#diverted rails

[feroluce]

So I finally had time to sit down and play through 2.3 this week and man I have a lot of Feelings about all of it, but today it's about Gallagher and Mikhail because!

The devotion of a dog! Gallagher's dedication lasting beyond Mikhail's death and then some! The way he let himself be seen through knowing it would mean his own death because it would help to accomplish his and Mikhail's dream! The immense regret and long lasting guilt of not helping Mikhail when he needed him! THE WAY MISHA CALLS GALLAGHER "MY HOUND-"

Ahem. I'm normal I swear. Anyway.

And one of my favorite displays of this undying loyalty? This.

This is the record you unlock in 2.3 after Siobahn brings up Gallagher's death in the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Right after "to the Nameless resting in peace... and to Gallagher."

La Messe de l'athée translates to The Mass of the Atheist. It was a short story about a man who goes to church, and is surprised to see another man whom he knows is an atheist attending mass, all alone. When questioned, the atheist says that he attends for a friend. This friend had banded with him when they were both poor, and acted as a father figure to him. The atheist managed to pull himself from poverty with his help, and did everything he could to repay and take care of his friend thereafter.

The friend died of illness some years later.

The atheist is still an atheist. But he attends mass on the behalf of the religious friend that saved him, and recites the prayers he heard whispered on his deathbed. These borrowed prayers are the closest a man like him could get to being a true believer, but he always holds out hope that those beliefs might enter his head.

There is so much in there, in the story they decided on as our final memento of Gallagher, that this is what was chosen to immortalize him, and ARGH OTL

[13thpythagoras]

free my boy, the atchafalaya river

[sleep-0-deprived]

Sirens touch~! (Kyle Garrick x male siren reader) 𓊝

WC:.2.1K

Tags: pwlp, anal sex, sex on a boat, monster x human, pheromones used as drugs, fish anatomy mentioned, bottom male reader, seduction themes, siren songs, handjobs, neck biting, blood mentioned 𓇼

A/N: this one is for @creepy141dollie hope Y’ like it, forgive if M’ descriptions of sirens are inaccurate, this was jus my thought process <33

Taglist: @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆝

The air was fogged over and cold- rigidly so, you could almost taste the salt in the air when you breathed in the mist. Kyle wasn’t happy about this in the slightest, the moment price caught wind of makarov supposedly hiding somewhere across the sea, he had the whole task force on a ship on the ocean waters, that included Gaz too. Gaz walked around on the deck, he’d peek his head over the rails and stare into the nearly black abyss of water— god he could only imagine how cold that water must’ve been.

His eyes slowly widen when he sees something beneath the sheets of liquid, it was probably just a dumb fish swimming around. Garrick wasn’t made for the waters nor did he like them, sea sick was the only thing he ever got from it— and was that a person laying on that rock?…oh god the sea must be getting to him.

���I don’t see how sailors manage”

Gaz diverts his gaze to the passing soap, walking by and across the ship watching the other end- like what he was supposed to be doing but something felt off he couldn’t explain it, it all felt weird like bugs churning around in his stomach. He’d just cut it down to the waves giving him motion sickness.

“Are you gonna make it there gaz?”

He nearly jumps when ghost sneaks up on him standing behind him with his mask on letting his gaze pierce through the other male.

“You shouldn’t be so damn quiet- you’re gonna give someone a heart attack these days”

“Relax, I was just gonna ask if ye wanted to swap tasks- ye go to the lower deck N’ keep an eye out”

The man’s British accent creeping through his words only making Gaz sigh and nod, making his way down to the empty deck, his body felt a reaction the closer he got to the waters almost like something compelling him forwards. When the rock he had seen earlier came into view he could’ve sworn he saw a man with H/C hair laying there with a deep blue webbed ear. Before he knew it he felt his chest ache at that sight- why did he feel so much need over a man that probably was a figment of his lonesome imagination.

He leans against the rails, blinking once and frowning when he sees nothing on the rock, he almost feels sadness as the disappearance but before he can mourns it a hand is placed up on the ship from the loading area a few feet from him.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice rings empty in the fog, you slip your way up onto the deck while laying sprawled with a little grin. Tilting your head over almost like a curious cat— you weren’t used to not having your tail but you’d make having legs work. Gaz was practically lovestruck standing in his military gear and yet he felt just as defenseless as a common man before a gun.

