#belated‚ but I only read of his passing this evening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shu-porang-porang · 3 months

Text

Cat In Heat

You got him a little surprise!

(sequel: Bunny In Heat)

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Very Explicit!

Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: oral, fingering, butt plug, spanking, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), (I think that's enough! let's keep some elements of surprise!)

Word count: 2.8 k

You received a text from Minho: “Hey baby, I’m gonna hit the gym and grab a bite with Jisung next.”

He arrived at 4 a.m. so you didn’t expect him to go to the gym first thing when he woke up, but apparently that’s what he’s gonna do. He was away for only 3 days but you missed him so much it was gnawing at your every fiber. Last night you only noticed his arrival when the mattress dipped next to you and then he spooned you. You tried to fight your sleep weary eyes and wake up to greet him properly but his warmth and the comfort of his presence lulled you back to sleep seconds later. When you woke up this morning, leaving the bed was the hardest thing, you just wanted to stay tangled up with his limbs but you had to leave for work. You slowly slipped out the bed, trying to not wake him up in the process, then placed the softest kiss on his temple, you couldn’t wait to get back and feast on his lips later.

You can’t wait for this work day to be over. Your mind is somewhere else entirely, you’re thinking of the little gift you prepared for him. Two days ago was Valentines Day and he was away. Since it was your first valentine together, you were bummed that you couldn’t spend it with him, but you knew what you got yourself into when you started dating a very busy idol, so you put up a front and did your best to assure him it didn’t matter and you weren’t upset. There’s no point in making a fuss about it anyway, it’s not like they would cancel their plans because you wanted to be with your boyfriend. He said he’d make it up to you later and you decided you can plan a belated valentine when he’s back. Little did he know, you’ve been preparing something for him for weeks. You just can’t decide on the right time to give it to him.

You’re done for the day and there’s nothing else for you to do at work, you ask your boss if you could leave earlier and he says yes. So, you rush to your shared apartment. You have some time before he’s home so you decide to unpack his suitcase. As you’re going through his stuff, you find a box of chocolate, you can’t read the Japanese written all over it, but there’s no doubt it’s chocolate. He always brings you some souvenir so without giving it much thought, you open the box and try one. Well, it’s nothing special, just descent chocolate. Not every souvenir has to be something unique, right? You place it on the drawer and go back to your task at hand.

As time passes by, you start to feel impatient and on edge. It’s like when you have lots of caffein and you get jittery, except that it’s more of a warm feeling, it settles deep in your stomach. It’s not exactly uncomfortable but you’re not sure what’s causing it so you decide to distract yourself by checking the little surprise you got for Minho. You take out the stuff you hid in the back of your bottom drawer and sprawl them out on the bed. It’s an outfit you’ve put together. White and pink lingerie, stockings, garters, a chocker, and few other accessories, but the most exciting parts of the ensemble are the fluffy cat ears and tail. You pick up the tail, feel the weight of the plug attached to it. It was the last item you got and you haven’t come around to try it yet. Suddenly you worry you won’t be able to wear it. What if you can’t get used to it and have to take it off? You don’t know when you’re gonna give him his gift, but you decide to try it now that you’re alone and see if you can handle it.

You take your pants and panties off, hold the tail in your hand, not sure how to go about it. You poke the tip of the shiny plug to your hole but you stop as you can’t get it in even the slightest. Idiot! You need to prepare with lube first! Your hands fidget through the drawer with excitement in search for the lube you bought. You picked a very specific flavor, caramel, hoping it would taste similar to pudding! Too bad they didn’t have a pudding flavor! You lather a finger up and try again. It’s really uncomfortable but you wanna do it for him and you will do it. It’s a weird feeling, having a finger up your butt, and you think there’s no way it’s gonna get loose enough for the plug to fit in but you don’t give up. The warm feeling in your stomach from earlier encourages you to keep going. You move that finger around till you feel less resistance, then you take it out to lube up two fingers this time. You don’t wanna get too loose or the plug will fall out? Is that even a thing? You don’t know, so you decide to give the plug a try. You carefully pour lube on the plug, you don’t wanna ruin the fur, then you push it in and it fits perfectly! You clench and unclench your sphincter a few times, testing how it feels, then you stand up and check yourself in the mirror.

Watching the tail dangling from between your butt cheeks turns you on instantly. You immediately rid yourself of the rest of your clothes to put all the parts of the ensemble on. You pose in front of the mirror. You spend some time putting on a light cute makeup while enjoying a second piece of chocolate, then take another look at your entire outfit. Wow! You look so fuckable!! If only Minho got home sooner. You take a photo of your thigh hugged tightly by the stockings and the garter and send it to him along with: “Are you really gonna hang out with that stupid Ji while I’m waiting for you like this?”

A few seconds later you receive a text from him: “On my way, be there in 10 minutes”

He finally gets home. He’s heart been racing since he laid eyes on that photo and he’s been sporting a semi-hard cock all along. Good thing his oversized hoodie covered it up. He opens the door to the apartment to find you stretched out on the couch, practically humping a cushion.

“Holy fuck! What’s gotten into you today?” He says as he approaches you in disbelief. His eyes scanning your outfit and becoming wide in shock as he notices the tail poking from under the mini skirt covering your ass.

“I’m just being hot for my boyfriend, is that wrong?” You say, stretching like a cat and raising your ass in the air. The skirt rides up and he sees that the tail isn’t a strap on or attached to the skirt.

He kneels next to the couch, running a hand up your thigh till it reaches where the tail inserts your body. He gives the plug an experimental push that draws a whimper from you.

“Kitty’s in heat, huh? What a naughty lil kitty. I’ll take care of you, pussy cat.” His hand comes in contact with your drenching pussy as he says the last word. You mewl in need. Your skin is on fire and his touch feels too good to be true. You can’t think straight, all you know is that you need him next to you, on you, in you, you just want him to take you right then and there.

He picks you up effortlessly and carries you to the bedroom, plops you on the bed and causes the plug to go a bit deeper, drawing a hiss from you. You sit up and get on your knees, reaching for his hand to drag him to bed.

“Easy baby, what’s the rush?” He says as his free hand is unbuttoning his shirt. Despite your needy erratic movements, he’s so calm, mostly just enjoying the view of your eagerness.

As soon as he gets on the bed, you reach to unbuckle his belt. He watches you in silence, the way your dainty fingers struggle with the belt and his waistband. You pull his pants and boxers down and he eases out of them. His cock springs free and you don’t hesitate to attach your lips to it. Usually it’s not how things go, you haven’t even kissed him once since he arrived, but your head is filled with carnal desires and you don’t need foreplay to get in the mood.

He leans back on his elbows as your head bobs up and down on his member, bringing it to life fast. You lick a fat stripe from the base to the top, your tongue teases the head with playful licks, his low grunts are melody to your ears. Precum pearls on the tip and you collect it all with your tongue. You wrap your lips around the tip again and give it a few sucks. He sits back up to stop you.

“I won’t last long if you keep that up.” he lifts your chin up, and fixes your cat ear headpiece “Aigoo! What a dirty little kitty.” He coos at you with his eyes fixed on your lips, all swollen and red, so kissable. You get the cue and move closer, clashing your lips. Kissing him after days feels like you’ve been deprived of oxygen and you can finally breathe. You straddle him, your fingers in his soft locks, his hands around your shoulders, your chests heave against one another. You push him on his back as you deepen the kiss, you hungrily suck on his tongue and pull his lips between your teeth. You only stop when your lungs are burning. You hide your face in his neck as you’re gasping for air, your core finding a rhyme to ride his thigh. You moan out his name at the new found friction. You’re not wearing any panties; you thought it wouldn’t be practical with a plug up your butt. Your slick coats his muscular thigh.

“Is kitty having a good time?”

“…mmh” you can’t form words, your brain already signed off and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You suck a spot under his ear while his hand reaches down to squeeze your butt cheek under the skirt.

“Then do me a favor and sit that pretty pussy down on my face.”

You don’t hesitate to follow his order. His tongue skillfully laps at your wet core, his nose nudges your clit. You try not to move but you have no control over your body anymore. Your hips move on their own, riding his face, so he gives your ass a slap as a warning. A loud squeak escapes your lips. You do your best to behave but how can you when now he’s sucking on your clit, while hooking a finger inside you and toying with the plug at the same time. He stops all stimulations at once when he realizes your close.

“…Min…… please”

“Naughty kitties don’t get to come so easily. Now get on fours”

You comply, what else would you do? You’d jump off a cliff if he told you so. You wiggle your ass to his face as he’s closely observing where the plug disappears inside you. Your outfit’s still intact but it’s not gonna last long. He pulls the plug out without warning and replaces it with his tongue. Instantly you hear his satisfied groan, he’s probably enjoying your choice of lubricant. You push back on his face, needing more friction. He brings a hand to rub around your clit while his teeth graze your rim. Your arousal drips shamelessly on the sheets, it’s like a leaky faucet, that’s how good he’s having you now. You never even imagined having your asshole eaten would feel good, something’s really gotten into you. He stops his ministrations just as you’re starting to feel the orgasm build up for the second time. He steps back to admire the view before shoving the plug back in and give you new instructions.

“Close your thighs and press them tight for me princess.”

You look back and see him aligning his oozing cock.

“Just… fuck me… already”

“Too soon…” he forcefully shoves his cock in the small gap between your thighs “…ughhh….for that”

After a few thrusts, he’s fully covered in your juices so he picks up the pace as it slides easier. His member rubs on your clit with every thrust but it’s nowhere near enough to get you off. He gives you a slap that makes you press your thighs harder, so he gives you another, and another, and another. You press your head to the pillow to muffle your yelps. You think you might be reaching a climax this time but no. He takes the plug out and flips you around. This time you don’t just complain with words, but tears are running down your face. You’re a mess.

“Oh little kitty, why the tears? Was I too harsh with my sweet angel?” he says as he towers over you and leans to kiss your tears away.

“No…. just….wanna cum”

“You will baby. You will”

He kisses your face some more and moves down to your neck and chest. He yanks your frilly chocker with his teeth and throws it on the bed, so he can properly kiss and mark your neck. Then he unhooks the lacy matching bra and discards it somewhere else in the room. His hands come in contact with your soft breasts, his thumbs rub your nipples simultaneously and your lips part in a whimper.

“My gorgeous lil kitty” he admires as he continues to knead your breasts and then dips to take one pebbled nipple between his teeth. His tongue twirls around it and he closes his lips on it to suck. His hand travels south to slip between your folds and find your entrance. He has two fingers inside you, with his thumb pressing down on your clit. You buck your hips up to his touch. He lets go of your nipple and comes back up to kiss your lips with his fingers still inside you. You’re so lost in the hot sloppy kiss that before you know it, his dick takes the place of his fingers in you. Fucking finally!

You bite his shoulder as he bottoms out in one go and the stretch overwhelms you. He moans in your ear from your delicious tightness.

“Please….Move baby” you plead and he obeys. Caging you between his hands on either side of your head, he takes his sweet time with slow thrusts. He pushes your thighs to your chest and throws your legs over his shoulders. With this new angle he reaches deep inside, hitting your cervix with every single thrust. It doesn’t take you long to feel the knot in your stomach again for the… you don’t even know how many times he got you there and left you unfulfilled. You tightly hold onto him as his thrusts get faster.

“ugh… gonna…. c..cum…”

“Cum for me… angel” he kisses your parted lips, muffling your moans, as your orgasm finally washes over you. He reaches a hand down to pinch your clit, your entire body jolts with each pinch as you’re riding out your orgasm. It’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had, well, you’d say that about every orgasm with him, but this one really hits different. Your fluttering walls around him milk him dry and a string of curses leaves his lips as he joins you. He rides his climax, still thrusting into you until your mixed cum forms a ring around his base.

He pulls out and falls on top of you, you don’t mind the weight, you’re too tired to care anyway and he feels like a heavy blanket, you don’t even care about your sticky bodies or sheets. You think you could die happy at this moment but he gets up to clean you before you drift off to sleep. He takes a good look at your fucked out state “Gosh! Baby you’re so hot. I love you so much”. You smile with your eyes closed “love you too”. You’re almost entering dreamland when he startles you:

“Fuck! Baby you ate these chocolates?” He found the open box of chocolates you left on the drawer.

“..mhmm”

“Did you know these were aphrodisiacs?”

“WHAT?” suddenly you’re fully awake, your eyes darting towards his direction.

“I wanted to try them together.” He says with an evident pout on his face.

“There’s still plenty left bunny boy.”

708 notes · View notes

1-800-kami · 5 months

Text

a belated holiday drabble but... imagine doing a gift swap with GOJO SATORU except he pulls the biggest surprise card on you at the end.

"okay... favorite color!" gojo's on the opposite end of the table, reading off the list of gift categories you had to get each other on his phone. you both put each other's gifts on the table at the same time: he got you a fluffy blanket of your favorite color, and you got him a pair of reindeer socks adorned with satoru's favorite.

"i'm hogging this blanket for myself, baby." you tease, and your boyfriend laughs, but it's not that usual carefree laugh that you often hear from satoru. this laugh was shaky—like he was nervous about something. you brush it off for now, but keep his nervousness in the back of your mind.

“…something that reminds you of them." he's reading off the next category, and you gently push the other gifts aside to put the new ones on the table. you simultaneously place the gifts, and he smiles at what you got him: kikifuku. this surprises you, because normally, satoru'd be bouncing off the walls at just the mere mention of mochi.

your worry is replaced with excitement as you see the gift satoru had gotten for you: a pack of the snacks you'd been craving for a while. "you know me so well."

"how could i not?" he says with a cheeky grin, and satoru looks at his phone, exhaling shakily at the final category. it's now or never. "something to do together."

"i didn't really know what to do for this category..." you sheepily mumble, pulling out a puzzle set and placing it on the table full of gifts. "i hope this is okay-"

you're stunned into silence as satoru wordlessly places his gift on the table. this idea certainly was out of the picture, but you're not complaining.

an engagement ring.

you let out a watery laugh as you stare at the glittering diamonds, soon to be on your fingers. so this was why your boyfriend—or should you say fiance? —was so nervous. you're fighting the urge to walk across the table to attack satoru with kisses. "when i first saw this category, i knew it was too good to pass up, because of course i want to spend my entire life together with you. you're the only person i'm willing to share my kikufuku with—and i'm perfectly okay with you hogging the blanket even though i'm freezing my ass off in the winter. id also love to do that puzzle together, baby.

i could talk for hours on end, but what im saying is that i love you. i love you so much, and i want to spend the rest of my life with you until we're both grey and old and we have little grandchildren running around our house. i’m so nervous right now, you don’t even know, but, y/n l/n…..

will you marry me?"

#THIS WAS BASED OFF AN INSTA REEL I SAW #i literally squealed when i watched it #and was like #this is so satoru coded #teehee #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff

410 notes · View notes

lysenfeu · 11 months

Text

It's His Birthday

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5.7k

Pairing: Adrian Chase x F!Reader

Summary: The 11th Street kids take Adrian out to celebrate for his birthday and try to set him up with the cute bartender.

Content: Alcohol Use, Flirting, Fluff, Smut (Slight Dub-con/Drunk Sex, Sex with Strangers, Facesitting, 69 Position, PIV, Safe Sex)

[Read on AO3]

A/N: This is a silly little smutty one-shot to celebrate Adrian's birthday (or belated cuz this is technically late whoops). I've written mostly mask-stays-on Vig so far, so I thought it would be fun to try and write a cute birthday boy Adrian piece with a civilian!reader. Best boy deserves some fluff and spice!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Another evening, another evening shift. You sighed as you wiped down the countertop in the dive bar you were currently working in.

Three months ago you threw a dart at a map (okay, a GPS pin drop on your phone but whatever). You ended up dragging your tired and burnt-out self far away from your shitty hometown to Evergreen, Washington for a fresh start. Unfortunately, so far Evergreen was just as shitty as your hometown, albeit with a different landscape view.

You got the first job that accepted your application and now worked at a mediocre at best local bar downtown. It paid enough to live and your new apartment was nearby. You weren't sure how you felt about Evergreen yet but at least it was different.

"Hey, can we open up a tab?"

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of a customer and looked up at the impossibly large man in front of you. He looked like a marine and you wondered if there was a military base nearby. You shot him your best customer-service smile.

"Sure, I just need some ID and your card."

The man pulled out his wallet and handed over his license and credit card with the name Christopher Smith. You jotted down his info and handed it back.

"There you go, Chris. What can I get for you?"

"Five beers for the table." He gestured behind him at a booth across the room with four other people sitting down.

"And hey, can you make something special for my buddy?" He pointed out a brunette man with silver-rimmed glasses. "It's his birthday."

You nodded, this happened all the time with people out to celebrate.

"Sure. Does he like pineapple?"

Chris gave you a blank look. "I have no idea."

You filled a tall glass with ice, then poured in vodka, blue curaçao and pineapple juice. Grabbing a slice of pineapple chunk from the garnish bar, you hung it just right on the side of the glass then spun around, tossed a straw in and presented the bright-coloured drink.

"There you go! I hope he likes it."

Chris squinted at the teal cocktail and snorted before picking up the tray.

"He's gonna love it, thanks."

You watched carefully as the large man carried the tray over to the booth and dished out the drinks. He slid the cocktail in front of the cute guy with glasses and then pointed at you. The brunette glanced over at you, then took a sip and looked back up. He gave you a giant dopey grin and a double thumbs up. You returned his smile with a real one, genuinely thrilled he seemed to enjoy your choice.

You watched the group for a little while, there wasn't much else going on in the bar. A few regulars playing pool, what looked like a terrible date in the back corner and the full booth you were staring at were the only patrons tonight.

The group you were watching was new here, at least you didn't recognize them from the few months you'd been working the evening shift. You wondered how they knew each other, daydreaming about customers was a way to pass the time on slow nights like this. You watched them laugh and drink until another customer called your attention and you were forced to spend some time actually doing your job.

When you made your way back across the bar, Chris was leaning on the bar. You put down the empty glass in your hands and addressed him.

"Another round of beers for you guys?"

He nodded at you. "Yeah, thanks." He waited impatiently for you to open them and place them on the tray. "Also I should tell you my friend-" he jerked his head back at the guy with glasses sitting at the booth behind him. "-thinks you're really cute."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

Chris nodded.

"Well if that's true, he can come tell me himself." You slid the tray towards him and then spun off to the other end of the bar where a patron was flagging you down.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Chris went back to the booth and handed out the beers before whispering to the cute guy in glasses. The brunette flushed and started arguing with the larger man.

You quickly glanced away when they both turned to look at you and you focused intently on pulling the pint another patron had just ordered instead. Sliding the now-full glass across the bar to the customer, you wiped your hands with a cloth and walked back over to the register to ring it up.

"Hi."

You looked up and the dark-haired guy in glasses was standing right in front of you.

"Hi."

He gave you a little wave and an awkward, crooked smile. "I'm Adrian."

You couldn't help but giggle a bit at how nervous he seemed.

"Hi, Adrian. How'd you like your drink, birthday boy?"

A light blush formed on his cheeks as you grinned at him. He really was cute, especially when he was being so shy.

"Um, it was really good. Could I get another like that?"

You nodded and turned around to grab the ingredients. When you turned back around, Adrian was leaning on the bar watching you intently. You mixed the drink and handed it over to him. He took a big sip from the drink, smiled and fidgeted with the straw while he stared at you for a moment.

"Is that all? Or is there something else you want to say?" You gave him a small wink and a cheeky smile.

The blush returned to his cheeks, a deeper red than before. He coughed awkwardly and fidgeted more, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

"I…um."

He couldn't make eye contact as he blurted it out as fast as possible. "I think you're really pretty."

You leaned on the bar, propping yourself up on your elbows as you tilted your face closer to him.

"What a coincidence, I think you're really pretty too."

You were doing your best impression of a Cheshire cat, grinning madly at how flustered he was. He was still staring at you with wide eyes and it looked like he was about to say something but the magic of the moment was unfortunately shattered by Chris and one of his friends suddenly approaching the bar.

"Can I get a round of shots? Whiskey."

You nodded and walked back to the bar to pour the shots for him. Adrian looked a little miffed at his friends and you bit back another smile, hoping he would talk to you again later.

You quickly finished pouring the drinks and handed over the five shots on a tray and Chris grabbed it from you.

"Thanks, sweet-cheeks."

The woman next to Chris immediately scolded him. "We've been over this. That is not an okay thing to say!"

He turned towards you with a defensive look. "Can you settle this for us? It's totally about having a nice smile!"

"No, no. She's definitely right," You nodded at the woman in agreement. "That phrase is definitely about saying someone has a nice butt."

"I mean, either way, he's not wrong." Adrian gulped and ducked down to stare into his drink as all three of you whipped around to look at him.

"What was that, buddy?" Chris was looking at him in astonishment.

"Nothing." Adrian shook his head and all but ran back to their booth holding his cocktail, avoiding everyone's eye.

"Sorry about him." The woman apologised to you.

"I don't mind." You shrugged at her. "I think he's sweet."

Chris was giving you an incredulous look. "Him?"

"Yeah, him."

You were given a quick look of resignation by both of them before he walked back to the booth with their drinks.

You tried to keep an eye on the group, especially the adorable one, but a few more regulars came in and you were swept away to serve them. The evening progressed in a flash with back-to-back orders from the new tables. You were finally back at the register when a voice sounded out.

"Hey!"

You looked up and there he was again, the cutie in glasses. You couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, Adrian! What can I get for you?"

He gave you a goofy smile when he heard you say his name. "Another round of shots please?"

"Sure thing!" You made a big show of pouring the shots from high up without splashing and Adrian gave you an appropriately awed look at your bartending skills.

"So hey, maybe we could-" He was cut off by Chris interrupting again, he had stomped over to grab the tray of shots from the counter.

"I said I got it!" Adrian protested.

"You were taking too long." Chris snapped at his friend.

"I was trying to ask her to join us."

"She can't drink with us, dumbass. She's working."

Adrian turned towards you. "Is that true?"

You shrugged apologetically. "Yeah, he's right. It's policy."

His face fell. "Aw, man. That sucks."

As if on cue, your manager walked out from the back and came over to you.

"Hey if you wanna take off in fifteen or so, that's fine. It's a little slow tonight, I can handle close by myself."

You nodded, any excuse to take off early was a good one. Especially such a conveniently timed one.

Adrian perked up at the news. "Wait, you're almost done with your shift?"

"Yeah, I guess I get off early tonight. Lucky me!"

"Does that mean you can drink with me?"

"What about your friends?" You gestured towards the booth where the rest of his group was gathering their things.

"They want to leave soon, but I'll stay if I can buy you a drink." He looked at you with big pleading eyes and you noted how bright and green they were.

You thought about it for a moment. You usually never drank with customers but… maybe a one-time exception wouldn't be too bad? Spending the rest of the evening drinking with a nice stranger who thought you were pretty could be worse.

"Sure, why not?" You smiled at him and winked. "It is your birthday after all."

You finished cleaning up and clocked out. Adrian was waiting for you as you walked out from the back without your apron. His friends were in the process of closing out the tab with your manager and the booth they had been in was mostly empty, save for two shots waiting for you.

You slid onto the cushioned seat and watched as Adrian said goodbye to the others. Chris clapped him on the shoulder and said something low in his ear that made Adrian whip his head up and look at you with an expression you couldn't quite read.

Your attention was pulled away from the interaction as your manager walked over and placed several candy colour shots and two bright teal cocktails down in front of you.

"Uh, thanks?"

The older woman rolled her eyes. "They're from the big guy that's just leaving. Said something about celebrating properly with something sweet?" She gave you a pointed look and walked off as Adrian came back over.

"What are these?"

You shrugged. "Apparently I have some catching up to do."

The next hour or two passed in a blur after you'd downed the shots and were working on the cocktails in order to catch up with Adrian, who had been drinking all night. The conversation got loud, with the two of you ending up arguing passionately about Star Wars, much to the annoyance of the few other patrons nearby. By the time the bar closed, you had definitely caught up and Adrian had sobered up a bit, leaving the both of you still rather tipsy. Your manager shuffled the two of you to the curb and warned you to get home safely.

"Did you have a good night?"

He grinned at you. "I had a great night."

You grinned back, warm and fuzzy from the alcohol.

"So… I'm just headed that way." You pointed in the general direction of your apartment.

He nodded at you but didn't make any movements. You're not exactly sure that you wanted a strange guy to follow you home but you were still slightly disappointed at his lack of response.

You headed down the street you had pointed towards and got about a block away before you realized Adrian was hot on your heels.

"Do you…also live this way?"

He shook his head. "Not at all, but there's no way I'm letting you walk home alone while drunk."

"What? Why not?"

He frowned at you. "You need someone to protect you, it's kind of dangerous for women out here."

