it scared me too.” You look at each other, and you see some darkness in his gaze as you giggle together about the mixup, and he adjusts the way he’s laying down. He's laying on his side, which only adds to the worry nagging in your chest.

"Austin, please use your words, what hurts? What do you need?" You ask, nuzzling his hair softly.

"Its really overwhelming," he says softly. "My ass feels... full, I'm aching in these silk pants, and everyone is making so much noise. I just needed a second of no noise, taste, smell except Mama and my pussy," he sighs, hand going up your dress again so he can just gently pet you.

"Do you need it out?" You ask, rubbing his back. "No judgment, Prince. You've been so good. Do you need it out?"

"No," he shakes his head. "It's grounding me. Keeping me so connected to you. Just needed a break," he explains, pressing his lips between your breasts.

"You've earned a million treats," you assure him. “My good boy,” you stroke his hair and kiss his still slick lips.

"Thank you, Mama," he smiles and kisses you again. "5 more minutes?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I think we should go home," your hands wander into his hair, and his hopeful eyes widen.

"We can leave?" He asks, hardly daring to believe it.

"We can and should leave," you confirm and he stands up carefully, hips rolling briefly as he sits up and his ass makes full contact with the edge of the couch. He shoves the panties in his pocket, and he licks his fingers clean.

“What if we stayed for dessert, and you pay attention to me more in front of everyone?” he asks. “If you don’t, I’ll suck on your panties in front of your boss,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Austin,” you say firmly. “Is that how good boys behave?” you ask, hand slowly stroking his neck, reminding him of what you could do to him.

“I want to be good, Mama, but being good doesn’t get me anywhere. You stopped touching me. You stopped looking at me,” he pouts and your eyes flash. He wants to play.

“We will go back to our table, I will show people how much you mean to me, and you can keep that little panty power trip if it makes you feel like a man, but when we get home, you’re mine. No questions asked. Only a red will get you out of it this time, Baby. If you wanna play, those are the rules,” you say coolly, squeezing his neck a bit. His eyes are sliding in and out of focus, and through his pants, he looks hard enough to burst. You smirk and look at him, forcing him to make eye contact with you.

“Mama, yes. God, yes, please,” he swallows thickly. This, as it turns out, is what he wanted, and you were happy to oblige.

“Okay then. Color?” you ask, kissing his cheek and fixing his lip color.

“Green. You’re so beautiful,” he smiles softly. You wrap an arm around his waist and look at him.

“Not as beautiful as you,” you say quietly.

“Pause,” he says sharply, then picks you up, places you on the counter, kisses you so deeply and passionately you fear for the state of your makeup, but you quickly lose even those thoughts in your head. You cling to him, kissing him back and then at last he pulls away and helps you down, fixes both your faces, and your dress.

“Unpause,” you say, grabbing his hand and taking control again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he grins shyly, and then you return, hand in hand, to your table.

Thanks to Austin bringing his aching heart to your attention, you manage to avoid any behavior that would cause him to publicly suck on your panties for attention, and dessert goes as well as can be hoped. Austin feeds you a bite of cake and the camera catches you two being extremely cute together. The blush on Austin’s cheeks looks placed there, but he’s just getting flushed and a little overwhelmed again. Jenn wanders over before the speeches begin, takes one last photo, and then looks at Austin.

“What did you do to him?” she asks you. You look away, not remotely about to tell her the truth, but Austin provides a satisfactory enough answer.

“She stopped touching me and flirted with people because she’s good at her job, and I got mad so I took her panties but now I wanna go home,” he grins at her and she lets out a shocked but genuinely amused laugh.

“Get out of here you two,” she says and you really don’t need telling twice. You call for the car, grip his hand and practically run out of there, Austin’s free hand pawing feverishly at you. He knows, however, that he’s in for it when you push him into the car with a smack on his ass, and you settle across from him in the spacious limo instead of next to him.

“Mama,” he breathes, trying to get into your lap, but the toe of your high heel presses gently on his clothed erection and pushes him back down. The choked moan and deep breaths coming from him make him sound like a gravely wounded animal, and you ask him for his color.

“Green! I think! What the fuck, Mama?” he whines, hips rolling against your shoe, which hasn’t moved.

“That was a nice bit of honesty with Jenn, angel. You’re lucky it went well,” you purr and Austin grunts.

“I wouldn’t have done it with anyone else and I wouldn’t say anything about the plug! Promise!” he whines and you nod.

“I believe you. I’m glad for that. That’s my good boy. Want me to move my foot?” you ask, pretending to absentmindedly check your phone while messing with him, but he lets out the most hollow whine you’ve ever heard.

“I want your attention!” he snaps and you set aside your phone.

“You have it,” you assure him quietly, moving your shoe. “I can let you grind on my shoe or you can play with me to your heart’s content on the way home, but you absolutely must not cum until I tell you to. And I won’t tell you to, under any circumstances, until we’re back home,” you inform him honestly, wanting him to have all the information.

“I want you,” he whines. “But I was bad. I should have the shoe, just… Please don’t press too hard,” he begs, and you smile and nod.

“Good compromise, Little Prince. I’m proud of you for knowing you crossed a line.” You press the toe of your shoe to him again, your painted toenails glinting in the low light and the dress falling open at the slit so he can see your bent leg and bare pussy. He gulps and tries to focus, and much to his own surprise, and your pride and joy, he follows the rules the whole way home.

When you get inside, he’s insistent; hands on your hips all the way up, kissing you everywhere he can, and no amount of rule making that currently comes to mind would sufficiently deter him. He’s an animal, but a seemingly wounded one. There’s a vacancy in his eyes again, a deep well of suffering that cannot be quenched by what you have planned. He collapses on to the bed after you get upstairs, staring up at you, and he honestly looks like he did when Elvis asked Priscilla if she still loved him. He is going to a place you don’t want him to go, ever.

“Baby, are you okay?” you ask, stroking his legs and undressing him carefully.

“I feel.. I feel empty,” he whines. “I know I’m plugged, how ironic is that? But I need something,” he rubs his chest. “I need to be owned, Mama, do we have like, a collar or handcuffs or a whip or something-” he rambles, listing crazy possibilities one after the other, and you stop him.

“Okay, whoa, we have some of those things, Austin, but that’s not the solution when you’re feeling like this. Let’s start simple,” you suggest, helping him sit up, and you finish getting him naked. “Undress me,” you ask. “Only you can do it, no one else,” you look into his eyes. He’s aching hard, and still a little out of it but he looks more like himself from that boost of confidence alone. When you’re naked, he tugs you close to him, holding you tight. You get both of you on the bed, and you look at him.

“No toys, except the one you already have. We’re gonna try a new position, okay? Nothing but Mama being in charge of you, and loving you, and giving you the attention you deserve, but we can talk about anything you want first, Baby. Mama hurt your feelings, huh?” you ask and he clings to you.

“I just want you to be proud of me. I know you were working. I let you down,” he says, looking ashamed. You frown and stroke his hair.

“Baby, I am so proud of you. We worked it out, and you ate my pussy like a damn expert. And, you did it all while making it clear what the problem was, and you communicated clearly to me what it was. Why would I not love my best boy?” you ask, and he smiles, giving you a little kiss.

“I’m Mama’s? Mama’s mine?” he asks and you nod.

“Absolutely. This position will help ease that ache for you, if you’d like to try it tonight,” you say and he nods.

“Now, please,” he blushes, kissing you more deeply. You sit up and you look at him.

“Okay, Baby,” you smile, suddenly feeling a little shy. “We’re going to try the amazon position.”

His eyes light up, and he eagerly lays back, grabbing the backs of his knees, spreading out for you.

“Please, Mama, I’m so hard,” he begs, and you lean down to kiss his thighs, rub his ass a little, and make him the center of your attention. His little gasps and moans reveal that you’re hitting the mark, and you help him support his knees. He sighs gratefully and his hands tangle in your hair. “Mama, don’t tease, please, I’m such a good boy,” he whines when you kiss his cock, and when you look up at him, there are tears of pleasure streaming down his face. You smile fondly at him, and you sit up, still holding his knees for him.

“You ready, my love?” you ask, stroking his face as you use your body to support his legs, ready to sink down, and he nods. “You’re just the most beautiful little pillow prince,” you tease lovingly, as you position your legs on either side of him, sit forward, and guide his cock inside you. The pleasure is immediately intense for the both of you, and Austin is rendered motionless. His breaths come in little pants, stomach rising and falling rapidly, and you lean forward, fully resting on your knees.

“Color, my Prince?” you ask, and he looks into your eyes.

“Green!” he moans. “Please, move Mama,” he begs, and you do. You start riding him, slowly, but it feels too good, and you grip his thighs, squeezing and rubbing his trembling limbs.

“Feel okay, baby?” you ask, voice cracking as your folds grip his cock when he hits your g spot just perfectly. “This feels so so good,” you gasp, rocking your hips down and rubbing your clit on him shamelessly.

“Mama, I’m gonna cum!” he cries, and you lean forward to play with his nipples, making him arch up, trying to buck his hips. The pressure on your clit drives you close to the edge; you’ve been on edge since he took your panties and pleasured you in the bathroom. Loving Austin had given you a new standard in life when it came to sex; once with him was not enough. You needed more of him, always more, and he indulged your cravings as you indulged his. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and cries, and the tears pour endlessly down Austin’s cheeks. He is mad with desire, sobbing beneath you.

“Mama, let me cum! Please! Let me put a baby in you, you look so pretty, wanna give you a baby and suck on your tits and make you cum!” he cries out, filthy words tumbling out of him freely, and you lift up off him before sinking back down, roughly rubbing your clit on him each time. The tight coil of heat that’s been building for hours snaps, and you gush all over him, squirting as his cock rams into your g spot.

“Come on, Baby! Cum for me! You can do it, give me a baby!” You scream, and he cums immediately after, babbling and whining, and reaching for you. He softens inside you and he cries harder.

“Y-yellow… Red… I don’t know Mama, it’s so much, make it stop,” he begs, and you immediately lift off him, and ease his legs back down.

“Plug out too, Baby?” you ask and he nods. You stand up, feeling his cum leak out of you, and you do something you’ve never done before. Leaning down, you caress his face and kiss him.

“Let me carry you,” you whisper. “Put your arms around me.” He does and you lift him easily, getting him out of bed. You carry him to the bathroom, and you set him on the edge of the tub. “I know we already had a shower, but you’re having an epsom salt bath, with petals,” you soothe him and he nods. You fill the tub, and add the salts, and the rose petals.

“Thank you, Mama,” he hums. “Can you take it out please?” He stands up and bends over, turning away from you and you can see his whole body is shaking.

“Of course, Prince, I’m sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t listening,” you soothe him, rubbing his back and his ass as you pull the plug out of him, and he whines, but then sighs in relief.

“Thank you Mama,” he hums, and turns around immediately to hug you. “That was fucking amazing. All night, my whole body was on fire, and I was floating, and there was only you,” he sighs, face buried in your neck.

“Gives you an idea of how I feel about you,” you say softly, and he moves to look into your eyes. He gazes at you, searching your face, then pulls you into a deep, filthy, sweet, all consuming kiss.

“I am so in love with you,” you both say at the same time, and burst out laughing.

“Alright,” you giggle, kissing him briefly once more. “Into the tub, you big sweetie,” you smile and he slides into the hot water, sighing happily. His eyes slide closed, and he reaches for your hand.

“Get in the tub, Mama, my pussy is all full of cum and making a mess,” he purrs, and you shiver at his words. You get in with him, as he asked, and you yelp when he instantly pulls you toward him, rubbing your stomach and nuzzling your chest.

“You’re so good to me, Baby,” you praise him and he smiles proudly.

“I love you. You’re wonderful to me, I’m glad you feel the same way about me, because loving you is all there is,” his voice is soft against your skin.

“Austin, you’re my world,” is all you can say. The love he feels for you leaves you breathless, and knowing that you’re finally loved by someone the same way you love them is a new, but wonderful feeling. “I didn’t know it could be like this, I really didn’t.”

“Neither did I, Mama,” he smiles and kisses your chest.

When you get out of the tub, there will be sheets to check, although you hope you didn’t make a mess this time. There will be things to do, outfits to hang up, things to put away, and bedtime routines before you can lay together for the night. But that could wait a little longer. For now, there was you and Austin. You needed nothing else in the world.

#you light my morning sky #sub!austin #austin x mama #austin x reader

34 notes · View notes

tomsawyee · 10 months

Text

Disability is a weird sort of social marginalization because there is simply no joy that I can find in it? The days are getting colder and I can only sit up for 4 or so hours before I need to lie in bed for 3 more, and I keep thinking about how absolutely hollow this is. How there is no broader insight to be gained, how pain is just pain, and all it does is make me meaner, more tired, more impatient, just plain bitter.

And don't get me wrong, the joys to be found in cultures formed in societal margins are inseparably informed by that marginalization. But these are still rich pieces of myself that I would never change.

I love being a lesbian. I love that my day to day community is surrounded by people who see past the veil of gender essentialism. I love my internalized understanding that a woman is a woman simply because she says she is, how utterly freeing that is even when I'm cis. I love how we can be grey, or fat, or flat, or wrinkled, or broad, and that even though societal harms obviously, inevitably, creep into our spaces and into our thinking, we are far more equipped to push the rot out simply because more of us know how to be vigilant for it. Because of how much of it we have already overcome. I wouldn't trade this inseparably threaded piece of myself for "normalcy."

I love being autistic. I love how I think, I love how this has shaped my personality. I love how it's made me so good at portraying human body language in art because I had to learn it manually. I love how it's shaped my understanding of language and consequentially of writing. I love how good I am at remembering and recognizing music. I love how invested I get in my interests and how much richer my appreciation for them is because I care so deeply. I wouldn't trade this inseparably threaded piece of myself for being able to watch fireworks, or fitting into social situations better, or not having some kind of neurological Event when I wear socks too long.

I fucking hate being disabled. There is no joyful angle to take here, there's no insight that enriches my life. I wouldn't trade all the emotional damage caused by being visibly gay and neurodivergent since childhood, but I would take a magic cure for this syndrome that has locked me out of so much joy in a heartbeat. Maybe it's because we can't form community the same way because someone still has to be able to do the grocery shopping, or lift heavy objects, or regularly do dishes and laundry and cleaning. Maybe it's because it would still suck to be in pain all the time even if we didn't live in a society that systemically bars the disabled from accessing it.

I don't really have A Point here, the weather is just forcing me to live in a head that's constantly being needled by this shit at a higher volume, and I wish I could make sense of it in a way that doesn't boil down to "Well, That Fucking Blows," but I can't, because it doesn't.

4 notes · View notes

asafirsttimemommy · 2 months

Text

July 16,2024

I am on my first year, 1st month mommy of Calis.

Lately, I have been not in a good place.

I looked in the mirror and saw my curly, wild hair. As i tamed it with ponytail, the curl is so wild it looks like a chaotic cotton candy.

A lot of hairfall everytime I take a bath. Especially when I shampooed my hair. It keeps on falling, when I gently massage my scalp, hair falls. What to do but to collect the hair on the floordrain and put in at the corner of the bathroom. Gently with the conditioner. Hairs on my body, on the floor. I learned to accept it all and have faith in my thick hair. I do not care because my hair is thick, and the hair fall will not be noticeable. It is true. And then, they grows back curly. 🫣😅 Anyway, it will pass. 😬

I have lots of white hairs now. It is because of genes and because I am getting old.

My eyebrows are perfect. It is still beautiful.

My eyes looked tired. A bit of wrinkles. But, thank you younger self for taking good care of our eyes they are still 20/20. Also, thankful for the eye creams we put in there because we are preparing for crow’s feet.

My nose. 😬 is still the same. Blackheads, pores. I accepted it all.

My lips are sometimes chapped. Most of the times, it is pale.

My teeth hasn’t been brush a lot. Sadly. There are days I do not. I can only imagine the smell and the nasty, slippery feeling. Ick. Need to take care of them now, though.

My chin have hairs. And are now doubled. 🫣 it is time to make a move and smart eating. Gonna try ketosis as advices by dr.delapaz.

My face shape is still the same, but my cheeks are getting smaller than before I am not a mother. They are also cleared with pimples and blemishes. Honestly, maybe because our house is much cleaner than the office’s air.

My neck have warts. But, lesser. I didn’t actually take a note of my neck. It is fine.

My arms got slimmer. But my left wrist now has a keloid, a titanium plate, and I need a year to fully heal. My right hand is still awesome. I think it misses art.

My boobs are changed. My right peck is much much bigger and produced much more milk. My left peck is smaller, nipples are getting crumbled, dry and dark because it rarely been breastfed by Calis, though it still have milk.

My tummy is really full. I ate a lot. And I am always hungry. I need to take good care of my tummy and get them slim.

My caesarean scar is healed outside. But they said it needed 3-years to be fully healed. I am not bother with the scar. It doesnt have keloid.

My legs are slimmer now.

My butt got small into nothingness.🤣 Well, I read that it has omega3. I need the omega3 to produce milk. So, it is okay. Sometimes, I looked in the mirror and sighed.

My feet gets dried and cracked. I used vaseline creamy petroleum jelly on my feet, put celophane and socks. The nextday, it feels so soft and looks whiter than before. It was moisturized and glowing!

My hands are doing great. Works are done perfectly and extraordinarily.

Now, my heart is full with love for my Calis. It is also tempted with hate on people who cause my Jun some pain and disappointments. My heart also wanted me to follow my passion in arts. My lost first love that I chose to forget because it doesn’t pay the bills.

My brain is forgetful. But, it also have lots of mental load. Food for the baby, breatfeed her, get the sala clean, prepare the food, change her diaper, feed her, have her drink the water, changed the diaper when she pooped, she keeps on crawling to milo’s bowl, climbing the sofa to table, crying and wanting mommy, going into the walkin closet room and reaching for the breaspump kit, hearing her playing with the crib’s railing, checking her everytime because I fear that she might get hurt, play the youtube, she will crawl again. I have laundry to finish. Hanging clothes I have to fold. Dishes on the sink I have to wash. Toilet is dirty and smelly. I keep on smeezing because I am allergic to dust. My left arm hurts. I cannot use my left arm fully it might break again. I look ugly. I looked like an unhappy mom with her appearance. I do not have income. I am not working as an architect. My opinion do not matter anymore. Milo wants food and water. Milo wants to go outside. There are things on the walkin closet room to organize. I still need to do a design on something for free. I forget what I am going to do. I feel overwhelmed. Jun is not home yet, he is working overtime again. My parents have a problem with money and needed cash again from us. Jun is getting mad at me. I am getting mad for no reason, he said.

