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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

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sttoru · 9 months

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boob obsessed!gojo please!!

oh absolutelyyyy !

tags. gojo satoru x female reader. breast play, teasing, semi-public, satoru’s v touchy, uhh cum play, mention of blow job, boob job.

satoru , who you have labelled as one of the most shameless people you have ever dated. you’ve known the guy had a thing for your tits the moment the two of you had gotten intimate.

his big hands were all over the swell of your breasts, long fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh. you can always spot the way his pupils dilate whenever he gets the chance of touching them. if you squint well enough, you might even see him drooling a bit whenever he notices the flesh of your breasts and how it bulges when the two are pressed together. and if it isn’t his hands touching those beautiful tits? it’s his tongue.

“mm, god—need ‘m in my mouth. need to taste those tits of yours, princess. c’mon. lemme suck on those nipples.”

satoru , who’s favourite position to cuddle is when he’s laying on your chest. his head will rest between your breasts, one cheek squished against the flesh and fingers usually tracing the shapes of your tits. if you’re not wearing a bra of some kind, he’ll definitely take the opportunity to tease you and circle one of your nipples through the fabric. he just loves the feeling of making you shiver due to his touches.

also, always finds a way to tell you how he ‘loves how squishy and soft they are’. claims they’re even softer than any plushies you own as well.

satoru , who you’ve caught many times staring down at your breasts whenever you’re wearing something skintight or revealing. he can’t help it, it’s his favourite part of your body. somebody needs to save that man, because he’ll literally get lost in thought and won’t even realise he’s ogling your tits.

if it’s not you catching him staring and playfully scolding him for it, it’s his students (who’d probably be disgusted by their teacher’s behaviour in front of their poor eyes). and yes—even in public, satoru’s a complete fool for you and your figure.

satoru , who loves to suck on your tits one way or another. whenever he’s fucking you, he always prefers a position where your chest is facing him. that way, he can see, touch, squeeze and suck on those breasts of yours. he doesn’t waste a single second and immediately latches onto your nipples, wet tongue gliding over your areola, eyes closed and throat making whiny noises.

one thing that never fails to make him rock hard is when you’re walking around the house without a bra on. for you it’s a simple decision; your bra sometimes gets too suffocating on your body. for satoru on the other hand, it’s impossible to ignore the urges in him once his eyes fall on the shape of your nipples that poke through the fabric of your clothes.

that’s also how you end up with his hands all over you every time. one day it’ll be his hands gliding under your shirt to grope your tits, the other day he’ll be more direct and yank your shirt off, put you on the counter and suck on them like there’s no tomorrow.

“nhhh, stay still— ah, shit.. so fuckin’ good. these things were just beggin’ to get sucked on. hm? ‘sensitive’ you say? even better.”

satoru , who enjoys the way your tits glisten when he’s cumming all over them. he loves to see the white liquid drizzle down the curves, over your nipples down to your stomach. if you’re giving him a blowjob, he’ll probably tap your head softly to signal that he’s about to reach his climax. that way you know that he wants to cum over your tits instead of down your throat.

probably instantly gets hard again at the sight of you covered in his sticky cum.

“mm, look at you, sitting there on your knees with my cum all over those pretty tits. aht aht, don’t move now, need to take a picture of the sight for future use.”

satoru , who turns into a trembling and moaning mess whenever you offer to give him a boob job. he’ll let shaky curse words escape the back of his throat, his hands clutching onto whatever he can find, his head thrown back a little but enough for his eyes to still be able to gaze down at you. he gets so turned on and will probably lose the ability to speak whenever he looks at how his cock is engulfed by your tits.

“jus’ like that, baby— oh fuck! look at those fuckin’ tits, mmh, makes me wanna cover ‘m with my cum so bad— shit, can i? may i?”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #gojo x you

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wildestdreamsblog · 11 months

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In All Lifetimes: Prologue

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: In which you have loved them across all seven lifetimes, and stopped at eighth. And in every lifetime, they loved you just as intense. Yet each lifetime their love became darker and darker.

Or in which you stopped loving them on the eight lifetime- only to wake up at the very first lifetime where their love hadn’t turned dark yet.

Warnings: Poly relationship, yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Murder intention, Violence, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: I have always wanted to try writing for all of them. Do tell me your thoughts and enjoy!

“Please! Stop it, Namjoon. P-please!”

You were screaming as tears were falling down your face, willing the tall man in front of you to listen. But it seemed like you had already lost him to the darkness. You looked at your side and met Hoseok’s cold eyes, but even he seemed to have lost his own sun. He looked at you without any emotion. It was apparent that he wouldn’t help you.

“Jin? Please, please. Please stop him, hmm? Please help,” you begged him with tearful eyes, clutching the front of his shirt. If anyone had any chance to stop Namjoon, it was Seokjin. But the tall and beautiful man only looked down at your hands clutching his shirt with indifference before meeting your desperate eyes. He slowly shook his head, merely content on watching the scene unfold in front of him.

“He deserves it, my queen,” he softly said, his eyes brimming with hatred.

You were shaking your head even before he finished, “He doesn’t! He was only helping me. It wasn’t his fault-“

“He dared take you away from us,” a quiet voice sounded from your side. Yoongi was nonchalantly leaning against the wall, his stance relaxed. But it didn’t fool you. His shoulders were tensed as he let Namjoon unleashed hell. Lazily, he shifted his eyes to you. “No one can take you away from us.”

Not even you.

You flinched when you heard the man screaming from extreme pain. You looked behind you to see the golden maknae crying in Taehyung’s arms. The man had his arm around Jungkook’s shaking shoulders in comfort, yet his cold, dark eyes remained on you.

“Look what you did to Jungkook, noona,” his deep voice resounded over the screams of the man. “You made our maknae cry. That’s not nice, is it?”

“T-Taehyung. Please. Please help me stop this madness. Pl-“

“No, that’s not nice,” he continued as though he didn’t hear you, answering his own question as though all the screaming didn’t bother him. “You thought you could leave us. That man poisoned your mind, my queen. We need to teach him a lesson, right, Kookie?”

The crying man suddenly looked up, his red eyes focused on you. His lips were shaking as he looked at the love of their lives. You.

“H-he needs to learn, hyung. He needs to be punished. He took her away from us!”

You flinched from the sudden volume of his voice. You knew he wouldn’t help. No one could. When it came to you, their minds were closed off. To them, it was you or no one at all. To them, you were all that mattered in this world.

And their love was suffocating. Didn’t they know you left because of them? Because you couldn’t love the people they became? That you never loved them like they wanted to in the first place?

That you loved them, but never in that way.

“It wasn’t his fault! I begged him to help me leave-“

“No. You would never willingly leave us, our queen. That’s not even a possibility,” Namjoon suddenly joined the conversation as though he wasn’t torturing an actual human. You didn’t even look at him.

He was the worst of them all.

“It’s fine, noona,” Jimin suddenly said, touching your stiff shoulder softly before leaning down to look at you. “It’ll be over soon and we can all go home, okay? Just wait a little longer, okay?”

Namjoon might be the worst of them all, but Jimin was the one who refused to even entertain the thought of you not loving them. He was the most dangerous with his angelic smile and innocent form. No one would even think of the way his mind was filled with dark thoughts. And even now, he was smiling so sweetly at you.

“Our queen is tired,” Namjoon shook his head in regret before slowly lifting the gun to the man. “I shall end this now.”

No. No no no no.

And before you knew it, you were running to the man. You weren’t thinking. All you wanted was for this madness to stop, for this hell to vanish. All of a sudden, there were silence. Or maybe, it wasn’t silence but everyone’s shock. Your tears fell as you felt the piercing shot of pain in your chest.

And then you fell to the ground.

And the last thing you saw was Namjoon and the others kneeling beside your dying body. They were crying. They were screaming. You felt the warm blood seeping out of you in rapid succession. You knew this was the end.

Good, you thought. Finally you could escape them.

The last thing you saw was Namjoon’s handsome face looking down at you with tears in his eyes.

The last thing you felt were their tears as they fell to your skin.

The last thing you thought was that you never had to see them again.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes were seven men leaning down to look at your laid out form. You blinked slowly, your eyes focused on the man closest to you who was looking at you with overwhelming worry and love.

Kim Namjoon.

And then memories came rushing back to you. He killed you. They all had a hand to it.

They killed you, but he was the one who pulled the trigger.

And before you knew it, you were screaming as you attempted to scoot farther from them. The huge and comfortable bed made it possible to distance yourself from the confused men, all of who were waiting for you to wake up.

“M-my queen,” Namjoon called for you, confusion apparent in his face. “What’s wrong?”

You turned to look at all of them, your eyes shifting from their nervous forms. Didn’t you die? Did they save you just in time? Did you fail to escape them?

But then, you really looked at them and this time, you noticed the traditional clothing they were all wearing. You noticed the room you were in. You looked down and noticed that you, too, were wearing a traditional clothing.

“Noona-“

“Don’t come near me!” You warned Jimin as he called you, his eyes weary and nervous. They all jumped from your anxious words and the way you delivered it. What the fuck was happening? Was this a dream?

You needed to leave.

You needed to leave or else you would really faint, You got off the bed, never turning your back on the equally confused men. Slowly, you inched to the door, warning them with your eyes not to follow you when you heard the door sliding.

“My daughter! You’re awake!”

You turned to look at the man-only to see your father smiling at you. And he too was wearing a Korean traditional clothes.

“F-father?” Your brows furrowed as you took him in. His hair was in a dignified braid, his beard long similar to the old times. He looked as though he was a rich man from the ancient times.

Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was this your own personal hell? Were the men confusing you even further?

You felt your father’s arms surrounded you as he took you in. You never thought you would be able to hug him again, never thought that you would see him again.

“I am so glad you’re awake now, little one.”

The thing was, your father died when you were seven. So who was this man?

You turned to look at the men behind you. And this time, they didn’t have the darkness gleaming in their eyes. No. This time, they looked at you without any hint of obsessiveness in their eyes. They looked at you as though they weren’t in love with you. All of them…except Kim Namjoon.

And you just knew, they weren’t the same people you escape from.

Holy shit, who were they?

Where were you?

#bts fic #ot7 x you #ot7 x reader #bangtan ot7 #kim seokjin fic #kim namjoon #kim namjoon fic #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi fic #kim taehyung foc #jeon jungkook fic #yandere bts #bts smut

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 2 months

Text

Poems

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean searches your room when you’re missing, and the love letters he finds break his heart

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k (1.5k excluding poems)

warnings: reader goes/is missing, language,

author’s note: please don’t make fun of my “poetry”, i know it’s not good that’s why i don't write poems lol

“Hey Dean, I’m working a case near Wichita so I’ll probably be back home by the end of the week. See you soon, bye.”

“That’s the last I heard from her,” Dean told his brother after playing him the message you left. “It’s been over a week, I’m gettin’ worried here!”