"Oh, so I can't protect myself? Just because I'm a girl?" You stopped in your tracks and put your hands on your hips in annoyance, wobbling a little on the sidewalk. Your indignance at his insinuation briefly overshadowed the fact that you kind of wanted him to come home with you.

"Yes? I mean, no! …Kind of? Wait, is that sexist? Fuck." He was scrambling to explain himself and failing miserably.

"You're just as drunk as me, what help are you gonna be?" You poked him in the chest to emphasise your point.

"Okay maybe, but I can still ki-" He cut himself off suddenly and shook his head. "Look, there's safety in numbers! I'm walking with you, end of story." He grabbed your hand that was still poking at him and tugged you further along the path behind him.

"Fine, but you don't even know where you're going!"

"Oh. Right." He sighed, stopped and dropped your hand, looking back at you. "Which way?"

You rolled your eyes but grabbed his hand again and directed him towards a side street in the opposite direction he had been headed.

"Just down here. It's not far so you don't have to waste too much of your time."

"It's not a waste if I'm spending it with you." He muttered, looking everywhere but directly at you.

It was your turn to blush, taken aback by his unexpectedly sweet words. You kept a firm grip on his hand as you approached your apartment building.

You were just nearing the building door when you tripped on an uneven chunk of sidewalk and suddenly you were headed straight for the ground.

You braced yourself for an impact that… never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms shot out, wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards. Rather than hitting the cold cement, you were now pressed against a very warm and solid chest. You had no idea how but Adrian had managed to save you from a brutal face plant.

You spun around to face him in shock. He loosened his grip to allow you to move but didn't let you out of his arms as he stared down at you with concern etched onto his face.

"Holy shit, are you okay?"

"You caught me." You stared up at him as he held you tight. Have his eyes been this green all night?

"Yeah, of course I did." His nonchalant tone made you giggle again. Of course , he did. You were still staring up at him and he was getting more concerned.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're breathing really heavy."

"Just…don't move." Your voice was low and soft, you were entirely distracted by how shiny his lips looked in the streetlight.

You found yourself leaning in close without even meaning to, swayed by the warmth in your veins flooding from his hands around you. Your hand slipped behind his neck as you rose on your tiptoes, slowly invading his space and getting unbearably close to his face.

You could feel his breath on your face, tinged with the pineapple cocktails he'd been drinking all night. The sweet scent wasn't helping your impulse control and you were so close to those soft, pink lips…

Your eyes flicked up to his, finding those bright green spots behind his silver frames. He caught your gaze and you saw something flash across his eyes. His grip on your arms tightened as his breathing stuttered and he finally closed the gap between you.

He tasted like pineapple with a faint hint of whiskey, a combination you thoroughly enjoyed. A warmth spread through your lips and into your very bones as he pressed into you until you both broke away panting for air.

"Hey, Adrian?" You murmured, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss.

"Yeah?"

"Would…you like to come upstairs?"

He paused for a moment, glancing over at the apartment complex door then down at you, still being held tight in his arms.

"Do you want me to come upstairs?"

You giggled again. You couldn't help it, he was so silly. "Yes, that's why I'm asking."

He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. With your lowered inhibitions and rising temperature, you gave in to temptation and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his throat. He inhaled sharply, instinctively tugging you closer to him.

"Okay, yeah. Upstairs. We should do that." His breath was shaky as his hands slid down your back to rest on your waist. The warmth from his touch spread through your body and you smiled up at him.

You stepped into the lobby, made your way to the elevators and waited for the doors to open. You hit the number for your floor as Adrian stepped in behind you. When the doors closed, he spun towards you and reached up a hand to gently cup your jaw, before pulling you in for another kiss. You sighed against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him in closer. You let out a small moan as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, slowly getting lost in the kiss and forgetting where you were.

He braced his free hand on the wall beside you and pushed you slowly against it, pressing his entire body into you. You relished in the warmth and didn't want to let him go. He slid his hand from your jaw down to your neck and was reaching under the strap of your top when the elevator doors loudly dinged open.

You squeaked, suddenly very aware of the compromising position you were in. You quickly disentangled yourself from Adrian and tugged on his hand, pulling him into the hall as you both exited the elevator.

"Come on!"

You dragged him by the arm down the hall and around the corner to your apartment door. Fishing out your keys becomes an arduous task as Adrian comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you back into again.

The keys slipped from your grasp and hit the floor, but you barely even noticed through the haze of Adrian's lips on your neck.

"I didn't want to stop, is this okay?" He whispers in your ear.

You were left breathless as his hand slid further up your hip, under the hem of your shirt. His warm palm ran across your bare stomach and every muscle in your abdomen tensed at the sensation.

"Oh god, yes."

He pressed more kisses along your neck as he ran his fingers along your skin, gently stroking along the waistband of your pants.

"We should-" You can barely get the words out as your body slowly melted under his hands and mouth. "-go inside." You managed to finish your sentence and he pulled away from you. You nearly whined at the loss of his touch but he swiftly grabbed your keys off the ground and turned them into the lock for you.

You had barely let him through the threshold of your apartment before slamming the door and pushing him against it, pulling him down for another kiss.

You made your way through the apartment, not bothering to stop the make-out session to give him a tour. You practically shoved him into your bedroom and pushed him down to sit on the edge of your mattress.

You quickly stripped off your work pants and top, standing in front of him in nothing but a plain black bra and panty set. You had a small smirk on your face as he stared up at you with wide eyes, his gaze running all along your body.

"Your turn."

"Oh, right." He snapped out of his daze and quickly pulled his sweater over his head along with his shirt.

"Oh my god." You didn't mean to say that out loud but how could you not? He was deceptively well-built under his clothes.

You marvelled at the bulk of his chest, shoulders and arms. His impressive muscle definition had been entirely hidden by his cardigan and plain T-shirt, you never would have guessed he was this fit. Your gaze trailed along his well-defined abs and down to the sparse pattern of hair leading past his waistband. You bit your lip at how gorgeous he looked, so strong and solid.

"Do you work out a lot or something?"

He laughed at your stunned comment.

"Something like that, yeah."

You watched him slip open his belt buckle and tug off his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a pair of dark boxers. Before you could stare for even longer, he tugged you onto his lap and pulled you in for another kiss. You moved to straddle him and kissed him back feverishly.

His tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to let him in. His hands swept over your thighs and up your spine as his tongue explored your mouth. Fiddling with the clasp behind you, he finally managed to undo your bra. You broke the kiss to lean back, tug the straps off your shoulders and fling it somewhere distant in your room.

He took the opportunity to run his hands up your ribs and along the underside of your now-exposed breasts, cupping them gently and making you gasp. You couldn't hold back the whimpers that flew out of your mouth as he brushed his thumbs against your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks.

He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, clicking his tongue against the hard nub. You grabbed the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the dark curls at his nape as you pressed him further into your chest, desperate to keep his mouth on you. His lips travelled across your chest, nipping and sucking at every inch of flesh he found.

Once you'd caught your breath, you gently cupped his jaw with a hand and pulled him up to look into his sparkling eyes.

"So…is there anything you want to do? It is your birthday, you know." You couldn't resist giving him a teasing smile.

The tips of his ears turned pink and he stared up at you with wide eyes.

"Really? Anything?"

You smiled wider at his awestruck expression. "Got something special in mind, birthday boy?"

"Maybe? Could you…um…" The blush slowly crept down his ears and across his cheeks as he stammered.

You gently rolled your hips against him and the tips of his fingers flexed against your soft thighs as he let out a small groan at the movement.

"Just relax. Go ahead and ask me."

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with a serious expression.

"Can you sit on my face? …please."

A jolt surged through you at the request. You took in his eager expression, the pupils in his green eyes blown out with desire. He nervously licked his bottom lip and drew your eyes downwards to his soft, pink mouth.

"That's what you want?"

He nodded vigorously, glasses slipping down his nose at the rapid movement. You laughed a little at his enthusiasm before leaning forward and gently removing his glasses. You folded them and stood up to place them on your nightstand before turning back to him.

"I'm in. How do you want me?"

His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip again, but much more deliberately this time. He sat back on your bed and lay down with his head on the pillows.

"Come here and grab onto the headboard."

A shiver raced down your spine as you looked down at this gorgeous man spread out before you, all yours for the night. You shimmied out of your black undies and knelt on the mattress, climbing up beside him. He slid a hand under your knee and helped you lift it up and over, holding you to hover above him with your legs bracketing his face.

His hands wrapped around your thighs, firmly holding you in place right over his mouth. The first few licks were tentative and light against your dripping core, his tongue cautiously exploring you. He let out a soft moan as your taste hit his taste buds and gripped your thighs harder.

"You taste fantastic." He mumbled into your inner thigh before running his tongue back over your folds.

As his mouth worked over you, you began to gently rock your hips against him, increasing the friction in the most delicious way. Picking up on your cues, he started to increase his pace, lapping at you with more pressure.

You let out a loud gasp when his tongue flicked over your clit, a noise which quickly turned into a low moan as he did it again. And again.

"Right there, oh god ."

You wound your fingers through his dark curls and held him in place, right over the bundle of nerves currently sending shockwaves through your entire body.

You rode the waves along with his face, cresting every time he hit that one sweet spot. You looked down at him, those gorgeous green eyes were glassy with lust as you coat his face with your own desire. God, you needed more of him.

"Hey, hey." You gently tugged on his hair and sat up a bit, moving off his face. "If you let me turn around, I can touch you."

He glanced up at you, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, this is incredibly fun but I'd love to taste you too."

"Fuck, okay." He didn't need much convincing. He braced your thighs and allowed you to swing one leg over, spin around and throw it back, bringing you to face the opposite direction. You settled yourself back over his face before turning your attention in front of you.

You could see how his cock was straining against the fabric of his boxers, begging to be released. You slowly slipped his boxers down and his hard cock snapped against his stomach, thick with tension. He was long and thick, a drop of precum already leaking from the swollen tip. Yeah, this was a good idea. A really good idea.

You wrapped a hand around the base and began to stroke him up and down with gentle pressure. His hips arched up into your grip and a moan vibrated from low in his throat, rippling through your soaked pussy still pressed right against his face.

You found a solid rhythm between rocking against his face and pumping his cock, getting used to his size. When you were confident enough, you leaned down and swirled your tongue around the head.

The salty taste hit the back of your throat as you slowly slid him further and further into your eager mouth. It took some work and concentration but you managed to work all of him down into your throat without gagging. The choked moans he released when your lips hit the base of his cock were well worth the strain.

Any prior concern you had about this position was quickly worn away as you picked up speed, grinding harder against him. Your thighs started to shake and he tightened his grip on you, holding you steady as you started to come undone above him.

You were still bobbing up and down on his cock, your moans being stifled with him deep in your throat. His fingers were pressing bruises into your skin with their grip and he couldn't stop his hips from jerking up, forcing himself deeper into your mouth, chasing his own release.

You were desperately trying to breathe through your nose and not choke as he fucked up into your throat, teetering on the edge of orgasm as he ran the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again.

You braced your hands on his thighs as the rubber band finally snapped, your pussy drenching his face as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You somehow managed to keep your throat open as he thrust up a few more times before spilling down your throat in return. You dutifully swallowed and slowly pulled back, releasing his softening cock.

You rolled your hips off his face and flopped onto the mattress, grateful for the change in position. Your thighs were going to burn tomorrow but god, that was worth it. You rested for a moment, waiting for the last waves of bliss to fade before moving again.

You crawled to the other side of the bed and lay next to him for a little while, lazily enjoying playing with his dark brown curls and counting his freckles as you both recovered from your climaxes.

His hands were idly dragging across your skin, tracing unknown patterns along your thighs and stomach.

"Hey."

You turned to face him and let out a small giggle at the dopey expression on his face.

"Hey."

" …Do you have any condoms?" He wouldn't look you in the eye as he asked.

"Round two already? I'm impressed."

He flushed immediately, turning pink and twitching his fingertips against your hip. Your cheeks were starting to hurt with how much this man made you grin like a maniac. It was so much fun to tease him, to make him blush. He was the cutest thing you'd ever seen.

"Uh, yes? Only if you want to." He quickly reassured you.

You smiled and hopped off the bed to rummage around on your nightstand. Oh, you definitely wanted to. You tossed a foil wrapper at him and climbed back on the mattress. You watched carefully as he sat up on his knees and pumped his rapidly hardening cock in his fist a few times before rolling on the condom.

He rolled over on top of you and nudged your thighs apart to make room. You held your breath with anticipation as he ran his fingers across you, smiling when he found you already wet. He gripped his cock at the base and ever so slowly slid the head against your core. He easily slipped through your folds, gathering the wetness along his cock in preparation.

"Ready?" He looked down at you, waiting for permission.

You cupped his face in your hands, drew him close and looked into his impossibly green eyes.

"Yes."

He leaned down to capture your lips as he lined up his aching cock with your entrance. He pushed inside you, slowly sinking in inch by inch. You felt the burn of the stretch for a moment as he finally bottomed out, and he paused for a second to let you adjust. The sensation quickly melted into bliss and you felt impossibly full with him buried completely inside you.

You rolled your hips against him, urging him to start moving. He placed his lips on your neck as he slowly began to thrust into you. You gripped his shoulders and arched against him as his teeth scraped along your neck and down your collarbone while he found a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of your soaking pussy. He bit down gently on your shoulder and snapped his hips, forcing a loud moan from you.

Sitting back on his heels, he slid his hands under your knees and pushed them down into the mattress, forcing his cock even deeper. The new angle allowed his sharp thrusts to hit that sweet spot right in your core, sending new waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You couldn't stop from crying out as the pleasure wound up, pulling tight in your lower abdomen. He groaned, the loud sound torn out of him in response to feeling you fluttering around him, squeezing his cock impossibly tight.

"I want to feel you cum," he practically growled in your ear. "Be a good girl and cum on my cock."

"Oh, fuck."

The unexpected dominance in his voice sent liquid fire through your veins and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. His control was slowly slipping and his pace quickened, slamming his hips into yours and sending both of you hurtling towards the edge. You grabbed at his shoulders, your nails digging into him with each stroke.

A few more thrusts, perfectly angled to hammer into just the right spot making you whimper uncontrollably right in his ear, and both of you tumbled off the cliff together. The warmth you'd been feeling all evening spread to every atom of your body as you floated through your orgasm, leaving Adrian gasping for breath as you contracted tightly around him, your cunt desperately milking every drop out of him.

Once he'd caught his breath, he carefully pulled out and snapped the used condom off, tossing it in the small waste basket next to your bed. He climbed back into your bed and collapsed next to you, careful not to crush you with his body weight. He reached out an arm and snagged it around you, pulling you close. You cuddled into his side, fully content and boneless in his arms.

"Hey, Adrian?" You mumbled into his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

You leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before snuggling back into him and closing your eyes.

"Happy Birthday."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: You cannot tell me this boy is not shy af and so goofy around pretty girls without the mask on 😂 Civilian Adrian trying to be normal is the sweetest, this was so much fun. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think ~

#adrian chase #vigilante #peacemaker #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase fanfic #adrian chase fic #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #freddie stroma #fanfiction #lysenfeu fics #peacemaker dcu #adrian chase smut #smut fic

889 notes · View notes

seneon · 8 days

Text

waiting for hours ──── seishiro nagi x fem! reader.

about. in which, nagi awaits your arrival at home for hours. pure fluff oneshot. wc of 1.2k.

notes. this is like, the highest rated chapter in my my oneshot book in wattpad. so im slapping this in tumblr too and happy belated bday to koala boy!! for @hyoismbbg ♡

𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘 was the first time during this year that nagi was able to arrive home early from his football practice. and by early, earlier than the time his lover's work finishes.

he freshened himself up, ate some food in the fridge and waited. it was 8:42pm, almost an hour and a half for you to finish your work.

the football player, now playing for a professional team, was basically bored out of his mind. he could play games until you've returned, but the man had played every game in the universe.he could watch anime, movies or anything. but those would bore him instantly.

honestly, everything is boring to him nowadays. the only thing that would keep him entertained is football and you.

you were practically the same as him, a lazy person who somehow managed to be a successful writer and be in a relationship with another lazy athlete.

nagi waited and waited and waited. for what seemed like hours, he kept waiting for your presence to shine in his day. but every time he checked the clock, only a few minutes passed from the previous.

as tired as the white-haired male is, he decided to make you some simple yet cute supper, prepare your essentials for when you returned from work. nagi even set up your little table in your shared room by the window for when you read or do some planning for tomorrow.

he eventually lost track of time while trying to make everything in the house perfect so you didn't have to do anything else when you came home. an hour or so had passed, and nagi still didn't hear the door twist open.

you yawned, tired from the meeting you had at your publishing company. really, sometimes you wish you could boss around rude people and shut them up from their shitty opinions. but business is business. and rude people didn't really matter anyways.

you set everything the way it is, and stop in your tracks when you see the kitchen counter filled with a plate of delicious food.

the apartment looked pretty neat and clean too. when you looked around in suspicion and curiousity, some of the recognisable things belonging to your boyfriend were laying around freely.

that was when a smile crawled up your cheeks. your mind traveled to nagi who prepared the food and cleaned up the house— just as he walked out the room, an annoyed expression on his face.

"i thought you were never coming home, after i prepared everything for you," he pouted with a poker face, definitely disappointed at how late you arrived home.

"ah— my bad. thank you. you're home early," you shot him a lazy smile before he walked towards you and pulled you into a lazy hug, completely embracing you in his huge form.

"yeah, practice kinda got canceled because coach's wife got into trouble.”

since you were way tinier than him, you practically squished under his body, melting in the warmth of your lazy, sweet loving boyfriend.

he smelled like mint and fresh sugary frosting, from the body wash you gave to him as a present on his birthday. it was a scent that pulled you in so much it froze and destroyed all the negative comments that were written about your books.

as much as you didn't want to separate the hug, nagi gently plucked himself away from you, sternly looking into your eyes.

"eat, and go take a bath. then we can sleep together. practice might be cancelled tomorrow too if coach's wife's trouble is still ongoing.." he trailed off and shook his head. "ehh whatever just go. i made food for you without burning the kitchen and prepared stuff for you in the room."

you chuckled and nodded your head repeatedly, trying to keep in the laugh with his ridiculously sarcastic get funny words. pretty much whatever nagi said could be funny to you.

"i won't doubt your effort. thank you again," you tiptoed and gave him a quick peck on the lips, heading over to the kitchen counter to eat your supper.

the peck made nagi blush. it was the first kiss you gave him this week. it is monday night, the start of the week. and you kissed him yesterday. hah. humour. nagi keeps track of kisses he gets from you.

anyways, he wanted more kisses from you later so he watched you eat while conversing a little about both your writer job and athlete jobs.

then, he waited for you to take your bath, freshen up before you bailed out your little window corner and jumped into bed with nagi.

"thank you, sei," you thanked him again, as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo. "you've thanked me three times already. you're welcome though..."

your fingers moved to lace themselves in the soft fluffy hair of the male, moving around to ruffle and gently play with it.

nagi's hair was fairly soft, like cotton candy that would melt when it came in contact with liquid. it could even be on par with the clouds albeit you've never felt clouds before. but you just know it was more soft and fluffy than anything else.

you found it awfully cute that his love language is physical touch, so much that you often see him as a cat. and for a fact that nagi only needs and wants your attention, not from anyone else because you are everything to him.

the male hummed when your fingers played with his hair, an odd calmness filling over the mind and body of the athlete. you always managed to calm him down, physically and mentally. he loved that it was a good trait of you that he fell in love with.

"i love you," he said against your neck, his breath touching your skin as you couldn't help but smile at his words. he was random, sure, but you know when nagi was being genuine and sarcastic. now, he meant every word of it.

"i love you too," you replied softly, your fingers moving, trailing down to his cheeks to caress his chiseled jawline and softly stroke his cheeks.

such a work of art, you thought to yourself when you faced him and looked into his eyes.

how could a man be as angelic as your boyfriend?

you felt so blessed to have nagi in your life, never regretting that you made the first move for being friends and eventually he would later on give you a lazy confession that was conducted by his friend, reo.

"you're really beautiful, love," he felt himself smile when the both of you were staring into each other's eyes lovingly. "so beautiful.."

"and you're very handsome," you chuckled, going closer to his face. you kept the tiny distance for a moment, having a small time to admire nagi's grey eyes.

nagi then closed the distance between you both, his lips ever so softly closing in on yours to give you a lovely kiss.

it was filled with the purest intentions of showing how much he loves you, nothing else than an innocent kiss that was focused on appreciation and love.

you both pulled away at the same time, your arms wrapping around his neck as his own snaking around your waist to pull you close.

gosh, you love hugs when it comes to your lazy gigantic boyfriend. he always gives you the best ones.

"let's sleep now, okay?" he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, letting you reply with a nod before pulling the soft blanket over you two.

"i've been waiting for hours to cuddle you to sleep. good night, y/n.”

#⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #blue lock #blue lock fluff #bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock nagi #blue lock hcs #bllk fluff #nagi fluff #bllk nagi #nagi #blue lock x female reader

295 notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 3 months

Text

The Only Way of Knowing You [Nick Fowler x Reader]

Title: The Only Way of Knowing You Characters/Pairings: leshy!Nick Fowler x curvy female!Reader Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: When you visit a cabin, you're drawn more and more to the forest, the flora and fauna, and a handsome stranger you cross paths with in the woods.

Content Warnings: explicit smut - nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, initial consent to questionable/dubious consent ending, kidnapping, intimidation, implied stalking and explicit stalking, human to monster transformation, monster fucking

Logistical Notes: Very belated, but this is my addition to the Enchanted Birthday Fest and my humble gift to all of you who come around and read what I write. Incorporating Mania (obsessive love - stalking) for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love challenge. Thank you @goldylions and @sgt-seabass for blasting this with your beta energy. It certainly benefitted from your poking, prodding, and polishing.

Narrative Notes: There's a lot of leshy lore that's evolved over time since differing versions existed across Europe and you've got modern media takes. I took pieces that stuck out to me as I combed through. The most significant trait I adopted was that a leshy king could shape shift into human or animal and would adopt disguise to hide, adapt, or even lure people into the forest.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You gasped and stopped on the trail.

“A dog,” you whispered to no one but yourself, a grin splitting across your face.

The wilderness of the forest around you rose into a small, banked ridge on the left. You had only just heard the rustle of leaves that drew your attention over to that side to see the creature. You couldn’t tell the breed for sure – all dark fur, pointed ears, looking something between a husky and a wolf – but with him being so calm and willing to come this close to the path when he’d undoubtedly heard you walking, you assumed he couldn’t be too wild or feral. He had piercing blue eyes that locked with yours.

You were so tempted to try to call him over, but if he was wild, it was probably better not to, and if he belonged to someone, you didn’t want to lead him away from where he needed to go.

So, after another beat, you continued along your path.

After the four hour drive to your destination with some of the team from your office, as soon as you had unloaded and eaten lunch, you had been eager to get away to stretch your legs and to have some time away from everyone else, and you had some time before the rest of the team arrived for the work retreat your boss had put together. You had six days of training, strategizing, and team bonding ahead of you with a professional consultant and facilitator flown in who had built the agenda. There were breaks built throughout the day, and as you set off for this first walk, you imagined both the physical movement and the time away from the group would help keep you focused, energized, and from actually strangling your co-worker Rachel who regularly burst into song during casual conversation.

You saw the dog again as you took the same path the next day when your group took a mid-morning break. This time, he walked alongside your path, keeping his distance off to the side, but only kept pace with you for about five minutes before wandering off.

You were hopeful to see him when you headed out in the afternoon.

But instead of the dog, you encountered a man in almost the same area, approaching you on the path.

The man was dressed in sturdy hiking boots, dark jeans, a dark green flannel over a white shirt, and a tan jacket over that. He was tall, well-built, with short brown hair, and entirely too handsome a person to encounter in real life, especially with his devastatingly blue eyes – eyes that were the same color as the dog.

You groaned internally for comparing his eyes to the dog’s.

“Hello,” he said, nodding at you a few paces before you were about to pass each other.

“Hello,” you managed to return – it was mostly automatic, but the intensity of his gaze almost prevented you from the customary politeness of fellow trailwalkers.

After he passed, you shook your head. No need to be flustered by the momentary passing of a stranger.

You looked back over your shoulder, and then your heart thudded to discover that he was looking back at you, too. He smirked, turned, and kept along his way.

You shook your head at yourself and then kept on your way.

The walking path through the forest was narrow in parts, wider in others, and rambled on for a mile or so before it split, allowing its travelers to eventually circle clockwise or counter-clockwise around a still, blue body of water that was bigger than a pond but not quite large enough to be classified as a lake. The trees ran right down to the water in many areas, and the path, as it circled, sometimes came very close to its edges, and in other places only came within ten or fifteen meters of the shore.

On day three, you saw the man in the morning, and the dog in the afternoon.

The man, the same you saw before, came towards you after he'd done a circle around the lake. You reached the two forks before having to directly pass him, to which he waved and said hello, the same casual niceties.