I am overwhelmed.

Lately, I have been watching animations. Thought it might ignite something in me, passion, love, arts. I feel happy. What if I pursued. But the reality is I pursued a technical career, an Architect. I still can.

I am also aiming to learn about digital products. They said I needed 1-month then shotgun. I will start it. No one will know, even Jun. I will do this.

0 notes

venusiangguk · 4 years

Text

gold rush pt. 3 | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 9.9k um?

>>warnings: pegging!!!, butt stuff!!!, sexy anal!!!, sub jk, soft dom oc, crying why do i always make everyone cry, fingering (m), strap on, dildos, vibrators, sex toys, sex shop adventures, explicit sex, like so explicit this bitch is basically 10k, mutual masturbation, coming untouched, kisses, aftercare in the form of snacks, titty squeezing, dirty talk, excessive use of pet names, yoongi exists

>>notes: i wasn’t gonna write this bc ur girl does not know the first thing about pegging, but jk sucking the strap came to me in a dream and i had to do it. it was highly requested so i hope u like it! i wrote and poorly edited this whole thing today so im sorry for any mistakes !!

>>summary: jk wants the strap, and jk gets what he wants !!

pt.1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

The sun is shining, and there’s just the perfect amount of breeze to cool Jeongguk as sweat runs down his temple. The soccer pitch just got cut, making the ball much easier to control, and therefore much easier to aim at Jimin’s ass. It’s cool-down time, so the team is in groups of three, idly kicking the ball between each other, for the last few minutes of practice. All in all, a great day to talk about getting pegged with his best friends.

Jeongguk glances around the field, making sure the other groups are far enough away from him and his friends before clearing his throat. “So… do you guys like… get pegged?”

When Taehyung passes the ball to Jimin, Jimin completely misses it due to the fact that he is looking at Jeongguk like he is the most pitiful human on the planet. Jeongguk adjusts his shin guard to avoid the scrutiny.

“Gguk… honey… are you dumb?”

Taehyung’s jogging back after retrieving the ball that ran astray. “No, Mini. He’s straight.” He kicks the ball to Jeongguk. “If by ‘pegged’ you mean fucked in the ass by a real dick, then yeah. We do.”

Jeongguk receives the ball with a ‘rainbow’ and juggles it from his thigh to his laces, balancing the ball for a second before kicking it to Jimin. He nods, contemplative. “Nice.”

“Okay ace.” He passes to Taehyung, before throwing Jeongguk a teasing look. “You thinking about taking it up the ass, Gukkie?”

“Perhaps I’m contemplating.” He sniffs nose in the air.

Taehyung laughs. “Got your button milked once and now you wanna take a phallic shaped object? Proud of you.” He places his hand over his heart, like the mere thought of Jeongguk getting railed makes his heart warm.

A whistle blows, and Jeongguk kicks the ball up to his arm, tucking it into the curve of his trim waist. “Why does everyone call it a button? And it hasn’t only been once.” He sounds exasperated and so so tired.

His friends jog to bump shoulders with him as they make their way to the locker rooms. “Hey, jokes aside, I think it’s cool you’re like comfortable enough, or whatever, with __ to explore the things you like.” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Okay Dad.”

“No seriously!” Jimin insists, holding the locker room door open for them. Fuck the rest of the team. “She seems good for you. Babys you like you need.” Jimin laughs.

Jeongguk’s shirt gets caught on his head as he squawks. “I don’t just like being babied, fuck you.”

“Okay so she also entertains your sadistic side. She’s the full package.”

Jeongguk looks down with a blush. He shrugs his shoulders lightly before bending over to get out of his gear. “She’s pretty cool I guess.”

Taehyung knees him while he’s still bent over making him stumble a bit. “Awe, Jeonggukkie is in love.”

“Shut up.” Jeongguk smacks him in the face with his smelly sock.

“When you gonna do it?” Jimin asks, buttoning his new pants.

Apparently they aren’t showering today. Jeongguk will just have to stop at his dorm before heading to yours to help you study. That reminds him that you have a test on Friday, but are free this weekend. He just so happens to be free as well. The team they were supposed to play had to forfeit because their coach got caught sleeping with one of the cheerleaders. Sucks, but good for Jeongguk and his little asshole.

“Maybe this weekend.” With their backpacks on, they start the trek back to the dorms. It’s nearing night now, the sun just starting to set in the sky. Jeongguk pulls out his phone to tell you he’s stopping by his place before heading to you. You reply quickly.

baby🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

okie

wanna have sex instead of helping me study

me:

yeah but im not gonna

just think about how good the sex will be when u get an a

baby🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

🙄

When Jeongguk pockets his phone, Taehyung speaks up.

“You think she’ll be down?”

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, probably.”

Ever since the first time you made him cum untouched, butt stuff has been a moderately regular occurrence for you both as a long-term, healthy, pro-ass eating couple. Honestly it was mostly him getting his butt played with, but he supposed it made sense. Like Jimin explained to his once naïve self, it was just biological- or something. Whatever. He wonders if three fingers will be enough to fit a fake dick in his ass. He asks his friends.

“Eh…” Jimin starts, looking up like he’s thinking. “Maybe, but you might wanna try to get to four, maybe five if you're using hers, since she’s tiny.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open and he pales. Taehyung notices and laughs.

“Don’t get scared. It’s just better to over-prep than under-prep. And like obviously you work up to it, she’s not just gonna shove her fist or her cock up your ass.”

Her cock. A little tingle settles in Jeongguk’s lower belly at the statement. He’s been thinking about this for a while, looking at porn in his free time. Seeing the way the guys moan on their girls’ strap always gets him hard. Seeing how hard their cocks get when the toy hits them just right. He throbs when he sees the guys cum just from the strap, no hands. Maybe he should fuck you when he gets to your dorm instead of helping you study. His cock is feeling a little plump.

“Alright well… Bye, thanks for being gay and answering my anal questions!”

As he’s pressing the button to his elevator, they lived on opposite sides of the athlete dorm and there were different elevators for each of the wings, Jimin chirps, “Don’t forget to empty your asshole really well, and don’t eat the day of! Also buy extra lube and put a spare blanket down!”

Jeongguk winces. Valuable information indeed, information he mentally pockets, but did he need to yell it in the dorm common room?

“Noted!” He yells back at the elevator dings and opens up. Jeongguk pretends like he doesn’t meet the curious, kind of confused gaze of one of his teammates. He must have walked in while Jimin was yelling and only caught the end of the conversation while waiting for the same elevator. Jeongguk gets in and immediately closes the doors. He can catch the next lift.

~~~

Jeongguk’s got his head in your lap and you’re running your fingers through his long, silky hair. He showered today, so waves of his aromatherapy lavender shampoo are wafting up to you. Sweet boy. He seems sidetracked, occasionally sighing and subtly twisting, but is still more or less purring on your thigh, feet tucked up onto the cushion of the couch. Netflix is on the small tv that was left by the last person who lived there, you’re mac book connected via HDMI. You’re not really paying attention. Mind kind of tired from all the studying you had done this week. Jeongguk fidgets a tiny bit again, wiggling like he’s trying to get comfortable. He huffs a sigh.

“Hey,” You say softly, getting his attention.

His body curves at the waist, causing his t-shirt to bunch up and show off the dip of his hip bone. He looks up at you with wide eyes. He seems surprisingly awake. Must have some busy little bees buzzing around his mind. He makes a little questioning noise.

“You okay? You’re kinda fussy.” You murmur.

He groans. “I- am just thinking.”

“About?” You drag the word out in a singsong-y manner.

The way Jeongguk’s face flushes is so pretty, you have to stop yourself from cooing.

He moves himself from your lap and sits facing you. He looks like he's thinking about what to say, or how to say what he’s thinking so hard about.

Eloquently he states, “I’m horny.”

You glance at his cock. Not quite hard, but a little happy and excited. You chuckle, leaning towards him, giving him a playfully sexy look. “Okay, let’s fuck baby.”

Jeongguk blushes even more, cheeks tinted red, while he leans away from you.

You pout. “What?”

Again he pauses, a small pout on his lips. He seems to be in a soft, needy, difficult mood. You’re probably going to have to pry what he wants to say out of his mouth.

With another uncalled for exasperated huff, Jeongguk rolls his eyes and moves closer to you before catching you by surprise and swinging a leg over your lap. He’s facing you while he straddles your thighs. His arms are looped around your neck, he’s playing with a little bit of your hair, twirling the long length around his fingers. You smile up at him, gently. Your palms squeeze at his narrow hips encouragingly.

“I want to try something new…” He says. He sounds nervous and looks at you the same.

“Mhmm.” You say, fighting a smile.

“Really bad. Like I want it really bad.” His hips roll, probably unconsciously from the way he closes his eyes to ground himself.

You peek at his lap, and his cock is bulging, the fabric of his sweatpants doing nothing to help hide it. You bring your hand to it, and massage him through his pants.

He whines and pushes against your palm before a hand comes down and grabs your wrist, stopping the movement. “Quit it, I’m trying to talk.” He’s so petulant and whiny.

You move your hand away and place it back on his hip, giggling a little. “Well spit it out, then.”

He scowls. You reach up and smooth the wrinkle in his brow before trailing it down and cupping his cheek. He softens immediately, melts like butter in your hands. His eyes close and he lets out a soft sigh, body relaxing a little.

He’s whispering, kinda giggling out of embarrassment, when he says, “I want you to fuck me.” He pauses, peeking at you through his lashes. “Like for real.”

Almost instantly a little spark ignites in your belly, and you feel your pussy get that telltale heartbeat. You didn’t want to push Jeongguk into anything, but you’ve been thinking about taking the ‘next step’ with your… ass-plorations for some time. But you figured he would get to the same point on his own, and would come to you when he was ready. Turns out you know him as well as you thought you did.

“Yeah?” You rub your free hand up his side.

He nods quickly, eagerly. You pinch his cheek lightly, and he retaliates by trying to bite at it. To avoid the attack it finds his way back to his waist.

“When did you want to? Tonight?”

He wiggles impossibly closer to you. Kisses you quick before nodding again. “Yeah. I um. I already like prepped… mostly. I prepped what I could by myself.” He pauses with a cute thinking face. “You will probably have to help me a little. But yeah. I got ready for you just in case.” He nods.

You hum, glancing at the old clock on the wall, another gift from the prior tenant. 11:52 pm.

“If we hurry, we can make it to a sex shop? They don’t usually close until 2 or 3 in the morning.” You suggest.

Jeongguk bites his lip, smiling excitedly. “Really? Can we?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, duh.” You lean up and give him a speedy, but thorough kiss, smiling into it. “Been wanting to peg you for so long.”

His face scrunches endearingly. “Don’t call it that.”

He hops off your lap, and goes to grab the keys, wasting no time. He stands by the door expectantly. His cock is, extremely obviously, sticking out. Someone didn’t wear his briefs today.

“Can you like… kill that?” You’re laughing as you tug on some sweats of your own, having only been lounging in your panties and one of his shirts. Your usual at home attire.

He looks down, and has a smug grin on his face when he looks at you again. “It’ll go down in the car. Hurry up!”

~~~

A dildo looks so much bigger when one is looking at it knowing that it will be inside of them within the next few hours. And there are so many options and colors. Some vibrate, some have fake pubic hair on them. Some have balls that are squishy and feel eerily… accurate.

Jeongguk isn’t having second thoughts, no. But he is having thoughts. Very overwhelming thoughts.

You’re next to your boyfriend, glancing between him and the varying selection of fake cocks displayed in front of you both, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks a little pale, but tentatively excited. Curious at the very least.

“Which one do you want?” You ask.

“No idea.” He responds, eyes wide.

Like most store clerks, one shows up, almost like they have a built in ‘customer needs help and has no idea which dildo to get to peg her super hot boyfriend’ radar.

“You guys need help?” He is a small man, with a monotone voice. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else at 12:30am on a Saturday night.

“NO!” Jeongguk says quickly and loudly. Very loudly.

Both you and the store clerk flinch, looking at him shocked.

Jeongguk shifts on his feet. “No.” He says in a more socially acceptable tone. “No- I’m sorry. But we’re uh-” He grabs your arm and pulls you closer. “We’re good, thanks.”

The clerk looks between you and Jeongguk and the dildos. “Um… Alright.” He starts to walk away before he turns back around. “Well if you change your mind, I’m Yoongi and I’ll be at the counter. If your toy is electric I’ll test it in the back before you leave… We uh- provide batteries with your purchase if needed…” With one last glance, a very judgmental one in Jeongguk’s opinion, Yoongi takes his place at said counter. His eyes flicker to you guys every once in a while.

“Baby,” You grab Jeongguk’s face between your palms and make him look at you. You squeeze and his lips poke out making him look like a guppy. He blinks. “I know you’re nervous, but it’s going to be okay.”

He rolls his eyes, guppy face and all. “Well obviously. I just- We don’t need help.” He wiggles out of your grip, much like a… guppy.

You grin, trying not to laugh, and just be the supportive girlfriend you are. “Okay, did you decide which one you want?”

A side glance. “Not yet…”

You walk up and go to grab a pink sparkly one.

“Uh, not that one.”

You quirk an eyebrow and move your hand to a larger one.

“No.”

You play a little game of dildo hot or cold until you have a better idea of what Jeongguk wants. His preference seems to be skin tone, close to his own, with a more realistic feel. Normal balls though, not squishy. Also no faux hair. You thank him for that. If you actually had a penis it would surely be waxed. Bless Jeongguk for doing the same. As for size, he leaned more towards a very normal, moderate size. Maybe 5 or 6 inches at most, not too thick. Smaller than himself. One last option.

“Do you want it to vibrate?” You ask, holding one in your hand testing the numerous different settings.

He shakes his head, answering quick. “No.”

He pauses.

“Wait.” He thinks. “Maybe. Should we? You could use it too?”

Sweet, kind, considerate angel. Always thinking about you and your pleasure. Couples who share the strap last the longest.

You shrug, pointing out, “I could use one that doesn’t vibrate too.”

He looks offended and sounds snotty. “Uh, you don’t need to.”

“Whatever. Why don’t we get both?”

You had a point. He pretends to ponder it, before nodding, already persuaded. “Okay.”

“We need the harness now.”

You begin the harness hunt, walking through the store, coming across many a things, but for some reason you both keep missing them. They’re nowhere to be found.

“Maybe they’re sold out?” He tries.

“Doubt it. Let’s go ask.” You grab him by his pinky and try to drag him to the counter. He resists.

“Let’s not.”

“Koo.” You say giving him a look.

He whines, throwing his head back. Borderline throwing a fit. You hold your ground, smiling.

He’s easy to give in. Being a brat just on principle. “Fine but you’re talking.”

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Of course, baby.” With his pinky in hand, you make your way to the counter.

The store clerk, Yoongi, if you remember correctly, is sitting behind the counter hunched over smiling at his phone. He doesn’t seem to notice you’re there.

You clear your throat gently, “Excuse me?”

Yoongi jumps, almost throwing his phone. “Fuck!” He exclaims. His fists come up ready to fight before he sees it’s you and Jeongguk. He then places his hand over his heart. “Shit, you scared me.” He chuckles, recovering quickly. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer before speaking up. “Um yeah, I was just wondering where your harnesses are?”

He leans on the counter, head in his hand looking kinda bored. “Hanresses? What kind? Hanging harness? Body harness?”

You glance at Jeongguk and he looks like he’s going to die.

“The um- strap on harnesses?” Your voice goes to a whisper when you say it, despite it just being you guys in the store.

Yoongi sits up, and looks at you, and then looks at Jeongguk. A look of understanding comes over his face along with an amused smile. He nods to himself, while getting up to help you. “Nice. Follow me.”

Jeongguk gapes at the ‘nice’ and looks at you in disbelief. You pat his butt telling him to get going.

With some help from Yoongi you pick out a harness that looks supportive and comfortable, the ring that holds the dildo, compatible with both the ones that you plan on getting. It’s a simple adjustable black one. Yoongi recommended wearing something under it if the straps dig into you and irritate. He seems bored, but he’s actually very good at his job, and very knowledgeable.

Finally you’re at the counter. You place all the items in Yoongi’s reach and he’s just about to tell you the total when Jeongguk perks up.

“Wait!” He says before scurrying off.

It’s quiet for a split second. Before the clerk speaks up.

“He’s cute.”

You smile, “Thanks, he’s mine.”

Yoongi laughs, small little fish teeth and gums on display. Must be a Pisces. You know Pisces teeth. “Does he have any cute friends?”

You nod. “Yeah, but they are dating.”

He shrugs. “Don’t care.”

“Uh… I can give you their Instagrams?”

He pulls out his phone, and follows them right there after a quick glance at their pages. Confidence is nice.

There’s a short lull in the conversation. And Jeongguk seems to be taking his sweet time getting something you guys must have forgotten. Or the poor things lost. It’s a big store. You speak up this time.

“Do you have like a manager I could leave a review for? You were really helpful, and seemed like you really knew what you were talking about.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I own the place. You think I would be here on a Saturday night if it wasn’t obligatory? Thanks, though.”

“Oh.” You say. That was pretty impressive. The store was quite successful based on the reviews. You would make sure to let Jimin and Taehyung know Yoongi was a business man.

“Okay, I’m back.” Jeongguk announces. “Sorry I forgot where it was.”

He places 2 (two) large bottles of lube on the counter. You cough out a laugh.

“Baby, we have lube at home.”

“But do we have enough?”

“I think maybe one more would be more than enough.”

He ignores you, looking Yoongi in the eyes for the first time tonight. “Add both please.”

Yoongi nods, looking a little scared of Jeongguk’s seriousness, and does as he’s ordered.