“Aren’t you just a mean one?”

Your voice was angelic and he knew that you knew that, the way you slithered up on the deck like some serpent ready for its mean had him in a state of pure lust looking at you— Gaz was a weak man and the years of solitude without touch only made him weaker. Your prime prey, you liked a sweet man who was good at heart but had desperation— you could feed off the lust in his eyes alone.

Gaz started approaching you almost in a trance but you haven’t even used your song on him yet, this was pure free will.

“What the hell are you— a damn talking fish?”

“I’m not a damn fish— I’ll have you know I’m a siren”

You hiss your words at him growing irritated with it all, reaching your hand out to grasp hold of the man and pull him down with you having him beneath you on the deck. your body nude and cold from the see, your cock pressed flat down on your thighs while you click your tongue slowly tracing your cold fingers over his skin, humming your own siren song.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, everyone wants me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders speaking statements not questions, your cock was stiffening up when his bulge pressed to your plush cheeks almost giving it a friendly greeting making you push back down against his clothed member, Gaz’s hands roam down grabbing your hips instinctively gripping at the flesh with vigor while he stares up at you in a glossy eyed trance watching how your hands slid off his shoulder down his vest and to his cargo pants, pulling them down with a thud when you undo his tack belt letting it fall on the deck.

Your nails were sharp and pointed leaving chills on his thighs when your nails graze over the tip of his cock having it all wet and coated in pre cum when you finally get it out of his boxers. Your eyes narrow slightly glowing under the dim fog of the late noon sky, the ship rocking back and forth against the waves having Gaz feeling completely under your spell when you hum against his ear and press your lips to the side of his neck.

“God you’re…”

He wanted to say so many things in that moment but his lips quivered and stopped, all men acted that way— you couldn’t count the number of sailors who uttered those exact words to you. Gaz felt different you didn’t want to lure him into a seductive demise, you actually wanted him all for yourself.

“I already knoww~”

you hush him silently with your lips pressed to his Adam’s apple rubbing your sharp teeth to the flesh feeling tempted to just take a bite out of him. Your hand plays with his cock stroking the base and rubbing your thumb flush against the under side of his tip, right where you knew it was most sensitive.

“O-h fuck you’re good at this”

Kyle’s moan comes out strangled like a half laugh when he takes a gulp for the first time in his military years feeling nervous by something that looks so frail, your skin practically glowed sticky from the salt in the sea having your damp body in his lap feeing your bare ass on his thighs making his half lidded eyes just stare at it, he only looks away when he feels the sharp pain in his neck— you just bit him?

“Mhm, you just taste good enough to eat”

“Oh fuuck”

His groan just make you smile having his blood over your teeth like a fresh candy coating making your slit pupils dilate, licking up the blood off his neck leaving him with the mark of a siren when you aim his cock between your wet cheeks, grinning at his expression when his eyes clamp shut from the cold feel of your skin pressing to his manhood. You rock your hips back and forth letting go of his cock and reaching up to his jaw and gripping it tight while you lay hunched over him pressing your bitter and blue lips to his mouth kissing him- making him taste his blood off your tongue while he lays on his back on the deck.

“You want this so bad don’t you?”

“…yes…”

He mumbles mindlessly under you just staring you blankly in the eyes, his lips sloppily responding to yours with your cock standing barely stiff leaning a small pearl of pre cum with your blue webbed ears looking almost like a fin when they flick back and forth in satisfaction. His cock head rubbing between your cheeks and all up and down your crack rubbing against your twitchy ring of muscles.

“Tell me you want inside me- tell me now”

“…I want you, I wanna be inside you so bad”

Your mouth nibbles at his neck some more littering it in red marks having blood smears on his skin while his hips buck up under you making you let go of his jaw when he hisses from how your nails dug into his skin. Gaz presses into you slowly pushing his way inside of your vice, being a siren producing pheromones and natural lubricant around your rim, your holes weee designed to take— you were a being of lust- a Adonis of sex in every way but the name.

“Fuckin, please-“

If it wasn’t for how desperate Gaz was in this moment he may have passed out of humiliation, he hated the way his voice cracked when he begged for you sitting desperate with his cock half inside you prodding its way into the bunny tavern trying to spread and spear you open on his dick, you sit in his lap having your mouth latched on his feeling his moans muffled by your tongue when you bite on his bottom lip leaving little drops of blood mixing into the shared spit.