In the afternoon, the dog approached you slowly but directly, and you knelt happily and held out your hand to encourage him to close the gap. He did, and after a quick sniff, let you pet him and scratch his ears.

“No collar?” you asked as you pet and admired his smooth, shiny coat.

After a minute, you stood and said, “You seem pretty familiar with this forest, well-fed, and so friendly. I don’t need to worry about you, do I?”

He circled you quickly, wagged his tail, and you laughed. “You want to join me for my walk this time?”

He trotted ahead a few steps, then looked back at you and waited.

You laughed. “I guess I’ll join you for this walk then.”

The two of you kept pace with each other all the way around the small lake, and then shortly after you got back to the main forest length, he trotted off the path into the forest again with only a small look back and a happy bark before bounding away.

That evening, because you had gone on so many walks, the rest of the group at the cabin decided to take an evening stroll around the lake. The planked wooden path made an adventure after dark doable enough. You didn’t see either of the strangers – dog or man – but there were a few times you had the keen sense you were being watched. In the dark it was impossible to tell, but the feeling came and went.

The next morning, you made your way down the deep forest path without encountering anyone and took the right fork to make your way around the lake.

At nearly the same place the dog had approached you the afternoon before, the man came striding your way from off the path.

“Hello,” he greeted as soon as he’d stepped out of the trees.

It was evident he intended to speak to you.

“Hello,” you said, trying to be friendly, but unsure how this would unfold, and a little nervous over engaging with the stranger.

Your heartbeat sped up the closer he got, but not because he was still a stranger, but because you were reminded he was altogether too handsome of a stranger. This was made even more obvious than your brief passings the previous two days, as now you could only stand still and watch as he approached you.

You remembered he was tall, but today he seemed taller. Those blue eyes had you rooted to the spot where you stood, and his face had a small but easy smile. You tried in vain to keep your heart from racing the closer he got.

“I’m Nick,” he offered, once he was close enough for conversation.

You gave your name in response.

“Nice to actually meet you,” he said as he stepped up onto the boardwalk. “You’re not from around here. Staying in one of the vacation cabins?” he guessed.

You nodded. “And you are from around here?” you surmised. “Do you live here? Work here? Both?”

“I suppose you could say both.” A calm but crips breeze swept through the trees around you, rustling through the leaves.

“Oh, are you the caretaker?”

“Guardian, caretaker, king of the forest,” he joked.

You laughed, and it was an easy laugh.

He echoed your laugh. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, of course, I do,” you said.

“If you let me join you, maybe I can prove my place here in the forest, share some of the history of the land, and some of my expert knowledge.” He raised his brow in a questioning look.

You were torn equally between hesitance and intrigue, but you were more unsure of how to decline, nor did you actually want to, so you nodded, and the corner of his mouth ticked up. He swept his arm to the side, gesturing at the path, and as you started walking, he fell right in step with you.

“So, what brought you to the forest?” he asked.

You explained how your boss had booked the large corporate retreat cabin for your team, planning many days of bonding and strategy conversations and leadership workshops with the consultant flown in from New York City.

As you walked together, he made good on his promise to tell you more about the forest and the lake. He pointed out some of the flora and fauna, showing his care and consideration for the wildlife and growth of the wilderness.

“It must be nice living out here.”

“You would like it.”

You looked over at him, finding he was already watching you, and then turned your head back to the path. “I think I might. Being out here the past few days has me contemplating quitting my job, selling off most of my stuff, and just finding a small cabin in the woods and writing or something.”

“You should.”His concentrated attention both unnerved you and put you at ease at the same time. It was a strange feeling. There was something within you that wanted more time with him like this, but it was silly to want. This was only your first conversation with him. You wouldn’t be spending day after day stumbling into walks with him any more than you would be abandoning your city life to embrace a secluded existence in a cabin in the forest.

But it might be nice, you thought.

“If only,” you finally sighed.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “When are you supposed to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He hummed in thought. “That seems like an awfully long cabin retreat for a team of colleagues.”

You laughed. “It certainly is. My boss has too much money and got very excited. It’s mostly a good office of people, and there are about ten of us here, but I definitely like my time away from the group – we’ve been encouraged to spend our breaks however we need.”

“And you took to your walks in the woods.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed and smiled softly. “Oh, actually, do you know about the black dog running around out here? I’ve seen him every other day, but not yet today.”

“He caught your heart, didn’t he?”

You grinned and nodded. “Does he have owners out here, or is he wild? He doesn’t have a collar.”

“No owners.”

“Not unlike you?”

“Oh, have I caught your heart, too?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you tried not to let your pace falter. “I–”

He gave a chuckle, but he also let his fingers brush against yours as you continued to walk side by side. “Don’t worry, if I didn’t want to see you, I would know how to go unnoticed by you in this forest.”

“Oh.” It was a small response, especially compared to the burst of warmth that bloomed in your heart, but you weren’t quite sure how to respond. You were flattered with the flirting and his insinuation that he did want to see you. A whisper in the back of your mind wondered how many years he must have walked these woods to know its secrets and be so confident that he could wander it undetected, but he gestured for you to listen to the faint call of a pair of birds nearby. He identified them as veery thrushes, and then you were carried along into learning about them and some of the other animals that inhabited this area of the forest during the rest of your short morning walk.

Nick came across you walking again in the afternoon. He told you more about the forest and its history, but more and more he started to ask more questions about you.

You liked that he asked about you.

It seemed impossible that this unbelievably tall (was he even taller than he was before? Surely he wasn’t), dark, handsome man was so keen on your company, but you couldn’t help but take to him, and to the warmth of the attention he shined on you like the sun that filtered through the leaves of the trees to bathe the rest of the flora in the forest.

It may have been silly to dream about him that night when you went to sleep, but you had no real control over that, and although this whole excursion was for work, a small, inconsequential crush on someone you would never see again when you went home was fine.

The next morning, you didn’t run into him during your walk, but you were happy to run into your furry companion again, and he stayed right at your side while you took the loop around the lake. You were only a little sad there was no sign of Nick, but even though he clearly spent a lot of time there, you couldn’t expect him to always be in the woods.

So, when you were just starting along the path for your walk and hear footsteps coming up behind you, you eagerly looked over your shoulder, only to see two men walking some twenty to thirty yards behind you. You sighed and kept walking. You hadn’t seen a great deal of people on the trail over the past few days, but these weren’t the first strangers, as it was an area with enough scattered cabins throughout the forest to merit the establishment of the sturdy planked path in the first place.

But as you continued on, the men seemed to keep pace with you, speeding up when you did, and slowing down and maintaining some of the distance when you tested it, and that made you nervous. You would feel better even just to see the wild dog so you could call him to you. You were sure he would deter the men. But there was no sign of him either.

As you approached the fork that created the lake loop for the path, you didn’t know which to hope for – that they would take the other path and you would have to potentially pass them, or take the same one as you and you could hope that they would keep their distance.

They went the same way as you.

And they started to close the distance.

You thought you were imagining it at first, but when you increased your pace, theirs quickened even more, and there was no more of the hum of talking between them.

You didn’t want to panic and run. They both had a height advantage with longer legs, and if you could simply continue to walk more quickly, you could at least stave off the need to run until there was no more choice – because you were sure the second you ran, they would follow suit, and you didn’t know how long you’d last.

Especially now that your heart was already racing.

“Hey sweet thing,” one of them called out.

You focused on keeping your quick pace and didn’t look back.

“Nice day for a walk,” the same gruff voice added.

Still you refused to engage. You expected this now and then in the city, but it wasn’t supposed to happen out here. You didn’t have a phone to suddenly get on and call someone or keys in your pocket to thread through your fingers for makeshift protection.

“Nice day for more than a walk, don’t you think?” the second man chimed in.

“Yeah, maybe a little afternoon delight.”

Your skin crawled.

“A little fucking,” the second one jeered.

Maybe you did need to run.

And then suddenly at a bend in the path, you turned and there he was.

Nick.

Your heart leapt in relief, and you rushed to him.

He had to have instantly seen the panic in your eyes as his own blue eyes changed immediately into a dark storm, and he looked beyond you as he quickly strode forward to meet you. He saw the men immediately as they, too, turned around the bend, and you heard their footsteps slow immediately.

Nick pulled you into his side, wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Afternoon,” one of the men said, both of them nodding, trying to pass off casual greetings as if they hadn’t been closing in on you, making their intentions clear.

“Turn around, pack up, and leave this forest,” Nick said, voice flat and threatening.

“Hey! Look, man,” the other started, but Nick cut him off.

“Turn around, pack up,” he repeated, enunciating each word with more fury, “never come back.”

They stopped walking, putting them only ten yards away.

“Now,” Nick growled.

A ripple of fear shot through you at his tone, and it wasn’t directed at you. There was a sudden groaning and crashing of trees in the distance that only added to the tension of the moment, and then the two men turned around and retreated.

“I know where you’re staying. Don’t make the mistake of thinking my directions are idle or that I won’t check to make sure you’re gone,” he spoke loudly enough for them to hear as they got further away.

With them no longer in sight, Nick turned his full attention to you, taking both your hands in his. “You alright?”

You took a deep breath in then let it out to release the tension from the fear-driven adrenaline and nodded.

He murmured your name, pressing in concern, ducking slightly to gaze directly into your eyes.

You smiled softly at his worry, the seeds that bloomed earlier in your heart coming to life and blooming a bit more. “I’m fine now,” you reassured him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Really,” you promised. “Not the first intimidating creeps I’ve ever encountered.”

“Okay.” His face relaxed, but only a fraction, and you had the impression it was only to help ease your tension. “If you’re sure.”

You nodded.

He dropped your hands, and you reminded yourself not to let your face drop as he did.

“Sorry I didn’t meet up with you earlier, I-“

You cut him off, “I wasn’t expecting you to meet up with me, and I don’t always get to steal away for these walks at the same time.”

He nodded. “I know. But I want to show you why time got away from me.”

“Okay.”

His face split into a bright smile. “Follow me,” he said, turning around and trekking into the trees.

You trailed behind him as the ground gently sloped toward the lake. The trees and underbrush were abundant yet thin enough to allow the two of you to pass through. The wooden path varied in how close it was to the lake as it wound around, and here it was less than a minute before you could see the water’s edge. Nick abruptly stopped and put his arm out for you to also stop.

Since he’d been walking so quickly, you did bump right up against his arm with a small mumbled, “sorry,” and he turned his head to smile. Then he turned to look ahead and pointed to a cluster of rocks right at the shoreline.

You squinted to study them, and then you gasped when two little furry heads popped up over the top of the rocks.

“Otters!” you whispered.

“Yes,” Nick confirmed. “Freshwater river otters. I think we’ve got a clan of at least four that have only appeared today in the lake. Probably migrated down the river from the lake further up. They’ve been getting a bigger tourist draw up there, and I imagine they don’t want to be constantly disturbed by humans encroaching on their habitat.”

He took slow, measured, unassuming steps closer, and you tentatively followed. The two otters both perched up higher on the rocks, giving tiny yelps.

Nick motioned for you to kneel as he did. He held out his hand toward the pair of mammals.

“They’re a curious and friendly species,” he said, and even as he said the words, the two darted up and over the rocks, coming closer by a few feet before pausing. The slightly larger one gave a little trill and took a couple more hops forward. Its companion sauntered right up next to it, but then took a few more steps forward, bopped its nose against Nick’s hand, huffed and turned away, darting right down the bank and into the water, gliding smoothly away. The other came forward, gave Nick’s outstretched hand a little more of a sniff, then turned its head to you, and edged your way. You quickly but carefully stretched your hand out, received a couple of sniffs, and then this otter also snorted and trotted away and into the water, trilling as it slipped into the clear water.

“No fish, no interest,” Nick said, and the two of you laughed.

He moved to sit on the ground, and you sat next to him. The pair of otters re-emerged, swam up to shore, and dove back in and out of the water frequently as the two of you watched and talked.

You only stayed there for a short space of time, and then Nick seemed to sense without you needing to prompt him that it was time to get back to your walk. He stood and gave you a hand up. He held onto your fingers for just an extra moment, looking at your hands together, before letting go and brushing himself off. You did the same, and then fell into step with him, heading back to the path.

Easy conversation, just like the day before, continued to flow between you. He appeared to have endless questions about you, and again his rapt attention was its own warm, addictive rush, and that thing in your heart continued to grow, vines starting to sneak out of your heart and around your chest.

Suddenly he stopped, and you stopped another step ahead and turned to look back at him. “What is it?”

“We’re at the spot that leads up to the cabin your group is staying in,” he answered, a broad smirk on his face.

“Oh,” your cheeks heated, and you ducked your head to laugh. “Oops.”

You didn’t want your last walk with him to suddenly be over.

“You’re quite taken with all of this, aren’t you? The forest calls to you.”

You let out a wistful sigh and looked back up at him. Damn those impossibly deep blue eyes. You were overcome with a terrible ache that radiated from the base of your throat and the top of your chest, and you desperately tried to tamp down the thick emotion.

“But I have to go home tomorrow.”

“Come walk with me tonight.”

You bit your lip.

“Come on,” he urged you. “It’s your last night, and it’s a full moon. You have to see the forest bathed in the full moon's light. Come with me.”

“Yes,” you heard the word tumble out of your mouth, unable to deny him.

His eyes darkened and sparkled. “I promise you’ll see things you’ve never seen before.”

Though Nick wasn’t far from your thoughts, you focused well enough on your last evening with the group, engaging in dinner and the evening’s bonding activities. Wine and mocktails were poured for a final night looking up at the stars around a fire in the firepit on the balcony, and you made sure to enjoy that time, too. You had liked some of your coworkers before the retreat, but now you had a better understanding and appreciation for all of them.

However, once it got closer to ten, you anxiously started taking stock of the minutes passing away further into the night. Two of your group said goodnight at ten, but that was too early. You determined you would do well to stay with the balcony group until at least half-ten so you didn’t get too anxious about seeing Nick later.

At ten-thirty, a few more peeled off from the group, and so you retired to your room so that your timely departure didn’t seem unnatural to anyone.

You showered and messed with your hair for a bit but didn’t bother with makeup since it was after dark. You put on your favorite pair of joggers, a crewneck, and good walking shoes. You certainly hadn’t anticipated taking to the forest with so many walks each day, it wasn’t anything like how you were at home – busy with work and taking care of your life in the city – but it had been so natural to take to the outdoors while you were here. This final walk before your party went home in the morning wasn’t going to be like any of the others. You tried not to feel foolish for indulging in a walk at midnight with the hulking man with the most captivating blue eyes you’d ever seen who could easily take your breath away and whisk you off your feet.

But you had said yes because when else would you ever do something like this?

The answer was never.

And there was no harm in taking a handsome man up on his offer for a midnight stroll in the moonlight.

You put on the watch your grandmother had given you and the simple necklace you typically wore. They weren’t much, and you told yourself you didn’t need to dress up anyway, but they were small touches all the same.

Looking briefly in the mirror, you smoothed your hand down over the front of your shirt and took a deep breath. It’s fine, you thought. He’s seen you plenty before now, and it’s going to be dark, and it’s only a walk anyway. You checked your watch, and it was just a few minutes before eleven-thirty, which is when Nick had said to meet him.

You slipped quietly out of your room, down the stairs, and out the back door. The full moon was bright out here so far away from any city lights, illuminating the familiar path from the cabin that would take you down to the main boardwalk trail.

So many times Nick had simply appeared in the forest, but he was waiting for you right at the end of the path. Your heart raced just a little as his lips turned up in a smile.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“You came.”

He studied your face intently. You were unsure what he was looking for and simply focused on returning your gaze as unassuming as possible, telling your heart to settle and stop beating so fast. Yes, he made you feel things, but one of those things over the past few days had also been a sense of calm and safety in his presence, and you concentrated on that.

After another moment, finally, you responded with a simple, “I said I would.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Then let’s go.”

You fell easily into step with him, the trail so familiar now, though it had been less than a week, and knowing this ramble down to the lake and back, your chest started to feel thick in anticipation of missing it already. As you walked and talked, you thought you were keeping pace with Nick, but maybe you were more tired than you thought because it seemed like you were working to stay in stride with him as you hadn’t had to before. Either that or his legs were longer than before, but that – of course – was an impossible thought.

You shook your head.

Nick paused and turned. “What are you shaking your head at?” he asked. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” His tone was soft and teasing.

“Sorry, I got distracted, and my imagination got a little carried away with impossibilities.”

He cocked his head slightly. “Maybe more is possible in this forest than you might think.” His eyes danced with a hint of mystery.

“Is that so?” You played into his mischief.

He leaned closer. “This is an old forest, and it’s a full moon. Anything could happen on a night like tonight.”

Your body seemed drawn into him, leaning closer as well. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he whispered, and his eyes flicked down to your lips.

The moment hung between you. You tilted your head up, and your eyes fluttered closed. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

And then he tugged on your hand, yanking you out of the moment. “Come on, pretty girl, we’re almost there.”

You sighed, letting out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

But with how tightly his hand held yours as he led you off the boardwalk and into the trees, you didn’t feel too disappointed.

He was quiet now, but he also kept you close as he led you through this part of the forest. The trees were more thickly woven together here, with girthier trunks, and you couldn’t help but feel how they were older the further you wandered in. There was no trace of a path now, but Nick kept a confident pace, clearly knowing each inch of the forest intimately, and his surety allowed you to let yourself be swept away further and further along.

His steps were swift but nearly silent, and you tried to walk as quietly as possible. The sounds of the forest at night were soft but present – soft wind whistling through the trees, the song of nocturnal birds, and the chirping of crickets. The light filtering through the branches was minimal, and it had to be tricking you because you knew he was tall, but it felt like he was somehow taller tonight. It had to be the nature of how you were keeping so close just behind him, focused on the square of his shoulder and the gentle pull of his arm leading you.

He wasn’t taller now than he was earlier today, was he?

“Just up ahead,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at you, one of the easy smiles that made your heart sigh painted on his face.

His pace quickened, and your anticipation built as you hurried to keep up.

Seconds before the tree line broke, you heard the rippling sounds of water before emerging into a glade. Nick stopped a few steps into the clearing, and you came to stand right next to him. The first thing to draw your eye was a stream running into a small pool. The meadow on the side of the stream where you stood sloped gently down to the water, and it was covered in blankets of wood anemone, reaching right down to the bank and springing up and sprawling away again on the other side. The trees surrounding the glade were certainly some of the tallest you’d seen in the forest, and they rose as giant sentinels toward the inky black sky, which was studded with stars around the bright full moon.

As you looked up and around, the coupling of the simplicity and the majesty of it all had you enraptured, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment.

Nick brought your hand up to his face, pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart stuttered in your chest. You turned to look at him. His eyes almost appeared to glow an even brighter blue.

“I said it earlier, but this forest calls to you, doesn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

You did.

He dropped your hand, and you let it fall to your side.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered.

You inhaled slowly, letting the breath fill your belly and lungs, fresh, clean, and calm. You tipped your head back, your face craving the moonlight in that moment.

Although you didn’t hear him move, suddenly you felt the warmth of Nick standing behind you. “Now, listen and feel,” he murmured softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You shivered but remained rooted to the spot. His fingers brushed along the backs of your hands and began to trail slowly up your arms. Your whole body was humming at his touch.

He pressed one soft kiss to your neck, and you sighed and let your neck fall to the side. When his hands landed on your shoulders, he pressed another soft kiss at the bottom of your neck, then turned you to face him.

“You should stay with me.”

Before you could respond, he took your head in both his hands, cradling your jaw. He searched your eyes for any hesitancy, but you knew you couldn’t summon any, nor did you want to. Instead, you pushed up on your toes, seeking his lips, and he met you halfway, claiming your lips with his.

Your hands came up to clutch at his wrists as he held your face, and you leaned in, longing to feel your body close to his. His tongue teased at the seam of your mouth, and you let him in, allowing the kiss to deepen, to sear into your very soul. His left hand moved, quickly coming to press at the small of your back, drawing you flush against him. One of your arms wound around his broad chest, and the other came up to mirror how he was cupping your cheek, feeling the trace of stubble along his jaw with your fingers. You stroked his tongue with yours, moaning into the kiss, and he reciprocated stroke for stroke. You quickly became so consumed by his kiss, feeling lightheaded but not sure if it was him or a lack of air, because you couldn’t tell if you were still breathing. It was a fevered kiss driven by something you’d never felt so strongly before, and you needed more.

Nick sank to his knees, and you went naturally down with him. He sat back on his heels, and you followed, perching in his lap. He held you there, your core over his groin, for a delicious moment, and then suddenly he lifted you up and laid you softly but swiftly onto the soft flowery bed of the meadow, his lips never leaving yours. You gasped and giggled against his mouth.

“What a lovely sound,” he said tenderly. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a satisfied grin on his face.

Whether it was smug or sweet, you weren’t sure, and you felt your cheeks growing warm under his hungry gaze and his soft praise.

“I wonder what other lovely sounds I can draw from you,” he added as both of his hands moved to your hips. He began kissing you again, having only given you a moment of reprieve, then his hands slid slowly up your waist, skimming up over your ribs, pushing up the fabric of your sweatshirt. When his thumbs brushed up against the underswell of your breasts, he pressed back and forth a few times, teasing you, drawing a little whimper, before he let his thumbs run up and over your nipples. They were both peaked, and you shivered in pleasure, the teasing through the fabric of your bra its own unique sensation, but you were eager for more, so you moved your hands to begin quickly unbuttoning his flannel. He took the hint, helping you by shrugging off his jacket, and when he leaned up for a moment to pull off his flannel and remove the t-shirt he had on beneath it, so you shifted beneath him to pull off your sweatshirt and reach for the clasp of your bra, tossing that to the side as well.

You hadn’t hesitated to rid yourself of your clothes, but you were hit with the rush of baring your chest to him now as – with his own clothing discarded – he froze and looked down at you from above. You flushed with heat, but as you moved one hand to tentatively cover yourself, he grabbed it in his, drew it up to his mouth, and kissed your palm.

You were aware of every imperfection as his eyes roved over your body, but when he looked into your eyes and said, “gorgeous,” his face was so serious, so hungry, you didn’t question that he meant it.

He lowered himself back down over you, supporting himself by planting one forearm on the ground next to your side, and this time his lips sought your chest. He kissed down your sternum, then took one breast in his mouth, and palmed the other with his free hand. You moaned as he sucked one nipple and rolled and teased the other with his fingers. You arched beneath him, your body responsive to his diligent ministrations. He switched to the other breast, flicking his tongue over the nipple before lapping and sucking at it. You hadn’t cum before from nipple play alone, but he had you wondering if you might as the pleasure mounted.

You trembled and whimpered beneath him, and as you began to writhe more desperately, he took his mouth off your breast with an audible pop. He moved back up your body, and his hand cupped your face again, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, urging you to open your eyes and look at him.

“Tell me you never thought about it, about staying here with me after I left you earlier today,” he said.

You were already breathless, or else the powerful drive in his deep blue eyes would have stolen your breath once again.

“You must let me have you,” he implored.

You couldn’t answer, but only because you were overcome by the desire in his eyes. For you.

Your name fell from his lips, and his voice was soft, deep, and controlled, but you could still feel the edge of the desperate plea as he uttered your name.

“Yes,” you keened, and you rocked your hips up against his.

“Say the words,” he said. “Say my name and tell me I can have you.”

He slipped his hand down, hooked two fingers into your waistband, and pulled teasingly along the edge from your hip to just below your navel. The torturous movement along your soft skin only drove the hunger that was building for more.

He had to know how he was mounting and playing with the anticipation. But if he needed you to say it, you’d say anything to get what you wanted right now under the light of the full moon from this inimitable figure of a man, nearly unreal in his beauty.

“Nick, you can have me!” You cried.

He wasted no time in pulling your trousers and underwear down in one go. You tried to kick off your shoes, but slightly struggling to do so, his hands helped remove your shoes and socks more deftly, and he was able to more easily toss it all away. And as your legs settled back down on either side of him as he knelt above you, you realized he was suddenly somehow as naked as you – though you didn’t know how he managed that so quickly, so quickly it felt like magic. Everything about tonight felt illusory, and yet it was all tangible and indisputable, and you gave yourself over to it. When else would you ever find yourself in such an enchanted set of circumstances like this ever again?

So what if it felt like a dream?

You took a deep breath and let your fingers tangle in the grass and the stems of the wood anemone. Your eyes traveled up his thighs to a cock so thick and long and hard for you, then up further, over his hips, defined abs, chiseled chest, and broad shoulders, and you whined. Every inch of him ignited heat through your body, and when your eyes met his again, your pulse stuttered.

You could dream like this for one night.

Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Nick settled back on his haunches and pulled your thighs up over his, drawing you up over him, angling your lower half up as an offering, and his piercing cerulean gaze moved to your core, fully on display. His fingers brushed over your lower stomach, the touch so light it tickled, and you jerked, but his other hand held your hip firmly in place. His fingers parted your folds without hesitation, and he licked his lips.