After Jeongguk pays, and you both are making your way to the exit, Yoongi calls out, “Good luck, tell your friends to follow me back!”

“Uh- Okay?” Jeongguk yells back. When you’re in the parking lot, he asks, “What the heck was that about?”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. “Don’t worry about it.”

~~~

As soon as you get back to your dorm, the atmosphere is thick, full of tension and nervous anticipation. Jeongguk’s fidgety, eager to get started. You’re not far off, but contain yourself a little more. Need to keep control of the situation in case Jeongguk gets deep into his mood.

You guys are in the bathroom now, each one washing a toy before you use it. You make sure to unwrap the harness and the lube as well, both at Jeongguk’s insistent request, ensuring you don’t have to stop and deal with it later.

“Let’s just get undressed in here, it’s where my hamper is.” You say already tugging your shirt over your head, tits bouncing freely. Jeongguk went without briefs today, and you went without a bra.

Jeongguk quietly follows suit, and you don’t miss the way his hands are trembling a little in anticipation. When you’re both naked he kisses you quickly, and jiggles your boobs a little just because they are there and because he can, before saying, “Okay, lets go.” He’s out the bathroom before you can even respond. You laugh to yourself and gather the stuff he forgot in his excitement.

When you walk out with your hands full, you see Jeongguk spreading out a blanket over your comforter.

“Whatcha doin?” You ask curiously, placing the items on the nightstand.

“Gets messy. Wanna save your bedding.” He states.

You squawk, grabbing the blanket he set up on your bed. “Not my baby blanket you monster.”

He laughs, abs tensing. You notice he’s already hanging a little heavy between his thighs. “Sorry. Was the first one I saw.” He walks over to the couch and replaces the blanket that’s hanging over the back with your baby blanket and resets up. “Better?” he asks, extended his arm towards your bed to show off his work.

You nod, and take the few steps needed to close the space between you both. Your hand runs down his belly, and you feel his muscles jump, and you see little goosebumps sprout all over. His hands come up to cup your tits. You kiss softly where his heart is. You look up at him.

“I love you.” You smile.

He blushes. “Love you.” He whispers, before he leans down and slots your lips together.

It’s eager from the start. Your bodies press together, as your hands roam. When he takes a breath and surges back in, your teeth click together is his haste, before his tongue slips into your mouth. He groans into you, his hand going down to cup your ass, squeezing and pulling you impossibly closer.

You feel his cock against your belly, almost fully hard already. You reach down to wrap a hand around him, wanting to help him get there before you get started. He hisses, thrusting forward instinctively before pulling away. He looks like he hates that he does.

“No- I,” He’s already short of breath, chest rising and falling a little bit faster than normal. “I wanna watch you cum. With the toy.” He reaches around you, grabbing the vibrating dildo. “Please?” He asks. His eyes are fervent.

You take the toy in your hand, and kiss him again softly. “Yeah, baby. Whatever you. It’s all about you tonight.”

He shakes his head. “Always about you too.”

Your heart beats, happy in your chest. You thought about it earlier in the night, but Jeongguk really was the best lover. He always, always made sure you were taken care of, before, during, and after sex. He was so vocal and communicative, genuinely wanting you to know it was always about both of you, even if one was receiving more attention. He was caring like that in and out of the bedroom. You were so lucky to be his.

“You’re too good to me,” You laugh, climbing onto the bed. You settle back against your pillows, propping some behind you so you can see him, and watch him while you get off. He takes his place in front of you, looking at you expectantly.

He’s impatient, placing his hands on your knees, spreading you open so he can see your cunt. You let him get you into position before saying, “Keep your hands to yourself now, okay?”

He nods, eyes never leaving your pussy. He licks his lips. “Okay.” It’s said in a distracted kind of far away tone.

You hum as you bring the toy to your mouth, getting it wet. You wouldn’t need any lube, you would be dripping in no time. You don’t waste any time putting your free hand down between your legs and spreading your pussy lips, so your clit and the pretty pink center of your cunt are displayed for Jeongguk. You glance at him through your lashes, when you hear a small gasp fall from his lips. He’s already got a hand around himself. Just the tips of his fingers stroking his length, at a leisurely pace.

“She’s so pretty… You’re so pretty.” His eye flick to your face before zeroing in on your center again.

“Tell me how to do it baby. Tell me what you want to see.” You say, voice salacious and soft. You circle your finger slowly around your nub, dipping inside just a bit to spread your slick around.

When he swallows, it’s audible, his Adam's apple jumping. “I want you to turn it on low, and put it on your clit. I want you to feel good.”

You smile, and drag the tip of it down your body to just above your clit, turning it on the lowest setting before making contact with your sensitive nub. Your legs jolt, almost closing when you feel the vibrations. Even the lowest setting was strong. Your head falls back, and your legs spread more for him once you get used to the strength of the toy. “Fuck…” You breathe.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, greedy for your pleasure.

You nod, eyes still closed, focusing. You move the vibrator in small circles over your clit. You can hear Jeongguk’s breaths speed up.

“Turn it up.” His voice gives away that he’s speeded up his hand on his cock too.

You do as he says, looking at him as you do. He’s sin personified. He’s on his knees, sitting back on his feet, so his thighs are flexed and bulging. His abs tense when his palm twists under the crown of his cock. His eyes almost look black, pupils blown so wide, lust taking over his face. He’s got his plump bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He looks up from your pussy and catches you staring. He smiles shyly.

You keep your eyes on him as you bring the toy back down to your core. A short high pitched moan falls from your lips, as your brows knit together, before your eyes roll back. He groans, your expression enough to make his cock start to leak.

“Feels so good, Jeongguk.” You moan. The vibrator is right where it feels best, pulsing against your clit, causing pleasure to bleed into your veins.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, he’s breathless, sounds like he’s in love. With you, your cunt. “Tell me.”

“‘S just right Koo, could make me cum just like this…”

He curses, and you open your eyes just in time to see him grip the base of his cock, keeping himself in check. “Not yet, baby. Little longer, please.” Still so polite and good for you, even when he’s the one telling you what to do.

He has you keep the vibe there, for a while longer, right in the spot that’s gonna make you lose it. He watches as a tiny clear drop leaks from you pink little pussy. It looks like it’s heavy and about to drip down to the blanket under you. He doesn’t notice your legs shaking until you’re gasping, ��Koo, I’m almost- I’m gonna-”

“No!” He says quickly, his hand reaches out to pull the vibrator from your cunt just before you get your high. Your pussy aches and throbs, wanting to cum so bad.

Your chest is heaving when you ask, “Are… are you edging me?”

He shakes his head, even though your eyes are closed, trying to catch your breath. “No, no! I just. I got distracted.” He looks at that small drop of slick again. Fuck, he wants to lick it up and drink you down. “You’re leaking.” He states.

You laugh, breathing getting back to normal. “Yeah?” You reach your hand down to collect the distracting little droplet and bring it in front of you. You press the sticky finger to your thumb and then pull them apart to see the clear strings stay connected even as you pull. You hum, before offering your hand to Jeongguk. He sucks in a breath.

“Want some?”

He’s quick as he crawls between you legs, cock fully hard now. He watches you as he sucks your fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around getting every last bit, before he sucks off with a pop!

He crawls farther up your body to kiss you deep, wanting you to get a taste of yourself too. He pulls back just a bit, and whispers against your lips, “I want you to fuck yourself with it, okay? Just for a little bit, then you can cum?” He’s phrasing it as a question, knowing he really doesn't have the final say, not tonight. But his voice is shaking from how turned on he is, how could you ever say no?

“Sit back.” Is all you respond. He does as he’s told.

You buzz the toy over your clit again, just because you can. Wanting to see how long Jeongguk can be good before begging. Turns out it’s not long at all.

“Put it in…” He moans. You look at him and his mouth is parted, and his eyes heavy as he watches you. His hand is moving fast over his cock, sticking straight up to his tummy. “Please.”

You drag the toy down to your slit, and tease it there before just barely pushing it in just a fraction of the length. Jeongguk whines, high and desperate. Apparently you’re moving to slow for him.

“More,” He begs.

You sigh, “You’re so needy tonight, baby.” He nods, agreeable.

When the toy sinks inside of you all the way to the hilt, you and Jeongguk both moan a quiet, “Fuck.” simultaneously. You’re coherent enough to laugh a little at the jinx, but he seems to barely notice, too focused on watching the toy sink into you, and then come back out to vibrate your clit again. You keep up this teasing pattern, again waiting to be told what to do by him, waiting to see how long he makes it this time.

“Harder, do it harder,” He’s panting. Moaning every word that leaves his lips.

You do as he says, and finally push the toy in at a pace that gets you climbing to being close again. You won’t be able to come like this though, and he knows that. Knows that you can only cum from penetration with him. He leans over and grabs the other toy from the end table, spitting on it and spreading it around until it's covered well.

“Use them both, want you to cum for me.”

With two toys in your hands, one in your cunt, filling you up, and one on your clit, making your legs shake, you do your best to make yourself cum. But it’s not enough. A soft whine falls from your lips, you’re so close, but you need more. More than you can give yourself.

“Faster baby, faster. You’re so close.” He whispers. He got both hands working now too, one stroking and one down tugging on his balls.

You whimper, “I can’t my arm hurts. It’s tired.”

Immediately he stops pleasing himself and gets right to pleasing you. Your pleasure taking priority. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll help you baby.”

Jeongguk sits between your legs, and takes over the toy fucking into you, and turns up the one on your clit. With him pushing the toy in at a pace that you couldn’t do yourself, and the other toy vibing your clit incessantly, it takes barely any time at all for you to cum. You were so close already, just needed him to push you over.

Your legs are shaking and your toes are curling, when you cry out, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby. Wanna watch.” He’s quiet, paying close attention to your body and the reactions he’s helping pull from it. He’s part of the reason why your face looks so pornographic as you finish. He’s part of the reason why your back is arching off of the bed. He’s part of the reason why your toes are curling, and why your legs are shaking, and why your pussy is contracting over the toy he’s still thrusting inside of you, working you through every last second of your orgasm. He reads your body cues, and slows down and pulls it out when you start to come down. You look blissed out, and you bring a hand to your hair and fluff it a little before laughing.

“That was good.” You sigh smiling, and when you look at him an image forms in your head, and you have every intention of making him carry it out.

Right before your eyes, Jeongguk wraps his lips around the toy that is going to be inside of him in just a short while, sucking off your slick. He laps his tongue around it trying to get it all. He’s obscene.

“Gimme,” You say sitting up with an extended hand.

He pouts at being interrupted, but does as he’s told. He takes your spot on the bed, and you head to the bathroom, stopping by your dresser on the way.

When you get to the bathroom, you close the door and get to cleaning the toys once again. After, you get to the stuff you grabbed from the wardrobe. A lacy pair of black panties, and sheer black thigh highs with matching lace adorning the tops. You slip into them, and then move on to the strap on. You hold it in front of you and try to make sense of which part goes where, and which holes your legs go into. It takes a second, but you get into it, adjusting it so it's nice and snug. Your outfit probably won’t help much with protecting your thighs, but at least the little part above your pussy will be safe. You look at yourself in the mirror. Not too weird or scary yet. You glance at the dildo on the counter.

It’s not too big so hopefully it’s not too… jarring when you see yourself with it. You get to work, slipping the suction base of the non-vibrating toy into the ring that’s meant to hold it in place. You look at it sticking out from your crotch and take a deep breath before turning to the mirror.

You gasp, before cackling quietly. You knew it was going to be weird. Like you knew. But actually seeing yourself with the whole get up is funny. Right now at least. You know it’s going to be sexy, once you get used to it and into the moment and inside of Jeongguk. You wonder how he’s going to react. Only one way to find out.

While you're walking to your bedroom from the bathroom, the dildo bobs, and you're giggling distractedly until you lift your eyes to let your boyfriend know you're ready. Again you’re met with a scene so indecent it belongs in a porno.

Jeongguk’s eyes are closed and soft moans are falling from his lips as he strokes his cock. He’s got three fingers in his ass, opening himself up for you, for your cock. Such a good good boy. He was so patient and productive while you got ready for him.

“You’re so good baby,” You murmur softly.

Jeongguk blinks his eyes open slowly, and rolls his head to the side to look at you. He doesn’t even falter in his movements at all, hand still moving, fingers still thrusting. He smiles a little when he sees you, but his eyes are hazy and he sounds lust drunk when he simply says, “You look sexy.”

You blush and a fond smile graces your lips, any embarrassment or self consciousness you were feeling prior to seeing him spread out for you on your bed, quickly vanishing.

You settle on the bed between his legs and watch for a moment as his hole takes his long fingers in. “Want me to help?” You ask quietly.

“Mhmm,” He nods, eyes closed still, tongue peeking out from between his lips. He doesn’t take his fingers out, though.

You grab the lube next to him, and flip it open. “You gonna get out so I can get in?”

He shakes his head. “Nuh uh. Put one in with mine.”

Something about that makes your body tingle. Inside of him with him. Opening him up. You can’t explain it, because you don’t really even get it yourself, but it makes you buzz and feel almost high.

You slick up your middle finger, and drizzle some more on his for good measure. He jumps slightly, and then giggles softly.

“Cold.” He says.

“Sorry,” You say distractedly. Your finger is lined up with his now.

“I’ve never done 4 before so you… have to go slow…” He pauses as he speaks, letting himself moan freely when his fingers graze over that secret spot that he’s grown to love so much.

“Tell me to stop if you need to.”

He doesn’t reply, just stops his fingers so you can wiggle yours in next to his. At the first push against his hole, there’s resistance. Very much expected. He’s quiet, teeth gritted, but he never says stop, knowing his body wants it, and knowing it will accommodate what he wants. After the second knuckle, your finger sinks in, almost gets sucked in, by his hole.

He lets out a shaky breath.

“You okay, baby?” You check in.

“Yeah just… full.” He moans when you wiggle your finger experimentally. “”S good. Move it some more.”

You do, and his start to move with yours. You can feel his fingers curl inside of himself to reach his prostate, and it’s pleasant in an out of body way, knowing when his face is going to contort in pleasure, and when he’s going to cry out, when you never really knew before. You’ve milked him before, of course, but feeling him do it to himself from the inside? It’s kind of thrilling.

“Pull, stretch me out.” He moans, voice impatient and needy.

He gets kinda slutty when something’s up his ass.

He swears when you do, his finger rubbing insistent circles on his prostate to distract himself from the minor sting of the stretch. His moans, start to raise in pitch and his hand that’s on his cock, still jerking it, starts to speed up. You can tell he’s close. He clenches against your finger that’s still stretching him open.

“Fuck,” He says, on a breathless giggle, “Take them out. Or I’m gonna cum.” He’s still stroking his cock, like he doesn’t wanna stop.

“You c-”

“No. Out.” He demands, hand finally pulling away from his cock, and his fingers inside stop. You gently ease out of him.

When Jeongguk’s fingers slip out, you gasp. His little pink hole is clenching on nothing, still open just the tiniest bit, thoroughly stretched.

“You know how you always say my pussy is pretty?” You ask, fingers tracing around the puffy stretched rim.

He makes an affirmative noise, watching you with hooded, lazy eyes as you touch him. He even spreads farther so you can touch and see better. You marvel at the difference between the embarrassed boy you made cum untouched a couple months ago, and the one in front of you now, so comfortable and relaxed. It makes you happy.

“Well, your butthole is pretty.”

He snorts, and kicks you lightly. He smiles at you, soft and sluggish. “Just fuck me.”

He sounds so wistful and just ready.

But you’re not.

You grip the base of your cock, and stand up. You walk to the head of the bed, next to his confused face. You stay there waiting for him to get it. He doesn’t.

“You want me inside of you right baby?” You ask, voice gentle.

He nods, eyes no longer hazy, but wide and confused. He looks between you and your cock.

“I think that means you have to get me ready. Get me nice and wet, right?”

You can physically see when Jeongguk gets it. When it clicks for him. His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “Yeah… You’re right. I should… help you.” He whispers, sitting up. You back up enough for him to have a place on the floor.

Jeongguk on his knees for you isn’t a new sight. He’s eaten your pussy like this before, you either grinding onto his face, or him holding you still and making quick work of your clit. But Jeongguk on his knees for you to suck your cock? New, and lewd.

He looks nervous, kind of hesitant. A hand is raised midway, like he isn't sure if he should grab it.

“Lick it, baby.” You encourage.

He glances at you, doe eyes seeking approval as he leans forward and gives a kitten lick to the tip. You nod, letting him know he’s doing well. His hand comes up and replaces yours at the base and he opens his mouth enough to wrap his lips around the head, and he swirls his tongue.

He pops off, and strokes up to where his mouth was and spreads the little bit of spit. The silicone is still dry though, so he spits on it more, straight from his mouth. You suck in a breath.

“Fuck, you’re so hot baby.” You whisper a breathy moan as his hands move up and down your cock. He adds his mouth again.

He hums a little, before backing up and looking at you again. “Does that feel good?” He asks.

You laugh lightly, in pure awe of him. He’s so sexy, and so sweet, and so incredibly lust inducing. Your pussy aches behind your cock. “Feels so good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He hums, still stroking you off. “I really want it inside me…” He says, hinting that he’s ready.

You have mercy on him, having fulfilled your newfound personal fantasy enough for the night. Maybe you could revisit it another time. But now it was time to fulfill a mutual fantasy.

“On the bed, hands and knees.” You tell him.

Excitedly he hops back onto the bed, and gets into position, his hole on display for you. His back is arched and you can see the plush swell where his lower back meets the top of his cheeks. You settle behind him, and his shoulder to waist to hip ratio, is sinful. He’s always had the daintiest waist, strong, but still so small. But at this angle, it’s cinched and the way his legs are spread makes his hips look wider, accentuating the dip at his middle. You rub your hands over the narrow curve, all the way to his cheeks, grabbing handfuls of the muscle. There’s a slight give when you squeeze your hands.

Jeongguk’s head drops, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, he’s got the chills again, and he’s got a constant thrum coursing through his body. “Please…” He moans, so quietly, so desperately.

You kiss the small of his back before grabbing the lube left abandoned on the bed. You lather 2 of your fingers, and push them into Jeongguk’s hole making sure he’s nice and slick. There’s no resistance at all, hole loose and ready enough for them to slip right in. Then you lather your cock, probably with too much lube, honestly, but you wanted to be so sure that he didn’t feel any more pain than absolutely necessary. You knew the first initial push in would be the worst, but you were hopeful you both had stretched him out enough to at least minimize or diminish it altogether.

You grab the base of your cock and line it up with his hole. It flutters, when you barely press against his rim.

“Ready?” You ask, giving a heads up.

“Yeah.” He says softly.

He’s tight. His hole sinks in with the tip of your cock before the rim gives and swallows around it. Jeongguk tenses and his hands grip the blanket under you.

“Shit…” He groans. He sounds like he’s clenching his teeth.

You rub soothingly at his lower back, fingers dipping when you run them over the dimples at the bottom of his spine. “You’re doing so good baby.” You tell him.

“Doesn’t really hurt, I’m just stretching.” He says through his teeth. “I can take it though, keep going.”

You grab the lube and drizzle more directly onto his hole. He doesn’t mention the cold this time, too focused on taking your cock. You push against him, and feel yourself sink deeper into him. It’s like after the tip was in, his body knew what to do to take the rest. The slide wasn’t a swift, fast stroke, but it was a smooth and slow glide. When you bottom out Jeongguk’s arms give out from under him, his face going to the bed.

“Holy fuck.” He keens, resting his head on his arms. Your hands are constantly on him, soothing him in any way that you can.

“Tell me when.” You whisper patiently. He nods. With his head turned to the side and pillowed on his arms, you can see his eyes are squeezed shut. The inhales and exhales you can see in the expanding of his ribcage, tell you that he’s taking deep breaths working through the stretch, getting himself used to it.

“Okay… Ready.” He murmurs.

You pull out just a bit before pushing back in. Jeongguk moans softly. Spreads his legs even wider, arches his back even deeper. He’s pushing his ass out for you, his body begging you to make it feel good.

You keep a slow pace, kind of nervous to speed up.

“You can go faster, feels nice.” He says. He’s been puffing out little gasps of air every time you bottom out with your slow pace.

With his consent, you grab at his hips and pull out to just the tip, before swiftly pushing back in, fast and hard. His cheeks bounce on the impact. You grab one and jiggle it a little, thrusting into him again, drinking down the whines that slip out.

“You’ve got such a bubble butt, I never noticed before. But it like… bounces.” You say, wonder in your tone.

“Thanks, can you like tell me about it later?” He asks, voice strained.

Point taken.

Your thrust game is kind of shitty, in reality. It’s hard to find a rhythm, your hips not used to moving this way. But Jeongguk is moaning freely underneath you, just happy to have something inside of him after thinking about it all week. So you keep going, and eventually, the pattern comes to you, still kind of messy, but now you’ve got him cursing beneath you. You’ve got one hand on his ass, the other braced on his arched spine.

A particularly good thrust has Jeongguk burying his face into the bed, teeth biting at the bedding. “Yeah fuck-” He groans with his mouth full of blanket. With his hands now free, he brings them behind him and settles them on his cheeks and spreads.

You watch clearly as your cock sinks into Jeongguk’s ass. You’re out of breath, but you make sure to tell him how good he looks, how pretty his hole looks swallowing your cock, like it was made to take it.

“Wanna ride you.” He says. His voice is pitifully wrecked and he sounds so thoroughly fucked, you feel a little proud. Still, you’re grateful for a break. You don’t know how he fucks you like he does. ‘Topping’ is tiring. You pull out of him, and realize that when you were in awe of his hole at taking your fingers, it was premature. Jeongguk’s hole after he takes your cock is vulgar. It’s properly gaped now. Not huge, but around a fingers width.

He rolls over, and settles on his back like he just needs a moment. His chest is heaving, similar to yours. You hop off the bed, and a needy keen comes from him. You glance back at him, and he looks like he’s going to get up and follow you, but you hush him gently.

“I’m just getting some water, baby. I’ll be right back.”

He huffs flopping back onto his back. “Hurry please.” He whines.

You get back as soon as possible with a glass of water for you both to share. He sits up onto one elbow and makes a grabby hand for the cup after you’ve had your share. You swat his hand away and hold the cup to his lips. He hums, gulping the water down. He’s happy to be coddled and taken care of. When he finishes with a cute little gasp, you place the cup to the side, and brush your hand through his sweaty hair.

He butts his head against your palm and laughs. His eyes shut, and crinkled at the corners. His water break seems to have perked him up. His cock hasn’t deflated one bit. Rock hard and red, throbbing against his tummy. It’s messy and wet too.

You’re about to ask if he touched himself while you were inside of him, but before you can, you’re getting manhandled until he’s on top of you. He’s got your hands pinned above your head, and he smiles at you playfully, before leaning down to kiss you, deep and slow. He sucks on your lip, and slowly grinds his cock onto your belly, soft whines spilling from his tongue. He brushes his nose against yours as he sighs into your mouth, finally allowing himself the pleasure of paying attention to his cock.

He doesn’t allow himself relief for long, however. He’s sitting up and looking from side to side for the lube before finally spotting it. His movements are quick and hectic, like he’s too excited and overly eager.

You rub your hands over his strong thighs. “Hey, slow down. You don’t have to rush. We have all night.”

He sighs at your touch, and nods softly. He whispers. “Yeah… okay. I love you.”

The little affection makes you swoon, absolutely smitten. “I love you.” You squeeze at his legs, tenderly.

He hums. “Gonna ride you now.” He opens the lube and continues with eager actions, almost like you didn’t even slow him down just a moment ago. You smile fondly to yourself. Jeongguk’s too busy slicking up your cock again to notice the mushy look.

He’s got a hand reaching behind him and he’s gripping your cock to line it up with his hole. He wiggles to get into the right position before slowly starting to sink down. His eyebrows are pinched, and his mouth falls open. But his eyes roll back when he bottoms out. His hands are braced on your stomach.

“Oh, I love it like this.” He whimpers. His legs tense at your sides, almost like he’s trying to close his legs at the pleasure he feels from your cock being tucked inside of him, hitting all the right places. He starts to grind on your cock, soft pleasured little mewls just tumbling off his tongue.

He looks so good, whining, grinding on you with his weeping cock displayed. But you wanna see him lose it on your cock. See him fall apart at how good it feels, not watch him bask in it.

“Bounce on it.” You say, voice sounding almost as fucked out as his. You know your panties are soaked through at this point, pussy pulsing and neglected, tucked away behind the strap.

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, wanna.”

He’s lifting himself off your cock to the tip before sliding down on it again, hard and fast. It punches a sharp gasp from his lungs. He finds a pace he likes and keeps it up, his thighs tensing, and his abs flexing as he tests his stamina, chasing that euphoric feeling he wants so so badly. He’s so strong and fit, bouncing up and down on your cock as loud unabashed moans fill the room.

The force of him riding you makes your tits jiggle, bouncing around until they catch his attention. He groans before his hands find them, squeezing hard, using them as leverage as he pulls and drags his hips over yours. Your cock must be rubbing over his prostate because he’s losing his mind. All kinds of noises leave his mouth, and the expressions he makes are filthy.

“Fuck baby. You make me feel so good. The best- I-” He eyes squeeze shut and his mouth opens in a silent moan, overwhelmed, before a guttural groan sounds from deep within his chest. “God. Wanna cum on your cock, baby. Fuck me-”

You laugh, wonderstruck, and kind of deliriously high on the satisfaction and fulfillment you get from seeing Jeongguk feel so just…. Good. “Yeah baby? You’re gonna cum for me? All over my cock?”

He whimpers and nods as he gets back to bouncing, a desperation to his movements that wasn’t there before. His cock is slapping against both of your stomachs with nasty wet noises due to his precum getting everywhere. You feel some fly and hit your neck, his cock just dripping, weeping and begging to cum.

It won’t be long though, before he cums. You feel the way his thighs tense, and he gets that confused look on his face, and he’s got that puzzled pitch to his moans. It’s the way he always gets when he cums untouched, always in awe that he can do it himself, without a hand around his cock. His whole body is flushed and hot to the touch, sweat making him glow in the soft light of your bedroom lamp.

He throws his head back, neck extended, and veins bulging, before looking down at his bouncing cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He’s so whiny and noisy when he moans.

“Yeah?” You ask again, “Do it baby, show me how. You can do it, cum for me.”

He’s nodding frantically, “Yeah- I’m gonna... Fuck, yes- Yeah, I’m-” He bounces a few more times, silent aside from the obscene squelching noises of your skin meeting, before his body tenses one last time before that string in him snaps. “Cumming-” He chokes it out. His moans don’t stop the whole time his cock shoots out his load, landing on your tummy. The moans even turn into cries, actual tears filling his eyes and falling down his cheeks. His body jerks and twitches with his orgasm. But still, he’s grinding on you, your cock still rubbing that spot inside of him, it’s like he never wants the feeling to end, even if it’s devastating, bordering on too much to handle.

You smooth your hands all over his sweaty body, before firmly placing them on his hips, stopping him. “Hey. You’re good, you did so good baby, you don’t have to keep going.”

Jeongguk’s cries are quiet, and he takes a few deep stuttering breaths to try and calm himself down, nodding with your soothing words. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, trying to dry them. It doesn’t help much, he’s calmed himself some but a few silent tears still make their way out, along with some soft hiccupping breaths.

“Lay down, and wait for me, hmm?” You whisper gently. He nods and lifts himself slowly, wincing at the sore ache in his hole. It’s more prevalent now that the pleasure has subsided. He all but collapses onto your pillow.

“I’m gonna get some more water, and a towel okay?”

He grunts in response.

Before you go, you strip out of the gear, just tossing it on the ground, eager to get back to Jeongguk after getting the things you need.

When you get back, he is in the same exact position, and you laugh lightly.

“Baby?” You ask, making sure he didn’t fall asleep.

Another grunt.

Good, he would hate you in the morning if you left him to sleep being so messy.

“Sit up, I have water and snacks and cleaning supplies.”

His head pops up. “Snacks?” His hair is sticking up on one side.

You laugh, endeared. He’s not crying anymore either, a good sign that he will be okay in just a little while after some kisses and love.

“Yeah, I got some of those seaweed chips you like, and some water.”

He sits up, leaning back on the pillows knowing the drill for after butt stuff. You hand him the water and the chips. He eats first.

“You hungry?” You ask, fitting yourself between his legs with the warm washcloth. He opens easily, munching away. You both are far past after sex shyness.

He talks with his mouth full. “Yeah. Jimin said not to eat the day off.”

You hum curiously, but don’t question it. Jimin partakes in butt stuff much more than you both.

You’ve got all the lube cleaned off his thighs and cheeks, now all that’s left is his hole. You do it as gently as you can, knowing he’s sore just from how red and swollen and puffy it is. But he still winces.

“How bad is it?” He mumbles.

You hesitate. “Um… You’re gonna be a little sore.” You tell him simply.

He groans, before downing his water. When he’s done, he says, “Practice is going to suck.”

You nod in agreement. It was. You wrap the used cloth in the blanket you used to protect your sheets, once again just tossing the bundle to the floor.

“Worth it though,” He smiles, pleased.

You chuckle as you find your place by him. He’s set his refreshments aside and lets you curl against him. His body sags with exhaustion when he feels your warmth press into him. You plant kisses on every inch of skin you can reach. He purrs.

“Why’d you keep going?” You ask, between smooches.

“I don’t know… it just felt so good. I guess I didn’t want it to stop.” He’s quiet, and his words are said on a sigh.

You nod, your kisses making your way to his lips. You just kiss him, slow and easy, for a few minutes until he yawns into it. He giggles.

“I’m so tired man.”

“I bet man.” You tease.

He kisses you one more time before asking, “Will you tickle my back until I fall asleep?” It’s hopeful and so sugary sweet.

“Yeah roll over.”

It’s barely a few minutes before you're met with his soft snores. You kiss his shoulder blade, before following right behind him.