“Do you know what kinda case she was working?” Sam asked, Dean shook his head. “Okay, well I’m sure she’s fine, Dean. Let’s call the hospitals around where she is and ask if she’s there.”

“You do that, I’m gonna head to Wichita,” Dean replied.

“I think we should call the hospitals first, Dean. She said she was near Wichita, she could be anywhere from here to there!”

Dean sighed but agreed with Sam’s plan.

The boys had no luck with any of the hospitals so they decided to head over to Wichita and look for you. They searched for a few days before heading back to the bunker, hoping you might be there waiting for them. You weren’t, of course, and that only made their worry grow.

You’d been missing for nearly two weeks!

Dean thought there might be some kind of clue in your room and decided that searching it was next on his to-do list. Though he knew he was grasping at straws, he did it anyway.

Opening the door to your room, he smiled at the poster near your bed. It was the one he’d gotten you for Christmas last year. It was a kind of gag gift—it was his favorite band. (His real gift had been much more thoughtful.)

He began his search at your desk, digging through the mess of papers splayed out on the wood surface. His brows furrowed when he found one paper in particular. It looked like… a love poem?

The way your hair looks in the morning

The way your laugh adds life to moments boring

The way your breath hits my neck when you’re standing just behind me

Reaching over to grab something off the table

A lore book, of all things to be

And the way your eyes light up when you look into mine

I swear I almost see a hint of love

Behind those piercing starlights

Your lips on mine is what I need

Did you hear me?

I said kiss me, you fool!

We’ve not got much time

In this line of life

And I need you at my side.

Dean didn’t know if the poem would be considered “good” in the public eye, but he knew it made his heart clench. You were in love? But… with whom?

To him, the words were beautiful, and the thought that you wrote them about someone else broke his fucking heart. He knew there were no clues to your whereabouts in the next poem, but of course, he read it anyway.

I think of you when I drive and spot a classic car

I think of you when I eat a cheeseburger

And I’ll turn it upside down when I’m missing you

I think of you when I hear a Zepplin song

And I turn the music up when I’m not with you

I think of you when I see anyone wear flannel

Or a leather jacket that’s clearly a size or two too big

And I love to think of you

It just makes sense to me

I love to picture you beside me

At night when I can’t sleep

Or when I get scared of what I’m facing

I think of what you would do

Day or night

Night, day, or noon

I always think of you

Whoever this mystery person was, they were fucking lucky. Dean had never felt so jealous in his entire life. He always thought you two had a “will they won’t they” side to your relationship but at that moment he realized it was completely one-sided. The fun, flirty side to all your late-night conversations had just been friendly. Two friends playfully talking as if they both wanted to be more.

Of course Dean wanted to be more. Of course he knew he wanted to be with you. But now? Now he knew he’d either missed his chance or he simply never had one.

You were in love with someone that wasn’t him. And the love you’d been writing about wasn’t the kind someone gets over. It’s the kind that sticks—for life. The kind that people write songs about, the kind that people fight wars over, and the kind that makes people go crazy in the best way.

He knew he’d found that love when he first fell for you, but it turned out you had found that love in someone else.

“Anything?” Sam asked, walking into your room.

“Uhm,” Dean cleared his throat, hoping his eyes didn’t look as cloudy as they felt. “No, nothing important. Just some love letters or something.”

Sam furrowed his brows and picked up one of the poems off the desk, one that Dean had not read yet. As the taller Winchester read what you wrote his eyes grew wide, practically popping out of his head as his mouth fell open.

“Oh my fucking god!” Sam exclaimed. “Y/n’s in love with you?” He looked at his older brother in shock.

“Me? No, these poems are about whoever she’s been seeing recently, they aren’t about me. We’re just friends.”

“You haven’t read this one yet, have you?” Sam asked with a small smile before handing it over.

You asked me today; “what’s your favorite color?”

And I just shrugged; “I don’t know, blue?”

Cause how could I have said the truth?

The color I love most in the world

The color that brings me nothing but joy

In this sad, awful little life

Is the green and hazel of your eyes

The emerald diamonds that shine

When you look into the sun

The soft hazel that looks over at me

When we’re reading in the library

How can I tell you all of this

When the question is so simple and plain

How do I go into such specific detail

About the color I’m in love with

Without freaking you out

Or scaring you away

Or making you laugh at me

Because I know your favorite color

And I know it’s not the color of my eyes

“You…You think this is really about me?” Dean asked his little brother, hoping Sam was right.

“Dean in all my life I have never seen anyone but you eat a burger bun-side-down,” Sam chuckled a little having read one of the poems Dean had read earlier.

“Oh my god.” Dean furrowed his brows, looking back down at the paper in his hands. “We’ve gotta find her, Sammy, I gotta tell her!”

“Tell her that you went through her stuff while she was gone? Don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“No! Tell her I’m in love with her! Tell her that the color of her eyes is my favorite fucking color too! And every time her favorite band comes on the radio I turn it up, and every time I see a woman wearing her type of clothes I think about her. Tell her that all I do every waking moment of every day is wish I was with her, wish I was holding her in my arms so I could never let go.”

“I think you just told her.” Sam smiled, nodding to where you now stood at your door. Dean turned around quickly. Tears of joy stung your eyes as you looked at him and smiled.

“You love me?” you asked.

“More than anything,” Dean admitted as he hurried to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, kissing your temple quickly before he tucked your head under his chin. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, it’s a long story,” you mumbled. “When vampires ban together with twisted humans, they’re a lot harder to kill.”

“We were really worried about you,” Dean admitted. “Like…fucking terrified.”

“Is that why you decided to dig through my personal shit?” you asked. You were one hundred percent kidding, but Dean was still nervous.

“Yeah…sorry,” Sam cringe-clenched his teeth, “it was my fault.”

You and Dean pulled back from the hug, but you took his hand in yours as you narrowed your gaze at the younger hunter.

“I know your tell, Sammy,” you said. “But it’s sweet that you’re trying to cover for Dean.”

“Yep, all Dean’s fault,” Sam admitted before heading for the door, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder on his way out. “Good luck.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I swear,” Dean told you quickly. “I was looking for something that might tell me where the hell you were.”

“How many did you read?” you asked.

“Three,” Dean sighed, still thinking you were pissed at him.

“So…you know, then? That I’m hopelessly in love with you? And you think I’d be mad at you for looking through my stuff?”

“I mean, I know you value your privacy.”

“Dean,” you started, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face to look down at you, “would you please just fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He seemed almost surprised by your question but he quickly smiled as he bent down and kissed you. His one hand stayed clasped in yours while his other went to your waist and then trailed to your lower back. The hand you had on his cheek went to the upper back of his neck so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. The smiles on both of your faces only grew before you both pulled away.

“Wow, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Dean mumbled before he let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Me too,” you replied.

You’d been back home for a few days now and you had explained the whole missing situation to the brothers. You told them how the simple vampire hunt turned sour quickly when you realized the small-town’s sheriff was in on it and helped the vamps with making humans just disappear. They’d made you as a hunter instantly and held you hostage for a few days before you killed your way out.

Dean never left your side so when he saw a new poem on your desk his brows furrowed. Curiosity got the better of him as he sat down to read it.

My god aren't I lucky

Now that you're holding me at night

And that first time we kissed in the doorway

I could’ve sworn I was kissing pure sunshine

When your lips hit mine it was better

Then I could’ve ever imagined

And the love poems I've written became

Manifested words of affirmation

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered

And the blood rushed to my head

Think I could stay like this forever

Won't overthink it, I’ll just go and kiss you instead

“Well, well, well.” You came up behind him, and put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them down and clasped them together over his chest, leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Look who’s digging through my shit again.” You smiled against his skin. He turned his head and placed a deep kiss on your lips.

“I’m not even sorry this time, because I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever read.”

“I love you,” you said and kissed him again.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mumbled back.

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cradle-quill · 14 days

Text

Forever - AB/DL Story by CradleQuill

This content is intended for consenting adults aged 18 and older. All characters depicted within this material are fictional and at least 18 years of age. _

I'm done letting you fool yourself. I mean, who are we kidding? We both know you can't keep your pants dry. You wake up in soaked sheets most mornings, and now you're having your little "accidents" during the day as well. Whatever semblance of an adult life you once had, it's quickly on its way out.

Soon enough, you won't even recognize your old life. You'll just be my little baby, ready to accept your place. You'll be beneath me, just where you belong. I mean, who would respect an "adult" who can't even make it to the potty on time? That's right, I don't consider you an adult. You're nothing more than an overgrown baby who's failed at potty training and who needs to be reminded who's in charge.

That's right, kiddo. No more big kid underwear for you. In fact, I think we should throw all your undies away. Or maybe I'll even cut them up while I make you watch. You won't be needing them anymore, after all. We might as well make use of them. I can use them as rags to clean you up during diaper changes.

Yes, that's right. I'm putting you back in diapers, full time. I don't want to hear any more fussing, I won't tolerate it. Keep it up and you'll find yourself over my knee with a very red bottom. Little babies who can't stop wetting themselves need diapers, and that's just what you are, isn't it? A little baby.

Go ahead. Admit it. You want me to treat you this way. You get off on it. And the more I mock and humiliate you, the tighter my grip on you will become. Because you crave this. You need it. You need to be dominated completely—mind, body, and soul. That's what you really want, deep down.

Did you think I didn't realize it? That I couldn't tell, just from looking at you, what a pathetic baby you are? I mean, honestly, I don't know how everyone else around you doesn't see it. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you'd end up like this. I knew you'd be on your knees at my feet, begging me not to tear you down and make you even more pathetic than you already are.

But it's too late, honey. This is your life now. And there's no going back. Maybe at one point you could have undone all this, salvaged what little adulthood that was left, but I'm not letting that happen. I'm going to see that you are treated exactly as you ought to be, like a helpless little infant who can't do anything for themselves.

There will be no more big kid potty. No more "adult" activities. And don't think I'm letting you hide this from your friends. Everyone is going to know what I've reduced you to, and how much you like it. Anyone who wants to play with the baby is going to get a chance to, whether that means your friends or mine. I'm sure they'd all love to see what you've become, what you've always really been.

I can see those tears welling in your eyes. The red-hot embarrassment on your cheeks. Better get used to it, baby. There will be a lot of this in your future. I mean, you might as well wet yourself right now, sitting there on the floor. It's going to happen sooner or later anyway. And I bet the store clerk will think you're so cute in your soaked pants. Come on, be a good baby for me. I want everyone to see exactly why I'm putting you back in diapers forever.

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lokirulzart · 8 months

Text

WILD WEST AU!!!!

You ever notice that when fools do a western AU, they cheap out on the horses or ignore them entirely??? WELL NOT HERE, FOLKS. ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY HORSE CONTENT. BECAUSE I LOVE Y’ALL AND ALSO HORSES.

Frank has a snooty Appaloosa because he’s fancy, but also appaloosas are reliable trail horses, so that means he can go bug collecting without worrying much. His insect collection is the envy of all the rich collectors in the whole county.