“Such a pretty, wet cunt, my little nymph,” he said, and you felt both shy being so exposed to him, and desperate for him.

“Nymph?” you couldn’t help but question, surprised by the pet name.

“Mhmm,” Nick hummed. He traced your wet folds with one finger, in no rush. “You belong to this forest.” He spread your wetness along those lips with the attention of an artist to his canvas. Then he slipped two fingers inside your cunt.

You gasped, and your eyes fluttered closed.

He pushed them all the way in, then gave a few slow, shallow thrusts in and out.

You never wanted to wake up from this, but you needed more.

“Nick, please!”

He withdrew his fingers and then pressed them to your lips. “Taste your sweet nectar, nymph.”

The digits easily slipped into your mouth, and the urge to suck was a near primal reaction. He applied gentle pressure on your tongue as you sucked, and it only drove the craving in your core further. You were entirely lucid, and yet you felt thoroughly intoxicated by him, by everything around you.

“Open your eyes,” he said, and you did.

You swore he could see into your soul when he looked at you so intensely, but rather than fear, it soothed your nerves. It also more deeply stoked your desire for him, and as much as you wanted to linger in this moment, there was an undeniable pull you couldn’t ignore.

“Kiss me,” you breathed.

He shifted to lean down over you, remaining rooted between your thighs but shifting forward so you were nearly chest to chest. He bore his weight on his forearms, caging you in. As he settled, lips only a breath away from you, you felt the weight of his large, thick cock rest on your stomach. You lifted your head to pull him into the kiss you wanted. You ached for him to fill you up, but you also wanted to give everything just to this kiss for a few beats longer.

It was like he was drinking you in. One of your arms came up around his back, the other brushed up along the side of his arm, seeking and ultimately finding his hand, and your fingers instinctively entwined together.

He moved his other hand down briefly to guide the head of his cock to your weeping hole, and you gave a little moan into his mouth as his head entered you.

As he seated his cock fully inside of you, the tip nudging your cervix, you had to break off your kiss to concentrate on breathing. Nick dropped his forehead to yours, seemingly unable to refuse some form of intimate closeness as he rocked into you again. “You can feel it,” he spoke, the warmth of his breath still close to your mouth.

“Yes,” you panted. Your legs wrapped around his torso. He resumed thrusting, slow, deep thrusts.

“I can feel it, too,” he murmured along your jaw. “You’re answering the call of the forest.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, hardly focused on what he was saying, but the deep warmth of his voice made the words swell through your mind.

He continued his unhurried thrusts, almost methodical in nature, and after a few more minutes, his cock began to swell inside you. And it continued to grow.

You moaned – or groaned – you couldn’t decipher if what you were feeling was real and whether it was painful or pure ecstasy. Your hand clasped his more tightly, and his answering squeeze was accompanied by tendrils of vines sprouting and circling around your hand and down around your wrist.

“What?” Your eyes flew open, and then you gasped. “Nick!”

He was transforming before your eyes. His face remained familiar, but a crown of horns appeared around his head, and emerald moss and glossy leaves intermingled and sprouted throughout his dark hair. Two enormous, magnificent antlers had emerged from his temple and were still slowly growing, just as he was still slowly growing inside you as he continued his steady thrusts. His shoulders broadened, and you knew he was growing in stature.

You trembled beneath him, tears springing to your eyes, in danger of spilling over.

“I told you, my little nymph: I’m the king and guardian of this forest – it speaks to me like it wants to speak to you. You’re answering the call, and I can’t,” he paused to groan, and with a shiver, you felt the ridge of his spine shift from skin to a supple tree bark. “It’s midnight, and with you giving yourself to me and the forest, I can’t hold back my true form.”

He began to thrust more quickly in and out of your cunt, a few of the strokes a little erratic. You whimpered, overwhelmed, and a few tears spilled over your cheeks.

“No, none of that,” he scolded, but kissed away the tears. “You didn’t want to leave, and now you don’t have to, nor can you.”

His free hand moved between you and found your pulsing, puffy clit, applying immediate, furious little circles that refused to let you feel anything but pleasure in response to his ministrations. His lips reclaimed yours once again, and as your body continued to tremble, his thrusts sped up even more, your channel never more full, making the mounting wave of pain and pleasure so exquisite as the waves grew that you let out a sob as your orgasm crashed over you.

Unrelenting, as your cunt contracted around him, Nick more demandingly sought his own release. He moved both hands to grip your ribs below your wrists and railed into you with abandon, punching the air from your lungs over and over, and ultimately pushing you into a rushed second orgasm only seconds before he roared his own ecstasy, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep loads of his seed inside of you, a warmth you could feel permeating you.

And then Nick petted your face, showering kisses softly over your lips, cheeks, and eyelids before ultimately resting his forehead on yours, and gently caressing your neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you, for this, and now you're mine forever.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

If you enjoyed this at all, read the other two fics from the Enchanted Birthday Fest! They're both exquisite!

#nick fowler #sebastian stan #nick fowler smut #teratophillia #terato #female reader #nick fowler x female reader #tw: dubcon #sebastian stan smut #aspen wrote something #aspensenchantedbday

341 notes · View notes

tim-shii · 3 months

Text

a/n: save me, preppy!bf danheng. save me, please, preppy!bf danheng. im so normal about him its not funny anymore. i need him. i badly need him in my life rn its actually criminal how hes not beside me reading our silly little books together. also consider this my little belated valentines gift <3

bf!danheng who smells of old books, coffee and vanilla flowers.

bf!danheng who writes you little handwritten notes and slips them into the pockets of your coat or jacket.

bf!danheng whose favorite authors are edgar allan poe, albert camus and fyodor dostoevsky.

bf!danheng who’s such a gentle lover, every word of praise that comes from his lips is nothing but sincere and sickeningly enamored.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.”

bf!danheng who’s an honor student and tutors you at the library after class hours.

bf!danheng who lets you borrow his sweaters and crewnecks, sometimes even letting you keep them with the reason being ‘they look better on you’.

bf!danheng who casually hands you an annotated book out of nowhere.

“i finished the book. you were talking about it a week ago.”

bf!danheng who recites to you the most romantic poems as you both lay on the grass, under the starry night.

“she walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies;

and all that’s best of dark and bright

meet in her aspect and her eyes;

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

bf!danheng who reads his book beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders and head leaning to yours.

bf!danheng who always remembers little details about you, whether you mentioned it in passing or he overheard you telling it to your friends.

bf!danheng who notices everything about you.

“you fiddle with your ring when you’re bored.”

bf!danheng who falls in love with you more and more when you randomly blurt out a quote in the hushed nights you two spend together.

“it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

“that’s shakespeare. you’ve always loved that quote.” he looks over at you, a fond expression gracing his pretty face.

bf!danheng who greets you with a kiss to your temple everytime without fail.

bf!danheng whose heart jumps a little bit faster when you push his glasses up his nose with a pointed finger and your nose scrunched up cutely at him.

bf!danheng who kisses you passionately and slow, taking his time ‘cause he feels like it’s only a matter of time before something inevitably pull you away cruelly from his hold.

bf!danheng who blinks slowly, blush rushing to his ears, when you smile at him and promise him you’ll be with him for evermore.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#tim writes.#hsr danheng #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail danheng #danheng x reader #danheng fluff #danheng #dan heng #imbibitor lunae #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #hsr dan heng #danheng x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail fluff

337 notes · View notes

mrprettywhenhecries · 5 months

Text

wrapped in a bow [s.h]

Steve Harrington ✘ f!Reader

⇾ w.c. 2k words ⇾ warning(s). f!reader, no use of y/n, lingerie, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie ⇾ a/n. Belated Day Four of HoHoHoe Week. Prompt(s) - Present + Dressed up. Read part one and two, though it's not necessarily needed to understand this part.

It’s Christmas eve and you surprise Steve with an early Christmas present. One that he gets to unwrap under the light of the tree, but little do you know, he has an early gift for you as well.

[ masterlist ]

Christmas eve found you at the Harrington household, visiting Steve’s parents after the few days you had with yours. However, nearly as soon as you arrived, the two of you were dragged along to a Christmas eve party his parents’ friends were throwing.

“Mom, I thought we were gunna spend a quiet evening with you and Dad. Do you know how long we were on the road for?” Steve huffed, annoyance radiating off him in waves.

“Steve, darling, we can’t miss the Ferons’ annual Christmas eve party! We go every year,” his mom explained patiently, as if Steve were a pouting child.

“Yeah, I know, but–” Steve began, only to be interrupted by his father.

“Don’t argue with your mother.”

The frustrated look on your boyfriend’s face tugged at you – you knew all too well how strained his relationship with his father was – and you jumped in to save him, just as he huffed that he wasn’t arguing.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington, Steve was just wondering if we could duck out a little early, since I’m pretty beat from the drive,” you said, laying your hand on his father’s arm, and the older man softened.

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaimed. “Son, why don’t you take your girlfriend back home and let her get some rest?”

Steve flashed a tight lipped smile at his dad as he ducked his head in a sullen nod.

“Yeah, we’ll do that,” he muttered and you said your goodbyes, assuring his mom that you’d be alright, that you just needed to sleep off this headache that was forming.

“Thanks for that, that was some quick thinking,” Steve murmured once you were back in the car, driving down the quiet streets of Hawkins.

“It was nothing, babe. I could tell how much you wanted to get outta there,” you assured him, reaching across the center console to take his hand, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles, and Steve smiled softly at the gesture, bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

“I’m just sorry my parents would rather get drunk with their snobby friends than spend time with us, but I don’t know what else I expected,” he sighed, pulling into the drive of his childhood home. “At least we’ll have the place to ourselves,” he murmured and an idea sprang to your mind.

“Meet me in the living room, I have a present I want you to open early,” you exclaimed, hurrying up the stairs to Steve’s old room to fetch it as soon as you were inside.

“Okay,” Steve chuckled, watching you disappear upstairs. “I have something for you too,” he murmured, reaching into his pocket, but you only half heard.

Kicking the door shut behind you, you began to strip, rummaging through your luggage for the red lacy outfit you’d packed, hoping for a chance to surprise your boyfriend with. You’d planned on breaking it out once his parents were asleep, since they at least seemed to have no qualms about the two of you sharing a room, unlike your own parents, but the opportunity to do it under the soft glow of the Christmas tree was too good to pass up.

Getting dressed in the complicated garment took longer than you’d planned and you hoped that Steve hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for you. Wrapping a silk robe around yourself, you slipped back downstairs, letting out a sigh of relief as Steve lifted his head from the back of the couch when he heard you return.

“Where’s my present?” he asked with a chuckle, his eyes widening as you stepped in front of him and let the robe fall to the floor.

“Right here.”

Steve swallowed, wetting his lips as his gaze traveled hungrily over your scantily clad form – the red lace hugging your curves and leaving little to the imagination.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” he breathed, his lips tugging into an awe filled grin. “All this for me?” he asked, his eyes flicking up to yours as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding up your hips.

“All for you,” you murmured, arousal already throbbing through you and pooling between your thighs. “Do you like?” you asked, even though the answer was obvious.

“Do you even have to ask?” Steve replied, pressing his lips to your navel, and you let out a soft moan, running your fingers though his hair, letting him kiss his way up your stomach and between your breasts.

“Are you gunna unwrap your gift to play with?” you purred, tilting your head down to watch him, already practically soaking through your lace panties.

Steve shook his head slowly, holding your gaze. “As much as I would love to tear this off you and sink inside you, I think I wanna take my time,” he mused, raising his eyebrows at you, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “With wrapping this pretty, it’d be a shame to tear it.”

You let out a whine, but didn’t argue, anticipation coursing through you as his hands ghosted down your sides, first unclasping the garters strapped around your thighs before slowly working the see through thigh high stockings down. Setting your foot between his legs on the couch, your knee bent in front of him, he pressed slow kisses against your skin as it was revealed, finally slipping one stocking off and then repeating the action with the other leg.

Once your legs were bare, he set your foot back on the floor, glancing up at you as he kissed your navel, his soft lips grazing your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as his hands slid up your body to work your garter belt down and let it fall to the floor with your discarded stockings.

Steve held your gaze as he next slipped his hands under the sides of your now practically soaked lace panties, tugging the fabric down agonizingly slowly as your cunt throbbed with want. A moan caught in your throat as his lips followed, the tip of his nose brushing the soft hair between your legs, and the panties too fell to the floor, pooling around your ankles.

“So beautiful,” Steve breathed, leaving languid kisses everywhere but where you wanted him, deliberately driving you crazy with each lingering kiss and touch, his large hands running up your legs before once more resting on your hips and guiding you backward a few steps as he stood, kissing his way up your body.

Pressing your thighs together discreetly against the aching between your legs, you could already feel your slick practically dripping down your inner thighs and you whined as Steve’s hands found the clasp of your bra, desperate for him to hurry up.

Steve chuckled at your petulant whine, pausing to nip at the curve of your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh as the bra slipped down your chest, and as soon as your tits were free, his hands covered them, massaging gently and you moaned, slipping your hands under his sweater, your fingers teasing the skin just above his trousers and it was his turn to hiss a breath as your hand found his trapped erection, palming him through the fabric.

“Steve please—“ you breathed, your gaze catching his, his dark eyes blown wide with want, and he swallowed.

“Lay down,” he murmured, stealing a lingering kiss before he released you, quickly pulling his sweater over his head, and you obeyed, getting comfortable on the soft rug next to the tree.

Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you couldn’t tear your eyes away as Steve stripped, his movements hasty before joining you on the floor, crawling over you, adoration in his eyes.

“This is the best present I think I’ve ever gotten,” he chuckled softly, taking you in his arms, his touch gentle, but firm at the same time, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“I’m glad you like it,” you breathed, Steve’s body pressing to yours sending a fire through you. “I want you so badly,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his neck, his jaw, his chest, anywhere you could reach.

When his cock slid between your folds, coating his length in your slick, the needy whimper that left your lips was sinfully sweet and Steve couldn’t help but echo you, his forehead pressing to yours as his hips rocked against you.

“You’re so wet,” he marveled and you nodded helplessly.

“You did that,” you whined, canting your hips forward to try to coax him inside you and he huffed a laugh.

“So impatient,” he breathed, kissing you slowly and thoroughly, making your head swim.

“Steve,” you mewled, desperation lacing your pitiful plea. “Need you.”

It was those two words that did it and he smiled, caressing your cheek as he slid into you, slowly filling you.

“This what you need, baby?” he asked, moaning softly as he finally stilled, enjoying just being inside you, your slick velvet walls hugging him so sweetly.

“Uh huh,” you gasped, clenching tighter around him, urging him to move. “Need you so bad, Steve.”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, pulling back to thrust into you again, slow and deliberate, each rock of his hips growing slightly faster, his languid lovemaking turning desperate and intense until you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

Your words fell away and the room was filled with your heavy breaths and the lewd sounds of skin on skin, Steve’s expression illuminated by the soft glow of the white Christmas lights and your mouth fell open as you hung suspended, teetering on the precipice of your release. It felt like time slowed to a stop right before the tightly compressed spring of pleasure inside your stomach finally snapped and your vision went white as you fell apart, crying Steve’s name like a prayer as his thrusts turned jerky and he filled you, painting your walls with white ropes as his mouth fell open and his eyes screwed shut.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, Steve’s panted breaths the only thing you could hear over the pounding of blood in your ears and you pressed your face to the crook of his neck, your bodies sticking together from the light sheen of sweat on your skin, but you didn’t care, only holding him tighter as you floated down from your high.

“Holy shit, that was intense,” Steve finally gasped, lifting his face to look at you, his long hair mussed and out of place, several strands stuck to his damp forehead, but he’d never looked better.

“That was perfect,” you agreed, running your hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes and press a kiss to the corner of his pink swollen lips, his cheeks flushed from exertion and his eyes shining with affection.

“I love you so much,” he breathed, echoing your actions, his palm caressing your cheek as he watched you and you could hear the hitch of emotion in his voice.

“I love you too, Steve,” you answered, nearly swept away by the depth of your feelings for him.

His lips stretched into a wavering grin and he shifted, reaching blindly for his trousers that he’d discarded nearby. “I think I mentioned I have something for you too,” he said, his brows drawing down slightly as he struggled to pull something from his pocket. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but I think tonight’s the perfect moment.”

Your mouth fell open as he produced a small velvet box and opened the lid, the soft light surrounding you sparkling off of the diamond inside.

“Steve–”

“Will you marry me?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, your vision swimming for a moment before blinking, your tears catching in your lashes, but you were already nodding emphatically. “Yes! A million times, yes!”

Steve let out the breath he’d been holding, his hands shaking slightly as he slipped the ring on your finger and you pulled him into a fierce hug. “This is the best Christmas gift ever,” you whispered.

⇾ taglist. @heartbreak-sandwich @b1tchy3lf @afestivelegend @hawkinsglasscloset @sugarcookiesteve @birminghamshelbyboys @hohohoeweek2023

#hohohoe23 #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #joz.fic

329 notes · View notes

fourmoony · 6 months

Note

omg haii, i read ur mini seiries called hope, and i absolutely ADORE it!!! you're probably already writing a part 4, but i wanna request an idea - her first b-day and she meets regulus and lily for the first time where regulus is kinda quiet, not involving himself that much and hope penguin-walks over to him and hugs his leg and regulus goes full-on sweet mode omgg and he baby-talks her like "heyy hope" and "i'm your favourite uncle, right?" and hope babbles back <333

i would be in total awe if i saw this in at least one of your parts, it's also my birthday in 10 days so perfect fit in with hope's birthday!!

tysm for reading <333

hi! I love this idea... sorry it took so long, I've been swamped with college work. this one only features Regulus because the story got away from me, but I could do a separate one for Lily if you like. happy belated birthday, I hope you had an amazing day :) hope you like it

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟒) - james potter x f!reader - this part doesn't have much james content, sorry!

summary: Hope and Uncle Reggie fluff. 1.9k

masterlist - part 1 - part 2 - part 3

There’s balloons and banners on every wall, presents on every surface, toys strewn all over the floor, and paper plates dotted in various areas.

Hope stands in the middle of it all, in the eye of the storm, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on her chubby little face. It’s strange, when you really think about it, that she smiles just like James. Considering she’s not biologically yours, nor his. But she smiles like him. Unabashedly, bright, all of her tiny little teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners from the sheer force of her happiness. You’ve wrangled her hair into pigtails and she’s wearing the pink corduroy pinafore Sirius bought her with matching pink socks. She’s the epitome of cuteness and your heart can’t take it.

It’s surprising – and yet not at all – that she hasn’t napped all day. It’s not long gone four pm, the party winding down, and there’s been not a single tantrum, nor a moment of calm from your daughter. James, on the other hand, has had several tantrums. He’s adamant Hope has defied all biological laws and is growing too fast. He says it so often you think he might have wished it true, because today, for the first time, you see it.

She’s no longer the baby James brought home bundled in a blanket, with a nervous smile on his face. She’s a bright, loving, happy little girl with so much attitude, so much love, so much energy, and you really feel like maybe she is growing too fast. You can’t slow time, no matter how hard you try, and that makes your lip wobble as you stare at your daughter, pointing sticky fingers at Remus who tries to dodge her, and your boyfriend, who’s trying to corral her with a baby wipe.

All the kids invited to the party have long gone, stuffed with cake and with a complimentary party bag. The cottage is no longer crowded or overrun by hyperactive children. Calm has resumed – well, as calm as any residence with your daughter and your friends inside of it can be. Sirius is half passed out on the sofa from hours of keeping up with his god daughter, legs swung up over the arm, a haphazardly placed party hat on his head. Remus is still trying to dodge Hope’s sticky fingers but is now the one with the baby wipe trying to corral her. He won’t win. You know your daughter and by now, Remus should know that his attempts are futile. But they’re both laughing, even if Remus keeps grimacing every time her hands land on his beige trousers.

“So,” James appears beside you, an overly fond look in his eyes, “Hope’s Epic First Birthday – success?”

You hum, lean into the arm he’s wrapped around you, emulating warmth and comfort and every bit of him you’ve come to love over the years – home – “Massive success. Best parents ever.”

James huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. He tenses when the doorbell rings. It’s habit, after the war, but you’re safe now, so he releases you with a chaste peck to the lips and jogs off to answer. Remus has strong armed Hope into his lap and is wiping down her hands. You smile. He’s better with her than he would ever know. You can hear James happily talking away to someone, shoes are discarded with a familiar thump by the front door, and then he appears back in the doorway with a wide smile.

Regulus appears behind him, a tentative smile on his face. He’s so similar to Sirius it’s kind of shocking, but the differences are there. Where Sirius is punk rock and messy black eye liner with leather jackets and shaggy hair, Regulus is stoic, regal, neat and put together. It’s been an odd adjustment, watching the two brothers become acquainted with each other again after years of being apart, but it warms your heart every time share a smile or a joke, sometimes an awkward hug. Winning the war was mostly because of Regulus and his behind-the-scenes efforts and when Sirius found out, it shattered everything he’d ever thought about his brother. Watching him recover from what he thought would be mourning his brother, but actually turned out to be healing with his brother, has been beautiful.

“Sirius,” You call, “Regulus is here.”

Sirius perks up, all sense of exhaustion gone, and smiles wide at the sight of his younger brother. Regulus is wearing all black – slacks and a button up shirt. They have the same eyes, same cheek bones, same nose. But Regulus is, for lack of a better word, serious. He’s well put together, posh, a man of luxury, after inheriting half of the Black family riches two months ago.

It’s why, when you spot the sparkly pink gift bag in his hand, you have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“Reg,” Sirius stands, hesitates, but ultimately decides to go for a hug, anyway, “You made it.”

Regulus hugs Sirius back, albeit a little awkwardly, “Of course.”

He turns to you and James, “Sorry I missed the party. All the people, I just…”

James waves a dismissive hand, bright and easy smile on his face, “Honestly, mate, don’t worry about it. Twenty screaming kids is anyone’s worst nightmare.”

Regulus smiles a little, nodding in way of an answer. Hope has wrangled her way out of Remus’ grip and is tottering across the living room floor, dodging stray balloons and wrapped presents as she goes. When she reaches Regulus, she stops, tiny fist clutching at the leg of his trousers. Regulus hasn’t spent much time around Hope. You don’t know if he really likes kids. But when he crouches, a soft look about his eyes you’ve never seen before, you release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. James guides you to the armchair, pulling you into his lap.

You sit happily, watching the scene before you unfold. Sirius and Remus seem to be as mesmerised by this version of Regulus as you are.

“Hi, Birthday Girl,” His voice is quiet, sweet like honey as he holds the bag out to her, “This is for you.”

Hope looks enamoured by the pink glittery bag, let alone whatever could be inside. Regulus sits it on the ground, legs in a basket to get onto Hope’s level. The bag sits between them like a peace treaty. Hope stares at Regulus and he waits, face blank, lips upturned maybe a little. Her tiny, little hand reaches out, palm flat against his cheek and Regulus closes his eyes for a second before a wide grin spreads its way across his face. Sirius steps around them carefully to reach for the camera by the mantle. Without another word, Hope clambers into Regulus’ lap and sits down. She’s never been shy, so you don’t know why it surprises you so much.

“So,” Regulus starts, holding open the bag so that Hope can see inside, “Start with this one.”

He hands her a neatly wrapped gift, white paper with little pink hearts and you melt at the idea of cold, stoic, Regulus Black in a shop somewhere buying pink gift bags and wrapping paper. He helps Hope a little to unwrap it, and then holds it out in front of her. It’s a book, from what you can see, with a tiger and a little girl on the front cover.

“This book is called The Tiger Who Came to Tea. It’s a muggle book, one my cousin Andromeda used to read to me. I think you’ll like it.” He’s talking so quiet you really think he’s only intending for Hope to hear him.

Your daughter looks entirely fascinated, enthralled by the attention she’s gaining from Regulus.

Sirius snaps a picture, but Regulus doesn’t look up.

He pulls another gift out of the bag, a smaller box, which he helps Hope unwrap again, “Your Uncle Sirius says you’re going to be a famous Quidditch player, one day. This is Plan B. You don’t have to be magic to make potions,” He flips the lid on a little wooden box, engraved with her name, and inside are loads of scribbled on pieces of parchment, “These are my perfected recipes. You’ll go a long way with these, but something tells me you’re going to surpass them by a mile.”

Your lip wobbles as you watch. Throughout the nine months Hope has been your daughter, you’ve thought many times about her future. Sirius has a can do, no worry attitude about her becoming a Quidditch star. You think he’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen for her. But Regulus has given her the beautiful gift of his own potion recipes, and the ability to create and succeed in something she can do with no boundaries.

He’s given her an heirloom, a starting point, an incredibly thoughtful gift and it’s truly beautiful.