~~~~

you ask for pegging and you shall receive :] i hope you liked it and that it met ur pegging standards askdkhjd as always, comments and feedback and asks and notes are loved and appreciated. thank you for reading friends ily :*

2K notes · View notes

seiyasabi · 3 years

Text

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc..

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) )

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt.

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for.

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare.

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed.

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?”

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.”

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone.

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.”

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her.

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences.

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that.

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!”

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before.

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh.

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage.

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home.

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces.

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before.

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor.

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this.

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso.

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably.

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!”

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat.

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.”

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well.

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.”

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!”

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid.

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form.

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone.

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face.

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it.

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight.

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling.

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well.

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him.

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?”

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you.

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets.

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt.

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties.

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!”

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart!

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal.

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly.

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.”

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can.

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute.

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so.

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties.

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.”

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead.

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you.

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour.

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you?

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?”

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before.

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny.

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you.

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on.

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing.

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls.

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more.

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest.

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth.

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you.

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously.

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it.

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven.

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you.

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?”

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin.

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading.

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh.

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.”

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive.

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table.

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation.

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you.

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket.

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?”

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera.

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you?

#yelena #yelena x reader #yandere yelena #yandere aot #yelena brainrot #yelena aot #aot x reader #yelena thirst #yelena smut #yelena supremacy #yandere aot x reader

1K notes · View notes

mbluee · 3 years

Text

Red - Thirteen x Reader

for @whumptober2021

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Word Count: 4,715

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, injury, near-death(ish), abandonment, so much whump, exhaustion, choking, bit of possessiveness...eek

Summary: The Doctor makes the mistake of leaving you alone, and now she must face the consequences - and so must you. Red is an awful color.

A/N: surprise! i’m doing pieces of whumptober and told no one! yes i do have a schedule!! hahahaa. hahaha. ha. you all know i can’t resist a “who did this to you?’ feat. a pretty blonde time lord. on that note, read it and weep. xoxo

✩✩✩✩

The floor below you is red, and what a pretty shade it is. Deep, glistening, red. Wine stained, rose colored. Red.

Wet, warm.

In a puddle of it beneath you, a puddle of red. How funny. A puddle of a color? Hot, fresh, new. Odd. Pretty, out of context.

Your hands are covered in it, like a paintbrush had been brought across your palms, drawn onto each knuckle. You could see the lines and creases in your skin, each dimple covered in that color. Red. Pools of it in your hands, on your clothes. Oh, not your clothes. What an awful day to wear white. Now it was red, red, all of it, red. Overwhelmingly red.

Surrounding you, red.

Beneath you, red.

The people on the floor are red. They were breathing, once, you think. Not people. Bodies.

Bloody bodies, in pools of blood, beside you, now red.

She said she was coming.

You can’t breathe very well, too caught up in the smell. No one told you blood smells.

Did she leave you behind?

Your feet are entirely numb – they only feel wet. You aren’t wearing shoes, you don’t think; Your socks are drenched. Soaked. White turned red – oh, they’re pink. Pink is a pretty color. Better than red.

She forgot about you.

Your fingertips are wrinkly. Blood was thick. It hung heavy, it weighed down your clothes. Weighed down your heart, submerged your mind. You were under the blood like you were underwater.

She left you alone.

You swallow, your mouth feels full of red. No, not red. Blood.

“She left me alone,” You think you say, but it doesn’t sound like your voice. It’s shattered, garbled. Bloody. Was that you?

Did she leave you alone?

In the sea of red comes lilac. A coat, whipping about the destructive battlefield, contrasting so sharply with the darkness of it that you almost have to close your eyes; Something tells you not to. That color, that presence. The vibrancy of it. Familiar. Safe. Home. You don't process ever saying her name, but when that bright figure whips around to face your crumpled body, you realize that you must have. A plea, a calling.

She said she'd protect you.

There was so much blood.

Her fuzzy figure breaks into a jog, boots thudding quickly across the rivers of red below. Red footprints left in their wake. It makes you sick, and your body aches; It burns red.

The Doctor kneels when she’s close enough. You want to move closer to her, to be comforted by her. She looks warm until you look to her eyes.

"What's wrong? Is this your blood?" She's demanding, her voice dark. Not light, not by any means. The color of blood, of destruction, of a deep and brewing storm. Her eyes weren't red, but they might as well have been. She says your name. A hand to your cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

Voice darker, growing bolder. Angrier. Her hand is hard against your skin, and you whimper involuntarily. You need her to be your home, and she was becoming someone you didn't recognize. The rainbows of her personality were replaced by thunder and malice. It scares you.

You startle.

She scares you.

And she stops.

It must be in your eyes, you think, or the way you flinch back at her sharpness and the cut of her touch. Usually so soft, suddenly so tight. You can’t understand it in this state of panic – maybe you would later – but right now it’s unbearable, and you just need her. Not whoever this was. Her.

“I’m sorry,” She says – guilty, regretful. Her hand softens just before it pulls away, and no, no – come back, you need her back, need that softness she just teased you with – and you reach up to grab her only to cry out in pain.

“No, no-“ The Doctor strains, falling to a pile beside you and ruining her clothes. Her knees stained red, palms turned wet. When she swipes the hair from your face, blood is left behind from the floor. You don’t care. You need her.

“I need you,” You say, without thought, automatic. It still isn’t your voice.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes are kind. Not red. Not dark, not hidden with something terrifying like before. Transparent, compassionate, home.

There she was. Your Doctor. Yours.

“Doctor,” You plead, and it is your voice – more than it was before. Bubbly, covered in stress and intensity, but it was yours again. She was yours again. “I can’t move.”

Her hands come to your side only for you to gasp in shock. It burns, sending a jolting snap through you as if her fingers shocked a painful current of electricity through your broken body, and it hurts more than it should because her hands should never cause you such pain. But it burned, and you didn’t want it to, and that fact hurt so bad that you crumble before her. The Doctor’s touch was always safe. She was safe.

But she left you alone.

And just as much as it hurts you, it burns straight through the Time Lord before you. The whirr of her sonic is all you can process through the blinding pain, and she looks at you as though her whole world is falling apart.

There’s a quick and final buzz, the flick of her wrist, and an analysis of results.