Wally ended up with a chestnut Arabian mare, because Wally is too small for a bigger horse and I just think it’s funny. HANG ON THERE, PARDNER!! SHE’S A WILD ONE!!! Luckily, Wally is usually unaware of his own horse acting up, and the mare ends up tiring herself out just because Wally simply doesn’t even notice her… he’s too busy spacing out. But he’s one of the best Bronco Busters around thanks to her!

Hunter/trapper/fur trader Barnaby has himself a lovely Shire mare with a sweet and patient disposition. She has no trouble carrying whatever Barnaby has hunted as well as big ol’ Barnaby himself… but he still feels bad about making her work, so he only ever hunts what he needs to in order to get by.

Julie and her mustang are BOTH wild. Julie had the chance to tame her, but instead she just fed off of her spirited energy and now the two of them just tear around being crazy together, getting into trouble, rolling in the dust… Julie wouldn’t have it any other way.

What better steed for a Pony Express postal worker than a sure footed mule?! Seriously, mules are the mountain goats of the equine world. Eddie’s mule might not be as fast of a sprinter as some horses, but this animal can trek over ANY terrain, ensuring that all of the mail gets delivered on time. They have yet to miss a single delivery.

(Snake oil) Salesman Howdy Pillar has a general store in town as WELL as a covered wagon to travel around, ensuring that everyone gets the best deals on their pork ‘n’ beans, biscuits, tobacco, and tonics. You want it? Howdy’s GOT it… and his team of 3 dapple gray Connemara ponies, and one brown one, will make sure that you can get it… also the tallest character having the smallest horses makes me giggle.

Poppy doesn’t have a rideable horse yet, which is perhaps for the best. She spends a lot of time at Howdy’s general store or riding in his wagon. She is his best customer. But she has recently come by a thoroughbred foal that she is now raising from a bottle. So perhaps one day very soon Poppy will have her own tall and elegant steed to carry her around… let’s just hope he’s not too fast for her.

Sally is a performer at the local saloon by night and helps out with cleaning during the day… she knows NOTHING about horses… but one night, after all the local drunks went home, a poor American Paint got left behind. Nobody came back to claim the animal, so Sally boards him at the local ranch and visits often. She hopes one day to learn how to ride him, but it’s slow going. She is, after all, a singer and actress first.

AND THEN HOME THE SALOON!! YOU DIDN’T THINK I’D FORGET HOME, DID YOU?? He has a small stable in the back and a second floor, where Wally lives! Wally gets to spend all his free time hanging out, meeting up with his friends, and drinking all the apple juice he wants! (Just don’t tell him it’s apple juice, he’ll get confused. He thinks he’s just drinking whiskey like everyone else. It’s easier this way.) Also Home is the only saloon that can kick out belligerent drunk people itself!

Also Bonus OCs, Luna O’Hare the bilingual cartographer (created by @m0stlygh0st) and Simon, my boy, the ranch hand! Luna has an Andalusian that she likes to dress up, braid it’s mane, and stick flowers in it-… as snacks for later. They’re also grazing buddies and Luna can often be found eating the horse feed because it’s so similar to rabbit food. Simon has a gelding Quarter Horse with golden retriever energy and not a single braincell to his name. Poor Simon… but at least his horse loves him.

YEEHAW!!!! 🤠

#welcome home #wally darling #frank frankly #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #Eddie dear #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #sally starlet #welcome home oc #cowboy AU #western AU #wild west AU #horses

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its-the-pilot · 7 months

Text

Waves | Rooster x Reader

| Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

My first Top Gun fic, please be nice and enjoy!

Summary: Fourteen years after leaving without saying goodbye, Bradley Bradshaw comes back into your life. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 2k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Working on this as a series, let me know what you think and if you want to see more!

Message or comment to join the taglist!

youtube

Chapter One

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”

Bradley immediately recognized the voice behind him without needing to turn around. He shook his head before downing the shot of bourbon in his hand and throwing his next dart, scoring 13. He’d never claimed to be good, but the unwelcome distraction didn’t help. “Hangman. You look… good,” he replied flatly, turning to face his fellow aviator.

Both men were wearing their service whites, customary for the mixer held for TOP GUN students the night before beginning training. “Well, I am good, Rooster. I'm very good. In fact, I am too good to be true,” Hangman gave his usual smirk as he picked up Rooster’s last dart from the table and threw it, hitting the bullseye without even looking. “Didn’t think they let old timers in.”

They had met a few years earlier in flight school, and they instantly had a rivalry of sorts. Bradley had been several years older than the rest of the pilots in the program, due to not being able to attend the Naval Academy like he wanted. It took him years longer than it should have to become an aviator, and there was a bit of a chip on his shoulder because of it. Hangman, cocksure as ever, had instantly picked up on that weakness and exploited it to the best of his ability, pointing it out every chance he got. Some things never changed.

“Didn’t think they let assholes in either, but here you are,” Rooster shot back, taking a long pull from the beer on the table beside him before moving to gather his darts off the board.

The younger man chuckled, the insult seeming to roll off him like water off a duck’s back. “C’mon now, Rooster, we’re old buddies! Some older than others,” He smirked, sneaking in another jab as he patted him on the back. “Don’t take it so personal.” Hangman did a quick once over of the bar, his grin still firmly affixed to his face as he noted the number of women in attendance for the evening. “Plenty of delectable dessert options tonight, why are you holed up over here all by your lonesome?”

“I’m here to fly, not fuck my way through Coronado.”

A boisterous laugh escaped the tall blonde’s mouth. “Someone doesn’t know how to take advantage of a situation when it presents itself. Your callsign really is fitting.” Straightening his uniform, Hangman’s eyes locked on to a pretty woman approaching the bar. “If you can’t get laid in Whites, you just don’t know what you’re doing. Watch and learn, Rooster.”

Bradley rolled his eyes and turned back to his dart game, draining his beer as Hangman walked away. As fun as it might be, he had no desire to watch him make a fool of himself in front of an entire bar with his cocky attitude.

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

You recited the drink order for your table a few times in your head as you walked up to the bar, raising your hand to get the bartender’s attention. Your coworkers Kendra and Hazel had wanted to come out tonight, knowing that the new crop of TOP GUN candidates would be here, dressed to the nines. You hadn’t been interested but they wore you down, telling you they would pay for your drinks if you just kept them company for a few hours. You secretly hoped it wouldn't take them long to find a couple guys to take home, so you could get on with your uneventful evening of laundry and prepping for work.

“3 beers, 3 vodka shots,” you ordered, passing a $5 tip across the bar. Sliding onto a barstool as you waited, you made a cursory glance around the bar and groaned to yourself, shaking your head. You couldn’t understand what the appeal was, most aviators had more balls than brains and were just looking for a quick lay.

It only took a minute of waiting for your drinks before you felt a warm, solid presence accompanied by a pair of hands resting on the bar top on either side of you, covered in white sleeves. “Not interested,” you said in a sing-songy voice, not even needing to look up to know it was a new TOP GUN aviator standing with his chest pressed gently against your back.

“Not even gonna give me a chance?” He asked, his southern drawl coming out as he leaned close to your ear.

You turned as much as you were able with his body so close and gave him a look, your eyebrow raised. He was handsome, tall and blonde, with striking green eyes, but his uniform was enough to turn you off. “Nope. I don’t date aviators.” Lord knew you had a lifetime’s worth of experience with them.

Your uncle Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had raised you from the time you were eight years old, after your parents died in a car accident. Growing up around Navy pilots gave you an aversion to them, and in your line of work, that was more helpful than you could imagine. You worked with aviators day in and day out in your job as an Aerospace Psychologist, and getting personally invested with the pilots would have consequences.

He chuckled, leaning back only slightly to allow your movement as his eyes traveled over your body. You wore a cabernet colored maxi dress with wedge sandals tied to your feet with white ribbons, like pointe shoes, and you had never felt more exposed than you did right then as he licked his lips, looking at you like prey. “You’re in the wrong place then, darlin’. We’re all aviators around here.”

“Well aware,” you sighed, turning back to the bar and waiting for your drinks. When the bartender approached and set your drinks down, you smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, Penny.”

The older woman grinned back, always happy to see you. She’d known you most of your life, though she was in and out of it at the will of your uncle, a typical flyboy incapable of settling down. You would never understand why she kept coming back to him after he broke her heart so many times. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, looking him over briefly. Penny knew how you felt about Navy guys, but she enjoyed teasing you.

“Not my--”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin, ma’am. Callsign Hangman.” He offered his most charming smile as he cut you off and lifted his right hand from the bar to offer it to Penny.

You immediately took the opportunity to duck under his arm, grabbing the drinks on the bar in front of you. Penny laughed as Jake watched you slide away from him and head back to the table with your coworkers. “Better behave, she’s the owner,” you called back, your hands full of glasses.

“A pleasure, Lieutenant,” she took his hand and shook it before wiping down the bar where your drinks had just been. His eyes followed you across the bar, and she snapped the back of his hand with the towel. “You won’t wear her down. She’s got a million reasons not to go anywhere near Navy guys. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”

When you got back to your table, you snuck a glance back toward the bar, watching Penny give Jake what she was sure was a warning about you. He didn’t look phased though, and within minutes he had moved on to another girl a few seats away at the bar, repeating the same move he had done with you.

“Predictable,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as your coworkers chatted, rating the various aviators in the bar. You largely ignored them as you took a long drink from your beer, looking out the window at the sun setting over the ocean when you heard the tinkle of piano keys interrupting your thoughts. The old upright in the bar hadn’t been played in as long as you could remember, usually the only time you heard it at all was when someone got too drunk and fell into it.

From your seat you could only see the back of the man playing, but you could tell he was an aviator. Dressed in his service whites, his broad shoulders were pulled back with perfect posture as he tapped away at the keys, getting the feel for the instrument before he started playing an all too familiar song.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain, Too much love drives a man insane…”

The sound of his voice made your stomach flip as if you were in a F/A-18. “No fucking way…” you breathed, not taking your eyes off of the back of the man’s head as he played.

“What?” Kendra asked, stopping her conversation with Hazel to turn in the direction of the piano player, then back to you, confused as to your reaction.

You didn’t answer as you stood, your steps cautious as you made your way across the bar in his direction. It couldn’t be. It had been nearly fifteen years since you last heard from him, the night he left for the last time.

Without saying goodbye.

“Jesus, Bradshaw! Not this song again! Is it the only one you know?” Hangman complained, not far from the piano and chatting up what was probably his fourth girl of the evening. Hearing his name was all the confirmation you needed.

Bradley wasn’t deterred by Hangman’s whining, instead he just continued singing, the bar joining in. He had always been good at being the center of attention when he wanted to be.

“You broke my will, but what a thrill, Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

Moving closer, you slipped into his line of sight without a word, a combination of emotions you didn’t understand bubbling up inside of you. He looked just like his father from the pictures you had seen, but at the same time he was still the teenager you had known so long ago.