“Your mum and dad can probably hang onto this for a few years. But it’s yours, don’t let your dad nick it, I know how bad he is at potions.” Regulus looks pointedly at James, who wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs.

You place your hand over his heart and share a look you’ve come all too familiar with – how lucky are we to have a little girl who is so adored?

The last present Regulus takes out of the bag isn’t wrapped. It’s a teddy bear, brown and small enough for Hope to carry. She takes it from his hands with a wide smile, giving him a small ‘ta’ as way of thanking him. Regulus smiles, nods his head, “You’re welcome, Hope. Happy Birthday.”

She’s up like a shot once presents are finished – as is to be expected. She totters over to Sirius, who looks equally as teary eyed as you and James and shows him the bear with great enthusiasm. You stand to collect the box of potion lists from the floor, holding it gently, a smile on your lips. Regulus is standing now, so you look to him, finger rubbing softly over the engravement of her name, “Regulus, I- thank you. This is a beautiful gift. And the book, she loves tigers.”

He smiles softly, nodding his head, “Remus told me she made Padfoot wear a Halloween costume of a tiger.”

You laugh fondly at the memory as Sirius – who’s holding Hope in his arms as she wriggles – growls at Remus for recounting the story. Remus holds his hands up in surrender, a knowing look in his eyes.

“And the potions stuff is because there should be something from our world for her to access no matter what. I have a feeling she’ll be one of the greats, I wasn’t lying about that. Just like her mum.”

“Can I hug you?” You ask Regulus.

He nods, and so you do. It’s a little stunted, a little awkward, but it means the world over.

“Okay,” James claps his hands together, the remnants of tears on his cheeks like a little snail trail, “Cake?”

“Please.” Regulus nods and follows your boyfriend to the kitchen.

Sirius hands Hope off to James as he passes, who immediately reaches for Regulus. He takes her wordlessly from James, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Sirius reaches over to the mantle, hands you a photograph that’s been left to develop. Hope and Regulus are on the floor, your daughter curled comfortably onto his lap, smiling brightly up at him as he holds the book in front of her. He looks so happy, so content, nothing like the boy you knew in school, Sirius’ estranged brother. He looks like Reggie.

You smile, take your wand from your back pocket and wave it over the photograph.

In small cursive letters, underneath the moving photograph, appears: Hope and Uncle Regulus on Hope’s First Birthday.

Sirius beams.

386 notes · View notes

arialerendeair · 5 months

Note

King!Dream and Knight!Hob! All the feels you can fit in that bad boy! Angst, pining, whump, whatever floats your boat! Spicy times if the spirit moves you!

THESE TWO ARE EVERYTHING TO ME AND I LOVE THEM, BECAUSE THERE'S SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS IT CAN GO. BUT HERE IS ONE OF THEM!!

~!~

There's, of course, the Knight Hob who has been working his way into the position, is FIERCELY loyal to his king, and becoming a member of his Kingsguard is everything he has ever wanted in his entire life. It's an honor and a pleasure (even though it makes him ache, soul-deep, as he realizes how lonely his King is, how much the crown weighs on him, and how much everyone demands from him, and how the King denies himself to meet the needs of others).

They get closer and closer, because Hob isn't befitting a Consort, even as Dream himself (his King had insisted, whispering, demanding, that he use his given name, because save for his Niece, his Heir, no one else did, and Hob hadn't been able to resist the quiet plea in those words), picks an Heir and protects their Kingdom and continues to rule alone. So though he cannot rule by Dream's side, Hob does everything he can to support Dream, every day.

Sometimes that includes dismissing the other guards to ensure the King can take a bath in peace. Sometimes it includes ensuring the fire is extra built up on the coldest nights and the warmest of furs have made their way onto Dream's bed. He loves his King (because of course he loves Dream), and there is nothing he wouldn't do to ensure that his King was happy. Absolutely nothing. He would give anything, everything, to ensure the happiness of his King.

And that includes his own life.

When an attempt is made on Dream's life, when the crossbow bolt is pointed at him from across the hall, Hob is stepping up and into it, without a second's thought. It tears through his shoulder, sinking deep into the flesh, and Hob's last thought is that he hopes he dies, not because he wants to die (far from it - he never wants to die), but because he will no longer be able to protect his King with an injury like this and that is worse, so much worse.

When the world goes black around him, Hob doesn't hear the shout from his King, or the explosion of furious magic that follows, nor the soft as satin hands that are touching the area around where the bolt is buried in his skin.

When he wakes, a great deal of time has passed, and even still, Hob is exhausted, and he's already wondering if he has been dismissed to a medical room befitting his station when he forces his eyes open and is surprised to recognize the King's Chambers. A few belated seconds later has him realizing that not only is he in the King's chambers, but he is in the King's bed, and his heart jumps into his throat, because the King, Dream, is sitting beside him in bed, reading by the light of the candle beside the bed.

He shifts, just enough to alert Dream and wide blue eyes dart down to stare at him, and then it is a scramble of hastily whispered words to hold still, and then Dream is holding a cup of water to his lips for him to sip from. Just that is exhausting, but his throat no longer feels on fire, and Dream, beautiful, perfect Dream, is still watching him, afraid.

"You mustn't ever do that again," Dream orders, his voice soft, but shaking. "Never. You were nearly lost to us."

Hob smiles despite himself, because the King's demand is a foolish one. "A worthy sacrifice to keep you safe, my King." He's surprised when Dream's face crumples in return and his hand is taken, cradled oh-so-carefully, and pulled closer. "Dream? Why-"

"You were nearly lost to ME," Dream growls, pressing a desperate kiss to Hob's palm. "I cannot lose you. I cannot." Another desperate kiss to the warm skin against his lips, before he meets his knight's eyes once more.

Hob's breath has caught and he is staring at his King with wide, shocked eyes. He strokes his fingertips down the length of Dream's cheek, before tracing the swell of his lower lip, marveling at the allowance, that Dream has not moved, nor denied him. "Dream."

Dream's breath leaves him in a heaving rush. "Never again would I have you hear me address me as my title. My given name has never sounded right until it fell from your lips, and I would hear it every time you address me henceforth." He pauses, breathing deep. "I have no desire to be a King to you, Hob, not any longer. I wish to be something far more dear, and I will not wait until death has stolen you from my arms to make you mine."

The smile that grows on his face is wide and shocked, happy and stunned all at once. Though there are many more words to be spoken, plans to be made, there is perhaps only one thing that matters in that moment, and Hob takes the excruciating amount of effort required to lift his hand, place it on the back of Dream's neck, to pull him into a kiss.

"That is a command I am happy to obey, my Dream."

#Aria Posts #Aria Answers #aralezinspace #Dreamling #Birthday Prompts #These are late and I have a pile of them but I'm working on it!#ALSO THE LONGING IN THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING REAL

265 notes · View notes

sprout-fics · 11 months

Text

The Lark

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Read here on Ao3)

(Part 11 of 'Little Mouse')

Word Count: 5.7k Rating: Mature Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Dark König, Hints of yandere König, Close proximity situations, Confessions, Murder attempts, Manhandling, Behind enemy lines Warnings: Explicit mention of wanting to kill your Austrian boyfriend A/N: Please see full notes on AO3

"He's gone."

You can feel the pressure of Gaz and Ghost staring at you, can feel the slow, dreaded realization draw across them even as you stare with wet eyes down at your boots. The air between you all feels far too cold, cracked and dry in the nighttime air following the weight of Soap's words.

"Gone." Ghost echoes, and there's a tone to his voice you never hear, hovering at the apex between restraint and a desperate, unveiled well of emotion.

"...Captured." Soap clarifies beside you, and the word makes you hunch in on yourself more, threatening to send you to your knees in horrific shame of what has transpired.

"KorTac?" Ghost offers after a moment, and if the pause wasn’t indicative enough of his dread, the barely imperceptible waver of his voice betrays him.

Soap must nod because you hear Ghost suck in breath. Gaz feels rigid, frozen beside him as they both process exactly what you've relayed to them.

You lost him. You lost Price.

Your leader, your mentor, your captain and commander. The one you all looked to, who was the first to lead the charge, whose voice was an ever-present reminder of his authority, his guidance, his resolve to do the mission by any means necessary because it needed to be done.

Now he is gone.

and it was all your fault.

You look up then, eyes wet and warm as you force back tears. Gaz is the first to meet your eyes, and you nearly fracture at his gaze because it just seems so broken.

"I'm sorry." You tell him, voice hardly a whisper. "It's-it's my fault, I didn't-"

"It's not your fault." Soap manages beside you, and his voice is steady with an anger shielded by a steadfastness that no doubt draws from the very depths of him. "I was the one to make the call, I-"

"Soap."

Whatever Soap means to say next dies on his lips at the sound of Ghost's voice, and all three of you look to the lieutenant upon hearing the scarcely concealed anger that radiates cold and dangerous off his coiled form.

"What. Happened." Ghost manages, and you restrain the urge to press closer to Soap out of the need for reassurance, offer him your touch as he dares not even breathe under Ghost's gaze.

Slowly, he recounts the details of the mission, from the approach to the infiltration, pausing as you supplement his perspective with yours. You offer what you can- how it was an ambush, how you moved to extract yourselves too late, how you watched Price-

You have to pause at that, swallow down the bile in your throat.

How you watched Price take down Aksel, how your reaction had been belated, how you panicked, and that by the time you'd come back to your senses it had been far, far too late.

As you tearfully recount the events that led to Price's capture, you watch as Gaz winds himself tighter and tighter with each passing word, fists curling at his sides and brow knotted in a torn mixture between fury and despair. You can only imagine the catastrophic loss that Price's abduction left inside him- true and utter horror mixed with potent hopelessness. Price had been the one to take Gaz under his wing, to train him in all the things he didn't know and offer his advice as both captain and friend. It was no secret Gaz revered Price, and in the aftermath of his disappearance there’s an anguish that festers in his chest until it translates into rage.

"I had to choose." Soap tells the two of them, voice finally cracking in despair. "I only had one shot, I-"

Gaz reacts then, launches forward and abruptly pins Soap against the outside of the truck you’d arrived back in, fists gripping tightly to the straps of his vest, face contorted in a fury that reeks of misery.

"Gaz!" You yell, try desperately to intervene and haul him off Soap. Yet Soap doesn't struggle, doesn't offer any defense, instead just looks at Gaz with such utter guilt and devastation you can feel your heart fracture at the seams.

“This is your fault.” Gaz raps, and you watch as Soap’s eyes glinted with a shimmering reflection of hurt.

“You don’t mean that.” The Scot replies softly, voice hollow with grief. "You don't mean that, Kyle."

Gaz seems to get a hold of himself then, face falling from its snarl, eyes glimmering with realization of what he's said.

“No.” He tells his friend brokenly, voice cracking, his hands easing on Soap’s gear. “I don’t.”

You watched as he releases Soap, holding onto him for just a moment longer with his head bent before he paces a few steps away, shoulders shuddering with an unsteady exhale.

You want to touch him, to hug him, to tell him it is going to be okay. Yet you don't dare, not when you have the right. How could you? Instead, you wrap your arms around yourself, leaning into Soap's hold when he offers, swallowing down the tightness in your throat.

"It should have been me." You say in the silence that follows, and when none of them respond you echo it to yourself once more. "I-it should have been me."

"No." Soap replies, strained, slumped against the truck with one arm wrapped loosely around you, his head hanging into his chest. "Price...wouldn't want that."

"Soap is right." Gaz replies after a moment, voice croaking as he contains the wreckage of himself. "Price would have died before he let you get captured again."

Again.

It's true, you know it's true, but that fact alone doesn't do anything to quell the hurt in your chest- the sharp, sickening stab of guilt that colors your veins dark with ichor. You could have managed, could have endured KorTac's attempts to break you if you had been captured, even if they tried to use you against the 141. As long as they were safe, as long as Price and the others were safe.

Ghost lets out an exhale then, once more drawing your attention to him. Gaz and Soap turn their heads too, looking to their leader in the face of Price's absence, his second in command who shares his convictions, who remains the arrow in Price's bow- flinging himself in the direction of the enemy.

"Get sorted." He tells you and Soap shortly, voice leveling to that of a direct order. Cold, detached, compartmentalizing down further and further until the pain and the anger and fear is only atoms. "I'm going to reach Laswell. I want you all ready the second she has intel on where they’re keeping Price."

You all nod a little absently, expecting Ghost to say as much. It's not a question of if you will go to rescue your captain, but when.

Ghost turns, then focuses on you all again with a heavy stare as you gaze at him in turn.

"Tell Price your regrets when he gets back." Is all he supplies. Firm, unwavering, and yet still sounding somehow like he's trying to remind himself. "We have a mission to finish. Understood?"

"Yes, sir.” You echo along with Soap and Gaz, trying your best to bury and hide the expanse of your soul under cracked, bitter resolve.

-----

"Maus?"

You blink up at the mammoth figure who has pinned you to the wall with brutal, efficient strength, feeling the aftertaste of shock roll low through your stomach. Your knife is lofted high above your head along with your wrists, body caged in by his much larger frame. König’s hood droops forward as he stares down at you with wide, shocked eyes, pupils glinting as realization slowly catches up behind his reflexes.

You swallow thickly, feeling your heart hammer higher in your throat. Any words you may have to offer remain stuck there, fixed along with every frozen muscle coiled tight in resistance of his grasp. Your fingers flex around the blade in your grip, tightening as an anchor to tie yourself to, reminding you of your resolve.

To kill him.

It's simple. Gaz had almost accomplished it once before. Slice across his upper tricep, the underside of his arm close to his armpit. There's an artery there that runs dark and scarlet, and if you angle your blade just right you can soon feel the pulse of him run red over your gloved fingers.

Yet when you had the opportunity as he had drawn near you had fumbled, had paused a microsecond too long and had allowed him the advantage. The sting of defeat burns hollow in your chest, colliding there with something far too forbidden- the thought that you didn't want to.

"Let me go." You whisper, hushed in the corridor where you both stand. It seems to startle König out of his reverie, because his eyes shift with the exact motion that you hissed through gritted teeth.

"What in God's name are you doing here?!" He hisses, voice scathing. There's a flash in his eyes you haven't seen before, bright and dancing against the glint of his pupils that stare from under the hood. Angry, afraid.

Yet you only huff up at him, feeling acidity in your stare as you return his tone back at him.

"You really have to ask?" You spit and try to squirm in his hold for good measure. "I said let me go."

König's eyes narrow down at you, dark and frustrated, but before he can speak again he pauses- gaze widening at something distant.

He hears it before you do, the distant thump of footsteps that echoes down the corridor. You nearly miss it over the sound of your own stammering heartbeat, a desperate thing that tries to sing out against the hold that binds you, tries to reign in the aleatory and unbalanced spark of interest that runs parallel to fear.

König's head snaps in the direction of the approaching transgressor, and you see his eyes flash with a near frenetic energy, possessive, primal. It's as if he sees this person not as a threat to you, to your own mission, but to him. As if somehow they'll dare try and challenge him for you, snatch you away even as he snarls and tries to haul you back into the safe ensconce of his arms.

"No noise." He rumbles down at you darkly, and you have only a breath to blink before you're twisted in his arms, back pressed against his front. A gloved hand silences your gasp as König pivots, walks you both backwards to a cracked door you had passed only moments ago. It takes little effort on his part to haul you inside the maintenance closet, with him having to duck just slightly to avoid the frame with his towering height.

You try to struggle on instinct, thrashing futilely against his hold even as König's touch bears down and he keeps you fast against him. You try kicking back, only for your meager attempt to only make him grunt in annoyance. You try to twist the knife still in your grip, refusing to drop it. Yet König keeps your arms pinned close to your sides, refusing you the ability to try and raise it against him. When that fails you cry out in frustration, the sound muffled by his massive palm.

"Quiet, Maus." The Austrian hisses, and the pure ire in his tone is enough to make you freeze, body rigid against his as the footsteps continue to draw closer. As they do, König's grasp on you tightens, his chest vibrating with a low, threatening growl that rumbles through you, too quiet to hear and yet vibrating low and dangerous against your form. It summons something forbidden in you, the same traitorous contradiction that has him pace through your dreams, winds his voice treacherously against your thoughts, calling you the name you have begun to know yourself as.

Maus.

You think your heart drums far too loud, deafening as the footsteps round the corner and pass directly by the closet where you two are pressed tightly together. You see the shadow of a person pass under the crack of the door, and after a few moments the footsteps begin to fade back down the hallway, having bypassed the two of you without so much as a glance.

You allow yourself to breathe out a mild sigh of relief, and then turn your attention to the lumbering giant that still has you pressed against his front. You squirm in his grasp, and with the intruder now gone König allows his hold on you to relax only slightly.

"If you scream, Maus." He warns, voice grave, spoken low in the dimness of the closet with its flickering overhead light. "They will find us."

You want to bite at him, but with his hand splayed against your face you find yourself unable to do so. Instead, you make an angry little noise at him, try once more to raise your knife, halfhearted as the gesture is.

König makes a mildly displeased noise, and with a shift of his hold on you manages to wrest the blade from your grip with a little mutter in German of "Gib es mir, du Kleiner-" before it's torn from your grip. As he adjusts his hold on you, you manage to spin in his arms, back bumping against the shelves behind you. You watch as he deposits it atop a shelf high above your head, a place you'd have to climb to reach regardless of his interference. You choose instead to level a glare at him, nose wrinkling in distaste as having relieved you of your first choice of weapon.

"Rude." You tell him flatly, and König offers you a look.

"You still have your other weapons." He notes dryly, gesturing to the automatic weapon slung around your shoulder and the suppressed handgun strapped to your hip. "Why not use those?"

You feel a warm flush of indignation heat up your face and you glare up at him, feeling the urge to climb the shelves and retrieve your weapon if only out of pure spite.

"That's my favorite knife." You hiss at him, shoving at his chest. König doesn't even rock on his feet at your feeble attempt, releasing another indistinct grumble in German muffled by his hood.

"Never mind that." He mutters in frustration, lowering his head towards yours so you're forced to look up into his eyes. "Gott im Himmel, Maus. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?!"

"You think I don't know that?!" You bite back, teeth gritted. "I wouldn't be here if you and your friends hadn't taken my fucking captain, König!"

König, for what he's worth, seems taken aback by the venom in your tone. His eyes widen under his hood for a moment before they narrow once more, pupils glinting in the dim overhead light that casts strange shadows across the hood obscuring his face.

"You think I had a choice?!" He grits, fists curling at his sides, and you briefly have to suppress a tremor of apprehension that suddenly washes over you at the temper that tightens across his shoulders. Whatever nerve you’ve managed to strike seems to electrify within him, lashing out as a dangerous current of voltage.

"What would have happened, Maus?" He asks heatedly. "Do you really think I could have gotten away with letting both of you go? I was barely able to save your life Maus, and now O’Conor has your captain convinced-"

He pauses, shoulders going rigid, and whatever König is about to say next dies in his throat with a pained little noise, eyes closing for a moment as he tries to reign in whatever emotion runs rampant inside him. It makes a surprised flutter of concern pulse through you, this reaction entirely foreign based on the things you've experienced from him.

"...The others are suspicious of me." He confesses at last. "Declan and the others, they think...they wonder if I've been...compromised."

You can't contain the grimace that passes over your face, lips pressing into a thin line and brow knotting. Your heart stammers against your ribcage in recognition of König's words, feeling them reflected back into you. You had all but begged Ghost to be included on this mission, refusing to sit on the sidelines when he had said that same word.

Compromised.

It had only renewed your vigor, your determination to shed this secret of yours, this strangeness that unfurls in your heart like a macabre bouquet. It tugs at something rotted and ivory inside you, bitterness at yourself for the mistakes that have led you here, that have distracted you to this degree.

You...you could still kill him, you think. A suppressed gunshot to the chest, his body hidden in the closet until it was too late to sound the alarm. You could watch the light fade from his eyes, feel something die within you alongside it. A heart hardened to stone but a duty fulfilled.

König seems to see the impulse flicker across your gaze, pupils glinting in the dimness. It seems to catch him off guard, drains the tension in his shoulders and replaces it there with something wounded, dismayed.

"You...really were trying to kill me, weren't you Maus?" He asks then, voice hardly a murmur, containing none of his previous venom. His shoulders slump, and at last he looks away from you, head shifting so he can avert his eyes from your smaller form. It makes a strange sense of guilt flood through you, one you try to swallow down and refuse to admit.

"...Yes." You tell him instead, voice small.

You see König close his eyes in dismay, and the vulnerability of the gesture stabs inside your chest- trusting despite the fact you had tried to have his life run crimson over your palms.

"You could have." He observes, voice heavy. "You could have killed me, Maus."

He looks at you then, and even behind the hood you can see the sadness in his eyes, woeful and quiet as he asks: "Why didn't you?"

You blink at him, trying to keep your expression flat, impassive and yet failing to do so. You lower your eyes then, turn them down to observe your boots wedged between his.

"I...don't know." You tell him honestly, treachery souring your stomach at the confession. It's the truth. You could have killed him, could have shot him and left him crumpled in the hallway, you could have sliced him open and watched him bleed out at your feet. You knew a hundred and one ways to kill someone, and yet the one person none of them would work on was him. König is mortal, just as you are, but it seemed death by your hands was a fate he would not succumb to.

As much as you tried, as much as you willed yourself to pull the trigger, something remained inside you that wavered in your conviction, made your hands tremble with the muzzle aimed at his chest.

You...weren't sure you wanted him to die.

In the silence that follows, König gazes down at you. The shadows underneath his hood darken his gaze, casting shadows over his half-lidded eyes swimming with solitude. He breathes in, reaches for you slowly, and you’re lost in thought you allow him to. You feel a hand under your chin, lifting your head and tilting it ever so gently to the side. You let him, neck craning and revealing the bare flesh of your neck, where a silvery thin scar from his blade remains present on your skin.

"I did this." He murmurs regretfully as his thumb presses against the skin and you shiver, nerve endings alight at the touch. "I hurt you, Maus."

The tinge of despair in his voice has you draw your eyes up, tracing his wrist all the way up to his shoulders, his face. In the silence and scant space between you, there's a gravity that takes hold of you once more, draws you inward towards him even as you fight the inertia of your inexorable and imminent collision.

"I never meant to hurt you." He whispers, almost as if he's afraid of the thought, the confession that echoes past his lips.

You could have, you think. You could have done so much worse.

"You could have caught me." You whisper in turn, voice hushed between you, afraid of your own words even in the silence. Even as the world spins on its axis around you both, as wars are waged and soldiers die you feel the stillness settle inside you. Just like in that moment, his hand caught around your ankle as the world erupted in a fiery blaze, your eyes locking on each other before he had released you, allowing you to escape. "But you let me go. Why?"

König pauses, his thumb still pressed into the soft flesh of your neck. He could wrap his heavy fist around it, lift you high and force the air from your lungs if he so wishes, but instead the gloved pad of the digit traces the scar on your skin once more.

"I...heard a fairytale once." He says quietly, eyes fastened on the sliver of skin he touches. "About a lark that granted wishes. It was...wunderschon. Beautiful and free and rarely found."

You feel your brow wrinkle in perplexity but allow the Austrian to continue even with his eyes glassy and distant, gazing at a memory you couldn't see.

"A greedy man trapped the bird in a golden cage, captured it for himself. He thought the bird would grant all his wishes. But..." König pauses, and in the silence you feel your heart flutter against your ribcage like that same creature, a winged, small creature trying to fly free. "The bird, without the sky, withered and died- and the world was left without it."

He looks to you then, lifts his eyes to your stare. You want to fold under his gaze, crumple and surrender to that horrid, selfish thing inside you that only rises when he speaks once more.

"Manche Dinge sind schöner, wenn sie frei sind." He tells you, tongue rolling the words in his language like a spell you so desperately want to know as well. "Some things are more beautiful when they are free, Maus."

Oh.

"I...want you to myself." He confesses. "I want to know everything about you, but I...can't let myself do that when you need to be free."

You feel your breath caught in your chest, eyes wide and lips parted as you stare up at him, absent of words and yet full of wonder. Once more, that hidden tantamount emotion inside of you threatens to split the seams of the dark place you've tried to bury it, allowing a soft, radiant light to seep through.

"Make no mistake, Maus." König tells you, and you blink at his eyes glinting in the dimness as he shifts to lean over your smaller height, bracing his arm above your head and pinning you with his stare.

A flutter in your stomach, like the nocturnal breeze of an owl's wings passing close enough to tickle your hair. You feel it draw the air from your lungs, make the cavern of your chest fill with an emotion you feel far too afraid to name. yet it seems to glaze over your eyes, because König's gaze widens in the darkness, drinks in your doubts and fears and dangerous hope that dwells inside you.

"Wherever you go." He rumbles, voice echoing in the scarce space between you as if he whispers both your prophecies into a near and distant future. "Wherever you run, Maus. I will follow you. I will find you. I promise you that."