“Broken ribs. No open wounds. Oh, sweetheart-“

She catches herself, but still stares at you. Your eyes are weak and blurry when they meet her figure, but she’s so pretty against the backdrop of battle and blood, and she calls you such sweet things. Her clothes are ruined, her shoes red, and you whine without meaning to. Pathetic, maybe, but all it does is light a furious fire inside of her that you can’t quite see.

Behind that worried and gentle gaze was an impending hurricane; Eyes of lightning, steps of thunder. The Doctor pushed back that anger for your sake.

You were crumpled on the bloodied floor, and she had been ready to ravage galaxies to find you.

“I’m okay,” You tell her, trying to reassure the worried edge that covered her face with lines and regret. Your hand lifts, however slow, to touch her cheek. You’re lying to her. She knows. Your fingertips leave behind a bloody smear, and it only makes your tears fall faster – proves your false reassurance. “You’re here.”

She hushes you, leans into your desperate fingertips. You need to feel her, she needs to feel you. It’s unspoken.

You’re alive.

You found me.

“You’re here,” You repeat quietly, broken. “Don’t… Don’t leave me again. I can’t-“

“I won’t. No, never. Couldn’t.”

Each word is punctuated with a touch to your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. She leans forward, kisses your forehead so gently you must see stars. No – galaxies. Not just red. Rainbow.

“We need to move now. I’ll take you home.”

Home. When would she learn?

With her hand to your cheek and her lips to your skin, you were already there.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going. Can you do that for me?”

You could do anything for her, now that she was here. You almost forget about the blood, and so does she.

The Doctor begins pulling you to a stand.

“Slowly, now. That’s good, you’re-“

The words stop in her throat, eyes suddenly flickering down.

The Doctor freezes.

Along your neck are fingerprints. Crescent shaped marks in your skin from filthy nails, purples and blues mixing to ruin your perfect skin. Bruises. Indents. Clashing with your delicacy.

Someone touched you.

Someone who obviously didn’t know who the Doctor was, who didn’t know precisely what she was capable of. Someone who wrapped their fingers around your throat; Someone who left ugly, long-lasting marks. Someone who has just made a very, very bad enemy.

Someone who hurt you.

And her eyes go black.

“Who…” She’s straining, resisting. Body nearly shaking with the rage that suddenly ignites her, softness receding but trying desperately to keep it in place for you. You deserved that. She’d give it to you. “Who did this?”

Her fingers touch your jawline, so carefully trailing to your neck. You flinch back. Why did you do that? It’s her. Yet when The Doctor’s fingertips brush a certain spot on your skin, you cry out and drop your head against her chest before you. It hurts. You know it wasn’t her, but it hurts.

“Tell me,” She says then, tense. Withholding. She speaks through her teeth and forces herself to stay level, though you can feel her heartbeats echo rapidly in her chest. Her fingers are purposely careful against your wounds, yet you can’t help a sob when the memory returns.

His hands had covered your throat, squeezed your windpipe while you tried to scream. It was her name that came from your shrieking lungs, you think, before waking up on a blood covered floor. You needed her. She’d left you alone.

One of her hands is placed on the warmth of your cheek, the other now pressing your face into her chest. Her shirt is wet. No, wait – You were crying. Those were tears, on her shirt, making it wet. Your tears.

“Oh, no,” You say tiredly, mixed with sobs, muffled against her. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly delirious; Pained and needy. Her thumb grazes your cheekbone when she pulls you back, sliding across your face gently, keeping you grounded and perhaps doing the same for herself when she looks into your eyes.

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. What are you sorry for?”

You sniff again, louder, and collapse back into her chest. It’s safe there, hidden, and listening to heartbeats was steady in contrast to the terror around you.

“I’m ruining your clothes.”

The darkness in her subsides slightly, looking down at her shirt, looking down at you tucked into her.

“You…” She starts, head tilting almost in confusion before shaking it with a blink. “My clothes?”

“Yeah,” You sigh. Defeated, exhausted. You pull your head back up, straining with how heavy you feel. Your eyes are glued to the mesh of wet drops and splotches on her chest. “Messed it up. I like that shirt.”

“Do you now?” The Doctor responds softly, that sharp edge dissipating, being pushed back for another moment. Simply soft, now. Hard when she needs to be. Never hard with you.

She smiles slightly, just a tiny bit. It’s enough to brighten an entire galaxy.

“Yeah,” You tell her again. “Yeah, nice color.”

“Ah,” She settles on, smile growing. Oh, you liked that. You wanted more of that. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Have got a closet full of them, and it’s certainly bigger on the inside.”

She brings a palm to your cheek, soft as can be. “Besides, you worry about the silliest things.”

You lean into her. She’s still crouched down beside you, knees on the red floor. Red floor. The feeling of dried blood covering your hands returns, and you wished you hadn’t looked down, wished you’d stayed in that moment with her and that beautiful smile. The tears on her shirt were nothing compared to the blood on her boots. You’d clean them, you think. When you got back. And you’d do laundry. Simple, soft, kind, for her. You’d erase this, rid yourself of red.

You hate red.

“Up we go,” The Doctor announces, interrupting your single-colored thoughts and filling them with iridescence. She comes to your side, slides her arm behind your shoulder blades. You lean the rest of your weight into her when she lifts your fragile form, but it still burns, and you still cry out.

The Doctor stays silent, jaw held tight. When she catches a side glance to your crumpled expression, it seems as though she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t.; It’s as though she can’t bear to speak. The hot tears that slide down your freezing face gather at your chin and drop to the red ground. Stop, no. Not red. Bloody. So bloody.

As you move forward, your eyes stay on that blood. It trails across the floor like a devilish painting, like a swift masterpiece made entirely of misery, and you feel suddenly sick. Dizzy. The red room is spinning, and the Doctor tries her best to keep you still. Her tight jaw loosens. If not for anything, just for you.

“Stick with me, alright? Got a ways to go, and I need you present. Let me get you safe.”

But you left me.

It isn’t until she stops, halts both of your moving bodies, that you realize you’d said that aloud. Your one hand is clutching to the fabric on her back. Blue. Such a lovely color.

The Doctor pauses and stares at you, taking the time to think before she speaks. Her face is furrowed, though her eyebrows have slightly risen, eyes scanning over you and looking between yours. Searching you and searching for her words. You’d never known the Doctor to do that.

There’s silence for a moment, a long second of contemplation and pain on both of your parts. Her eyes are reflective as her body stays still. You might’ve mistaken her for a statue, a paragon of grief and yearning, and something else you’re all too afraid to place. She’s as still as the dead that rest on the floor.

“I know,” She murmurs. Simple and with finality. “I know.”

You stare at her, the two of you stuck in red. The blood is tacky beneath your feet. The bodies lay limp, you stand still.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.”

Your next breath is shaky. The depth of her words are deeper than the shade of blood staining your world, yet it suddenly feels blue.

“Thank you,” You tell her, because you’ve no idea of what else could suffice. Nothing could, but it’s enough for now.

The Doctor adjusts her hold, bringing her hand down from your shoulder to support your waist instead. She simply looks at you. And that’s enough, too.

Your side is melded into her hold even as you clench through the pain, not caring in the slightest because that pressure reminded you she was here. It was all red, before, but now it was blue, and lilac, and blonde; There was a rainbow on her shirt and the brightest stars in her eyes. When you’d meet her gaze, she’d smile comfortingly, like home, or a window of escape and peace. The blackhole of anger within the Doctor would dissipate slightly.

“Almost back! We’ll turn a corner there, then straight down. TARDIS is hidden in a perfectly-sized closet. Convenient, isn’t it? All spaceships seem to have TARDIS sized closets.”

You trudge forward and focus on her words, calmer than the sea of vicious pain coursing through your poor body. How did it ever get this bad? Tear stained cheeks accompanied only by grief and shock. Had it all hit you, yet? The pain was stark, but the memories were blurry. You remembered them as though it was someone else.

It had been a blast, a bang, a number of rapid shots as bright red beams of light shot through the walls. Silver weapons firing into bodies, causing casualties, missing only you. How had they missed you? Bodies strewn across the floor accompanied by your own, curled up in a ball pathetically and pitifully. What could you do? Could you have saved them, all of them? Could you have been the Doctor?

You tried. Forced yourself up from the floor as it first became bloody, faced the men who burst into the complex and reigned hell upon it’s occupants. You spoke with authority and you spoke like she would. You were the Doctor, you tried to be. And it hadn’t been enough.

“Alright there?” The Doctor asks, and she already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Maybe a piece of her hopes it’s something it isn’t. When her eyes linger on your neck again, you have to shut your eyes and block the memory. How long did bruises last? Would the divots of fingernails leave scars?

Her hand raises, slowly, you feel it. She places it on your neck and tightens her hold on your waist as best she can without hurting you. It didn’t matter, because everything hurt. She just didn’t want it to be because of her.

“It’s foolish, really,” The Doctor says, suddenly sharp. Your eyes snap open in confusion, but her eyes remain kind as she looks to you. You blink twice and open your mouth to question her, but when she looks back down to your neck, her gaze eclipses into pure, unaltered darkness, and the words stop in your throat. “Did they think they would get away with this?”

You stare at her, her eyes still locked on the damage to your throat, and she doesn’t move an inch. Stopped in this less bloody hallway, the landscape of your pain physically behind you yet still leaving an underlying imprint. You blink, swallow.

“Away with what?”

Her eyes rise slowly, dragging across your injuries, up the span of your open neck with catastrophic analysis. She notes every detail, every prick and every discoloration, and finally reaches your eyes. They’re ruinous. Possessive.

“Laying their hands on you.”

Your lungs constrict suddenly with a tight hitch and the widening of your eyes. You think your heartrate spikes, or maybe it completely stops, or maybe it flies out of your chest. She continues to stare, and you continue to freeze under her glacial expression. There’s a warmth in the hand that wraps protectively around you, so contrasting to her forbidding eyes, so much so that you almost flinch. But you stay still, trying and failing to breathe, and waiting for her next move without knowing what to do with yourself.

She shifts. The hand on your neck comes up, thumb against the front of your chin, fingers beneath your jaw, and she tilts your head to the side in order to scan you further. Her head leans forward slightly in what you assume is a way to find any other points of impact upon your skin, but it only puts her closer to you, warmer against you, breaths on your bruised neck. You freeze entirely, not even taking the time to breathe. What was she doing?

Then she leans in. You can smell her, then, the comfort and warmth and kindness of her entire being overwhelming your senses and replacing the stale stench of blood. Your palms are wet with sweat and that devastatingly red liquid when she moves even closer, and her dark eyes glow. Really, actually, glow.

You feel an exhale against your neck before she presses her lips to that specific spot, and you gasp with a flinch. Her hand on your waist tightens once, a reassurance, and your body feels suddenly light. It’s that feeling when you first wake up after a good night’s sleep, or when you climb into a bath set at the most perfect temperature. It comes from her kiss against your skin. Igniting like a steady fire, a bright glow emitting from where she made contact, and you feel completely light once more just before the feeling dissipates. It’s rejuvenating, or fulfilling. It’s… Regenerative.

You push her away, even with weak arms, and you watch as her glowing yellow eyes recede back to their almost normal hazel. They’re abnormally grave, with an extra feign of confusion. Your hands remain on her upper arms and she keeps her body close to yours.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t have done that,” You almost snap, feeling much more alive what with the very risky regenerative energy that just coursed through you without your permission – without her better judgement. The Doctor shifts, looking between your eyes as if she never even heard you, before something with finality sets into them.

“You’re going back to the TARDIS.”

She steps forward, almost crowding you, hand still supportive on your waist in a now tighter grip. Her head tilts and leans purposely into your space, and when her eyes flicker down to your neck once more, you freeze, and she notices. Her gaze is ruinous when it returns to your own. Protective. No, more than that. Possessive.

“And before that, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.”

You scoff, blinking rapidly in complete shock at her near – no, complete – arrogance, and that twinge of something else you’d very much like to ignore during this inopportune moment. Yet you can’t help but admire her, in some strange way, even through the shock of her slightly pointed words.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit she was a sight to behold. Emotions that had never been previously directed at you were now in the forefront of her analyzing view, and in the same way that your previous moments were tainted red, her current thoughts seemed to be covered in it. Her words were precise, sharp – not cutting into you, rather – cutting into the idea of anyone ever laying a hand on what was hers. What was hers.

It should scare you.

Up close and personal with the infamous Oncoming Storm, the same hurricane that just pressed a glowing kiss to your damaged skin. So quick to switch between holding the most immense amount of compassion for you, and then lacking any sliver of it for those who even dreamed of harming you.

It should scare you.

But look at her. Rainbow in a stripe across her chest, royal blue fabric clashing with the disgusting and tired red surrounding the two of you. Her boots are perfect for running, her pants held up by bright yellow suspenders, and her smile is like the sweetest sunshine on a particularly rainy day. You’d bask in the sunlight when it came.

For now, you’ll stand in this downpour of her and revel in that instead. Two sides of the same wondrous, unpredictable coin that is the Doctor, these two sides you’ve come to…

Oh. That could be saved for another day. Perhaps it’s simply best to ignore that tug of yearning and let her care for you in the best way she knows how. Defending you, acting as a shield – knowing well that you could stand up for yourself, knowing that you’d probably tried – and dealing her own doses of karma to those who deserved it. No, she didn’t simply interfere with time; The Doctor owned it. She could pretend all she wants about being avoidant, about keeping out of history, but you knew. When something hurt the Doctor – no, when something hurt you – there was no stopping her. It was an inevitable thing. A struck nerve turned vicious.

The nerve was struck, the damage done. So here came the storm.

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, slightly quietly. Did you wish you knew, or did you wish you’d forget all together? Was the fleeting memory better left blurry? Or would the details help you cope with the truth of it all, and the security of now? “I’m not… I don’t know. He was cruel, and disgusting. His teeth were almost brown when he- he-“

You swallow hard, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “When he smiled.”

Your eyes can’t bear to raise and see her reaction, but you feel the grip on your waist tighten until you hitch your breath in pain. Only then does it soften, a thumb running over your side in subtle apology even as fire runs through her veins. Anger so hot that it was palpable. You still didn’t need to look at her to know that she was staring down at you, assessing you, mind running with every possible course of what you’d call vengeance and what she’d call retribution.

The words flow out of you now, unable to stop it when the hazy memory bombards all your previously calming senses. It burns in your throat when you speak. You hope she can’t hear the painful strain, or the clench of your teeth, but you know she does. That’s just something she knows. You.

“I tried to be like… like you,” You stress, body fatigued, worried eyes needing the comfort of the Doctor’s gaze; She was safe, though the current blackhole-like-state of her eyes reflected otherwise. “I tried so hard. So you’d be…” You take a shaky breath with your eyes closed, “So you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh, then, a dangerous thing, an almost angry thing. Pitiful, perhaps, was the better word. Embarrassed, maybe. Your head shakes in frustration. At your own failure.

“But I didn’t do it right, or I’m just not cut out for that certain thing, or they just thought I looked too… pathetic,” You ramble, eyes bouncing about the room now, looking at absolutely anything but her. You don’t know the exact expression that she wears. You worry it may be of pity. “I was alone.”

You feel her inhale take a pause, slightly, barely noticeable. A guilty exhale through frowning lips that follows.

You shift again, not acknowledging the pain of your side, or the pain in your heart. Alone. It left scars a lot deeper than the ones on your skin.

“Doctor, I don’t…“ You take a breath even if you know it won’t help. Your vision becomes fuzzy, like seeing through stained glass, and you realize that it’s the gathering of tears.

You swallow. And you look up at her.

“I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me,” You whisper. The tears brimming at the edge of your eyes simply spill at that sentence, at the assertion that you could be dead. Was it ridiculous, then, to complain about what happened? To complain that you had these bruises, because you had the privilege of being alive while others didn’t?

At least you were away from the bodies, now. But they were left alone instead of you.

The Doctor’s hard eyes soften just slightly. They still hold that impending danger, the oncoming storm you’ve come to know, but it’s gentler. Not pity as you had feared, but compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You revel in it, take that sweetness in while it lasted, appreciate the mercifulness.

But your words hurt her. Your words that told the story of fear and misery, words that told the story of when she couldn’t keep you safe as she always, always promised. You knew it hurt; You saw it in the way she didn’t know whether to step closer to you or back away. Because beneath the tender care was worry, and beneath that worry was pain, and beneath that pain was guilt. Guilt that pooled in the irises of her eyes, that tinted the hazel of them a gloomy blue. Guilt at breaking her promise. Guilt at letting someone do this to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You tell her, because what else could you say? It was true, and it seemed good, and with her by your side it was attainable. Beyond that. It was close. She healed your wounds in ways no one ever could, healed your heart even if she broke it. She fixed her mistakes, she made up for her faults – she cared about you. She cared about you.

And she hadn’t meant to leave you.

You knew that, now. You were reassured of it. The red had blinded you, but with her you could see.

“I’ve been worried about the wrong things,” The Doctor concludes, looking down at you in her arms; Her vengeance pushed away, her vibrance returning to the light. “Been so focused on who hurt you, I wasn’t even considering that you’re hurt.”

You just look at her. You know you don’t have to say anything; She’s chastising herself, replacing her actions to better suit your needs.

“Alright,” She continues, a new sweetness in her eyes, a soothing apology to your pains. “Home, then?”

You nod, and she takes a breath, and you take one too.

She hadn’t meant to leave you.

What had she said before?

I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.

“Yeah, Doctor,” You say softly, and something about it is rainbow. “Home sounds good.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #the doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #thirteen x reader #this is painful #do you hate the color red now?#xoxo #also hi willow i posted are you proud of me

238 notes · View notes

tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

again, your new john stones fic blew me away!!! Amazing. Please feel free to write about him all day every day!! <3

thank you again!! here’s another sweet one inspired by my own 1am experience tonight :) i wish I had a john stones

My hero

Your heart is quite literally thundering in your chest. There’s no feeling like it, this kind of fear that sticks you to the ground beneath your feet. You honestly feel like you can’t catch your breath, tears streaking down over your flushed cheeks as you hold your phone in your right hand with trembling fingers, one thumb finally letting go of the little microphone shaped drawing in your iMessages app. Even the whooshing sound of the message you knew was about to send to your best friend catches you off guard, making your shoulders clench and raise in fright.