“I laughed at love ‘cause I thought it was funny, You came along and…”

Looking up, his voice trailed off and his fingers faltered on the keys, making a sour note as he made eye contact with you. There was a long, awkward moment of silence as the entire bar watched on, curious as to what was happening.

He couldn't believe you were standing in front of him. The last place he had expected to find you was anywhere near anything having to do with the Navy, even if it was just a bar. And now here you were, staring at him as if you were seeing a ghost. Though he supposed he didn't look too much different. “You look good, Dimples.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the nickname, and before you knew what you were doing, your hand reached out and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. The same hand flew to cover your mouth as you gasped at the realization of what you did. He didn’t immediately turn his head back to face you, and it made you feel even more nauseous.

It was so quiet a pin could drop. Embarrassment flooded over you and your eyes moved around the bar frantically before landing back on Bradley. When you realized his eyes were still on you, a sob only muffled by your hand escaped before you turned and ran out the back doors to the beach, barely stopping to get your purse and tell your friends you were going home on your way out.

There was no way this wouldn't be the talk of North Island tomorrow.

It remained silent until the door to the deck slammed shut behind you, then people started whispering amongst themselves, stealing glances at Bradley. Hangman had a smug grin on his lips as he stepped up behind his fellow aviator, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he leaned down to speak quietly.

“Damn, Rooster. I thought I was the only one who could earn that level of ire from women. Kinda hot, right?”

He shoved Jake’s hand away and stood, grabbing his cover off the top of the piano before heading toward the door you had exited from. “Fuck off, Bagman,” he snapped, hoping you hadn’t gotten too far.

Chapter Two

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic

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brittle-doughie · 1 month

Note

Playing hide with the beasts would either be the most terrifying and fun thing in the world, change.my.mind

(Also thank you for liking my stuff AAAAA-😩😭✨💖😤)

Hiding Y/N, Seeking Beasts (The Five Beasts)

Yeah, man. I thought it was some pretty neat stuff :]

Shadow Milk Cookie will try to lure you out with whatever he can come up with. He won’t sweat it too much as he looks around the area, but it’s for the best that you don’t poke fun at him for not finding you. He can and will put more effort into trying to find you by placing various dolls and such that will alert him if they spot you. Don’t always believe that he doesn’t know where you are. He might just know more then you think…

Eternal Sugar Cookie is more straightforward, gunning for whatever source of noise that’s emitted, taking any chance on the possibility of finding you there. She’ll offer you loads of cuddles and kisses if you make yourself known, she was going to do so anyway, but the sooner the better! She might even hide away for a little bit among the clouds, making you believe that she’s gone only to swoop down toward you once you’re out in the open. Keep moving, Eternal Sugar will always be hunting you.

Burning Spice Cookie isn’t about patience, he’ll try to increase the heat of the air in a certain area in a bid to draw you out. It has a particularly significant range radius, so when the air starts to get warm, that’s your cue to go to a different hiding spot, he has poor reaction time as he’s too distracted letting everything burn, so it should be fairly easy to move between spots. He’ll always be slowly moving about, so change spots often! What’s the matter, is he too hot for you?

Mystic Flour Cookie is a bit more..extreme with her methods. If she can’t locate you and if the game is out in open land, she will start to destroy aspects of the environment to limit the number of hiding spots you’ll have left. This will go on and she’ll get more aggressive with this tactic until she finds the spot you’re holding up in. Your best option is to lure her away to a different spot before rushing out of yours and relocating. She isn’t a fool, so use these distractions sparingly.

Silent Salt Cookie is another pretty straightforward seeker. It’s in their name, Silent Salt is…well silent, the only indicator that they’re in the area is the sound of their footsteps. This can work against you as you’d need to be as quiet as possible when moving, if you make a noise, they’re almost guaranteed to go and investigate it. Take a page from Mystic Flour and try to make noise elsewhere from your spot, then quietly move to another location while Silent Salt is investigating. They wise up fast, so pick a very good spot to start off with.

Winning keeps you safe from them for now…

Losing has you as their cookie for eternity! (They have a schedule, each Beast having you for a certain time in the week. They get angry if someone doesn’t hand you over on time! )

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie x reader #eternal sugar cookie x reader #mystic flour cookie x reader #silent salt cookie x reader #burning spice cookie x reader

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months

Text

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

warning: blood, fighting, injuries, drinking.

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Nyx’s pov:

"Again", his voice sounded unfamiliar to him. He had flinched at it after the concept of time had started slipping. For a split moment, Nyx thought that it was his high lord who had spoken. That had caused him a solid punch to the jaw. The boy in front of him looked Nyx over worriedly, as his stance shifted. “You’re in or you're out? I won’t wait forever”, Nyx snarled, leaping forward. Once again, he didn’t remember when they had abandoned their swords. But he preferred it like that. Close and personal. Physical.

Another blow landed against his nose, and Nyx's head flew back. He was well aware that on his good days, the poor chap wouldn’t have landed any of the punches at all. He got close only because Nyx let him. "Enough," an annoyed voice sounded from behind him. A welcome destination for the boy in front of Nyx. It was good enough for princes’s cracked knuckles to meet the target. “Flying fuck," a rough palm gripped Nyx’s shoulder, “You are the most stupid...", a growl. Nyx tried to open his left eye, one that was now too puffed up and throbbed like a bitch. “I suggest you bugger off before I make sure that you’re eating dirt for the rest of the week," Axel’s deep growl echoed, making Nyx chuckle lightly. “Man, he asked for it", the guy lifted his palms in defiance. “And if he told you to jump from the cliff, would you do it?", the boy shrugged, only making Axel let out yet another frustrated sigh, and the other Illyrian took it as his chance to leave.

“You will make a wonderful advisor in the future," Nyx skittered. “I think I will have your ass six feet under before that could even happen," Axel grumbled, pulling at his friend’s arms and trying to help him up. “I left you for a fucking hour, Nyx," he huffed, draping Nyx’s arm over his shoulders. "Yeah, I missed you. I had to settle for a fight with an idiot”. Nyx huffed. “Do I need to remind you that you have an important high-lord party to attend soon?"—that was one of the reads Nyx had let his rails loose. He hoped that if he misbehaved badly enough and looked like a walking corpse when the day chimed, he could wiggle his ass out of it. The thought alone made him want to bend over and vomit. He wasn’t built to be a prince. He didn’t want it. It wasn’t him. Wasn’t the life he envisioned for himself.

“You’ve been acting like an absolute fool ever since we came back from Velaris; what has gotten into you?", Axel kicked the door to their cabin before guiding Nyx toward his bed. Your sister happened to me, he thought, but bit his tongue. “I just wanted to fight," Nyx growled instead. Only now did he feel how badly his body hurt. That fucker had landed more blows than Nyx had initially counted. “I know you, and this ain’t you. You can talk to me. We always talk about it”, Axel shoved Nyx’s hand away from his face before dragging a warm cloth over the swollen eye. And what would he tell him? I can't get your fucking sister out of my head. Do you know why we cannot see each other for a bit? Why is she even pulling away? Nyx grunted, pulling the cloth out of Axel’s hands.

“Why don’t you start by telling me who you’ve been running around with instead?”. It was low. Axel had a right to have a life outside of being Nyx’s right-hand man. And his love life didn’t need to be accounted for. But Nyx was so angry. Angry at everything and everyone. People constantly kept him in the dark. And then threw a bucket of news in his face while expecting him to receive it with open hands. “I ain’t running around with anybody," Axel shook his head, throwing a jar of salve Nyx’s way. But the scowl on the young prince’s face only deepened, “So, Piper doesn’t ring a bell?”. And bingo. Axel’s whole body got ridged. Did Nyx have no right to go and dig into the new arrival papers? Probably. But here they were. “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth," Axel pointed a warning finger at him, clearly not finding this one bit amusing. “And you stand here giving me lectures about sharing things," Nyx chuckled, “So why aren’t you talking, friend?" Axel shook his head, “Clean yourself up and sober up while you’re at it." He moved towards the door, and something in Nyx shifted. Axel never left. Not even when Nyx was in his shittest of moods. He had always been the only one to not leave him. Sit through his temper tantrums. "Axel," Nyx breathed, panic rising in his chest. He didn’t want to be alone right now. His head was too busy. He was too full of things he didn’t want to think of. “I’m only going to grab you some fresh water; lay down you twat," Axel grumbled back, easing the rising tide within Nyx. He nodded simply, slumping back on the mattress. His hand instantly moved beneath his pillow, where he always kept a stitched napkin that Zofie had given him. The crooked moon and stars greeted him like they always did. The stick figures holding hands. The flowers. Even the wonky sun on the far left side was perfect. Always perfect. “I’m thinking about you," Nyx muttered, brushing his fingers over the stick figure that was supposed to represent Zofie, “It’s one never-ending night over here without you, Sunny."

Zofie’s pov:

It’s only been a week, but it felt like forever. She never usually felt so desperate when they left. At least not after the first week. But she had grown restless. The cry that left Nyx’s lips as he shot up to the sky was still ringing loud and clear. Zofie heard it even through her hammering heartbeat. With her back pressed against the door, as she covered her mouth. And now it felt as if she hadn’t seen Nyx in a lifetime. It clawed at her. She knew that Axel would look after him, but... What if something happened, and that’s how they would have separated?

Zofie didn’t know what she was feeling. It all seemed too mushy and jumbled up. Now, instead of seeing a different aura around people, she simply saw black. It was impossible to distinguish between different feelings.

“Zo, do you want more pancakes?", her father’s voice made her almost drop her fork as she nodded. Azriel gave her a concerned look before plopping one of his signature breakfast goods onto her plate. “You excited to see the girls?", he asked, throwing a glance your way, only earning a slight shrug in return. “Yeah, am… It will be nice”, even if she didn’t want to see anyone. Well, maybe Piper. Axel had said that she was one of the nice girls. One Zofie could get to know if only she chose to.

“Ah, yes. You’ll be able to show them around; you can even go down to the market in the city," you chimed in, “and buy something nice or show them the good spots." But Zofie didn’t want to do that. Most spots had been hers and Nyx’s. They felt too personal to just be handed out. The same pinch in her chest made the hallow darkness spread even more. Her brows knitted as she pushed the plate further away from her. “You didn’t like it?", Azriel stopped mid-bite, almost making Zofie feel guilty. Almost. “Just not hungry," she shrugged, getting up from the table. She caught a glimpse of worry in her father’s eyes as she moved towards the stairs. The way you had reached out to squeeze his hand. And while Zofie didn’t want to keep you two in the dark, she didn’t know how to explain the emptiness inside her.