You know his promise is true, that if you allow him, he'll walk towards the horizon of you. You, with feathered wings taking flight to new and greater heights, and König reaching his up towards the sky to scrape against the downy softness of you.

There's a tightness in your chest, a twisted, breathless thing that makes your face crumple with a dreaded mixture of conflict and despair. You reveal it to him in this moment, allowing him to see the true confines of your heart that you so desperately try to hide away.

He's your enemy. He's your ally. He's captured you. He's let you go. He's threatened your friends. He's protected you.

He's...

"I might try and kill you again." You breathe, voice wavering as you desperately try to reign in the wickedness of your heart. "I can't promise you I won't succeed."

"You won't." He tells you, and his voice is resolute. There is no uncertainty, no hidden conviction in the utter confidence of which he speaks. "You can try, Maus. You won't be able to."

You're not sure if he means you can't or you won't- if somehow you'll hover with the blade above his heart and instead find yourself dropping your soul into his hands.

"And if I don't? You ask, voice small against the darkness and the fractures between your forms.

König blinks at you, eyes fluttering shut for all of a moment before he speaks.

"Then we'll be here again." He murmurs, and you want to shudder at the sudden softness of his voice, allowing that forbidden thing inside you to stretch forward into him. "Again and again, Maus. Over and over until one of us surrenders."

He'll catch you, you realize. Just like this, allow space for just the two of you so his voice can fester in your thoughts like a sinful addiction you shouldn't crave. Then he'll let you go, leave you in the absence of him with your mind reeling and dreams offering you glimpses of him until you meet again. Over and over, a game of cat and mouse that draws you both closer every single time you come face to face once more.

He’s so close, you realize suddenly, with his arm braced above your head, his palm still cupping your warm neck, the breaths exhaled between you merging as one.

It seems to warm you from the inside you, the way he towers over you. The fabric of his hood drapes forward as he leans his head down to regard you. The small sliver of light from the cracked doorway slashes across his face in an abstract illumination, a radiant glimpse that glows and glints across one of his eyes.

You want to look away from his gaze but you can’t. There’s something intoxicatingly enticing about his stare, the way his eyes are fixed on you with an immovable fascination, a barely restrained fanaticism at the simple sight of you in the darkness, lips parted as you meet the gleam of his eyes. You can only imagine how you look to him, a doe in the glade, eyes alert and yet somehow gentle, trepidations trusting. Then him, a wolf in the woods, at the edge of a campfire, the solitary, desirous howl of him a gale in your thoughts.

He’s consumed by you. It feels like he wants to eat you whole.

You can’t help the traitorous flutter inside you, the quake of desire that weakens you across your knees, sends a thrilling shiver racing up the path of your spine.

You want him to devour you.

“You’re so…pretty, Maus.” He murmurs suddenly, and there’s a different glint to his eyes now, something a little more distant, as his pupils flick down to your bottom lip and back up to your eyes. “...Schön.”

You hear his glove creak above your head, his fist curling tight, as if trying to push away an urge. Selfishly, you wish to reach for it, unfurl his palm into yours as if it might somehow reveal the secret he’s clasped there, let it bloom between your caught gazes.

You don’t speak. It feels that, if you do, this strange spell might be broken. This absurd fairytale will evaporate once more into the hail of gunfire and his thunderous, booming voice manic with the violence of battle. Here, in the place where he’s caught you he’s softer, blurred at the edges so you can reach out, grasp the center of him, drag him selfishly closer.

“I…” He murmurs, and again his eyes dart down, staying at the place where your caught, airy breaths tumble from your lips. “I want to kiss you.”

You don’t move. Barely breathe.

You shouldn’t. You can’t. To let him get even closer, here in the land of enemies would be treachery, an unforgivable atrocity. If you fell even further into his hands, let yourself sigh against his lips, it would mean surrender, a capitulation of everything you’ve sworn to for yourself. You promised you’d kill him, and now all you can think about is the warmth of his murmured name for you spilling across your tongue.

Maus.

You could push him away. You could retrieve the knife from the shelf above you, stab forward in the darkness into the cadaver of him you’ve built in your mind. You could feel the wet seep of him spill scarlet over your fingertips, listen to his wounded wheeze echo forth into the space between you.

Instead, in the scant light of the outside pushing inwards into your heart, you close your eyes. You wait for him.

He makes a noise then, something between a sigh and a hum, pleased and yet pleading. It’s desirous, heady, filling the cracks of you with a sickly-sweet elixir that you want him to lap at with a gentle, curious swipe of his tongue.

There’s a rustle of fabric, and you know he’s drawing back his hood. You can look, you know you can, but it still feels wrong, forbidden. Like Orpheus turning to look into the realm of the dead you fear that the moment you open your eyes this enchantment might be broken, that once again you’ll find yourself alone, longing for the hunger of his stare.

A touch at your chin. It’s fleeting, hesitant, then settles into something solid. You resist the urge to lean into it, and yet let it guide you all the same, upwards, higher into the clouds.

“Maus.” He whispers, and it feels like an inevitable incantation that traps you within his trance, one you walk into willingly, and yet try to claim to yourself is a trickery, a snare with no escape.

It’s not that he’s caught you, it’s that you’ve willingly surrendered to the temptation of his lurid, tender embrace. Into him, this man who has taken your heart captive despite the fact you offered it of your own volition.

König. Your mind whispers, and it feels like a sacrament, a confession of your own treasonous desires.

Yet when the echo returns, it isn't with the gentleness you desire.

Instead, your mind summons the faces of your friends. Soap's broken-hearted eyes that threaten tears as you try to beg him to bring you back to the moment where he rescued you and not Price, of Ghost's hard, steely stare as you beg him for one more chance to redeem yourself. Price, his furious, gleaming gaze as he wraps his hands around the throat of a man who threatened you and Gaz, beloved Gaz with his eyes full of sadness as you push him away once more.

A hand comes up between you, and you feel König's breath fog across it before he can lower his lips to yours. You feel him jolt, freeze at the bitterness in your eyes as you avert them away, refusing to see his exposed face- as if it exposes the vile truth in you as well.

"No." You whisper, eyes closing so you aren't tempted to look. "König- I...I can't."

König doesn't speak, barely even breathes as he processes your words. You swear you can hear him swallow down whatever he wants to say, be it a protest, a devastation. Instead, all he offers is his quiet voice, soothing yet full of sadness.

"That's alright, Maus."

Somehow that feels worse, the way he offers you gentleness in the face of your rejection. It cracks in your heart, summons a phantom pain that threatens to escape from you as a choked whine.

You feel him shift, and the hand at your chin vanishes so he adjusts his hood over his face once more.

"I..." He begins uncertainly. "I can leave you be, Maus."

Your eyes open at that and you turn to him, face falling open in shock and a traitorous amount of hurt.

"No." You say before you can stop yourself, clamping down on the protest too late. "Yes. No, I-"

You bite your lip, feel the color crimson of desire and death bloom bright against your ribs.

"I..." You try, uncertain of the words you want to say, before your next exhale forces you to say the rotted, perfidious truth that lays dormant in your bones. "I wish...we weren't enemies."

The revelation seems to shock König into utter stillness, and you feel it reflected back in you, a resounding echo that draws you both into a tangled web of desire and deceit that winds around you with silvery threads. For a moment you want to reach forwards, snatch the words back into your mouth and keep them there, bury this farce deep inside you and commit yourself to the things you've sworn to, the oaths that you keep.

"Maybe someday, Maus." He tells you gently, sorrowfully. Despite the echo of his prophecy only moments ago König now seems terribly ambivalent, as if he himself will not allow himself the grace to imagine such a future.

Before you can say anything else, König turns from you, draws away from your form and turns his back on you. He cracks the door to the small closet you two have shared and looks over his shoulder at you.

"The basement." He offers simply, and confusion colors across your face. "Your captain. You may be able to get there through the vents."

Then his eyes soften, his gaze toeing dangerously close to affection.

"Be safe, Maus." He says to you, voice hushed and hopeful.

Then he's gone.

Taglist: (Please reblog this post to add yourself to the taglist)

@fatedeniedhope @gio-gio007 @glassgulls @sednonamoris @ohgraywardens @greatlydelirious @guyfierriii @wanderingisobel @nijiluvbot @deceiverofgodss @xasement @zwiiicnziiix @bloodyknucklesforme @kkinky @imkumichan @fluidthoughts @secre-flower @sandinthemachine @starlitnotes @00mogars @adorephina @cowanonofficial @dhns-stuff @kgbtardis @kaitlynisinfinite @thisperspective @darlingcyare @rk1v35 @classickook @smoggyfogbottom @cass-andor-junkie @uroldall @whore4dilfs @beeslythebee @the-queerpoet-collecterter @artbythedarksideedarkside @deepdreamerbouquet-world @scatter-mind001 @emrzennn @cuckoo-on-a-string @sednonamoris @azzoka @tinykaka @amp-0000 @imalovernotahater @ramadiiiisme @akir4a @ddiamondsdancing @kroowonderemporium @fuckimhere @xespresso-depressox @imtherain @fatedeniedhope @bythe-waterfountain @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @brainlessgf @mionacaped @wltneko9006 @snarkygentile @blvkwondaland @shinyportalsandthings @lilpothoscuttings @tzipora-art @nowaydin @ihatesunfl0wers @4-est @xdarkcreaturex @beesandpollen @frazie99 @kamino-mermaid @wildechildwrites @glitterypirateduck

(If you see your url on here but it isn't underlined, it means you weren't tagged! Please reblog to the url you would like to be tagged at and check your settings to make sure you can be tagged, thank you!)

#König #könig x oc #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #reader insert #x reader #fic: little mouse #cod #cod mw22 #cod konig

624 notes · View notes

silentsamlikesham · 4 months

Text

Go To Bed

Request from @luffys-little-sister-lyloa ! I'm so sorry this took so long and I kind of...ran a bit wild with it! Apologies if you wanted this pre-established I just started writing it and I ended up with angry confused boys...Hope you enjoy <3 Wordcount: 4,845 -------------------------------------------

The crew is a mess. After the last island, most of them are confined to their beds. Their injuries range from painful breaks to almost fatal wounds. Sanji had spent the last two days being one of the four crewmates able to do anything. Chopper, Brook and Zoro being the other three.

They'd gotten separated on the last island and hadn't faced as much as the others. Sanji had been thrown from a cliff, unconscious while most of his crew was being beaten to an inch of their lives.

He lets out a yelp as the spoon in his soapy hand bends, and then snaps in two. He drops it on the counter, carefully examining his hand to see if he'd bruised or nicked himself.

Fuck.

This is not the time to hurt himself, to draw any attention to himself. He needs to get these dishes clean. He needs to start on dinner. He needs to make snacks to help with recovery. He needs to clean the galley- no, the ship. The whole ship is a mess. He can't have his crew recover in this filthy environment. He needs to do a stock check. Do they have enough of everything? Is there enough food? When can they even risk docking again?

The hot water sears his skin as he dips plate after plate in, scrubbing them until his fingers feel only smooth porcelain, until the dried lumps of food are washed away entirely. He cleans one after another, the pile diminishing slowly as he moves to dry and place them away at the same time.

His legs ache from running, his whole body is bruised from his fall, a headache buzzes just behind his eyes, but he can't stop. He doesn't need to rest; the others need to rest. He needs to be useful, to fucking do something.

He didn't do anything on the last island.

The last dish lands in the cabinet with an echoing clank. Sanji doesn't even pause as he moves for a cloth, washing down the counters of the kitchen. His elbow complains, his shoulder cries in pain as it stretches and the inside of Sanji's cheek bleeds as he gnaws away at it.

The sharp pain is enough to distract him. He just needs to focus.

He brings damp cloths down to the infirmary next, wiping the sweat from his crewmates that have passed out. He stays with Robin who has woken up for a bit. He reads some of her book to her, barely keeping his eyes open as he speaks as clearly and quietly as he can.

She nods off to sleep moments before Sanji is coming close to joining her. He rubs at his eyes, pressing his palms harshly against them. The light from the hall shows dark stars dancing around Sanji. The veil of sleep creeping into his vision.

He ignores the call. There’s still so much to do.

He finds himself standing in the pantry, wondering how he got here. He must have walked. Why doesn't he remember walking?

He stares at the boxes and finds there's a notebook in his hand. Right. He'd grabbed it from his locker.

He pockets it, grabbing the first box of fresh food. He needed to deal with these first, check for mold, plan the next meals around them. He drops them on the kitchen table and jumps as the table rocks against him.

Why did that surprise him?

He opens the lid, ignoring how clunky and strange his hands feel. The lid slides off the bench beside him and onto the ground. Sanji goes bright red from how harshly he jumps at the noise.

He feels drunk. Is this some belated effects of his head injury?

He shakes his head, feeling no shots of pain. He must be fine. He's just tired. His body is tired after two days, that's all. But that's fine, fine, fine, fine. His mind is sharp. He can still help. He can still work. He can't sleep anyways. Not with so much to do.

He just needs to count, to write figures down, some basic maths and move around some heavy boxes. That's nothing. It's nothing compared to what he did in the Baratie. Heck, he usually has to do this work fighting off a hungry Luffy.

This is easy.

Zoro wanders into the galley. He'd been asleep on the deck for most of the day, having taken watch during the night. He'd been vaguely aware of what the crew had been up to, had heard Sanji moving between the galley and the crew, had heard Brook playing his violin from the crow’s nest and had been annoyed several times by Chopper to have his bandages changed.

He assumed Sanji and Chopper had headed to bed. He's meant to take over Brook's watch soon. It's best that the doctor and their second-best fighter, currently upright, are free during the day.

Keeping that in mind, Zoro finds himself blinking slowly in the doorway of the galley. His plan was to grab something strong and head to the crow's nest. He's not expecting Sanji to have forgotten to blow out the lanterns, to have left so much out on the table. He's not expecting Sanji to be standing hunched over a notebook, his visible eye flicking between several open crates and his hand moving aggressively across the open page.

Usually, Sanji would notice Zoro right away. The cook had a sixth sense for people trying to enter his space and he was usually greeted by an insult by now, or a yell to get the fuck out. But the Cook hasn’t noticed him. He seems engrossed in his task.

Zoro watches him from the doorway. The lanterns cast a sharp shadow across the blonde’s face and it’s easy to see the dark circles under his eyes, the fresh litter of bruises that colour his forearms visible from where he’s rolled up his sleeves. He’s sitting hunched for once, always one to keep a good posture, no matter how sore or tired he seems. His hair is greasy, almost sticking to the side of his face where it usually rests, rather than hanging there.

All of these are signs that something is wrong, but what really makes Zoro worry is when he takes a few more loud steps into the room. The Cook jumps, caught off guard, and his eyes flick groggily to Zoro.

“What do you want?” Sanji’s tone is flat, he doesn’t use a nickname or an insult. His cheeks flush pink, like he’s flustered, like he knows he’s been caught out.

“A drink.” A quiet pause stretches, and Zoro feels a twist in his stomach. The request usually brings out a raging fire in the form of the other’s temper. But Sanji just waves a hand towards the liquor trolley, his eyes flicking back to his work.

“What are you doing?” Zoro ignores the invitation to take what he wants and instead wanders over to the table. He receives a half-hearted glare for it but takes it as a win when Sanji just sighs and tosses some fruit back into a box.

“Stock check.”

“Oh. Is it...okay?” Zoro knows nothing about keeping track of food, beyond knowing what goes off quick on a pirate ship. He couldn’t fathom how Sanji keeps it all in check. He tries to glance at the ledger the cook is scribbling in, but the writing is swirly and looped tightly together and Zoro can’t make any of it out in the dim light.

“We’re fine.” Sanji flinches when Zoro looks sharply at him, the swordsman catching the wobble in his voice, the dread that seeps in because Sanji isn’t certain himself. They have enough food for a while, for at least a couple of weeks. But there’s a hunger gnawing at Sanji, a tension in his clenched fists that says otherwise. He just can’t convince himself that he hasn’t screwed this up. That he won’t wake up tomorrow and find half of their rations gone.

“Good.” Zoro doesn’t argue, doesn’t ask why Sanji seems to be trembling, his leg tapping furiously off the ground. “Then you should go to bed, I can put these away.”

Zoro waves a hand at the few crates still left sitting on the table. Sanji looks at them like he’s seeing them for the first time before his expression hardens again, a scowl directed at Zoro.

“No, you’ll put them back wrong. It’s fine, I’ve some other stuff to do anyways.”

Zoro’s tilts his head and looks at Sanji like he’s lost it. Sanji drags his chair back, standing up and glaring at Zoro.

“What? Go on your watch, Marimo. You’re pissing me off.”

“No.”

“No?” Sanji squints at Zoro in the low light, staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

“You haven’t slept, have you?” Zoro folds his arm. He reminds Sanji of some disapproving parent.

“What the fuck is it to you, shithead?” Sanji does not have the mental capacity for an argument right now. He needs to get the crates away and then...then he’ll tidy...he’ll clean something.

“You look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks.” Sanji scoffs, ignoring the idiot to pick up the first crate.

Zoro doesn’t let it go. Not when he notices how slow Sanji is moving, how sluggish he is as he tries to find a grip on the box. Without hesitation Zoro slams a hand on the crate, banging it back onto the table

“What the fuck, Marimo?”

“I said, you’re going to bed.”

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it.”

“I don’t take orders from you.” Sanji scoffs, dropping the box to grab the opening of Zoro’s green jacket and tug him close enough that Zoro can feel spit hit his chin.

“Captains out cold.” Zoro growls, grabbing Sanji’s wrists, their gazes locking into their usual heated glare. “That means I’m in charge.”

“Bullshit.” Sanji scoffs. Since when has Zoro ever taken charge?

“Mutiny, Cook?” Zoro grins, knowing the best way to handle this is to get the blonde riled up enough to comply.

“You can’t just order me to go to sleep.” Sanji narrows his eye and attempts to pull back, but Zoro keeps him close refusing to drop his wrists.

“I just did, Ero-Cook.”

Sanji let out a long breath through his nose, his frustration building.

“Let go.”

“Go to bed.”

“Why do you fucking care?” Sanji snaps, his composure in tatters as he realises he’s shaking. Like he can feel his whole body shaking. It’s the kind of embarrassing energy that makes Sanji want to lash out or cry. He’s not about to cry in front of Zoro of all people.

His leg is swinging before he can think to aim or put any real power behind it. He can’t twist his hips much while being held in place, so he ends up with a weak swipe at Zoro’s shoulder.

The swordsman drops one of Sanji’s wrists to block the kick. Instead of knocking it away, he loops his arm under Sanji’s knee and holds tight.

“Bed.”

“Die.”

“Why are you so stubborn!” Zoro groans, dropping Sanji’s leg so he can grab the man by the shoulders and gently shake him.

“Why are you acting like my sleep schedule is any of your business.”

“Because it is!”

“As if, Marimo. Since when do we care about each other?”

“I’m the first mate, it’s my job to look after the crew.”

“Well, I’m perfectly fine so why don’t you worry about the ones actually injured?”

“You’re shaking, dart brows.”

“It’s cold in here!” Sanji cringes at his own retort, knowing it’s bullshit. The galley is always the warmest room on the ship and tonight was humid, the air stale outside.

“Liar.”

“Fuck off!”

“You seriously have the energy for this right now?” Zoro groans, letting go of Sanji’s shoulders to wave his hand angrily in front of his face. “What is so goddamn important it can’t wait until tomorrow? Do you not get we’re the only two that can properly protect the ship right now? I don’t need to be worrying about you too. So, stop acting like a selfish brat.”

The words stung. They cut deeper into Sanji’s soul than anything else the pair have ever thrown at each other. Of course, he understood what was happening. He was ready to beat the crap out of anyone that came near the ship right now. Selfish? Was it selfish to want everything perfect for the crew? Was it selfish to want to make up for how useless he was before, to make it up to his crewmates who couldn’t even lift their heads right now? Did Zoro not get this is all his fault? That he’s meant to be like this now, suffering.

For a haunting moment, Sanji is certain he’s going to burst into tears. His eyes are burning, he can feel a lump in his throat, knows if he speaks again his voice will crack and break. He’s so tired, so fed up with the way his mind is spinning the same thoughts around again and again. He can’t break, not now.

So, Sanji does the only other thing he knows how to do when he’s feeling this much emotion. He lunges at Zoro, swinging his legs in a frenzied rage.

“I’m not asking you to fucking worry about me!” Sanji roars, his shoe smacking satisfyingly into the side of Zoro’s head.

“You Shitty-Cook.” Zoro hisses in pain, his eyes narrowing to angry slits as the pain blossoms across his skull, rattling his teeth. What is wrong with this guy?

“If I have to kick your ass to get you to sleep, I will.” It’s the only warning Zoro gives before he unsheathes his swords.

He lunges low and uses the end of one of his hilts to drive a punch into Sanji’s gut. The Cook wheezes, coughing as he brings his knee up high to deflect the rest of the impact. Zoro manages to lift his head in time to avoid it, his chin just barely brushing off the fabric of Sanji’s pants.

Zoro’s second sword cuts through the air, the blunt side aiming for Sanji’s temple, but the Cook is quicker again. He ducks and uses the momentum to place a hand on the ground and swing his hips fully around, launching both his legs in a hurricane kick at Zoro.

The Swordsman jumps back just in time before both of them rush forward, two swords clashing with a now flaming shin. Zoro is barely breathing, his focus completely on the fight. That’s when he realises just how out of it Sanji is. Operating on pure adrenaline, Sanji's breaths are already labored, and his anchored leg trembles under the strain of supporting his full weight.

“As if you could.” Sanji taunts, trying to keep a veil of confidence between them. His stomach is aching from where Zoro just left a fresh bruise. Usually, the pain would be a comfort, would be something to focus on while fighting but now it felt more like the beginning of the end for Sanji. The room is spinning, he has cotton mouth, his eyes are struggling to focus and keep up with the glint of Zoro’s swords.

“Why-” Zoro pulls his swords out of the ‘X’ position they’re in, drawing them outwards and letting Sanji stumble forward, the Cook losing the place he’d been leaning all his weight on.

“-are you pulling this shit right now?”

Zoro leans forward as Sanji stumbles, making sure the other hits face first into his chest. Sanji tries to push off him but for once his feet aren’t co-operating with him. His shin extinguishes as he embarrassingly trips over his own feet.

Zoro uses the misstep to wrap his arms tightly around Sanji, pinning him to his chest while his swords hang in the air either side of Sanji’s head. Sanji tries weakly to break his hold by pushing his back into Zoro’s arms but they’re like two flexible metal rods twisting around him. The position is awkward for his legs too, it’s impossible for Sanji to find enough leverage to get into any of his usual stances.

“Answer me, Cook.” Zoro growls, starting to get genuinely pissed off. He needs to go on his watch, and he needs to know that when his watch is over, Sanji can take over. That someone capable is on standby when Zoro gets his own rest, takes his own breaks. Their crew needs them right now and Zoro has no idea why Sanji is choosing now to be so insufferable. He might just kill the guy if this ends up being about Nami asking him to do her chores or something.

“I’m not-” Sanji struggles in Zoro’s hold as he grits out a response. “-pulling anything, shitty Swordsman. You’re the one being a dick- Fucking, let me go.”

With his strength dwindling Sanji goes for a dirty move, he pushes his knee forward, trying to get Zoro in the groin but he misses, kneeing him hard in the hollow of his hip instead.

“Bastard.” Zoro flinches, his body jerking for a moment as if the Cook had just hit his mark. Zoro drops his swords and uses his hands to twist Sanji around, pulling his back against Zoro’s chest and wrapping his arms around him again, pinning Sanji’s upper body in place and making sure he can’t knee him again.

“See how weak you are right now? You can’t even match me, Ero-Cook. How do you think you’re going to hold up against an actual enemy? Are you really this stupid?”

“Shut up!” Sanji yelps, doing his best to struggle against the wall of muscle behind him. He tries to dig his heels into the ground to get some kind of momentum to push off, but all his limbs are starting to feel like they’re submerged in water. It’s like he’s coordinating himself in slow motion.

“Let me go you fucking brute.” Sanji slams his head back against Zoro’s shoulder, his frustration boiling over.

“Did you hit your head when you fell from that cliff? I think it’s given you brain damage.” Zoro growls in his ear, tightening his grip enough that Sanji is gasping for his next breath, his ribs pushing against his lungs.

Sanji flinches at the comment. He barely remembers the fall. One moment he was rushing towards the crew as a devil fruit user pounded into Chopper and Robin and the next moment he was being pushed by a force he couldn’t even see. He’d grappled with the rock the whole way down, desperate to stop his fall but then there was a sharp pain cutting into the back of his head and the next thing he knew he was waking up back on top of the cliff, lying on the ground beside his other injured crewmates.

He failed them.

He was useless.