“Are you seriously alright??”

She texts back, her confusion and teasing is something you know is laced into those letters across the screen creating a glow in the dim room. You roll your eyes at her, trying to keep your vision up while sending another voice note back; “No, seriously. Why does this only ever happen when I’m alone??”

“Probably because you live alone?” She replies back, and you curse yourself for a choice of friends who clearly have no empathy for what you consider to be a very serious situation. You know you won’t hear the end of this teasing once it’s all over. But the fear to you is all too real.

“(Y/n) I got your text! Came right here, are you alright?”

The sudden voice makes you literally clench your entire body, nearly shooting off the floor in fright and making one of those internalised fear noises that sounds like you just been attacked with a taser. You hear keys dropping down by the door and then a pause of his footsteps as you try to catch your breath. Your heart swells a little at the thought of him being here.

“John!” You yelp, your voice coming out something more like a strangled cry. The tall defender hears that sound and finds himself in panic, those long legs carrying him quickly and easily up the stairs of your small home until he spots you standing now in the doorway of your bedroom. He rushes towards you, seemingly checking you over for potential injuries the best he can in the darkness only broken by the lowest setting of flashlight on your phone. The first thing he notices when checking over your face with his hands is the wetness still making its way over your cheeks.

“Are you alright? what happened? Is there someone in there? Are you okay? Did someone hurt-“

You cut off his rambling with a finger over his lips, creating even more confusion for the fluffy haired brunette who had very clearly rolled himself out of bed to hurry over here. He was wearing shoes without socks, dirty shorts from training that he’d thrown off before going to bed only to pull back in to come to your, and an old sweater that usually sat somewhere downstairs in the closet closest to the door. It was obvious he had come in a wild rush the second he got your erratic message.

“It’s a wasp, John!” You whisper, as if the little creature that sitting on your lightbulb unwilling to move from the place you couldn’t reach and wouldn’t dare to even if you could, was able to hear you.

“A wasp?” John repeats incredulously. “Seriously?”

You nod vigorously, and and as much as the exhausted footballer wants to complain or even sigh at you, he doesn’t. Maybe he can’t. Because he’s got his arms around you and he definitely can feel you quivering against him. He had expected something more along the lines of a one night stand gone wrong or even someone breaking it, but as his consciousness began to catch back up with his previously very sleepy self, it made a lot more sense. In the event of a break in, you would probably have been bloody calmer than you are now to be honest. John had seen you after a pretty dangerous car crash completely still and relatively calm as you gave statements to police officers with blood still trickling down your face. But put an insect in your path and you scaled the closest thing to you for protection.

It just so happened that closest thing was often John Stones, and he was happy to be that person really.

It has become a norm between the two of you in the years you had been friends. Winter was the worst for spiders, but he generally didn’t mind the mildly irritating insects. He just got rid of them one way or another while you hid as far as you could get and then he’d come get you when the coast was clean. But you hated summer for this particular reason.

Wasps.

They fly in, fly into things and somehow never make it back on the window on their own despite it being the most easy thing one could ever imagine. Then, they try and sting you as if they aren’t in your house. They just creep you out, even the sight of them with their nasty little bodies. Bees aren’t a problem, they’re fuzzy looking and don’t intrude in your home nearly half as much. Also, they don’t try to sting you all the damn time.

“Where abouts?” He asks, his voice showing no hint of any destain or irritation he may harbour. “On the light,” you tell him shakily, following close to him back as you both enter the room. “Right up there- careful!”

John sniggers a little to himself, much to your dismay. He kicks off his shoes by your bedside table and climbs up onto the bed with ease on those ridiculously long legs. By luck, chance or both, he has some toilet paper in his hoodie pocket that he’d probably used to wipe his nose or something like that earlier, he can’t remember. He holds it out at arms length, only inches away form the unsuspecting black and yellow insect. “Where?” He asks again, “I can’t see anything.”

“There!” You insist, pointing up with a shaking finger. “I don’t see anything (y/n).” He repeats, making you whimper slightly, more tears suddenly appearing as you try to come to terms with the fact it might’ve moved while you were outside the room. The thought of having to sleep in your house while not knowing where it was would send you absolutely mental. “It was there I swear, look-“

“Ahhh, I got it. Stand back.”

He leans forward with relative ease, careful with the force he used so close to a live electric source and grips the buzzing creature in his tissue. “There we go,” he hums, stepping down from the bed. “All go-“

As if on cue, it flies out of the paper and you let loose a literal shriek as you dive backwards, crashing into the wall and then jumping forward in fright at that. “Woah!” John calls, “it’s alright, it’s right there. Calm, calm. Take a deep breath. Look,” he tries to calm you. That deep accent with his fatigue coating each word seeps into you, carefully calming your firing heart as he grabs it tighter from the floor, making sure he squashed it this time and immediately takes it to flush it down the toilet. John doesn’t know if you’re supposed to kill them or not, but at this moment in time he genuinely does not care. Was he fuck going to chase a wasp out of a window at half past one in the morning. Not a chance.

When he returns from the bathroom now empty handed, you still seem upset.

“That was scary.” You announce.

John smiles, pearly whites all on display. “I noticed.” He teases, making you scowl tiredly at him.

That scowl falters when his smile breaks into a light, soft laugh and he moves to stand in front of you. You absolutely don’t mind the fact that he’s babying you a little, using the sleeves of his sweater to wipe your cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and taking you into his strong arms. In fact, it’s very much welcomed. His arms are the safest place in the world to you and even the residual discomforted shivers from the concept of a wasp in your bedroom couldn’t get through that defender. He looks after a lot more than just the Manchester City goal line. No, he’s the sole defender of something much more precious that he doesn’t even realise.

Your heart.

“You okay now?” He asks softly, his tired voice rumbling through you. You nod against him, “Feeling a bit better. Thank you Stonesy.” You mumble, words muffled by the muscled chest that your face his resting against. “Anything for you, lovely.” He responds easily, pulling back from you in a way that aches his heart. The sudden lack of your warmth and presence against him is utterly brutal. He loves holding you, but hates it in the same breath. He would love to hold you if it was something he got to do freely instead of fleetingly.

His eyes are stuck watching you sit down on the edge of your bed to grab your phone and check the time with an element of shock rolling through your eyes when you realise it’s nearly two.

“You got training tomorrow?” You ask sweetly, a yawn following the tail end of your words adorable in a way that makes John’s heart flutter like a teenage boy. He nods, “Not till after dinner though, around 5.”

It’s your turn to nod, seeming to be chewing over something in thought as you lie down in the middle of your bed.

“Wanna stay then?”

John has to pretend to think about it at least a little bit so he doesn’t look like he’s jumping right up at the opportunity, which is exactly what he wants to do. “Why not,” he shrugs, chucking off his hoodie to the foot of your bed, “Scoot over.”

He clambers in, long limbs moving nowhere near as coordinated as they are on the pitch as he lays down by your right. It’s like a familiar dance, one you both know so well as you shuffle around so you can lay against his chest, one leg hooked over him as his arm wraps around you to pull you even closer. A silence falls between you as he feels your eyelashes fluttering shut, tickling his chest. He can’t find that same relaxation, can’t seem to shut his eyes for the thoughts flying through his mind all at once.

“I should teach you how to catch them.” John states, rumbling voice interrupting the peaceful quiet in which you had nearly found sleep. “You know, for the future.” He adds almost flippantly. Almost.

“Why?” You hum groggily, sleep croaking your voice ever so slightly. “I got you.”

John has to pretend your half asleep admission doesn’t send his heart flying into his throat. You do always have him, right there in the palm of your hand. Always.

“I don’t think other guys would appreciate me barging into their house in the middle of the night.” He suggests, making you quirk an eyebrow in question, but you still don’t look up at him and he isn’t even sure if you’ve got your eyes fully open. “No other guys here,” you state, “Single, living all alone.” You add lazily. The words almost make John wonder if he has fallen asleep, each one spoke playing straight into the dream he’s had for years for you to be his.

“Yeah, I know but…but there will be, at some point.” He suggests. You give no response for a moment and he briefly thinks you’ve fallen asleep at some point in this conversation.

“Bet those other guys wouldn’t come get rid of wasps for me in the middle of the night like you do.”

“Maybe,” John shrugs, “but I think there’s plenty of guys like that, especially for you.”

He feels you shake your head against him, your words decisive as you speak;

“There are no guys like you, John Stones.”

His words and his breath are caught on his throat, his heart erupting in his chest as he replays those words in his mind, trying to figure out if he had actually just heard them or if his tired mind was playing tricks on him because it was so late and he hadn’t had enough sleep.

But then you look up at him with tired eyes and a sweet smile. You know what you’ve just done, know the bomb you’ve just dropped and you’re hoping with everything crossed that he feels the same way.

“You’re my hero, Stonesy.” You say softly, your voice now a little sheepish and he can barely just make out the flush of your cheeks in the dim room lighting. “And I love you with everything I have.”

He doesn’t know what to say, his eyes wide as his heart beats as erratically as he had felt yours beating when he first arrived with fear coursing through his veins thinking you were in some kind of mortal peril.

“John?” You ask timidly, voice sheepish as you sit up in fear.

“Sorry,” he rumbles, pushing himself to a seated position, allowing him to lean forward and slide his hand around the back of your head to pull you into him, your lips crashing down onto his.

It’s just about everything he’s ever wanted.

“God I love you.” He says against your lips, a groan leaving his throat from pure satisfaction, pure relief of finally getting those words off of his chest. You giggle, resting back against his chest. “Can we sleep now, please?”

He nods, both of you shuffling so you can resume the position you had been in before a life changing confession that had spun you and the Barnsley brunette into the kiss that had been years in waiting. This was the happiest either of you had probably ever been.

“Guess we have the wasps to thank for this eh?” John lulls just as sleep is about to encompass you. He feels you shiver against him, the hairs on your arms immediately raising to attention at the mention of that which you hate so much.

“Don’t say that! That’s basically an invitation for them to invade my house!” You hiss, giving his chest a gentle swat as he pulls you closer to his side.

“Let them come,” he says almost triumphantly, “You got me now, always.”

You cosy yourself against him, a soft sigh of complete content and comfort tickling his chest as it dances across him. He feels that gentle smile that settles onto your gestures as your heavy eyes allow sleep to truly begin to take you.

“Always,” you mumble, words diluted by sleep “My hero.”

#john stones #john stones imagines #john stones imagine #john stones x reader #england national team imagine #england national team #john stones blurb #john stones prompt #footie fics #footballer fics #football fics

173 notes · View notes

jinx-jade · 4 years

Text

Secret Dreams Chapter 2: Meeting the Wayne’s

Marinette woke from the dream zone, leaving her alone in the empty bed of her hotel room. While Aunt Penny, Uncle Jagged, and herself were staying at the same hotel, Marinette had a separate room from the couple.

When she went to open her eyes the sun was shining directly in them, temporarily blinding her, which was strange since she had closed the curtains last night. Squinting her eyes open slowly to let them adjust to the bright light. Marinette tensed when she could make out the shape of a person.

“Rise and Shine my little rockstar!”

Relaxing, Marinette groaned at her Uncle's childish antics.

“It’s too early for you to have this much energy!” Marinette whined, pulling her pillow over her face.

“Nah, no such thing as too much energy!” Jagged informs her. “Besides we're meeting up with Brucie and a couple of his kids at W.E. today.”

Marinette grinds at that piece of information before quickly replacing it with a scowl. She removed the pillow from her face and glared at Jagged.

“I’m not going anywhere without having some form of caffeine first.” Marinette bargains

“Well then isn’t it a good thing that I got us both coffee?” Penny suggests as she walks in to hand Marinette her cup. “After all, not all of us wake up as energetic as Jagged does.”

“Gasp, Betrayed by my wife!” Jagged cried, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

“Did? Did you just say Gasp?” Marinette questioned looking a lot less annoyed and more like she was about to explode from laughter.

“I know what I said, little rockstar!” Jagged exclaimed as if it would help his case. Instead of the desired effect, Penny and Marinette burst into laughter.

Penny wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, “Jagged is right though little star” causing Jagged to preen a bit at the praise. Penny just shook her head at his antics, "We're meeting up with a few of the Waynes to discuss any final details for the charity gala."

Marinette nodded her head before taking a sip of her coffee, letting out a pleased sigh.

"Let me shower and get ready, then we can head out?" Marinette suggested. Penny agreed and dragged Jagged out to let her get ready.

Marinette grabbed an outfit out of her suitcase that she had forgotten to unpack the previous night. Entering the bathroom and locking the door, disappearing until she was ready for the day.

"Well, today seems like it'll be a fun day, huh Sugar cube?" Plagg asks rhetorically, grinning as he abandons his hiding spot.

"You think any kind of chaos is fun, stinky socks!" Tikki argues leaving her spot as well.

Once the kwamis of creation and destruction came out of hiding, the rest followed suit. Most of the kwamis moved towards the mini-fridge to grab their breakfasts. Some of them settled on the counter while others moved to sit on the bed or couch.

The kwamis made idle chit-chat until Marinette left the bathroom. She was wearing a high collar ivory blouse with long frilly sleeves and lace details. The blouse was tucked into her black high waist sailor shorts, with gold buttons and trim. She spends only a few minutes debating whether to wear platform heels or her knee-high black combat boots before deciding to go with the boots.

“Which of us would you prefer to join you today Mademoiselle Guardian?” Kaalki questions with her usual grace and elegance.

“Hmm, maybe you, Tikki, Plagg, and Trixx?” Marinette considers it before nodding to herself. “Yeah, let’s go with the four of you. Unless any of you wish to stay here?”

“And miss the chaos? Don’t be ridiculous, Sugar cookie!” Plagg answers with mock offense. Trixx nodded their head in agreement with Plagg’s statement.

Tikki let out a sigh, “Someone has to keep you from getting into trouble.” Shaking her head in amusement, “Might as well be my luck.”

“As you wish, Mademoiselle Guardian. I have no issues with your decision.” Kaalki informs her.

“All right then! Let’s get going before Uncle Jagged comes to get me.” Marinette makes a face at that, making the kwamis laugh. “Have a nice day everyone. Remember, don’t be seen, and don’t cause too much trouble.”

Each kwami gave their agreement to stay out of sight and not make trouble. Marinette nodded her head, grabbing her small black backpack for her sketchbook, pencils, and the kwamis. After checking that she had everything, Marinette made her way towards the lobby. Once there, she had no trouble spotting her Aunt and Uncle. Easily making her way towards them.

“Ready to go little star?” Penny questioned

“Yup! Plus I’m much more awake after finishing my coffee and taking a shower.” Marinette smiled as they started walking out of the hotel.

Jagged led them to a sleek black car with an older gentleman standing next to it.

“A pleasure to see you again Master Jared.” the man politely clams, only to have Jagged tackle him into a hug.

“Good to see ya, Alfie!” Jagged exclaimed as he pulled away.

“You must be Mrs. Rolling and Miss Dupain-Cheng?” the man, Alfie? Questioned. Receiving a nod from both Penny and Marinette.

“But feel free to call me Marinette. My last name is a bit of a mouth full.”

“And Penny is fine for me, Monsieur.”

“Of course Mrs. Penny, Miss Marinette. Master Bruce sent me as your ride to W.E., and anywhere else you may go during your stay. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, but please call me Alfred.”

Once introductions were over and done with, the group moved into the car. Heading towards Wayne Enterprise.

Marinette looked out of the windows of the car, watching the gothic architecture pass by. Damian had been right about the city seeming dark and gloomy. He was also right about it being the perfect inspiration for her new clothing line, Shadows. Marinette took out her sketchbook and got to work, not even noticing the time passing by.

“We have arrived,” Alfred claimed as he turned off the car, stepping out and opening the car doors for them. “Simply head to the reception desk and introduce yourselves. They have already been made aware of your appointment.” and with that Alfred reentered the car, driving off, presumably, back to Wayne Manor.

They did as Alfred instructed and were taken up to Bruce Wayne’s office. Jagged knocked on the Office door. After a few moments, Mr. Wayne appeared in the doorway.

“Jared, I’m glad you could make it,” he said welcoming them into the office. “Am I right to assume that these lovely ladies are your wife and niece?”

“That’d be a right on assumption” Jagged agreed. “This is my wife Penny Rolling, she’s also my lovely assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet one of Jagged's childhood friends, feel free to call me Penny.”

Jagged continues with the introduction, “And this little rockstar is my niece and designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne. You can call me Marinette, my last name is a bit of a mouth full.”

“Please call me Bruce, there’s no need to be so formal.” Once Marinette nodded her head, Bruce started to introduce his kids. “These are a few of my children. My second eldest son Jason Todd-Wayne, my second youngest son Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter Cassandra Cain-Wayne.”

Marinette smiled at them before taking a seat on the office couch to sketch. She mostly stayed out of the business conversation, only really talking when the conversation had to do with herself. Marinette took time to observe the Waynes for herself because while she trusted Damian with her life, he was their younger sibling and therefore biased.

Marinette observed Jason first. He was sarcastic and would throw in snarky comments now and then. When Jason wasn’t talking, he would be reading his book which seemed to be a classic novel. Marinette let out an amused huff when she realized that Damian’s description was accurate. He’s a book nerd wrapped in spikes and leather.

She noticed that the attention had turned to her, most likely because she had no reason to be amused. Marinette simply raised an eyebrow towards them until they went back to the previously abandoned conversation.

Her observation moved to Timothy, or Tim, who seemed to be exhausted but he easily kept up with the conversation. She noticed that he was holding a thermos for what seemed like dear life. Now the caffeine zombie made more sense. In all honesty, Marinette thought that the caffeine dependence was a “mood.”

The attention once again turned to herself. ‘Must have said that out loud’ Marinette assumed. She simply ignored the attention until the conversation started again. Once the conversation was flowing freely, she went back to her observations.

When Marinette looked in Cassandra’s, or Cass’s, direction, she found that Cass was already looking at her. Curiosity clear in her eyes. It would seem like Damian was right with all of his information on his siblings. Cass was trying to read her body language. Marinette quickly thought of an idea, tensing all the muscles in her body to slowly relax them as she quickly turned her attention to her sketchbook, pretending to be embarrassed.