Just the fresh air and change of scenery didn’t help. It was nice to see her aunts and introduce herself to Piper, but socializing was never her thing. Nyx did most of the talking when they were out in public. He was born for that. It baffled her how quickly he managed to come up with a snarky remark as if he stored them all within his brain with special labels for just the right moment. Zofie tried to suffocate thoughts of him. Tried. But failed miserably. Everything she did or thought of was always in one way or another related to him. The thing was that she didn’t want to leave him like that. She didn't want to make him upset, but she also didn’t know how to make everyone happy. So, until she could come up with a solution, it would have to be like that.

“In my opinion, he is so much more attractive," one of the girls giggled into her palms. Attractive? How long has Zofie been out of this conversation? They were talking about the market day the last time she listened. “Well, Piper is the one who got to talk to him," the brow haired girl nudged the poor Piper, who had practically curled into herself by now, “Is he really hot up close?”.

Zofie shook her head. “Who’s hot?", she cut in, making all four sets of eyes dart up to her. And now she realized why she hated speaking in the first place. “Piper here had the prince’s second man carry her boxes”, Lina’s blond curls bobbed as she turned. But that was Axel? Why was Axel even here in the first place? He told her they could... Of course, he had met her. “Well, that’s my brother, so can we not talk weirdly about him?", Zofie scrunched up her nose, making the other two girls roll their eyes. But at least Piper’s shoulders sagged in relief. "Bore," the copycat next to Lina chirped. Zofie just couldn’t remember her name.

“We sure can talk about the prince himself," Lina smirked, and something snapped deep within Zofie, “There’s nothing to talk about." Suddenly, the prospect of having girls her age seemed like the worst idea ever. “As if... I’m determined to meet him," Lina said. The green mist rose in Zofie’s vision. “Gonna swoon him off his feet; heard he’s a proper flirt two," she elbowed her double ganger as they both chuckled.

“He will not fall for your shit," Zofie bit back, not even realizing that her hands were now firmly clenched by angry fists. “And how would you know that?", Lina fluffed her lashes. How did she know? She didn’t. Lina was pretty; you couldn’t take that from her. From the hair to her lean body. She was the embodiment of how any girl wanted to look. While Zofie… “He is my friend," she muttered, biting out the nagging thoughts. Lina chuckled, “Yeah, a friend. So, clearly, if you’re not girlfriend material, I will be."

It felt as if a bomb had exploded all around her. Vision glazing over. She saw nothing. Only Lina. She heard no one. Only Lina. And surprisingly, the girl wasn’t smiling. She looked petrified. Grasping at her throat. It felt static. As if the time had come to a halt. And then someone yanked her back. Pulling Zofie away from the neatly placed picnic blanket.

"Zofie", it sounded muffled, but her eyes did follow the sound. Only to be met with Feyre’s concerned ones. She blinked a couple of times. The fuzzy feeling cleared out. “She’s insane," a shriek sounded from behind her, making Zofie twist back. “You are dangerous, you stupid..." it was Lina, her cheeks still red, eyes wide. “Don’t finish that sentence," Cassian was gripping her shoulder, but he didn’t look too concerned with the girl. His eyes were on Zofie.

Zofie blinks a couple of times, black spots dancing in the corners of her vision. What had she done? Was it even her? Why did she... “Why don’t we go drink some tea, dear?", Feyre wrapped a hand around her shoulders. "I...", Zofie barely muttered before Feyre cut in, “Some tea with lots of honey, yes, yes." A part of Zofie wanted to run. Like she always did. Run away and hide. But Feyre pushed some of hair behind her ear, “We’ll have a nice conversation you and I”, she muttered almost ti herself, “Bake cookies even. Cookies always help”.

Nyx’s pov:

“Give me that," Axel said, snatching the glass out of Nyx’s hand, “You’ve been here for an hour." An hour too long. The hustle of the people was making Nyx sick. It was bad enough that he had to stand for the majority of that hour next to his parents, smiling as if he was thrilled to be there while he was slowly dying inside. Nyx kept dead-eye contact with Axel through it all, even if there was a sea of females who were trying to catch his eyes.

“I still think that you should cover for me so I can sneak out," Nyx grumbled. He had made at least five escape plans; he even planned to fake an allergic reaction, but Axel hadn’t been as thrilled about that. “Midnight. We had a deal”, Axel muttered, scanning the crowd. He was Nyx’s hawk, noting slipped past Axel. And as much as Nyx hated to admit it, Azriel was the one who had taught him all of it. “But you’ll dance with half of the girls in that line," Nyx nodded towards the girls who hadn’t stopped staring at him ever since the night began. “They ain’t her for me, kitten," Axel mused, making Nyx roll his eyes. “I’ll put a good word out for you," the prince said with a tap on his friend’s shoulder.

“Is your family coming?", Nyx scanned the crowd for familiar face. Well, correction. Is Zofie coming? He had tried to sneak back to Velaris before all this. He had to because his brain was going into overdrive. It had been eleven days, eighteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and 45... 46 seconds till he had laid eyes on her. And by now, he was more than okay with just catching a glimpse. He could do with that. He would settle for that. “Papa should," Axel said calmly, “Ma’ wasn’t feeling too well, so she’s back at the cottage." Translation: Zofie didn’t want to go, so Y/N stayed back with her. Nyx clenched his jaw. “Everyone’s healthy and well?", he was fishing for straws here, and he knew it. “Yeah, it’s all well; little one is growing too fast, though. Could have sworn she fit in my palm before we left," Axel muttered, and a part of Nyx was glad that he hadn’t caught onto his real intentions.

“Here you are”, a strong palm landed on Nyx’s shoulder, making the boy look to the side. His smug father stood there, way too happy with himself. “High Lord," Axel said, lowering his head in greeting, even though Nyx had specifically told him to not kiss his father with flatly. “You two are hiding in the back as if this is a funeral," Rhys shook his head with a smile, “Come up to the front tables; quite a couple of people are looking for you." Nyx’s eye twitched. If only he could scream now. He was convinced all the windows would shatter. He wanted out. Why was no one catching onto the fact that he was suffocating? He didn’t want to be a part of his father’s plans. He didn’t want to be a perfect son. A one-day-crowned prince.

Nyx was sure that Rhys could see the malice burning through his eyes, considering that his face went dead serious. Nyx knew that his father would stomp his foot, and he would have to do it. Or that pleading look on his mother’s face would claw at his heart till he gave in. He felt Axel’s hand on his shoulder blade. He was spiraling then. His magic was flaring up and Axel was warning him like he always did. Nyx was about to open his mouth when his eye caught movement behind his father. His eyes narrowed. Vision sharpening, and then it all died down.

The ringing in his ears faded. The choking feeling subsided. “Nyx, I am talking to you," Rhys said, gripping his upper hand, but Nyx shook it off as he stepped forward. Smile tugging at his lips. She was a vision. There might have been hundreds of females here tonight. Wrapped in the most expensive silks and velvet. But he hadn’t given them a second glance. And now she stood there at the top of the staircase. Looking over the hall. Nyx only hoped that she was looking for him.

And then her gaze found his. As if he had brought it right back to him. As if in a sea of bodies, she knew where he would be. And then she smiled. And Nyx was convinced that someone had spiked the wine because she shouldn’t be smiling. He moved faster, his hands gripping the railing as he jogged up the stairs. He missed every other step as he went. Was it appropriate? No. Was he making a spectacle considering that they were right above everyone and had nowhere to blend in? Yes. But did he care? No. Because even with twenty stairs separating them, she was too far away, and at the same time, she was in front of him way too quickly, leaving him no time to pick through his thoughts.

“You came?", Nyx breathed heavily. Zofie crossed her arms over her chest, looking him up and down. "I had a feeling you were struggling to get through this," she said casually, “Axel said that your sassiness has been off lately." Nyx wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at this point as he stepped closer to her, shielding her tiny frame from any curious glances. "Sunny," he muttered, ready to watch her fade away the same way she always did in his dreams.

“Your hands are trembling," she breathed, reaching out for his palms, “Why are your hands trembling?" Her worried eyes looked up at him, and he was ready to sink to his knees in front of her. “I… I am nervous”, he muttered like a teenager, looking at his first-ever crush. “You never get nervous around me," Zofie frowned, shaking her head. And then there was one heartbeat. One. Nyx’s left hand reached behind her as he pulled her into his chest, wrapping her up in his embrace.

He was shivering all over. But all the systems in his body that had been flashing red for days now were finally running smoothly. It felt as if he could finally breathe. That lavender sugar scent that she carried drowned him in her. “We need to get out of here," Nyx breathed again, her hair neatly braided with daisies. “I didn’t spend an hour lacing this for nothing," Zofie muttered, pulling back from his embrace. Both of their eyes fall onto the deep purple and black bodice. A vision. Nyx reached for her hand. “I’ll appreciate the hell out of it for you, Zof; I will," he muttered, dragging her towards the double-sided door. He heard gasps as he moved. Pretty sure he even heard his name being called. Pret sure he heard footsteps. But the moment he was out in the cold night air, he wrapped his arms around Zofie once more. Bringing her as close as he possibly could before shooting up at the sky and winnowing halfway through the plush clouds. Now that he had gotten his sun back, not even the devil himself was strong enough to take her away.

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Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi i @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay @lees-chaotic-brain

#nyx x oc #nyx imagine #nyx x reader #nyx acotar #nyx archeron #nyx acotar x reader #nyx acotar imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x oc #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader

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masonreds · 7 months

Text

mason mount x reader

summary: when y/n is wants to be more than fuck buddies but mason doesn’t want anything more

word count: 8,0k words

warnings! smut + angst. I guess you could say dickhead!mason too a little? might have some mistakes so I’m sorry about that

‘Why don’t you visit me anymore?’

You tried not to let it get to this point, but you couldn’t deny it.

You missed him

It was around 8pm and Mason was getting ready to leave training. He had a late training session, he was just coming out of the changing rooms before he froze when he heard your voice at the doorway.

‘What are you doing here?’ His facial expression shifted from neutral to cold, but knowing him that wasn’t much of a difference.

‘I wanted to see you.’ The changing rooms were empty. Everyone had left for the day, but you kind of memorised Masons training days so you knew that he would be here right now, otherwise if he wasn’t, it would’ve made you look like a complete fool.

If it wasn’t for the security guard letting you in, you’d still be standing like a lost person in the parking lot, but you refused to go another week without seeing him.

Mason took a deep breath to calm his nerves before closing the locker door where he kept his belongings. You had caught him at the right time because his coat was already on and his training bag was in his hand, ready to head out of the door.

At least until you showed up.

He sighed before putting all of his things down and walking over to the bench and leant against the bench, not sitting down and crossing his arms. Unfortunately, he knew he would now be longer than he had to, and the way he looked at you indicated that he wasn’t happy about it.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ his voice is stern. ‘Is there something you need?’

Sheepishly, you walked over to him, gently pressing your hands against his t shirt. ‘I waited for you last night,’ you whispered, looking up into his eyes. ‘You didn’t call.’