Zoro is still talking in his ear, but Sanji can’t discern his words anymore. The world around him begins to blur, and the once distinct lanterns in the galley transform into mere shards of light, losing their clear definition. Their white haze fogs Sanji’s view, making everything look strange and further away as the world seems to break into colourful blobs of nothing.

“Are- are you crying?” Zoro splutters, staring over Sanji’s shoulder in disbelief.

Sanji should be embarrassed. His rival, Zoro, is seeing him like this. But now that the dam is broken Sanji doesn’t have the energy to feel humiliated. He can’t stop seeing the blood on the side of Nami’s head, the harboured breathing from Usopp, Chopper clutching his arm as he tried to treat everyone...how much of that could he have prevented?

“Are you more injured than you’re letting on?” Zoro accuses, moving to push Sanji away as the blonde had stopped fighting him, but when Sanji’s knees buckle, he grabs him by the waist again.

“I’m fine.” Sanji insists, only to sob loudly as he tries to take in a deep breath.

“You’re losing it.” Zoro decides, having no idea how to handle Sanji when the other isn’t trying to kill him.

“You’re getting some sleep, Cook. End of story.” Zoro doesn’t leave any room for discussion as he starts marching to the door of the galley. He half-lifts Sanji in front of him, carrying him like a barrel out of the room.

“Stop treating me like a child.” Sanji yelps, feeling winded by the forearms digging into his stomach as he desperately rubs at his eyes.

Zoro must hear the choking in his speech because Sanji feels him moving his arms. A part of him is relieved at the idea of Zoro getting the fuck away from him while he’s having a complete mental breakdown, the other part feels a pang of disappointment.

An embarrassing squeal stops Sanji’s train of thought, sadly coming form his own mouth, as one of Zoro’s arms slips lower. Suddenly, Sanji feels the back of his knees being knocked out as Zoro scoops him into his arms bridal style.

“What are you doing?” Sanji snivels, wanting to yell and kick the other in the face, but instead his words are starting to slur. Now that he’s horizontal, he can’t fight his body relaxing, his eye lids drooping as his head hits off Zoro’s chest, his crewmate's heartbeat thumping rhythmically against his ear.

Zoro looks down at Sanji with a raised brow, but Sanji isn’t glaring at him. He’s nestled his face against Zoro’s pec, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep.

Zoro stands there stupidly for a moment. The cook weighs nothing to him but his presence is heavy. His hair is tickling Zoro’s neck and chin, his breaths are hot against Zoro’s skin and Zoro has made the mistake of resting one of his hands on one of Sanji’s bulging thighs. Zoro can feel the back of his neck heat up as his thoughts betray him.

“I have no idea.” Zoro whispers his response to Sanji’s last question, heading towards the Sunny’s crow's nest.

“This isn’t the boy’s room.” Sanji slurs when Zoro knocks the door closed with his foot.

“No shit, dumbass.” Zoro grunts without any real heat behind the words. Sanji seems to pull enough strength together to lift his head because Zoro now has a piercing blue eye glaring at him.

“Wha-whatda I doing ‘ere?” Zoro can’t help but snigger at how incoherent Sanji is becoming. The rumbling of his chest makes the Cook sigh, slouching his head back again.

Zoro does not trust Sanji to stay in bed right now. He is also becoming increasingly concerned that the other has internal bleeding in his brain or something from how he’s acting.

“I’m making sure you sleep so I get to nap after.” Zoro grumbles, moving to drop Sanji on the bench that curves the length of the crew’s nest.

“Prick.” Sanji snorts, making Zoro roll his eyes. He suddenly feels a whole lot better about dumping the Cook on the hard wood planks.

“What the fuck?” Sanji puts a hand up to the back of his head, rubbing at the spot where it connected with the wood while he tries to sit back up.

“Sleep.” Zoro pushes down on one of Sanji’s shoulders and watches with amusement as Sanji’s elbow slips out from under him and he ends up banging his head again.

“Ow, stop doing that.” Sanji waves his hand blindly trying to slap at Zoro but only ends up brushing Zoro’s forearm with the strength of a fatigued kitten.

“And I can’t just sleep on hard wood like you, you neanderthal.”

“What you want a pillow, princess?” Zoro snorts, crossing his arms.

“Yes.” Sanji mumbles, trying to cushion his head on his arms.

Zoro is prepared to turn to the metal bar in the crow’s nest to start his pull-ups but then his eyes catch the glint of still drying tear streaks on Sanji’s cheeks and suddenly he’s feeling the rare emotion of guilt. He had to go and fucking cry, didn’t he?

Zoro channels his frustration into grabbing Sanji by the hair and yanking his head up. The blonde lets out a yelp, trying to grab Zoro’s hand as he thrashes on the bench.

“Calm down, Shit-Cook.” Zoro sits down on the bench, pulling Sanji’s head back down onto his thigh.

Despite how groggy his movements are, it’s obvious how quickly Sanji tenses up.

“What are you doing?” He tries to sit up, but Zoro still has a handful of blonde locks and with a hiss of pain he puts his head back down.

“Sleep.” Zoro snarls.

“You’re bossy.”

“And you sound like an idiot right now.”

They’re silent for the next minute. Zoro twists his head to look out the window, keeping an eye on the empty sea around them. He’s convinced Sanji has nodded off but then-

“You can let go of my hair now.” Sanji mumbles, his words vibrating off Zoro’s thigh.

Zoro jumps, glaring down at his traitorous hand that’s still gripping Sanji’s hair like a dumbbell.

“Shit, sorry.” He drops the hair, brushing the strands down.

Sanji lets out a low hum at the gesture, surprising them both. Zoro notes how his shoulders drop, his hands unfurl from fists and instead are brought to curl under his chin, as though he’s trying to get comfortable.

So, Zoro doesn’t stop. He pointedly looks back to the window, his cheeks dusted with a light pink that Sanji would have a field day over if he was to look up right now. His fingers card through the long strands, startled to find shorter spikier parts down the Cook’s neck. His nails scratch across skin and Zoro is sure Sanji is going to find some second wind and break his hand with a kick, but it never comes.

He knows the Cook hasn’t fallen asleep. He can tell by the irregularities in his breathing, the way he keeps shifting his weight, the tension that Zoro could cut with one of his swords if he was to try. Zoro has no idea what’s going on in the other’s mind, but he can feel it humming with words, like a frenzied beehive. Just as Zoro is about to lose his patience and threaten to knock Sanji out to get him to sleep, the curly browed idiot breaks the silence.

“Thanks, Zoro.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Whatever.”

Eventually Sanji does pass out. Zoro lets out a long breath he’d been holding back, desperate for a drink but realising he’s not going to be able to get up for anything for the next few hours. He’s still brushing through Sanji’s hair, stupidly mesmerized by how soft it is, how it falls like silk through his fingertips. It’s too intimate for them, Zoro knows this, but he thinks of how stressed Sanji had looked earlier when he was alone in the galley, how small he’d seemed in his arms. A shadow of the man Zoro fought side by side with.

Zoro isn’t someone that’s good at comforting people. He’d never liked being comforted; he’d loathed anyone who had tried to pity him after Kuina, or treated him differently for months because of it. He was always at a loss when someone cried in front of him, glad that in recent times the crew were always there to react instead of him.

But this is Sanji.

Zoro doesn’t know what that excuse means. Why his mind fills in the answer to what the fuck am I doing with it’s Sanji, but it does.

So, Zoro plays with his hair. He swallows hard when a hand snakes its way under his thigh like it’s a damn pillow and he doesn’t move it. He even closes the one open window he was enjoying the breeze from just because the idiot shivers once.

Zoro doesn’t even know why Sanji is upset.

It doesn’t matter.

No ships attack in the night.

Most of the crew sleep soundly, recovering in their beds. Tomorrow, Sanji and Zoro won’t bring any of this up. They’ll argue and fight as normal and no one will know what transpired.

But Zoro will know how soft Sanji’s hair is. He’ll know the Cook likes it being played with. He’ll remember the weight of Sanji’s head on his lap and the weight in his chest that lifted just watching Sanji drift off.

Sanji will be rested. He’ll forgive himself, and he’ll get back to his usual routine. He’ll panic about what happened for weeks after, burning with shame and tip toeing around Zoro until the Swordsman pisses him off enough that the awkwardness disappears completely, and he’ll remember to.

He’ll remember what it was like to be forcefully cared for. To have someone argue through his self-sacrificing bullshit and demand he do what’s best for him. To have someone watch over him when all he wanted was to be left alone.

Next time, they’ll both remember.

#sanji #zosan #roronoa zoro #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fanfic #fanfic #one piece #zoro #vinsmoke sanji #fluff #zosan fluff #light angst #Sanji blaming himself #zoro is gay #Zoro is worried #Sick crew

149 notes · View notes

violettduchess · 2 months

Text

A/N: I know I am late but this is a very belated birthday present for a very special person: @lorei-writes 💜 I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you know what a wonderful friend you are and how grateful I am to have you in my life!

Chevalier x Reader, Only One Bed (the trope that won my poll!)

tw: injury

WC: ~2.5k

The trees whip past you, black blurs with long, spidery branches like fingers that reach for you, the wind carrying their whispers of how much they yearn to touch you, to pluck you from the back of the white horse you’re currently astride, tear you away from the man whose waist your arms are so tightly wrapped around.

Chevalier says nothing as he guides his horse expertly through the darkening forest, the evening light fading with each thundering heartbeat, each turn of the ground under the horse’s hooves. You hear the distant sound of yelling, of the soldiers who are pursuing you and squeeze your eyes closed, pressing your cheek harder against the softness of his white cloak. You don’t know how much time passes. Your arms begin to tremble with the effort of holding on. Your legs feel as if they are numb as they struggle to keep you atop the churning muscles of the animal beneath you. It’s only when you hear him say your name that you slowly come back to yourself, eyelids fluttering open as you feel his body slowly twisting away from you.

You’ve stopped.

Darkness has almost completely taken over. Only the palest shafts of dusk filter through the gaps in the trees. Strong hands reach up, pulling you down from the exhausted horse. Despite the heavy pace of the ride, Chevalier’s grip feels solid, a strength you lean into, wishing it would somehow seep from him into you and grant your shaking limbs calm, your burning lungs cool steadiness.

He waits a moment, still as the tree trunks, but you can see the way his eyes roam the gloom, searching.

A decision is reached.

“Can you stand?” His voice is low, quiet, hushed with alertness.

“Yes,” you manage, surprised at how raw your own throat is, how the words have to be forced out like sandpaper against rough wood.

He releases you and your back curls like a question mark, your hands sliding down to your knees where you hold yourself, focusing on breathing. Your shoulder burns, a lick of fire that feels oddly wet when you reach up to touch it.

You hear him murmuring to his horse, patting the loyal animal’s neck, speaking in a tone that is both gentle and soothing. Who would have thought the brutal beast capable of such softness? And then, having removed his bedroll and saddlebags from the animal, he reaches back and with a crack across the steed’s rear, sends it rushing away into the yawning darkness with a soft whinny.

What….? The horse is your only way back….how…. why…..

He may not be able to see your face clearly but somehow he can still read your thoughts. “It is familiar with these woods and will find its way back to the palace. We cannot risk having it close by.”

Suddenly his hand is grabbing yours and he’s moving, pulling you along with him over the uneven forest floor. “Come.”

You trust him to lead you, even if you cannot make out a path. He pushes his way through branches and brambles and bushes and you very quickly lose hope of ever figuring out what direction you are moving in. Just when your legs begin to cry for mercy, he pushes aside several low hanging branches to reveal the destination he has been heading for: The mouth of a small cave underneath an overhang of uneven rocks and scraggy bushes. It is here he takes you, into the maw of darkness.

You’re hit immediately with the strong, dank scent of rock and earth. Chevalier has to duck, the cave not high enough to accommodate his full height. How does he know where he is going? It’s nearly pitch black. You don’t have the energy to voice your concerns or questions. The aftermath of fear and flight has left you compliant, wordlessly trusting this man to lead you somewhere safe.

The mouth of the cave is almost out of sight when he stops, dropping to his knees in the darkness. You hear him lift the flap of the leather saddle bag, rummaging around until he finds what he is looking for. There’s a quiet snapping sound and suddenly the small area is illuminated with soft blue light, a sight so unexpected and beautiful that you gasp.

You’re at the back of the cave, surrounded on all sides by smooth stone. Chevalier is holding what looks like a vial of some kind, filled with glowing blue liquid. You’re so enchanted that you momentarily forget the terror of just an hour or so earlier, of the masked soldiers who ambushed you while on a sunset ride with the prince, the hiss of the arrows they fired at you, the cry of your horse as it stumbled to the ground and the way Chevalier swept you up in one fluid movement, anchoring you behind him even as he carried you away from the violent chaos, deep into the safety of the dark forest.

“What is this?” You touch the glowing tube even as Chevalier pulls out another, bending it until it emits a small cracking sound and more blue light, pale as the underside of the ocean, fills the cave.

“My brother may be a fool but he has his moments.” He sets the glowing vial down, turning to reach for the bedroll.

Clavis. Of course. He’s always working in his room, tinkering, inventing. That he was the one to come up with such a clever invention doesn’t surprise you. As Chevalier lays out the bedroll, you continue to look at the glowing tube. The gentle blue light almost feels like it’s wrapping itself around you, gentle waves guiding your lungs into a steady rhythm, your heart lowering its guard as you feel a sense of cautious safety begin to settle over you.

“Come here.” You look up to see Chevalier pointing to the bedroll. He’s kneeling beside it, pulling off his dark gloves one finger at a time, a small brown jar on the ground beside him. Before you can ask, annoyance flickers across his face. “You’re injured. This will help keep the wound from becoming infected.”

Injured? Where are you–

“Your shoulder. Now come here.” His words are crisp, edged with impatience.

You glance down, pushing aside your cloak and are stunned by the darkness that stains the sleeve of your white blouse.

When did that happen? In the blur of escape you didn’t even notice…..

Carefully you settle yourself in front of Chevalier. In the cool light, he leans close to you, shifting the torn fabric to try and examine the injury. He’s so close you notice just how long his lashes are, how the wild ride through the dusky woods tangled his pale hair. A slender red line mars the perfection of his face, a scratch that cuts a slanted line right beneath his cheekbone.

“It’s no good. I need more access.” He leans back as his eyes, so impossibly blue in the chemical light, flick up to yours. It takes a deep breath to keep you from free falling into those oceanic depths. Forcing a quick nod, you cast modesty aside, grateful for motion as it will keep you busy. Your cloak is tossed aside. One by one, you undo the buttons of your blouse until you can slide the material off your shoulder completely. The cool air of the cave brushes over your newly exposed skin and you shiver.

“It’s not deep. You should heal without issue.” He uncovers the jar and reaches inside with one finger, scooping up a generous portion of the milky salve. With a practiced hand, he begins applying it over the torn skin of your shoulder. Another shiver runs through you, something bright and restless that has nothing to do with the cold.

Hands that have rained down death and destruction are shockingly gentle as he touches you, spreading the salve evenly across your injury. You watch the passage of his finger across your skin, unable to look away even if you wanted to. Have you ever noticed how beautiful his hands actually are? He glances up and finds you staring at him. Whatever he sees in your eyes seems to unsettle him. He jerks his upper body back, hastily pulling his hand away and reaches back into the saddle bag for a strip of cloth which he ties around your upper arm. His fingers now expertly avoid touching your skin.

“That should suffice for the night.” He reaches for the jar, about to close it again.

“Wait!” You pull it from his grasp as surprise flashes across his face. Clearing your throat, you gesture with the small clay jar in your hand towards him. “You have a scratch yourself.”

His shoulder lifts in a gesture of indifference. “It’s nothing.”

You shift your body, turning to face him directly. Your blouse is still partially undone and he finds himself noticing the wash of pale blue light across the exposed skin of your shoulder, the way it highlights the line of your collarbone and the intimate divulgence of the skin beneath it.

“Please, let me.” Your voice carries a note of something tremulous in it, pulling his gaze back to your face, the parting of your lips, the soft supplication in your eyes. He finds himself acquiescing, his powerful upper body leaning ever so slightly towards you.

“If you must.”

The salve is cool to the touch and you apply a much smaller amount to the tip of your index finger, leaning towards him. Your other hand moves automatically, reaching up to catch his chin in order to hold him steady. He blinks, but otherwise does not move. You press your finger to the thin scratch on his face and slowly, carefully follow the red line. You’ve never been this close to him before. He carries the scent of roses and sweat, even after your hard ride. Your finger comes to the end of the scratch and it is with a surprising reluctance you let your hand drop from his face.

His chest rises with one breath, two. And then he tears his gaze away from the mesmerism of your face, leaning back to close the jar and return it carefully the saddle bag. He glances towards the cave’s entrance, shaking off the moment that still has your heart clenching with emotion.

“We cannot risk leaving now. We’ll stay the night and make our way back by the light of day tomorrow.” He gestures towards the bedroll. “It’s cold. Get in.”

“And what about you?” You don’t even realize you’ve crossed your arms, frowning.

He shakes his head once. “You’ll freeze before I do.”

“We can share it.” The words are out of your mouth without thinking. And they continue. “It’ll be snug but we can both fit. You need warmth just as much as I do. And you can’t protect me if you’re freezing to death.”

You’ve surprised him. He draws in a breath and then exhales. With every passing minute, as darkness becomes thicker outside the distant mouth of the cave, the temperature is indeed dropping.

Wordlessly, he leans forward, pulling off his dark, mud-splattered boots. The sight is somehow so intimate, so personal you find yourself watching, both fascinated and flustered. He removes his cape, folding it into a makeshift pillow and then pulls back the corner of the bedroll. It’s made of thick brown leather and lined with the softest looking white fur you’ve ever seen. He slides his long body inside and then jerks his head.

“Come then.”

You kick off your own riding boots close to where your cloak is lying, abandoned on the hard stone floor, and then with the roaring sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, you wiggle your way down into the bedroll beside him.

And immediately you realize you were wrong.

While the bedroll is large, it is not really made for two people. The only way you can remain covered by the top part is to press yourself as close to Chevalier as possible. He grunts as you hook your leg over him, nudging your hip against his. Your arm automatically reaches across his middle as you settle your head on his shoulder.

Now the bedroll flap closes, enveloping the both of you.

And Chevalier has not moved. He’s barely even breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your face burning as you begin to slowly scoot away. This was too much, too fast. You literally just touched his cheek for the first time ever and now you’re laying across him as if he's a pillow. “Maybe I…I can wrap the cloaks around me and–”

Your words are cut off as he pulls you back to him, his arm holding your body firmly against his. It’s a rough gesture, a jerky movement so unlike his usual feline gracefulness.

“You’ll stay here.” His voice is low, a soft growling sound that you feel as much as hear with your ear pressed against his chest, the vibration of it slowly winding its way through you. Heat blossoms within your stomach and your veins pulse with the sudden awareness of just how it feels to be held by Chevalier Michel, how every hard plane of his body fits perfectly against your own softness.

You blink as if you have been shocked awake, as if someone has ripped the curtains away from a window full of glaring sunlight.

Have you always felt this….desire? Has it been hiding itself within the shadows of your heart only to be dramatically exposed by your closeness to him?

Chevalier shifts ever so slightly, pulling you even closer as he tilts his chin down to look at you. Your own face lifts to meet his gaze. Clavis’s soft blue light illuminates the planes of his face, the pale white of his hair.

He is so breathtakingly beautiful.

For the second time tonight, you reach up and touch his face with your hand, this time cupping the strong line of his jaw. His lips part as if to speak but nothing comes. Ignoring the spark of pain in your shoulder, you stretch yourself upwards and press a kiss, soft as silk, warm as dawn, to his injured cheek. Beneath you, his chest stills with a breath held.

“Thank you, Chevalier.”

And you sink back down, your eyes closing as you allow yourself the peace of falling asleep, cocooned in the safety of his arms, welcoming the strange, new tide of yearning for him that has astoundingly, readily rolled into your heart and mind.

As for Chevalier himself?

He holds you through the night, each passing minute you are in his embrace more and more startling because despite the enemies at the gate, despite the cold of the cavern, despite all that has transpired, it has him wishing that dawn will never come and take you from his side.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss @starlitmanor-network

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen chevalier #only one bed #happy happy birthday lorei!!!#ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

112 notes · View notes

ramblingoak · 5 months

Text

Happy Lasagna Day

For @madisyn-grace 💙 Happy (belated) Birthday!

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader ~ Today is your birthday but as the hours pass without Copia saying anything you get more and more upset...

Warnings: a smidge of angst, Copia being a sweet dork, body worship, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 3200 words

~~ thank you @foxybouquet for the Italian help and @gothdaddyissues for the dividers ~~

You couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

Granted he had been very busy preparing for the tour. Budget meetings, costume fittings, practicing with the ghouls…it all was very time consuming. You tried your best to keep him on schedule, that was your job after all, but it was easy for little things to slip through the cracks. A missed lunch with Imperator here, a missed phone call with Saltarian there. It happens and those were easy to reschedule. But today was different, today was supposed to be for you and despite writing it on his calendar and setting an alert on his phone Copia still hadn’t told you the words you’ve been waiting for.

He still hadn’t wished you a happy birthday.

You hadn’t been upset when he was already gone from bed that morning, there was an early budget meeting he needed to get to and he hated waking you up if you weren’t needed as well. Even when your paths had crossed mid-morning without anything more than a kiss on your cheek you were ok. He had been running late and after leaving a smear of black lipstick on you he’d taken off down the hallway, his robes swishing around his ankles. Copia and the ghouls had a dress rehearsal from lunch time through most of the afternoon and while you normally would watch today you had your own budget meeting you weren’t able to skip out on.

So after all of that you had tracked him down, finding him with his nose buried in paperwork at his desk. He was mumbling something in Italian so fiercely under his breath he didn’t even notice when you sat down in one of the chairs across from him. The growing irritation you had felt through the day was threatening to boil over as you watched him. You knew he was busy but today was supposed to be special! Copia was always the best at birthdays! He always picked out the most thoughtful gifts for you and would spend the day pampering you. At this point in the day you knew you were going to sound pissy but you couldn’t help it.

“Copia, do you know what today is?”

“Today?” He didn’t even pause in his writing as he answered. “I think today is the day I finally murder Terzo so I don’t have to suffer through reading his shit handwriting ever again.”

Normally him insulting his brother would make you laugh but instead you just gritted your teeth before you tried again.

“No, that is not what today is.”

“No?” He leaned back in his chair, rolling his neck to ease the ache he always got by the end of the day. “There’s not a Black Mass tonight is there? I swear Sister will find any excuse under the su–”

“No, Copia. There’s not a Black Mass.”

“Ah, bene. Well then I’m not sure wh–oh no. Dolcezza!” Copia shoved his chair back and walked quickly around his desk, his hands reaching out for yours. With an exaggerated groan he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Mi dispiace. I can’t believe I forgot what day it is.”

He looked so disappointed in himself you squeezed his hands, your irritation already melting away.

“Copia, It’s ok. You’ve been so busy, I underst–”

“I know how much you enjoy lasagna day in the cafeteria.”

“What?”

He grinned and dropped a few sloppy kisses into your palms before jumping up and going over to the phone on his desk.

“Lasagna day! I will call over to them and have some brought to us. That sounds perfect, no?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” It took you a moment before you realized you had said that outloud but at this point you didn’t even care. “That’s what you think today is?!”

“I thought you liked lasagna day!”

“Copia, if you say lasagna day one more time I will burn the abbey to the ground.”

“Ai, ok ok.” He placed the phone receiver back in its cradle and fidgeted for a moment, seemingly glancing around the room for ideas. “Can I have a clue?”

With a growl you jumped up from the chair and started stalking towards the door. Copia called your name and asked you to wait but you ignored him, ripping the door open and practically fleeing towards you and Copia’s quarters. Papa Emeritus or not, you’d barricade the door so he couldn’t get in. You’d have a nice, quiet birthday evening with yourself and no one else. Well, just you and Copia’s rats. Copia could sleep on the floor of his office for all you cared.

Your irritation waned as you got closer to home. You felt bad being so angry at him, especially with everything he had going on, but it stung to have him forget. To have him be so absorbed in so many different things and lose track of something important to you. When you got to the door you took a moment after slipping the key in and rested your head against the cool wood. Maybe you wouldn’t make him sleep in his office tonight, but he definitely needed to make it up to you. With a sigh you opened the door but after just a few steps inside you froze, your mouth dropping open at the sight before you.

“Oh.”

The main room was awash in the soft glow of dozens of candles. There was one practically on every available surface. Any other free space was taken over by flowers, bouquets of every shape and size scattered around the room. They were your favorite kinds, all delicately tied together with ribbon. A trail of loose petals led from the door to the coffee table in front of the couch and you slowly made your way over. In the middle of the table was a small card, your name written on the front in Copia’s delicate handwriting. With shaking fingers you picked it up, tears already forming in your eyes as you read what he had written down.