When Marinette looked back up, Cass looked amused, causing Marinette to smirk. The smirk seemed to confuse Cass, who tilted her head to the side as if trying to look at her from a different angle to get a better read. Marinette simply copied Cass’s movement, making both girls seem confused. Cass continued to change her body language only to have Marinette copy it. A smile appeared on Cass’s face.

“Can we keep?” Cass asked gesturing to Marinette, which made Marinette burst into laughter.

The others in the room looked confused before realization appeared on the Waynes’ features.

“You can’t just ask to adopt people out of nowhere Cassandra,” Bruce said with a sigh.

“Keep?” Cass asked again with her best puppy dog eyes. Bruce simply shook his head, causing Cass to pout.

That seemed to be the last straw as everyone burst into laughter.

_____________________

Marinette collapsed onto her bed with a smile. Letting herself be consumed into the exhaustion from the day. She drifted off to the dream zone once again.

Tag list: @little-bluestar @redbullgivescaswings @stackofrandomstuff @meismu @maskedpainter @nyx-in-line @iamabrownfox @m0chik0furan @jjmjjktth

#maribat #batfamily chaos #Plagg is proud of Mari's Chaos #Cassandra Cain mentally adopts Marinette #Cass is now Mari's sister #cause she said so #damian x marinette #daminette #soulmate marinette #soulmate damian #secret soulmate #romantic soulmates #secret relationship #secret dreams

405 notes · View notes

marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Making Memories: Ch. 10

Day 10: Scars and Darken

AO3

Marinette sits straight up in bed, gasping for air as she tries to reground herself to reality. Clutching her sheets, she looks around the room, her chest pounding as the darkness closes in on her. She reaches over and quickly flips on the lamp on her bedside table to try and chase away the shapes she saw in the darkness around her. The ones that looked like shadows- shadows of her biggest fears. Letting out a quiet sob, she pulls her knees to her chest and buries her face into her folded arms, hoping she would cry soft enough that it wouldn’t wake up anyone else. She didn’t want anyone else to worry about her.

The thing about being killed, watching your city die, watching your best friend turn into a supervillain, almost being killed by the same psycho who killed your brother- things like that leave scars. Not physical scars that people can see and ask questions about. Which is a blessing, because she didn’t want people to see what felt like giant scars- they’d look at her differently. But with physical scars, you can see them heal. You can watch as they fade away, becoming almost unnoticeable. You couldn’t watch mental scars heal. Couldn’t even see the beginning of the process. Made it hard to know if things were really getting better or not.

Letting out one last, shaky breath, Marinette pushes the covers off, sliding out of her bed and shivering as her bare feet come in contact with the cold floor. Slipping on a pair of fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies she’d taken, she decides to take a walk around the manor- maybe do some stress baking. Glancing at the time on her phone, she quickly calculates the time difference and decides to call her parents instead of baking. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she breathes a sigh of relief that no one else was in there. It was far enough away from the other rooms in the house, that she would hopefully not wake up anybody else. Hitting the call button, she only has to wait a few minutes before her Maman and Papa answer, smiles on their faces.

“Marinette! How have you been, sweetheart? Just texting isn’t the same.” Her Maman says. Marinette barely represses a wince. She hadn’t video called her parents since before the Joker thing- the still healing bruises would’ve been difficult to lie away. And if her parents knew the truth….she was afraid they’d never let her see the other half of her family again.

“Hi, Maman. I’ve been...tired, lately.” She admits, giving her parents a small smile. Her Papa chuckles.

“Well I’d think so. It’s- hmm, three in the morning in Gotham?” He teases, though the worry was clear in his face. Marinette laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Yeah, I- well...nightmares.” She says, knowing that her parents will automatically think of the akuma war, and the times she was caught up as a civilian. They won’t think about the battles she’d nearly lost, the bodies she’d had to move, the torture she’d lived through a mere month ago. Her parents’ faces both soften as they nod in understanding. Nightmares were one of the most common side effects from Hawkmoth’s reign.

“You really should try to go back to sleep. Especially since you just got over being so sick.” Her Maman says gently. Marinette sighs, but nods. She knew that she should sleep. It was a toss up if that would actually happen or not.

“Okay. I’m gonna go guys, thanks for listening.” She says, trying not to let them see how much she doesn’t want to leave. How much she doesn’t want to try to go back to sleep. They both say a quick goodbye and hang up. She doesn’t move, just stares at her phone until it times out and goes dark. She plays with the idea of calling Adrien, but quickly decides against it. They still talked, occasionally, but she hadn’t kept him updated about things in Gotham. Meaning he had no idea about the Joker. Or the fact that she was still having nightmares of him turning into a supervillain version of himself and murdering the entire world. It was weird. Her entire world used to revolve around Adrien and his schedule and then one day- it just stopped. She no longer knew where he was at every moment of the day, and if she was honest, she didn’t care. Sure, she still cared about her friend, but she didn’t need to know everything that he was doing. Harley had called it growth, when she brought it up in one of their sessions. Apparently despite the fact that she completely believed she’d been in love with him, she’d done it way wrong. It was actually very harmful, and not a healthy start to any kind of relationship.

Once she decides not to call Adrien, she sighs, continuing her staring contest with the darkened phone. Sitting in the kitchen, alone with her back towards a window, makes her skin start to itch. Shuddering, she stands to go back to her room, when the kitchen door is pushed open. She blinks as Tim walks in, (probably empty) cup in one hand as he tiredly rubs his face with the other. He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out to pour more coffee into his cup.

“Stupid contracts with that slimy- Mars? What’re you doing up?” He asks, pausing his cup halfway to his mouth. She shrugs, and he frowns. “Nightmares?” He asks. She huffs.

“Yes. And I hate it because I shouldn’t still be having these stupid ass nightmares almost every night and at this point, I’m just so tired and I don’t even know what to do. I want to sleep, I want to go to sleep and wake up not feeling more exhausted than when I went to sleep, but I can’t. And I’m just so tired.” Marinette rants, her voice breaking. She huffs, angrily wiping her tears away. “Sorry.” She adds, refusing to make eye contact. Every time she had a stupid breakdown like this, it made her feel awful. She was supposed to be a hero, she wasn’t supposed to break down like this.

“Wanna come work on a cold case with me? No stakes, just mindlessly sorting through facts and evidence.” Tim offers, (thankfully) ignoring her little rant. She risks glancing up, not seeing the pity or disgust she’d expected.

“That actually sounds perfect.” She sighs, quickly grabbing a cup and filling it with coffee before following her brother, thankful to have a reason to not try and go back to sleep.

---

Marinette lets out a laugh, jumping from roof to roof. She’d been ‘Poppy’ for almost two weeks, and somehow, she’d managed to avoid all of the Bats. Even Jay. If she had to guess, one of the Kwamis was doing something. Tikki with their luck, or maybe Trixx was making an illusion of Marinette at home. Though, nothing catastrophic had happened. So maybe she really was just that lucky. Just as that thought runs through her head, she missteps and crashes through a skylight with a scream. Landing roughly on the metal catwalk in the building she’d been running over moments ago, she lets out a gasp, trying to catch her breath again.

“Poppy, sweetie, answer me.” Harley’s panicked voice sounds through the comm. Marinette coughs twice, trying to get enough air to answer.

“Sorry, ‘m fine. Fell through a skylight.” She mutters, smiling fondly at Harley’s exasperated huff.

“You are not going more than five feet away from me next time, young lady. Your mom is going to have my head!” She cries. Marinette just snorts, waving as she sees shadows on the skylight.

“You’re fast.” Marinette remarks into the comm.

“I’m not there.” Harley says, making Marinette’s blood run cold. The other Sirens didn’t technically know that Harley and Marinette were out for a run. Selina was definitely supposed to be on patrol with- oh god. It’s definitely a bat. And she’d just waved. Oh god, she’s so grounded. Pushing herself up to her feet, Marinette gives a two fingered salute to her dad as he drops down onto the catwalk.

“Am I right in assuming you are ‘Poppy’?” He asks, his voice gruff. But beneath it, she could hear the clear frustration in his voice. She sucks in her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. Her mom had told her that she’d been giving her dad the runaround every time he asked about her new Siren alter ego. Apparently, he still had no idea it was Marinette. She definitely didn’t want to mess that up now. Instead of talking, she nods, giving a quick thumbs up.

“Poppy? I’m almost there. Are you okay, kiddo?” Harley’s voice cuts through her comm. Marinette winces, not wanting to talk in front of her dad. That would definitely give her away.

“Poppy? Why didn’t I know you were going on a run tonight?” Selina asks, dropping down next to her dad. Well crap. Marinette winces, before shrugging innocently. “Oh don’t you give me that, young lady. Where’s Harley? Or Ivy?”

“Right here, kitty. Take a breather- I was behind her the whole time.” Harley says, dropping in and holding her hands up placatingly.

“Sure, then why the hell did she fall through a skylight?” Selina asks, arms crossed.

“Have you ever tried to keep up with this kid? It’s impossible.” Harley reminds her. “I was super close though. She was barely out of sight when she fell.”

“She’s still supposed to text the group chat when she’s going out.” Selina huffs. Marinette sighs, wanting nothing more than to reassure her mom that she’s okay, and that she was okay (prior to the whole, falling through a skylight thing).

“And now she knows how pissed you’ll be if she forgets. Listen, kid needed a break. It’s been a rough couple of days.” Harley says, alluding to their most recent therapy session. Marinette had ended the session a huge mess, crying and panicking until she passed out in her bonus mom’s arms. Not exactly a fun experience. Her bonus mom pinches the bridge of her nose, before sighing.

“Fine. But we are talking about this the next time you come to the apartment.” She says. Her dad clears his throat, obviously done letting everyone else talk over him.

“That won’t be necessary.” He says, making Marinette frown. What? “You can talk to her on your way home. Since she’s not cleared for the field yet.” He adds. Marinette groans.

“How’d you figure out it was me?” She asks, pouting even though he can’t see her mouth. Seriously, how? She hadn’t even said anything.

“It was a combination of your body language and-”

“Oh, come on B, it definitely wasn’t that.” She complains. She knew better than to call him ‘dad’ while they were masked. It definitely wouldn’t end well.

“If you truly wanted to remain anonymous, you should have covered your eyes.” He says, a small smile playing on his lips. She frowns.

“My eyes? Why my eyes? I thought the bottom half of my face would be more easily identified.” Marinette says, glancing between her bonus mom, Harley, and her dad. How were her eyes so telling?

“Because they look just like your grandmother’s.” He says softly, making her heart clench. Her dad rarely ever talked about her grandparents. It was even more rare for him to talk about how much she resembled his mother. It’d been said in passing by other people in Gotham, and Alfred had made sure she had plenty of pictures to look at of the woman- but this was different, somehow. She grins, and she knows her eyes crinkle enough for everyone else to know she’s smiling.

“Really?” She asks, her voice quiet. He smiles, a weird face to see with the cowl, and nods.

“Yes.” He clears his throat, his face falling back into a stern look. “Just remember to cover your eyes next time you want to make an alter ego that I won’t figure out.” He says. She snorts.

“Sure thing, B.” She smiles, coming to a startling realization. She was standing next to her dad, who was in costume, while she was also in costume. And they were out in Gotham. For the first time since the incident. And, surprisingly, her chest didn’t tighten, the panic didn’t overwhelm her. Surprisingly, she could breathe.

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial @unoriginalmess @maribat-platonic-november

62 notes · View notes

pantsless-glowboy-stan · 3 years

Text

hero appreciation day is a feeling not constrained by time, so i present to you: an incomplete list of mira's outfits! i have so many thoughts. details/notes/reasoning under the cut. a general note: the amount of knives on her person increases exponentially as time goes on. by the end of this she has So Many knives.

top row

body type: she's never been skinny, but she definitely has less muscle mass, due to a) being often underfed for 18 years and b) not holding a sword until she was about 19. she didn't take excellent care of her hair until celestia taught her fancy braided updos and coaxed her into buying nice soaps and shampoos, hence the split ends.

rogue: very practical! there are at least four knives on her person and she is not going to tell you where they are. this outfit has probably been Through The Wringer. her aim here was something easily fixed and easily cleaned.

soulweaver: this is one of the very few things she's ever successfully woven, and tomix had to guide her through it. (this is not the shirt which got its sleeves flexed off. tomix might have actually killed her if she made sleeves just to destroy them.) i tried to combine aegis's book 1 boots and soulweaver's....umm. platforms? for the shoes. she uses this for stealth/speed, at least until she gets to book 2 and learns cryptic.

middle row

dragonlord: she didn't get this until later in book 1, but i still don't know exactly when! she used it up until she got frozen. the torso armor is silver because even i found it to be Too Much gold. the shield has draco's titan likeness on the front, but i forgot to draw that, oops. (the sword isn't based on anything, i just like Feathers.)

(technically cryptic - a non-calamity version, combined with soulweaver - should be here, but i was too lazy to draw it. maybe someday. she uses it after getting out of the ice up tooooo just before the end of the void ship? since she dropped A Good Bit of strength while in the ice, and couldn't handle her dragonlord swords yet.)

master soulweaver: she receives this from tomix sometime during the void ship's travels and, immediately upon returning home, throws it into the depths of her closet, never to be seen again. the collar is meant to echo draco's mane! it was intended to be a comfy place for them to sit, but, well...sorry tomix, if you wanted this to be worn, you should have tried Not Dying

cryptic (calamity version): she doesn't use dragonlord after draco is taken, for fear it will strain them even further. she doesn't use her spiritlooms either; after a a nasty spat with aegis about whether or not it's healthy to strain herself Quite So Hard, she refuses to touch them until draco is purified.

this outfit is also partially soulwoven - the cape and boots, specifically - but she, uh, wasn't super concerned about keeping that cape nice. she doesn't know why it tore in the shape of eyes in some places, but she throws it out and tries not to think about it.

bottom row

body type: Thick Thighs Save Lives. also those socks are soulwoven. she purchased them from some poor unsuspecting weaver, said "cool, thanks!" and made them look Like That in front of their eyes. she is now banned from buying clothes in ravenloss, which is why she had to go to danyel for the gala outfit.

gala: FANCY BITCH HOURS. she thought for half a second about wearing the master soulweaver outfit to the gala - it's appropriately fancy if she changes the colors - but immediately dismissed it because Haha No. the thought process was basically like this:

mira: no I will not wear this fancy outfit it has painful memories. let me go get a different outfit that's going to be equally uncomfortable for similar reasons

mira when the outfits are basically the same: [surprised pikachu.png]

okay i know it's not The Same but like. the sparkles, the design on the side of the pants, the rope closure. it's similar enough to have made her throat close up as soon as she saw it. she probably should have figured that it would be similar - tomix had an excellent eye for her style, and of course the headmaster of edelia would as well - but she swallows her protests, wears it to the gala, and lets it join master soulweaver in the depths of her closet afterward. (re: sword: it's aegis's emanation katana, only Bigger!)

dragonlord/master soulweaver: she uses this for The Rest of book 3! ditched the torso and leg armor for ease of movement, switched out the gauntlets for her fancy new spiritlooms, and added a nice quilted vest. not pictured: renegade-style shield, which is made with [soulweaver mumbling] and is connected to aegis. it functions as a normal shield, but it's made to absorb ice energy - she's never going to get frozen again. the sword is a mashup of the ultra omniknight blade, the dimensionally shifted blade, and also i added galaxy stuff For Fun.

i think ??? that's all?? subject to editing if i think of anything else, it's 12:30 am oops

#just realized that they are out of alignment and that is going to bother me forever but i'm too lazy to fix it #dragonfable #oc heroes #miranai the hero #hero appreciation day #original #my art

25 notes · View notes

lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

shame on you (blame on me) // ransom drysdale

↳ summary: you find out some shocking information about your fiancé that makes you question who’s to blame.

↳ request: for the prompt: i really need some angst in my life so maybe a super angsty cheating fic with ransom? - anon

↳ relationship: ransom drysdale x reader

↳ word count: 4.7k (oops)

↳ warnings: angst angst angst!, explicit smut, cheating

↳ author’s note: i love ransom and this actually made me sad - please enjoy! x

You’ve always considered yourself a fair person.

Throughout your life, you’ve been taught that you should take a step back, assess the situation you’re in, and look at it from a different angle. But as you’ve had to learn over the years, looking at too many angles can make you dizzy and as hard as you try, those scales of justice have a mind of their own and can easily tip one way or another when your back is turned to face another perspective. It’s a tedious game to play and you can’t win all the time, but for you, it’s always been enough to just try.

And try as you might, there will always be people interfering with the balance: people with ulterior motives and nefarious agendas, people who will do anything to see themselves in first place, people who want so desperately to be able to do it all. Life is an exchange, a give-and-take that you must navigate with the precision and confidence of a synchronized swimmer trying to keep up with the shadow of themselves in an ocean of doubt and self-loathing, and you find that those who only want to take and take without giving are those who, more often than not, end up alone when it’s all said and done.

But you’ve always gone out of your way to make an attempt to steer people away from going down that path, encouraging them to give more of themselves to people who deserve it and open up their hearts up to people who may change their lives. All of your friends like to joke that you have a god complex and you can’t help but agree that maybe you do.

It’s inexplicable why you feel so responsible for the lives of others; strangers, friends, family alike, you bear the weight of their choices on your back. You chalk it up to extreme empathy and your parents insist that it’s because you’re just inherently good. Maybe it’s because you feel as if since the minute you were born, the scales have been tipped in your favor. Perhaps you’re compensating for all of the privileges that you were handed because of who your parents are and what your socio-economic class is, the silver spoon that you’ve been trying to spit out of your mouth for your whole life. All you know is that you so deeply crave justice that it makes your head ache some days.

So yes, you would - modestly - consider yourself fair.

That’s why it shocked so many when you fell in love with Ransom Drysdale.

You met him at a charity fundraiser that you were hosting to build schools in less economically developed countries all over the world, an initiative that you’d been working on for years and held so dear to your heart. Your mother has been close to Joni for her entire life and knew the Thrombeys and Drysdales because of business, so when she told you that they’d be attending, you didn’t think much of it.