Mason’s jaw twitched at the feeling of your hands on his chest while making sure he stayed rested on the bench behind him to keep his composure. You caught him off guard and the tension in the air didn’t help. He managed to maintain his professional persona but maintaining his emotional distance was the real challenge.

He quickly understood what this was; the consequences of an impromptu decision he made in a moment of weakness that had finally come back to haunt him.

This was bad. He looked past you to the rest of the empty changing room, making sure there was no one else in sight and no one to catch whatever it was you were about to do.

‘That was a one-time thing,’ he didn’t even bother to look at you as he spoke. ‘We made a mutual agreement, remember?’

‘Then why did it happen more than once?’ You said breathily, sensually sliding your hands up to his shoulder

Mason took a deep breath and finally looked you directly in the eyes. ‘It wasn’t supposed to,’ his voice is low and serious.

It was Friday night, your night. The only day of the week when he would knock on your front door in the middle of the night and relieve his built-up stress from the seven days prior. And you gladly helped him.

You were his secret; Mason’s beautiful guilty pleasure.

Eventually, one Friday turned into two, then four, then eight. No one could tell you that what you two had wasn’t chemistry if they saw the way you lusted for each other. They’d notice the way he held you on the edge of the bed, or the counter, or the shower wall. Or they’d bring up the love marks that hardly got a chance to fade throughout the week before he was back on you, darkening them.

How you wished they heard the noises he fucked out of you echo down the hall, followed by the thumping sounds of the bed frame banging against the wall.

Unabashedly, you did anything just to please him, just hear him say your name between grunts. In public, in private, AM or PM, when he called, you came running, even if it was something unimportant.

For one day out of the week, you both belonged to each other and no one else.

That was until he stopped knocking.

You stepping closer only made it harder for Mason, both literally and figuratively. He could feel the heat of your breath against his skin intertwine with the rush of being this close to you after so long. It was agonizing, and he only had himself to blame. He let himself get swept away by desire, knowing in his heart that a relationship with you was something he could never have.

‘You're only going to get hurt if this continues.’

‘I don’t care.’ Wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, you pulled his face closer to yours. ‘I want to see you.’ You hovered your lips over his.

A taste is all he needs

A small spark to jog the memories of the pleasure he felt when he was with you, memories that he tried so hard to move on from.

His lips brushed against yours. He could feel your desperation and your scent alone was enough to make him go back on his word.

Reluctantly, he let himself lean into your touch. Your noses grazed each other, and you gave his cheek a light lick. Mason shuddered. Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes, melting into your embrace, like it was second nature. For a brief second, he placed his hand on your waist, before he quickly pulled away.

‘It was a mistake,’ he exhaled, coming back to his senses.

You frowned. ‘It wasn’t a mistake the other night.’

Your hands slid back down to his chest, but Mason grabbed your wrists before they could go any further. His eyes said more than his lips could. It was heartbreaking how loud they begged you to let him go.

But yours only begged him to stay.

Mason released your wrist and stood up straight, subtly pushing you off of him. It was impressive the way this man reverted back to his professional demeanor without missing a beat.

“I can’t keep doing this with you,” he spoke firmly. “This will only hurt us both in the end, and I know you don’t want that.”

“If I cared about that, you think I’d still be here?” You try to step closer to him again, but he brushes past you and strides to the front door.

“Please leave… I’ll pay for your uber if I need to.” He’s trying to be as gentle as he can, hiding his inner frustration in knowing that he so badly he secretly wants you to stay, but he could never say that. “I won’t ask you again.”

The silence was strong.

You didn’t speak, nor did you move. You simply stared at him, taking in the features you used to touch yourself to whenever the right side of your bed was empty. It was all there in front of you.

Your eyes couldn’t help but gaze at his lips, remembering how they felt against your skin. Then his hands, remembering how they pulled you closer to him. Until your eyes found his, remembering them never leaving yours even when he was inside you.

Especially when he was inside you.

So you didn’t move. Better yet, you walked over to the washing machine that was in the corner of the room and sat yourself on it, locking in your decision.

You weren’t going anywhere.

Mason clenched his jaw, his controlled expression turning into one of anger as he aggressively made his way towards you. Instantaneously, he placed himself between your legs, towering over you with a menacing glare.

The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. You were small in comparison to his tall frame. He would have no problem forcing you into submission, but still, you didn’t budge. It almost excited you.

Neither of you said a word, but this time with more conviction. He's trying to intimidate you out of the changing rooms and out of his life, while you only invited yourself in.

His furrowed brows didn’t soften until you reached for his hand and placed it over your heart without breaking eye contact; It was beating at a steady pace. Only letting your heart speak, you subtly told him he didn’t scare you, and he caught on.

With one final attempt, Mason bent down to your eye level and rested his long arms on either side of you. His face was inches away as his brown eyes peered into yours. It was like he could see right through you. As if he could read your every thought and predict your every move while he waited for your heart rate to spike.

Still, it was calm.

It wasn’t until he tilted his head a bit to the side and grazed his nose against yours that he felt your heart rate pick up in his hands. Mason knew exactly what that meant and he cursed internally at it. The thought of his lips on yours was enough to change your breathing.

For a moment, the two of you practically breathed each other’s air; Your lips almost touching, almost willing to give in.

‘One more time. One more night,’ was all you could say. Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. ‘Let me make you feel good for one more night please.’

Mason opened his mouth, prepared to oppose your proposition until you cut him off. It was a simple reminder, but in this moment, it meant everything.

‘It’s Friday…’

Hearing those two words mixed with hurt and loneliness, Mason’s chest throbbed. A look of pity washed over his face. The tension between the two of you was now one hundred percent physical.

There was a long pause as Mason looked down at you, struggling to make a decision. His heart was pounding inside his chest, and he felt a sense of desire that he had not felt for a long time, at least, not for anyone else.

The worst part about it was you weren’t going to take no for an answer. He knew the consequences of what you were asking him to do, but in your presence, all of his good judgment seemed to disappear. It’s how he got here in the first place.

Before he could stop himself, he spoke. ‘All right,’ he said in a low voice, finally placing his hands on your hips. ‘One more time.’

Without warning, Mason placed his lips on yours for the first time in what felt like an eternity. A breathless moan left your throat on instinct. You waited so long for this, to feel him again; which is why you wasted no time slipping your tongue into his mouth and pulling him closer, lacing your fingers in his hair.

Mason groaned at the touch of your tongue lapping around his; his body shivering slightly as you teased and tested his resolve. Your presence was so enticing, so intoxicating, he could feel himself losing control of the situation.

His senses filled with you and it only brought up more feelings he dared not name.

For a moment, Mason parted from your lips, trailing his mouth to your ear and below. You couldn’t help the little noises that escaped your lips as your lover bit, licked, and kissed your neck, and it wasn’t long before he was getting more and more uncomfortable in his slacks.

A wave of excitement coursed through Mason’s body as your hands undid his belt with swift motions. The room filled with sounds of your heavy breathing followed by the sounds of his belt buckle clinking as it came undone. His hands explored you, grazing your calf, grabbing your thigh, going further and further up the fabric of your dress, and feeling nothing underneath it.

You planned this. This is what you came for and he knew it.

Mason hissed when his fingers grazed along where your underwear should have been. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered under his breath.

‘Mason..’ you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as if he could disappear at any moment.

‘Shh,’ Mason whispered into the crook of your neck, causing your skin to tingle. You could feel the deep vibrations in his chest. ‘I'm right here.’

Mason slowly moved your dress further up your thighs exposing your ass to the cool air. The sensation of his short nails pressing into the skin of your hips accompanied by his mouth finding its way back to your lips once again was intoxicating.

“I missed this.”

A shiver ran down Mason’s spine as he pulled the spaghetti strap of your dress off your shoulders, leaving your full breasts visible for him to see.

"I did too," he whispered softly, like he was afraid to admit it. You heard him suck in a breath through his teeth as he saw your uncovered chest. "So, so much." He couldn't help but grasp the soft flesh; the tent in his pants growing impossibly tighter, even with it open and undone.

He was so damned deprived, so pent-up, he didn’t realize he was sucking your tits like it was his last meal.

Even in this state, Mason knows he never should’ve let it get this far. This wasn’t part of the plan, but damn it felt good, caressing and pinching one while kissing and sucking the other one, as he always did.

Your arms supported the extra weight he was pushing against your chest as you leaned back. Biting your lips, you squirmed against his tongue on your perky nipples as you held onto his scalp.

‘Then why are you trying to leave me?’ You practically whined. Despite everything that was happening, you couldn’t let it go—let him go.

Even when he agreed to have you once more, it wasn’t enough.

‘Because you deserve better,’ he growled, his free hand squeezing your ass. ‘Someone who can give you all the attention and affection you deserve.’ His mouth kissed its way back to your neck, his lips grazing against the soft skin and leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

‘Mason..’

‘I don't want you to get hurt,’ he continued, his voice full of emotion and longing. ‘I don't want to hurt you, I promise, but you have to understand that I'm not suited for this.’

‘Not suited for what? Affection? Love?’ Even without the extra stimulation, you couldn’t wrap your head around his words.

He was kissing you and tearing you down at the same time.

Mason is charming and intelligent. A handsome, successful footballer who makes more than enough to support himself, and anyone else he chooses to be with. He was the kind of man who turned heads and made you feel like the only woman in the world when he was with you.

Mason Mount is the definition of perfect, so what about this is so wrong?

‘I'm not capable of...those things.’ He looked up at you with pleading eyes, but still managed to kiss you before continuing to remove your dress and tossing it to the side. ‘I won't waste your time trying to pretend I can give you that. In a nutshell, we are just two people looking for some relief, and this is our avenue for doing so. That's all.’ His words were blunt but cut like a knife.

That’s all this is?

You were stunned. Before you could process his statement, he lifted you from the washing machine and gently carried you to the chair across the room where he had more space to move.

Once he sat you down, the warmth of his hands left your skin for a moment as he backed away.

You had a front-row seat watching Mason loosen his t shirt.

The lighting was dim, but you didn’t have to imagine how he looked unclothed; Every part of him was already etched into your mind. You had no shame eyeing his smooth chest, muscular arms.

His muscles flexed as he slid his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before leaning down and positioning himself between your legs again. His hands gripped the armrests on either side of the chair, caging you in, with his face barely inches away from yours.

‘Speak. I know you want to say something.’ He was challenging you. Mason knew that whatever reason he gave you for not showing affection would never be enough.

It was your last chance to do so.

Your heartbeat betrayed you. It wasn't fair. Who was he to decide what’s best for you? You’re supposed to be angry and hurt, yet here you were falling for the same things in him once again.

‘That’s not all this has to be, Mason,’ You struggled to look anywhere but his lips.

‘You don't know what you're asking for,’ he whispered in a husky voice. ‘I can't be what you want me to be.’

Mason’s eyes wandered below your waist for a brief moment. His expression betrayed his words, not hiding how badly he wanted you. He was topless, belt unbuckled, pants unzipped, while you were under him, legs open, vulnerable, and completely naked.