“Will you forgive me?” The sound of his voice startled you and you dropped the note as you spun around. “Can you forgive an old man like me?”

“You’re not old Copia.” When he reached a hand out for one of yours you sighed and let him have it, smiling softly when he brought it up to his lips to kiss the back. “It’s ok.”

“Ach, no. No, it’s not ok.” He was shaking his head vigorously, his salt and pepper hair bouncing out of its neat style. “I remembered while we were practicing ‘Rats’, right in the middle of Dewdrop’s solo. Made everyone stop while I panicked about it.”

You took a step closer, reaching up to brush some of the hair off his forehead.

“You could’ve called me or sent me a text when you realized.”

“I know I should have but I started thinking of how I could make it up to you and well,” He waved a hand around the room. “We ended practice early and the ghouls set all this up. I thought it would be a nice surprise but I shouldn’t have waited until the end of the day to show you.”

“It is a nice surprise, Copia. It’s beautiful.” You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Grazie, Papa.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“Oh, I suppose so.” You stepped closer again so you were pressed against his chest, your fingers fiddling with the buttons of his robes. “You’ll have to make it up to me though.”

“Will I? What will it take?” He shrugged off his robe and let it fall to the ground. You made sure to kick it further away from the nearest candles. Despite your threat earlier you didn’t actually want to burn the abbey down. Copia was left in his favorite pants with just his frilly sleeved shirt and vest on. “How can I make it up to you?”

“A kiss. To start with.”

“Un bacio?” He slipped his arms around your waist and leaned in to brush his lips against yours. It was so soft and sweet you just wanted to melt against him. He hummed as he pulled away, reaching up to sweep a thumb across your bottom lip. “That’s a small price to pay.”

“I said to start with, Copia.”

“Ah, silly me. Should have known you’d demand more.”

He leaned in again and you met him half way, the kiss this time far less sweet. His mouth was demanding, his tongue soon pressing between your lips and flicking against your own. A deep groan echoed in his chest when you nipped at his tongue and he quickly pushed one of his hands into your hair to angle your head better. His other hand slid down your back and grabbed your ass, his fingers flexing against you through your habit. It wasn’t long before you had to break away, gasping for air and trembling against him.

“Copia. Copia, please.”

"Sì, dolcezza? What does my birthday girl want?”

“You. I want you. I need you, Copia. Please.”

Your only answer was another fierce kiss, but it was all the answer you needed. He started to walk you back towards the bedroom, his hands steady on your hips to keep you from tripping. When the back of your knees hit the bed you sat down, your breath shuddering out of you when he dropped to his knees before you.

“You deserve to be worshiped, dolcezza. Not just on this day, but every day for the rest of your life.” He gently slipped your shoes off, setting them to the side before gripping one of your stocking covered feet and beginning to massage the bottom with his thumbs. His eyes trailed up your body, from your toes to your face and he gave you one of his dirty grins before speaking again. “Will you let me worship you?”

“Whatever you want, Copia.”

“I want you. Always.” He slid his hands from your feet up your legs, only stopping when he reached the top of your stockings. Copia ran his fingers along the sensitive skin there before tugging them down. He dropped kisses along your skin as it was exposed, leaving black lipstick marks on your thighs, your knees and all the way down to the top of your feet. When he set the stockings aside he caught your eyes again, the grin coming back when he noticed how heavily you were breathing. “Beautiful, you are so beautiful covered in my kisses.”

Copia stood up then, his hands going to his vest to work on getting it off. When he was finished and it was on the floor you reached up to help him with his shirt. Desire making both of your hands a little shaky but when it was finally undone it joined everything else on the floor and your hands were on Copia’s chest, your fingers tangling in his chest hair and your mouth leaving your own kiss marks on his belly and sides. You kept going until his hand tangled in your hair and he tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

“Is this ok?”

He smiled, nodding softly before leaning down to capture your lips with his for a moment.

“It is more than ok, dolcezza. But I think tonight should be about you, eh?”

Well, you weren’t going to argue with him. You smirked and grabbed the hem of your habit, yanking it up and over your head in one quick movement. It had barely hit the floor before he had you scooting back on the bed so he could crawl on after you. He planted his knees between your legs and dropped down to kiss along the inside of one of your thighs. Copia held your other thigh, massaging your flesh as his kisses got closer and closer to your cunt.

Your panties were already soaked and Copia groaned when he was close enough to smell how aroused you were. He ran a finger up and down the wet fabric, applying more and more pressure on each pass. When his finger pressed against your entrance you cried out, hooking a leg around his waist to try to get him closer.

“Copia! Please.”

“Easy now, your Papa will take care of you.”

You let your leg fall away and he scooted down so his face hovered over your cunt. His hot breath fanned across your damp skin and you began to tremble even more than you had been. He placed a hand back on your thigh, his eyes watching as he ran it up and down your skin. His fingers digging into your flesh periodically. When his hand finally got close to your cunt again he pushed your panties out of the way and pressed his thumb between your lips, rubbing it right over your wet entrance.

“Fuck.”

“Not yet, dolcezza, but soon.”

His eyes didn’t leave your cunt as he continued to rub his thumb back and forth. Your entrance started to spasm, your body desperate for him to be inside of you. He groaned at the sight, hooking his thumb right at the rim and then pressing his mouth in. As his tongue flicked and swirled over you it felt like stars were bursting in your vision. Copia pressed closer, his tongue going as far as it could inside of you while his nose rubbed against your clit.

When your legs began to shake he moved his mouth away and ran his tongue up to your clit. He sucked it between his lips while two of his fingers pushed inside of you. They pumped back and forth, keeping a steady pace while he teased your clit with his tongue and teeth. It was starting to feel like something was going to explode inside of you, the pleasure building up to such a great height you didn’t have the strength to keep your eyes open. It wasn’t until he growled your name out that you were able to look down again, your eyes meeting his over your trembling body.

“Watch me, dolcezza.”

You obeyed, your mouth falling open as he lowered his to your flesh again. The noises he was making as he tasted you were loud in the room. Deep moans as he continued to fuck you with his fingers and lick up the moisure you were creating. As his fingers stroked across your inner walls you felt your peak hit you and with a wail you fell over the edge, gasping as wave after wave of pleasure ran over you. You had no idea how much time had passed when you finally came back to yourself, your eyes slowly blinking open to find Copia watching you, his mouth pressed against your belly.

He gave you a quick smile before pressing more kisses across your skin. His lipstick was mostly gone, but you could feel the moisture from your cunt being rubbed across your stomach. Copia moved to the side, teasing his teeth across whatever skin he could reach. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle when he was over your rib cage, the sensitive skin there jumping under his attention. The days worth of stubble wasn’t helping either and you hissed when he deliberately rubbed his cheek against your skin.

“Hey, quit that.”

Copia snorted, sitting up a bit and letting his eyes drag over your body.

“Bellissima. My beautiful birthday girl.”

You smirked, sitting up a bit yourself and placing your hands on the ties of his pants.

“That’s right Papa, I'm the birthday girl and I think I’m ready for my gift now.”

“The candles and flowers weren’t enough?”

He groaned, his head falling back when you freed his cock. It was hard and leaking at the tip, jumping in your hand when you began to stroke it.

“I think I deserve a little something extra.”

Copia laughed and quickly moved to sit on the side of the bed so he could maneuver his pants off. He was back over you in an instant when he was finally free and he went to work on your bra, his hands eagerly cupping your breasts when they were uncovered. You bit your lip when his thumbs rubbed across your nipples, the pleasure starting to build up in your body again.

“Is this enough, dolcezza?”

You couldn’t keep your moan in but you shook your head, covering his hands with your own.

“Fuck me.”

“Oh, you need my cock, do you?” You nodded frantically, gasping when he let go of your breasts and sat up between your legs. He took his cock in hand and ran it up and down your cunt, smiling each time it caught at your entrance. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes, please Copia.”

You both groaned when he pressed inside, your body stretching around his thick flesh. He hooked an arm under one of your thighs and pressed it up so he could get as deep as he could. Copia ground his hips against yours and you began to pant, desperate for him to start fucking you. He seemed to sense your desperation because he began to slowly pull out before quickly thrusting back in, a quick movement that punched the air out of your lungs.

“That’s it, dolcezza. Take it, take me.”

It wasn’t long before his movements became frantic, his thrusts becoming rough and jarring. You would definitely be feeling it in the morning but it was worth it to watch your Papa lose control. To watch him lose control because of you. It was always good, so good to be with him like this. For him to have all his attention on you, for him to kiss and touch every part of you he could reach. You used to be so self conscious but after hearing the things he’d whisper into your skin you began to believe him, you started to feel as beautiful as he claimed you to be.

“Oh, Copia! I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Bene, I want you to come for me. I want to feel you come apart on my cock.”

It didn’t take much longer before you reached your peak again and you felt his cock kick inside of you, filling you with his release. With a groan he collapsed over you, careful as always not to jar you too much. He adjusted both of your bodies enough so that he could cradle you against him, his cock still inside of you. You laid your head over his chest, listening as his racing heart slowed down just like yours was.

The room was quiet without the moans or heavy breathing and you soon heard him humming something softly against your hair. It took you a moment before you realized what it was and you lifted your head to smile at him.

“Buon compleanno, dolcezza.”

You leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. When you pulled away he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and you couldn’t help but narrow your own, suspicious as to what was causing it.

“What is it?”

“Happy birthday and,” Copia leaned in and gave you another sweet kiss. “Happy lasagna day.”

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #papa emeritus iv x female reader #copia x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #papa emeritus x reader

255 notes · View notes

vrmxlho · 1 year

Note

hii kira !! do u have any hcs for sae abt how he would be as a bf?

SAE ITOSHI 糸師冴

if sae were a love trope he would 100% be belated love epiphany

"i never realised how much i loved them until they were gone." type beat yk

like pride and prejudice, except he's elizabeth and you're darcy ??

where you confess first and he rejects you but once you're not near him he realises that he really did love you

or when he saw how loaded you were, you be the judge (kidding)

y'all already know i think he's a good cook. like he was in spain for ages you bet he picked a few things up. cuz idk about spanish men but ik most italian men know how to cook and well.

he pours all his love into everything he makes, probably his love language honestly.

but he'd never let you know he's cooking for you because he cares

"you look like a ghost have you been eating properly?" "oh, no. unfortunately, i haven't found much time to cook lately..." "how bothersome. am i gonna have to take you all the way to the hospital when you faint from anemia?" "but i'm not even anemic..." "you will be if you don't eat your spinach." "..." "you know what. since you're so incapable i'll just cook for you." "excuse me??"

forgive him, he's just a bit of a cunt, but he loves you i promise

(also if you didn't know fun fact: preparing a homemade meal for someone is akin to confessing your feelings to them)

he's not much for PDA in fact in public he has his same, stupid, emotionless, deadpan face that is so punchable (affectionately?)

but when you're at home he'll find any excuse to lean his whole bodyweight on you

he also loves leaning in to kiss you and then reaching behind you to grab something or whatever, just to leave you flushed and stressed the fuck out

annoying asshole

he also gets very touchy when tired, if you're sleeping next to each other he tends to end up hugging you close to his heart by the time you wake up

he may not seem it but he would genuinely do anything for you

he tends to ignore most messages/texts/emails unless they're super important but he'd reply to you the second you text him

or even if it's a silly tweet

@you: there are 2 many ppl at this café 😞 @officialsaeitoshi: send me your location i got you your usual @you: ayo, how did you have it prepared n everything 😭 @officialsaeitoshi: spidey senses

he also has the most deadpan, sarcastic humour known to man

he's horrible (just my type)

nothing that comes out of his mouth is to be trusted

beware!!!

he is the no.1 gossiper alive, he knows everything about everyone's business even if he looks like the type of person who'd never think of anyone other than himself

somehow he's both at the same time

he could go hours talking about this random guy in his club who's actually the secret son of a drug lord and who ran away from home to save himself from imminent death...

what???? how does he know this?

i'm pretty sure he doesn't know either, anyway

he loves his lil self care night routines

you both sitting on the sofa talking about life (actually it's just him talking and you listening but whatever)

sae itoshi was an evening person. not because he felt most productive then. and not because he enjoyed the peace and quiet of the city. but because he enjoyed his night routines with you right next to him every second. you'd sit on the sink sill as he gently passed a finger with clay on it over your face as you kept talking about your day. "and then when i went to get coffee there were just so many people at the café it was such a hassle. this guy–" "shush. do you want clay in your mouth?" he kept swiping the remaining clay mask on your now stationary chin. once done he lifted you and walked to the sofa. this was no new routine. this was the only way he was able to unwind. with you next to him, just talking about the little, almost meaningless things. "i read somewhere that your coach is having an affair is that true?" you didn't know why you kept instigating him. it was late and you knew if he began talking now he'd only finish once the sun rose or your wake up alarm rang. but seeing him so animated was a rarity so you had to take advantage anytime you could.

now for how he confessed

at first when you confessed he rejected you and didn't think much of it at all

until he started noticing the little things about you, he started obsessing with every bit of you

how you looked, how you dress, how you style your hair

but also how your under eyes crease when you smile

how you're very picky with your food, especially dessert, but you'd eat anything if someone handmade it for you

how you're so patient when you tutor even if the person is being a dumbfuck

after obsessing over everything you did for about a day or two he was sick of the weird, nauseating feeling in his stomach

it had been about three days since the confession. being rejected right on the spot, especially in that cold manner was painful to say the least. but you were sure you had gotten over it. and you hoped with all your heart that he too had forgotten. he had just stood there as you finished telling him how he made you feel and how you had liked him for a while now. he had a horrible scowl on his face, arms crossed and an uninterested posture. you already knew what the answer was when you were done but it hurt so much more when he finally confirmed it all. so it was surprising when you saw sae march up to you as you ate your lunch with your friends. he had the same horrible scowl on his face from before. and you could feel your stomach drop as he pulled your wrist in a gruff manner. careless. he didn't care for you. "itoshi what are you–" he finally stopped once you were in a quiet corner behind the main building, away from curious eyes. "we need to talk." "about what?" "i couldn't sleep." "ok..?" "i couldn't stop thinking about you." "oh. i'm sorry if my confession made you uncomfortable. i didn't mean for it to bother you so much." "yes. it's so bothersome. now every time i see you with anyone but me, it hurts. i can't stand hearing about anyone but me, from you. i don't want you to think of anyone but me."

and then you were just like 😧🫣😏🤩

if you think rin's dramatic just WAIT until you talk to sae he's insane

THE BIGGEST drama queen (i hate him)

although i do think he is secure about himself and knows you wouldn't ever hurt him

i feel like he does have abandonment issues (a bit)

like imagine going through your teen years without family in a foreign country, you'd feel isolated no matter how many friends you made or how nice your host family was

he tries not giving any external reaction so you barely notice at first but every time he sees you with someone, looking a bit too friendly, he always feels his heart tighten

he's very gentle when kissing you

it's not like he's super strong or anything (mans is tiny)

and it's not that he's scared to hurt you, he just doesn't wanna appear too possessive or anything

favourite places to kiss you: why do i wanna say your waist, also knuckles

no idea why i just feel like if he weren't allowed to kiss your lips for any reason he would kiss there

but he definitely needed you to initiate the physical contact when you first started dating

speaking of which

dates with sae

100% movie nights, or just staying at home in general

mans hates going out if it's unnecessary

although, if you want anything he'd do it for you in an instant

or when he's feeling extra energetic

he'll take you dancing; this can either be ballroom dancing (which makes you cringe a bit but it's fun), salsa or literally just clubbing

i think he secretly loves clubbing at techno clubs (is that what they're called?) he hates commercial music cuz it just gets so repetitive

ideal vacation destination: somewhere isolated

like a random island in greece

or some forest in south america

idk man

he absolutely hates tourist destinations, tourists are his no.1 worst enemy

that's why you always end up going on holiday at random times of the year

"hey love, take a few days off next week. we're going to bora–bora." "it's the middle of march..." "not in bora–bora." "that's not how it works..." "i've already bought the tickets and spoken to your boss so you really just have to start packing."

now about pet names

he generally doesn't like them and thinks they're cringe and annoying

which they can be if used excessively ig

he tends to call you by a nickname or just your name

he only uses pet names when he wants something or has something to tell you that he knows you'll be angry/annoyed about

like the fact he planned a whole trip to bora–bora in middle of march and didn't tell you a thing 😞

however, if you're open about how much you hate him doing things without involving you he will change his ways

he's a quick learner after all ❤️‍🔥

824 notes · View notes

dystopicjumpsuit · 3 months

Text

The Night Before Someday

A/N: Happy (slightly belated) birthday to my dearest @wings-and-beskar! I wrote you some smut. 💛

Pairing: Cody x Reader (GN)

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Wordcount: 1.6K

Warnings and tags: fluff; roofies mentioned in passing; somebody other than Cody tries to hit on you; SMUT; oral sex; teasing; minor dom/sub dynamics; orgasm delay; established secret/forbidden relationship.

Summary: Did you read “Someday” and feel a burning desire to know what happened the night before? Look no further! This is that fic.

Suggested listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

79’s was hot, loud, and crowded. The heavy beat of dance music pulsated through the dense, smoky air of the club. The 212th was on shore leave, and you could swear that all 42,000 troopers in the battalion were currently either in line for the bar or grinding on the dance floor. You weren’t the only nat-born officer in the place, but you still stood out in the sea of clones, and every so often a drunken trooper would hoot your name or cheer raucously as you passed.

The energy was frenetic. To tell the truth, dance clubs weren’t really your usual scene, but it was the first night of leave, and it was expected that the senior command staff would put in an appearance. It wasn’t so bad, though; the troopers were rowdy but unfailingly respectful, and as you headed back to your table after braving the line at the bar for a refill, one of your very favorite trios found you and pulled you inexorably into their orbit.

“Didn’t think we’d see you here tonight, Major,” Wooley said as he slung his arm over your shoulders with an easy (if somewhat wobbly) smile.

“Why not?” you asked.

“Figured you’d have somethin’ better to do than hang out with the same faces you see all day every day,” Waxer grinned.

“What could possibly be better than this?” you asked, gesturing at the sticky, sweaty crowd.

“Probably just about any nat-born cantina,” Boil replied.

“Oh, we have more than our share of shitty dives,” you replied. “Plus my chances of having my drink roofied are probably lower here than just about any bar in the galaxy.”

“‘Specially with us watching your back,” Wooley said. He was slurring his words a bit, and his arm was ridiculously heavy on your shoulders, but you had a feeling his night was just getting started.

“Surprised you aren’t at the table with the rest of the command staff,” Boil remarked.

“I was on my way back when you waylaid me,” you laughed.

“Eh, we’re more fun anyway,” Waxer said with a charming smile.

Privately, you couldn’t help but agree, not that you would ever, ever say it out loud. Waxer, Boil, and Wooley didn’t have to worry about presenting a dignified facade the way the senior officers—including you—did.

You drew a breath to reply, and suddenly, a Mirialan tripped and stumbled into you. She righted herself quickly, apologizing profusely in an Outer-Rim trade language. You replied fluently in the same language, reassuring her and asking if she was all right. She nodded and excused herself quickly, and as she left, you checked to make sure she hadn’t swiped your credits.

“Kriff, it’s hot when you do that,” Wooley said, leaning a little closer to your ear.

“What, check to make sure someone didn’t rip me off?” you laughed.

“No, when you speak Sy Bisti or whatever that was,” he replied.

“Meese Caulf,” you said.

“I don’t know how the commander keeps his hands off you when you’re translating for him,” Wooley said a little over-loudly.

Yeah, he’s definitely had enough to drink, you thought.

If you were honest, you liked Wooley just fine. He was sweet and funny, he had great hair, and he looked like… well… a clone trooper. Enough said. You might have considered reciprocating his interest if it weren’t for two very important factors. One: you outranked him by several degrees, and you’d have felt weird about it even if it weren’t officially forbidden for you to fraternize with him. Ironic, all things considered.

Two—

“Because I don’t fancy a court martial, and I suspect the major doesn’t either, so I’d suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” a voice said from just behind you.

His tone was mild, but all four of you snapped to attention instinctively, and Wooley dropped his arm and put several inches in between himself and you for good measure.

“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir,” Wooley said sheepishly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Commander Cody replied.

“Er, sorry, Major,” Wooley mumbled.

You kept a perfectly straight face as you reassured Wooley, then extricated yourself from the group and made your way back to the command staff’s table with Cody.

Once you were out of earshot, you asked, “Court martial? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?”

Cody arched a quizzical brow. “Just looking out for my officers.”

“Careful, Commander. People might start thinking you have an interest beyond strict professionalism.”

Under the guise of steering you around a group of rowdy, drunken troopers, Cody rested his hand on your lower back, and you felt his fingertips graze your bare skin, just beneath the hem of your shirt.

“We can’t have that,” he murmured. He leaned in slightly to whisper in your ear. “I wish I could dance with you.”

You suppressed a smile. “How much longer do we need to keep up this charade before we sneak back to my flat?”

“One more drink ought to do it,” he said.

You glanced down at your cocktail. “Mine’s already half gone. I’ll leave first so nobody suspects.”

“You know, Wooley was right about one thing. You are hot as kriff.” He pressed his fingers into your back gently, then withdrew his hand as you approached the table where the rest of the senior command waited. “Door code still the same?”

“Always.”

You were in the kitchen chugging the galaxy’s largest glass of water when you heard the front door swish open. By the time it closed again, you were already in Cody's arms. As your lips met, he picked you up and spun you around until you shrieked with laughter. When he set you down, he held you steady until you regained your footing, then slid his hand up your back to hold your head as he leaned his forehead against yours and took a deep, slow breath in and out.

“Hello,” you smiled.

“Hello,” he replied. “I missed you.”

“It's only been an hour,” you pointed out.

“An eternity.” He kissed along your jaw until he reached your ear, whispering, “A lifetime.”

You shivered as his breath tingled across your skin. “Welcome home.”

A quiet rumble of pleasure sounded in his chest at your words. “Let's go to bed.”

“Tired?” you teased.

He slid his hands down your body to grip your ass, pulling you hard against him. “Not even a little bit.”

That’s a kriffing lie, you thought, knowing exactly how busy and exhausted he was, but you weren’t about to call him on it when his lips tasted so perfect, and his body felt so strong and solid and warm, and his hands roamed over you, touching and teasing and exploring. You didn’t even notice that he was expertly guiding you backward through your flat until he leaned you slowly back onto your mattress.

“Excellent diversionary tactics, Commander,” you said as he kissed down your throat and sternum, deftly unbuttoning your top as he progressed.

“Mm,” he murmured, unzipping your trousers and sliding them down your hips. “That’s Marshal Commander.”

Your laugh turned into a gasp as he tugged your underwear out of the way and his tongue caressed your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, gazing up your body as he stroked his fingers over you softly. He trailed kisses down your pelvis and swirled his tongue over your sex. “I could never taste you enough.”

Oh, gods, but he tried. He devoured you with all the skill and passion of a man deprived too long. He took his time, luxuriating in your smooth skin, your warmth, your scent, your taste, your quiet moans, your desperate whimpers, your frantic squirming beneath his lovely mouth.

Ever the strategist, he used every tool at his disposal in his relentless pursuit of your pleasure: fingers, tongue, lips—even his teeth: grazing them gently across your tender flesh, then smoothing his tongue over you in soft, comforting strokes. He drew you closer and closer to your climax, refusing to hurry, even when your whimpers and moans gave way to pleading and sobbing as heat pulsed relentlessly through your veins, so close: so close, and yet just out of reach.

And then—he stopped.

You nearly screamed in frustration. “Damn it, Cody!”

“Manners,” he chided.

You growled. “I am going to get revenge for this.”

“I have no doubt,” he replied, kissing you softly and then brushing his thumb over his swollen lips. “Now ask nicely.”

You gritted your teeth and took a deep breath. “Please, sir, will you let me come?”

He gave you a devilish smile and lowered his head back down to your body, devouring you with renewed enthusiasm, and within seconds, he brought you to the precipice.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted.

He groaned, a deep, gravelly sound that vibrated on your skin, and with a dexterous movement of his fingers, he pushed you over the edge. You let out a hoarse cry, for once not concerned about keeping your volume down, as your hips thrust up off the mattress. He pressed you back down as he kept going, eagerly taking everything you had to give, until you were twitching and writhing helplessly beneath him.

At last, when he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from your body, you fell back, breathing hard as you slowly relaxed against the pillows. He looked up at you with a self-satisfied grin, and you narrowed your eyes vindictively. Wrapping your legs around him, you flipped both of you over so he was lying on his back beneath you, gazing up at you with blatant adoration.

“My turn,” you murmured.

Didn't read "Someday"? It's here, and it's fluffy as hell!

#the door code is 2224 #commander cody #commander cody x reader #cody x reader #star wars #the clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

108 notes · View notes