“Darling,” your mother calls and beckons you over, pulling you into her side with a bright smile on her face as she stands next to a group of well-dressed patrons.

When you’re standing next to her, you must be mindful of the way that the emerald green satin of your gown sweeps the floor. With a slim diamond choker wrapped around your neck and rings that cost five-figures adorning your fingers, you usually prefer to indulge in simpler pleasures but for events like these, you give into hedonism and allow your mother and stylist to spoil you. You press a barely-there kiss to your mother’s cheek as she gently holds onto you, running her nails up and down your arm comfortingly.

“Honey, these are the Drysdales. This is Linda, her husband Richard, and their son Hugh.”

You smile politely at both Linda and Richard and are about to give their son the same treatment when you feel the heat of blue flames licking up the exposed skin of your leg that peeks through the thigh-high slit in your dress. But the fire doesn’t stop there; it spreads up your stomach and lands in the valley of your breasts. A part of you wants to be angry that this man is ogling you as if you’re a piece of meat, the prey that his predator has been waiting to pounce on, but a part of you revels in it. You know that you look good - it’s no secret to anybody at this event - but to have someone unabashedly appreciate that makes your heartbeat speed up.

Since he can’t tear his eyes off of your cleavage, you take the opportunity to give Hugh a once-over of your own.

His black loafers are designer - you can tell by the way all of the little golden g’s on the velvet of his shoes are linked together - and so are his black socks, something which makes you have to physically prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. The black, grey, and white checkered pants he’s wearing hug his thighs just enough to see the shape of the muscles in his legs and the outline of his sizable length - you don’t let yourself look at that for too long. The letters on his belt match his shoes and you’re momentarily astounded at how narrow his waist is. Under a waistcoat and suit jacket that are both printed with the same pattern as his pants, he’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck that clings to his torso like a second skin. From what you’ve seen, you can assume that he’s heavily muscled underneath his clothes, and when you see his broad shoulders and big arms, you’re proven right.

Luxury virtually seeps out of his pores and it nauseates you.

But you’re intrigued nonetheless. His eyes lock on yours and you find yourself drowning, trying to swim through a choppy sea of grey and blue. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and a shy smile lifts your lips when he extends a hand out towards you.

“Nice to meet you,” his voice is deep and his jaw is squared as if he’s biting back his words. You delicately place your hand in his and marvel at the way his palm swallows yours. His skin is warm and soft and you’re close enough that you can smell notes of bergamot and cedarwood that make your usually poised stance melt.

“Likewise, Hugh,” you manage to say, overwhelmed by the charm and class of the man before you.

“Call me Ransom, sweetness; only the help calls me Hugh.”

And just like that, your rose-tinted glasses shatter and you blink hard, rescinding your hand from Ransom’s and nodding at him briefly. You can’t help but wonder how much more pretentious this son of a bitch can get, but your mother hasn’t failed to notice the way that the two of you sized each other up. So when you’re eventually walking away from the family of three, she gives you a knowing look that you’re all too familiar with, a look that makes you scoff and avoid her eyes.

“So,” she draws out the word and nudges your shoulder with hers, “he’s cute, no?”

“Mom,” you groan quietly.

“Come on now, darling, he was a very handsome boy. And I saw the way he was looking at you-”

“Sure, Mom, but did you hear him? ‘Only the help calls me Hugh’ - he’s so far up his own ass...and what kind of name is Ransom anyway?”

Your mom shrugs, the corners of her lips twitching up into a cheeky grin.

“Doesn’t matter, love - I think he’s cute and you should go speak to him. And if you don’t, who knows? He might snatch you up in that auction later tonight.”

And he did. Every year at the benefit, you auction yourself off for a night out which you only continue to do because it proves to be an extremely valuable source of income for your charity. You’re standing up in the center of that stage, the host for the night yelling out the bids for the auction, and through the blinding lights, you’re able to see white signs flying up with ridiculously high amounts of money printed on them. You’re sure that this is almost over when you see fifty-thousand dollars stuck up in the air, but then the host says:

“One-hundred-thousand dollars to the gentleman in the checkered suit right over there!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing and a part of you hopes that it’s not Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you haven’t seen anybody else wearing such a distinctive suit; your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Even in the relative darkness, you meet the blazing blue of his eyes with an inaudible gasp and the sly smirk on his lips makes you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop a smile of your own from spreading on your face.

So when he wins a night of your time for one-hundred-thousand dollars and he leads you off the stage with a large hand on the small of your back, you can’t even bring yourself to be a little irritated at the way he leans into your body to whisper “gotcha” teasingly in your ear because he does have you.

Fair and square.

---

But you don’t know how you’ve ended up here. Over three years and one marriage proposal later, you’re sitting here pitifully with your head in your hands because you can’t believe that this is what it’s come to. You’ve tried many times over the past few hours to cease the incessant shaking of your hands but it’s relentless, your anxiety and distress running through your veins and seeping through your bones.

The last four hours of your life have uprooted everything that you’ve ever believed in, everything you thought you knew about fate and order and love because it’s all a fucking mess. When Harlan handed you the flash drive, he warned you that you should only look at it if you think that you’re ready to accept that your reality will be flipped on its head and the expectations that you’ve allowed yourself to build up so carefully like tiny little brick towers will not only be knocked over, but destroyed beyond repair.

You brushed him off jovially, thinking he was just being overly dramatic like he usually is, because you and Ransom had just gotten back from tasting wedding cakes and you were in your own little bubble of serenity. With a brief kiss on his cheek, you floated out of the room on cloud nine as he watched you leave with deep despair in his eyes that you were too distracted to notice.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have just thrown caution to the wind and plugged the memory stick into your laptop without really thinking about it first; you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way that your heart plummeted into your stomach at the images of your fiancé with his arms wrapped around a slew of different women.

Something inside of you immediately wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they caught him from a bad angle, maybe the other women were the ones who initiated it. But you backtracked because who are you to blame anybody else except for Ransom? That wouldn’t be fair and a part of your brain knows that you have to come to terms with the fact that he’s more like his father than he would like to admit.

You still don’t know why you kept looking, continued to scroll through the pictures even though looking at your soon-to-be-husband’s lips on other women made you feel as if you were going to throw up your breakfast all over your laptop. The more that you stared at the candid photos, the more you realized that the actual infidelity in itself hurt, but what’s even more painful is the cold look in his eyes when he’s with them.

They didn’t mean anything to him yet he still did it, and that’s what gets you.

Maybe you deserve this: maybe it was always meant to end up like this. It’s hard not to think that this could be the way that this relationship was always meant to pan out, that maybe this is fate balancing out those scales. You knew from the moment you met him that you’d have your work cut out for you with Ransom, but you were never one to back away from a challenge. And it wasn’t as if you were actively trying to change him but sooner or later, Linda came to you with praises spilling from her lips because she couldn’t believe who her son had become within the first year of meeting you. He’d transformed right in front of your eyes, and it filled you with a glowing sense of pride to see how much more caring and open and honest he was.

Early in the relationship, you’d wanted to establish that you wouldn’t treat him like a charity case. Everyone is flawed to some extent, sure, but there are behaviors that you will always find inexcusable, and the two of you had sat down and laid them out. You had a feeling that you would need to set some ground rules with Ransom and he was surprisingly lenient, establishing his own terms and conditions in return.

The two of you had laughed hard about it later on because it all sounded like some kind of business deal or contract.

You could laugh about it now too, especially since the number one most important item on both of your lists was to remain faithful. As a couple, you think that you have a very direct form of communication. Ransom is not one to hold back his discontent and frankly, neither are you. Neither of you is afraid to argue and you do it often, but it’s never grown into anything more intense than a few hours of painful silence and is always resolved before you fall asleep.

You’d always thought that if you ever found yourself in a situation like this one, you wouldn’t be able to forgive your significant other. But never in your life have you felt such an intense connection to another human; your souls have intertwined so intricately that you don’t know whether or not you’re willing to jeopardize that.

“Princess?”

His voice echoes through your shared house and you can hear him hang up his coat, cursing as he kicks his shoes off and pads up the stairs. He stops outside the open door to your bedroom, spying the back of your open laptop and your still body lying on your stomach with your face turned away from him.

“Babe, you’re gonna flip your shit when I show you what I found today,” he drops the bags in his hand and walks around the king-size to press a kiss to the top of your head. You can pinpoint the exact moment when he realizes that something’s wrong. He freezes in place, feet seemingly rooted to the ground when he gets a good look at your face. The puffiness of your eyes, your wet lashes, and the tear streaks down your cheeks all alert him that something’s not quite right.

That’s when he sees it.

The last picture that you looked at was by far the worst. It shows him balls deep in a woman who you actually know fairly well because she’s worked closely with both you and Ransom for years on a number of your projects. She was initially hired as his assistant but soon evolved into something more like a friend to your family and his alike. You decide that it’s definitely worse when it’s someone you know.

The room goes entirely silent because the universe has pressed pause on this moment, all so he can fully realize the gravity of the situation.

“Baby, let me explain-”

“I actually don’t think I want you to, Ransom,” you respond tiredly, your voice raspy from lack of use and your head heavy as you sit up in your bed. You pull your knees into your chest as you run a hand over your face to wipe away any leftover tears.

Ransom flinches and you know it’s because you’ve called him by his name. With you, it’s usually baby or sweetheart or honey but not this time. He wants so badly to be your love again but the light in your eyes has gone out and he doesn’t know whether or not that’s even possible anymore.

You’re exhausted more than anything else. You’ve cried all your tears and are ready to never think about this ever again, but he’s sitting in front of you looking like a kicked puppy and you know that you need to be fair and give him a chance to explain himself. That’s what you’d want.

“Please, sweetheart, let me,” he begs, eyes searching yours and hand cautiously hovering right over your jaw, not quite touching but the heat emanating from his palm is enough to make you tear up again. It’s a small comfort that you know you’re going to miss.

Nodding, you hastily place your hand over his, pressing it to your face while a sob escapes your lips. He wraps both his arms around your waist as you curl in on yourself and sink into his body, taking deep breaths even though your nose is being assaulted with the familiar scent of oak and vanilla that makes you long for a simpler time.

There’s a drawn-out pause before he starts speaking, his chin resting on the top of your head as he mulls over his words.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he says for about a minute, letting the words hang in the air while the only sound in the room is that of your loud sniffles.

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetness.”

He’s always called you that: sweetness. He once told you that you’re like honey, soft and sweeter than anything he’s ever had the pleasure of loving, and then laughed when you returned from work that night with a bag of those pastries you like from the bakery up the street. He could never stomach them no matter how hard he tried, but you always thought that was hilarious because he inhales those biscoff cookies like air.

But you don’t feel very sweet right now as he spews apologies and excuses, spinning you sugar-coated lies and candied falsehoods with the confidence of a practiced storyteller. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue that you want so badly to spit out, tell him what you really think of him in this moment and how he’s not the man that you came to know. It was foolish of you to think he’d changed.

And when once again, quiet falls over your room in the light of the mid-afternoon, you only nod again, choosing to reserve your words for when you have something to say. Because as of right now, that sour taste still lingers on your tongue but you have no desire to rid yourself of it any longer. You’ll let it stay, allow it to fester as a reminder that you’ve been blind and naive but never again.

It ends here.

Ransom starts to stir noticeably when you don’t say anything, playing with the cotton of your shirt and your limp fingers. When you hear him speak next, something’s changed in his tone and you can feel the bass in his voice through his chest.

“Y/N, baby, please say something- anything. Scream, yell at me, just fucking do something, babe: you’re killing me here.”

You scoff at the notion of you killing him because the irony of it is too funny to resist. But you decide to put him out of his misery, finally blinking up at him and meeting his eyes. They’re filled to the brim with cold rain that sends a chill down your back, dark and stormy and wet like the English countryside and you can almost smell the petrichor.

“Can we just go back to before?”

Your voice is cracking and your request is simple, but it’s enough for the few tears brimming in Ransom’s eyes to spill over onto his cheeks. You’ve only seen him cry twice before and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him like this, so open and more vulnerable than he’s allowed himself to be with anyone else. He’s already nodding rapidly but you’re not done.

“Can we go back, just for a little while? I just-”

You have to pause because the claws of despair are raking your skin as it crawls up your throat.

“I just want it to be like before. I love you so much that it hurts and I just want it to be like before.”

He’s nodding eagerly now and his lips are already on yours, anchoring you to him because your love’s not enough to do so anymore. You push yourself up onto your knees so that you can grab his face between your hands, the face that you love so hard that it’s suffocating you. He steals your breath when he slips his tongue into your mouth and you feel lightheaded when his big hands slide underneath your shirt. Guilt plagues your thoughts but you push that aside for now: perhaps because it’s time for you to be selfish and you’ll allow yourself this, perhaps because you’d rather focus on the way that he tastes like cinnamon and the salt of your combined tears and he feels like home.

The moment he wraps his arms around you to push you onto your back, you lean further into him because you want him as close to you as possible, trying desperately to become a part of him once more. The kisses he plants on you are like sugar and you want to inject them so that maybe you can be his sweetness again. The way your lips move in tandem makes your heart soar because it’s always been so easy - except when it’s not.

Your shirt is thrown across the room, leaving you in only your panties and almost completely bare underneath his gaze. He stares at you reverently, silently worshipping you like a Madonna as rivers of tears pour from your eyes. His lips wrap around one of your peaked buds earnestly, his fingers rolling the other gently between them. The shock of pleasure that shoots through you almost makes you cry harder but you just bury your fingers in his hair, his tears hot on your soft skin. After he goes to give your other nipple the same attention, you pull him back to your lips. Without hesitation, he strips himself of his cable knit and shirt together, tossing them off the bed while you help him undo his belt. No words are exchanged when he kicks his pants off and your hand slips into his boxer briefs to stroke his hard length heavy in your hand because there’s nothing to say.

He pulls his underwear off too and after he does, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of yours and strips you entirely. You take a beat just to admire each other, chests heaving and eyes glassy. Ransom’s face is flushed and you’re sure that your eyes are red but you’re still as beautiful to each other as you’ve always been.

He buries his face in your neck and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Your nipples are pressed against his muscled chest as you just lay there, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. When he slips himself into your wet heat, the stretch of his thick cock lights your body on fire and you cry out. He rocks back and forth until he’s fully sheathed, and his entire body shakes with a sob when the two of you are completely joined together.

Your souls have fallen out of step but in this moment, they’re dancing again.

The rolling of his hips against yours is slow as he takes his time tearing you apart, molding you to his body because he doesn’t want to let you go either. He drinks in the sound of your whimpers like ice water while his body overheats with passion and when your hand tightly grips the hair at the nape of his neck, he picks up the pace, rutting into you with unbridled ardor and whispering your name like a prayer. With his lips buried in your skin, you can’t quite make out the muffled sounds of his cries until he moves them right next to your ear.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I love you.”

And he says it over and over again and each time he does, it becomes more broken and you can feel the agony weighing down his voice. You’re so close to the edge and you can feel he is too, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he reaches down to rub at your clit so that you can finish at the same time.

Broken pleas fall from your lips, a litany of “please, please, please” as he gives you exactly what he knows you need. Your nails rake up and down his back as he moves and his breath hitches. What you don’t expect is for him to pull away from your shoulder and prop himself up on his forearms to stare you dead in the eyes. You can’t handle the intensity so you try to avert your gaze, but he whines deep in his throat.

“Please, baby, please look at me - I love you, please,” he urges you tearfully, trying to catch your darting eyes.

Once your stare reluctantly locks back onto his, he laughs wetly, his quivering lips curving into a weak smile as he kisses your cheek sweetly. The sentimentality of it all is what pushes you over the edge, your entire body shaking with the aftershocks of your release and the sobs that continue to wrack your chest. A second later, Ransom stills his movements, moaning quietly as he spills into you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, crying and breathing each other’s air as the dance of your souls starts to come to an end. You wonder what it’d be like if this was different, if you were weeping with happiness instead of sorrow.

To halt that train of thought in its tracks, you extricate yourself from your fiancé and lock yourself in the ensuite.

When you come back out, Ransom is underneath the covers, eyes trained on you. You don’t say anything but you do crawl back into bed next to him, allowing him to smother you with kisses that usually make you giggle and pull you deep into his chest.

Ransom takes a breath before he speaks. “Stay. Please, sweetness. Don’t go - I want you to be here when I wake up.”

You just nod, combing your fingers through his hair as you can see his eyes start to get heavy.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here.”

---

It’s 1:22 a.m and you know you can’t stay.

Ransom’s always been a deep sleeper and you’re lucky to have woken up in a moment when he’s not holding you in a vice-like grip. You flip back the covers and head to your closet, grabbing the nearest articles of clothing that you realize too late belong to the snoring man in your bed.

It doesn’t even matter anymore. After putting them on, you grab a duffle bag from the bottom of your closet and start pulling clothes from your side of the wardrobe off of hangers, stuffing as much as you can into the bag before sliding the zipper across.

You’re on your way out but you can’t resist peeking over your shoulder to ensure that Ransom’s still asleep, and you can’t help the small smile on your lips when you see that he’s still knocked out, mouth wide open with an arm hanging off the bed. Your head pounds from all the crying you’ve been doing but a burst of glee numbs the pain at the sight of the man-child in front of you. You’re a breath away from dropping your bag and slipping back into bed with him, your baby, your honey, your sweetheart.

But you don’t because he doesn’t deserve that and you deserve some time for you. And as the door clicks behind you, you can’t help but think that this is only fair.

tagged: @literaturefeen @stargazingfangirl18 @evnscvll @donutloverxo @ambthegamer @oliviamaries @maynay43 @i-lie-here-charmed @thinkaboutmara @x-abi-sharp-x @lady-pswrld @bval-1 @coffeebooksandfandom @call-me-baby-gir1 @la-cey

join my taglist!

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale headcanon #ransom drysdale blurb #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom x y/n #ransom drysdale headcanons #ransom drysdale blurbs #ransom drysdale fics #knives out fanfic #ransom drysdale fic

846 notes · View notes