This was exactly what Mason didn’t want to happen. He was drawn to you and everything he was saying to resist you felt like a lie, yet he couldn’t help but find it all so tempting. Everything you did gave him flashbacks; the looks, the sounds, smells, he was losing his cool with each passing second.

You shivered when he gripped the sides of the chair tighter.

‘And what do you think I want you to be?’ You trailed your hands down his abdomen. Mason flexed underneath your touch. Feeling him pin you against the back of the chair, you were desperate to feel more of him, impatient even.

Mason debated whether he should speak, so it started off as a whisper. ‘You want me to be yours. You want me to be your boyfriend, but I can't give you any of that. I care about you, don't get me wrong, but I can never love you the way you deserve to be loved.’

Suddenly, all the air was knocked out of your lungs. It was as if you’d been hit by a truck.

Could he truly read you that easily?

Without missing a beat, he was back to slowly trailing his mouth along your neck and shoulders, placing small kisses on the warm skin like he was kissing a wound. Unfortunately, it aided nothing; tears glossed over your eyes all the same.

Every time he hurt you, his kisses always eased the pain. They made you feel alive even when they were the very thing sucking the life out of you.

Whenever he didn’t answer your calls, or talked to another woman, and even ignored you for days on end, all it took was that damn knock that you looked forward to every week. You were addicted to him. You craved his attention, his affection, his lips. But your addiction was just that— an addiction and nothing more.

But despite all of his wrongdoings, he was just as addicted to you.

So when he pulled away, looked you in the eyes, and finished his sentence.

‘I can't give you everything…but I can give you this.’ He looked at your lips and knew exactly what he was about to do. ‘I hope this is enough.’ With his fingers under your chin, Mason leaned in and gently placed his lips on yours, knowing the damage was already done.

What could you say to that?

Yes, I want you to give yourself to me completely.

We can make this work

What if I don’t deserve to be loved?

He was right, and you knew it. There’s nothing you could say that could make this hurt any less, so you kissed him back, anyway. Even when a tear rolled down your cheek and the pain in your chest pressed against your lungs, you kissed him back. The saltiness on your lips, the same flavor as the bitterness in your heart.

You could both taste it.

Mason didn’t say anything. He just moved his hands down your thighs until he reached your knees, scooting you closer to him. And you let him. You let him move you into whatever position he wanted you in because you no longer had the energy to object.

You didn’t care to notice when he pulled down slacks and his boxers after that. You didn’t care to take in the sight of his pre-cum-leaking length, bobbing up and down and more than ready to split you in two because you didn’t have to. You’d seen it a hundred times before.

The only difference was this was the last time.

Your disheartened state wasn’t invisible to Mason. It pained him more than he expected when you didn’t even glance at him while he stripped like you did before. You didn’t squeeze your legs together or bite your lip, you just sat there, frozen.

‘If you want me to stop, just tell me,’ If only you could’ve seen the way his face fell as he kneeled in front of you to wipe away the tear he caused, only to be met by you flinching and turning your cheek before he could reach.

The message couldn’t be any clearer.

Is this how the night is going to end? He thought. Granted, he didn’t want it to come to this in the first place, but now that it had, this is how it ends? Mason wondered if this pain in his chest was how you felt every Friday; the agonizing feeling of rejection that churned in the pit of his stomach. The two of you were face to face, but you couldn’t be any further apart and he hated it but deserved it.

He doesn’t even know if he can bring it upon himself to say sorry to you again. It won’t change anything—and it certainly wouldn’t make either of you feel any less shitty—but most importantly, it just lengthened the list of the ways he failed you. So he didn’t apologize. He gave you one last sorrowful look before standing up and reaching for his clothes on the floor.

Your lips didn’t tell him you wanted to stop, but everything else did; your tears, body language, lack of eye contact, and closed-off demeanor were louder than the words you didn’t speak. Internally, you thanked him for not saying sorry— you don’t know how many more of his apologies you could take—but you panicked a little when he backed away.

You wanted him to feel your pain, but you didn’t want him to leave.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your hand caught his arm to stop his movements. You cursed yourself for not being stronger, for not cutting him off after the first he hurt you like you usually would with anyone else, but you refused to let this be your last memory of him—of both of you. And now that you had his attention, you had to speak. ‘Just go slow,’ you cleared your throat.

You didn’t even look him in the eyes as you spoke; he doesn’t deserve that.

Mason’s eyes went to his arm and the way you desperately held on to him while hiding your embarrassment; it triggered something in him. You sucked in a shaky breath when he nodded and dropped his clothes back onto the floor.

Without saying a word, he moved you back into the position he had you in before; your head resting against the back of the chair with your hanging ass off the edge, and your legs open on either side of him. Mason rested himself between your thighs, towering over you, taking in the sight of your naked body ready to be used by him .

For two people just looking for some relief, this was strangely…intimate. Other than the kissing sounds, the room was dead silent. His lips gently sucked on your neck, then your collarbone, and your breasts, before moving back up. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and it was painstakingly sensual. You squirmed under his touch, already worked up and exhaling soft moans while he held your hips in place.

He had complete access to you.

Your cunt clenched every time he spoke in your ear, and you didn’t mean to moan when Mason moved his hand between your bodies and slid his middle and ring finger up and down your glistening slit. ‘You’re drenched,’ he sucked in a deep breath, his cock twitching, feeling your arousal coat his fingers. ‘I’m going to put it in. Is that alright?’ He adjusted himself, lining his hips up with yours.

‘Do whatever you want.’ It was clear how this was going to go. You wanted this more than you let on—you yearned for this—but deep down, you told yourself this was all out of sympathy.

In bold letters, your mind told you that Mason pitied you and he was only going to fuck you because you practically begged for it. So, you didn’t tell him to do whatever he wants in a sexy, ‘I’m giving you all control’ kind of way, you said it in a nonchalant, ‘I don’t care. Just get it over with’ kind of way. And deep down, it hurt both him and you.

Mason sighed and took himself in his hand. His forehead leaned against yours as you both watched him give his cock a few relaxed tugs. It was that feeling—that addicting feeling of his thick shaft sliding between your folds to coat himself in your slick, before pushing his tip inside of you that made you both forget everything except how badly you both needed this.

‘Shit’

You both moaned almost too loudly once he got past the head. He was big, bigger than anyone you had been with before. The first stroke was always the most painful, but you were used to him, and you were wet enough to not need any prep. He knew this.

He knew all of your sexual needs, what you could take and what you couldn’t. He knew what drove you crazy and what was too much.

Little by little, he stretched you out and you ate it up. You felt the familiar pressure radiate in your abdomen; clearly, you were out of practice and already full but you never told him to stop or wait. Mason watched your head tilt back and your jaw slack with pleasure, and used that opportunity to kiss any skin he could put his lips on.

The sight of you taking him always made his chest swell.

Mason pushed in another inch, and your hands immediately pressed against his stomach. ‘I know, baby, let me in,’ he cooed, moving your hands from his stomach and bringing them up to his mouth as he kissed the palms of your hands. His soft tone relaxed you, and without warning, he pushed in another inch.

You swear you felt his dick jump.

‘Shit —That’s it…That’s my girl.’

At some point, Mason gave you a chance to settle around him. He paused to stroke your hair or occasionally let his thumb glide over your clit to counteract the pressure before starting up again.

It was disgusting the way he controlled your emotions. He had all the knowledge of your likes and dislikes, and even now, he played into them; whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he filled you up, praising you for every inch you took, and cursing once it was finally all in.

You both sighed in relief like it was routine. Without trying, he pressed against your cervix and there was nothing you could do about it but moan and bury your face in his chest—it was music to his ears. You wanted to stay quiet, to take him and not give him the satisfaction of letting him know how good he was making you feel, but each grind against your hips made your toes curl and your grip on him tighter.

He fucked you at a slow, torturous pace, not because it felt good, but because he needed this to last. He needed to savor every tight ring of muscle he pushed through and every sound he drew from your full lips.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t lie; he’d been thinking about this for weeks. Every time he was inconvenienced at work, or stressed, or had to stay at work longer than he needed to, he thought about burying himself between your thighs while you clawed at his back and begged him not to stop. He thought about releasing his stress inside of you and watching you drink it from him after he fucked your absolute brains out.

And that was just on a Tuesday.

It was like an addict’s first fix after going through withdrawals; he doesn’t remember how or why he went so long without you. The way your walls molded to his size and length, squeezing him in all the right places, and— god— don’t even get him started on your warmth. He didn’t say it, but he could feel your heartbeat between your legs before he even put it fully in.

Up until this moment, it was like you two were back in your bed. His mouth hovered over yours while your hands rested on his thighs with his cock deep in your stomach.

He wanted to taste your lips again, but you didn’t grant him that privilege. This time, boundaries were set.

Fuck buddies don’t kiss, right?

He made it abundantly clear that’s all you were, so this is all he would get. Fuck buddies don’t need to look into each other’s eyes during every stroke, and they don’t need to kiss each other on the mouth—that’s reserved for lovers, right?

So, you shut your eyes and turned your cheek when he leaned in. You could tell he didn’t expect that when his hips stuttered for a moment. Mason’s brows furrowed as he turned your chin with his index finger, but you resisted.

“Don’t be like that…kiss me.” There was hurt in his voice. Your coldness stung more than it should have. Never has Mason ever been refused, especially romantically. He called your name lovingly, still trying to turn your face towards him.

He wanted your attention and your refusing to give it to him felt like a punch in the gut.

Out of frustration, he thought about gripping your jaw and forcing himself onto your lips, simply because he could, but he knew better. Instead, he opted to comfort himself in the crook of your neck. You couldn’t stop him from nibbling on your ear or licking down the side of your neck even if you tried.

Your stifled whimpers turned into moans as Mason picked up the pace of his thrust. He wanted to get a rise out of you. You were distant, in your own little world, while Mason pumped himself in and out of you. The physical pleasure was there, but you showed him emotion.

He wondered how he could be inside of someone and still feel worlds apart.

You used you to beg him to keep going. Every chance you got, your mouth was on his, telling him every thought that came to your mind while he fucked your insides. Mason loved that you were vocal, not just because of your moans, but because he knew you’d always tell him how you felt. He looked forward to hearing what you wanted and how you wanted it, and hearing your eager fucked-out responses even when you didn’t hear what he said because you were too overwhelmed and too focused on your approaching peak.

But now, you didn’t give him any of that. You just laid there with your hands on his stomach, barely letting his chest touch yours, and barely letting yourself moan. Despite how good it felt.

‘C’mon baby, talk to me. You know I hate it when you get quiet,’ he cooed in your ear, grabbing your wrist and pushing himself further against you. ‘Tell me how good it feels…tell me you love it.’

You gasped in time with his thrusts at the extra pressure of him burrowing his dick deeper into you. Mason grunted, waiting for you to respond without stopping. ‘Fuck—Say my name, love.’ It took all your energy to keep quiet. You didn’t answer him and you still didn’t look him in the eyes.

Mason was getting desperate. Sweat dripped down his forehead at the way you were tightening around him. He didn’t know how much longer he could last. He tried so hard to get you to at least look at him—to spare him a quick glance before his inevitable release, but you’d rather focus on the walls behind him than give in to him again.

‘Damn it,’ he grunted. In one last-ditch effort to save the memory of what the two of you once were, Mason grabbed your ass and squeezed it tight, repositioning you on the chair so he could bottom out into you fully.

It wasn’t until his hands cupped the back of your knees and pushed them into your chest, did you finally look at him with wide eyes. His pelvis was now completely flush against your own, and you took it all.

‘Mason wait,’

You swear you heard him thank god when his eyes locked with yours. Your hands shot up to grab his arms and your mouth hung open against his lips as he rested his forehead on yours. ‘There you are,’ he whispered in a low voice. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t kiss you. He understood that wasn’t what you wanted anymore, but he let it be known that he still could, whether you want it or not.

It was his silent dominance that turned you on so, so much. You tried to look away again; no, you needed to look away otherwise, you’d fall back into his painful grasp. But your efforts were useless when he held you by the back of your hair to keep your head facing him. ‘Nuh-uh. Don’t shut down on me, I’m still here…I’m right here,’

He didn’t stop. The sound of skin slapping echoed throughout the building and you hated how much it turned you on. Your hands did nothing to stop his relentless pounding on your cunt; he was now in the perfect position to hit that one spot that led you to your undoing every time, and you could hardly breathe. Mason hissed when you dug your manicured nails into his biceps as he pinned you down. He felt so good it was painful.

Your hands came down in front of you to push him again and minimize the impact of his thrusts, but he held your forearms at your sides before you could protest. The sound of your sobs, along with your beautiful face contorting into one of pleasure, was enough to have him question everything he said earlier. He was so close, so close . ‘Talk to me, love,’ he grunted. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to go.’

How funny.

It was like the roles had reversed. Call it pettiness or bitterness, but you wanted him to hurt; You wanted to make him regret not choosing you because, in reality, you loved him. You wanted more—you needed more than one day out of the week. Hell, you craved him every day… but telling him that wouldn’t make a difference. Mason’s mind was made, and part of you resents him for it.

‘Please, baby…’ he stilled inside of you once both your silence and his pleasure were too much to bear, panting against your neck. His voice sounded like it was on the verge of defeat and he wondered if he had finally lost you. The heat of his breath on your skin made you shiver as your chest heaved up and down.

‘You’re a coward,’ you finally spoke.

Hearing your voice, Mason shot up from the crook of your neck to look at you. You cursed at your heartstrings when you watched his eyes light up.

‘Yes, I’m a coward.’ His hands immediately went to cup your face as if he didn’t register what you said. ‘I don’t deserve you.’ He said it so enthusiastically, placing soft, sporadic kisses all over your face; it was almost pathetic. How could you hate him when he was so happy just to hear you finally speak to him again?

‘I’m so sorry’

There’s that damn apology

For all you know, that was your breaking point. Tears welled in your eyes. ‘I should've never come here, you are an idiot Mason,’ your voice cracked. The light in Mason’s eyes didn’t fade, even as you cursed and called him out his name, hitting and scratching him, he still kissed your skin just as gently as he had before.

You choked out a shaky exhale when he went back to rolling his hips, brushing against your already bruised G-spot. You felt him grow impossibly harder inside of you.

‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘Keep talking.’

Your eyes widened when he picked you up by your waist and held you on his pelvis. ‘No! Stop! Put me down!’ You thrashed and pushed him, but it was no use. He was already walking away from the chair and pushing you against the wall.

You went for his face, his neck, his chest, anything you could put your claws on, and Mason took the pain as he took hold of your wrists. ‘I don’t want this,’ You lied.

Mason knew it was a lie because your voice was softer as you said it, shakier, like it hurt you to say it aloud, and hurt him that you felt like you had to say it. Although he didn’t blame you. He didn’t blame you for any of this. How could he?

He watched the tears slip from the corners of your beautiful, sad eyes. ‘I hate you,’ you choked out. Your breaking voice was barely above a whisper and Mason felt his heart split in two. He always did love to hear what you had to say, even when it was painful to hear. You didn’t mean it even though it felt like you did.

You hated his unwillingness to put his fears or pride aside so you could love each other fully. You hated the hold he had on your heart, your mind, your body. You hated how good the sex was and you hated that he wouldn’t give you more than that. Most of all, you hated that this was how it would end…but you didn’t hate him.

He took your wrists that were in his hands and brought them to his lips. He did his best to comfort you and wipe your tears.

‘I know, baby,’ he cooed, stroking the hairs that stuck to your face as he kissed your tears.

He placed you on the washing machine again as it creaked as he started to move again. You were like putty in his hands, so malleable, so vulnerable. Out of all the men you’ve ever been with, Mason was the only one who had this kind of effect on you. It was unhealthy the way he made you question everything about yourself; your emotions, your sex appeal, you wanted to look good for him.

You wanted to be his

‘Don’t leave me,’ your words came out as a quiet sob and Mason could feel the lump in his throat start to form. He knew that if he spoke, all of his emotions would pour out at once, so he let your shaky hands pull him in. He let your lips graze his and your noses dance around each other.

Testing the waters, his tongue ghosted over your bottom lip as if he were asking for permission and Mason took the faint noise you made in response as an invitation. He tilted his head to his right, before closing his eyes, and finally kissing you once more. This time you didn’t turn away, and you didn’t shut him out.

The kiss was slow and tasteful, just like his strokes. Every groan he let out, every lick and nip at your bottom lip was deliberate. The deep vibrations he moaned into your mouth rang like a love letter to you; it was intimate.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach start up again like a schoolgirl kissing her crush for the first time. Your fingers laced in his hair, tugging it just hard enough to earn a growl and a calculated press against your stomach as he angled his hips upwards; a move that had both of you on the edge.

The irony of him fucking you at this tender, love-making pace when he promised that was something he couldn’t give you. ‘I'm not capable of love,’ he said . ‘You deserve someone that could give you the love you deserve,’ he said.

Was this not it?

Was this not him finally being honest with himself and realizing that maybe something official wouldn’t be so bad?

Neither of you kept track of the time, but you stayed like that for a while, moaning and grinding until your lips were swollen.

Thoughts started forming in your head. Childish daydreams of you and him eating out and going on walks, Late-night phone calls eventually turning into late conversations when you two finally moved in together, and thoughts of sleeping beside him and waking up to find him still there with the morning sun on Saturday.

You should’ve known better.

You whimpered when you felt him pull away from your lips, but the loss in contact was instantly replaced when rested his forehead against yours again, and his heavy breathing mixed with your own. You loved when he did that, the intimacy of it always made you weak.

Something in you told you he was about to speak, you anticipated it.

His voice rang in your head.

I was wrong

Come home with me

I’ll stay

but instead, you were met with a low, raspy, ‘Tell me this is enough.’

Words cannot describe how quickly your eyes snapped open and your smile fell. ‘What?’

Mason’s jaw clenched as he worked up the courage to repeat himself. ‘This…is all I can give you. I need to hear you say it…for both of our sakes.’

He’s reaching his limit.

His head was still casually, resting on yours like he didn’t just completely undermine the best minutes of your life with five words. ‘You can’t be serious,’ you give an awkward chuckle before realizing he was dead serious.

‘No!’ you spit. You shoved him back, the butterflies in your stomach quickly turned into disgust, and you were back to thrashing around under him. ‘Was that not enjoyable for you? Did I make a mistake?’

Mason shook his head as if you were inconveniencing him. ‘it’s not like that. You know it isn’t.’

‘Then what is it?!’ you yelled. ‘Mase-‘

‘Tell me this is enough…and you will be happy with this. I need you to be happy with this.’

‘I’m not!’

You tried everything. You tried kissing him again, grinding, moaning, touching, anything to reignite the flame that engulfed you mere seconds ago, but he didn’t give in. Mason practically flinched when you brought your hands up to his face again.

‘We don’t have to be together!’ you said, frantically caressing him. ‘We can stay like this. You don’t need to be mine. Just let me be yours.’ You begged him.

‘Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be,’ he pleaded.

‘How could you say that?’ Your glossy eyes scanned his face for any signs of hesitation or emotion. You looked for the light that shined in his irises whenever you spoke. It was gone, dimmed, and dull on his expressionless face.

Was he always so cold?

‘Please don’t make me say it.’ At this point, there was no use in stopping the tears from falling.

With all his might, he wanted to say it. It crawled its way from his heart to the tip of his tongue as he watched you break down because of his selfishness—his cowardice.

He wanted to tell you how much sleep he lost in the weeks he didn’t speak to you. He wanted to tell you how long he debated pressing the dial button last night because he missed the sound of your voice. He wanted to tell you he looked forward to hearing your door unlock whenever he knocked every week.

He wanted to tell you it was never about the sex.

It was the moments like the minutes after when you both laid together and talked about your week. It was the warmth of your skin as you cuddled up next to him under the sheets, and the way you pretended to stay awake and listen to him speak even though you could hardly keep your eyes open. It was when he noticed your soft breathing that indicated that you had finally fallen asleep. And every time, he would stay awake a little longer just to hold you and whisper the things he could never say out loud.

You took one long look at his face and realized this was a battle you could never win. He made up his mind and wasn’t giving you another choice.

This was truly your last moment together.

Mason laced his fingers with yours as he rocked you against the washing machine and you moaned for him, louder than you ever had before, because you wanted your voice to be etched into his mind. You licked your way into each other's mouths, memorizing the taste, and no one said anything about the tears.

You didn’t bring up the salty droplets that dripped onto your face as he kissed you—there was no need. Instead, you brushed your thumb along his cheek and wiped the wetness away, just as he did to you.

Mason’s pace quickened when you announced that you were about to come and— god— did it feel good. Without stopping, he talked you through your orgasm; telling you how pretty you looked coming on him, grunting out how you’re the best he’s ever had, and asking you if it felt good when he fucked you harder.

And you gave him those fucked out responses he loved so much. Your eyelids were low and heavy as you nodded your head numbly, letting out a series of ‘Oh god’s,’ ‘Don’t stop’s,’ and ‘Fuck, Mase. Right there.’ He was going insane.

You clenched around him as you came undone. Your legs caged him in and he thrusted into you like his life depended on it. For the last time, Mason called out your name and dug his nails into your waist, sputtering above you as you milked him from the inside.

He gave you everything he had, and you did the same.

You gave in.

This was enough

if he told you to do anything, you would’ve done it. But now, all you could do was reminisce and imagine a future where Mason wanted to be your boyfriend: a future where he asked you to stay.

#mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount x oc #mason mount angst #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine

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