“Think you may be the biggest man I’ve taken in a very long time sailor”

You lift your hips up and slowly lower them back down on him while you let your hand find its way to his shoulders digging your nails through his gear and clawing a hole in the back of his shirt leaving marks on his rich skin. Your rim milks out the pre cum from his mushroomed head having his hands trembling on your hips while he pushes his spit down your throat.

“I’m not a damn sailor— I’m a captain”

His words come out strangled beneath you when he pulls his lips, tearing them away only to gasp for air. Your nails dig harder letting out soft moans when his cock rubs your prostate just right making you feel warm shrills up your spine having you feeling in a state of euphoria when you ride the man.

Your eyes creep back and you grow slicker around his cock taking it with ease, Gaz lets out heaved gasps beneath you. Not having fucked anything in a few solid years due to his job, his orgasm is on edge but he does his best to hold back not wanting to come too quick but boy if your insides weren’t practically begging it out of him right now.

“Stop or I’ll—“

Before he can even finish his sentence your hand creeps up off his back and over his mouth hushing his groans when you feel his cock start pulsing inside you reaching his high and flooding your insides with his semen leaving a warm feeling inside your ice cold body.

“Now you’re gonna be good and help me get off right?”

“Y-yes ofcourse”

He nods his head when you hum your song to him not even giving him time to come down from his orgasm when you remove your hand off his mouth and reach to the hand off your hips when you guid it down to your hardened cock, letting out a hiss when he touches the base. Gaz slowly starts stroking your cock and giving it a firm touches under your tip.

He starts stroking your cock a little faster gripping the base with your cock leaking a mess in his palm having you instinctively pushing your hips back down on his cock with the semen inside

“I’m getting close”

Gaz starts stroking your cock faster making you arch your back getting closer to edge with his hand snaking off your hips to your ass giving it a squeeze in time with his strokes. Pre cum starts oozing drink you all down your shaft making a mess when your voice cracks and your orgasm rushes over you, you grip his shoulders tight with your

“Oh fuck—“

“What is it fishy? You’re actin like this is your first orgasm”

You sneer down at him frowning when he says that, ropes of thin liquid shoots from your tip leaving stains on his gear. Your chest raises and falls rapidly practically glowing with your eyes rolling forwards to look down at him under you, sitting on top of him on the ship, you slowly raise up off of Gaz, semen starts oozing out of you and onto the ships deck, your rim twitches all puffy.

Before Garrick could even say anything to you, you were gone. The water flashed and it was like you were an imagination? Your figure lurked under the water then disappeared into the fog, sirens were never known to stick to one prey forever.

“Gaz? Mate what’re you doin?!”

There stood a flabbergasted soap, his mouth agape standing next to price with their eyes focused on a ruin captain kyle Garrick ‘Gaz’ laying covered in come with his pants around his ankles laying on his back, his cock limp and his eyes lidded clearly worn out.

[heartbeerry]

i got a soft spot for you / r. c | part one

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

part one / part two / part three

cw: exes to lovers, angst, rafe redemption arc, brief mentions of alcohol/substances, some swearing, there's sweet and fluffy reconciliation at the end.

summary: y/n breaks up with rafe due to his problem with alcohol/substances. summer passes by and they find themselves at the same place one night. rafe is determined to prove he's changed for the better.

inspiration: soft spot by keshi

♫ i don't go out, but i’ll do it for you

you never liked it when i drink too much

i hate to dance, but i’d dance with you

'cause i’d do anything to feel your touch...

. . .

the condensation from the full glass of whiskey pooled in rafe's grasp.

he hadn’t had a drop, instead opting to swirl the amber liquid in a circular motion. he let out a small sigh as he ran his fingers over a fresh buzz cut.

it was his first night out in weeks, his inner circle dragging him from his house to "let loose". once arriving at the bar, one of them shoved a glass in his hand and left him to stew in a faraway corner.

rafe was heavily considering taking a sip, giving in, letting all of his progress go to waste.

that is until he spotted you from across the room.

his heart clenched at the sight of your smile, directed towards a group of your friends. you looked happy. without him.

it had been an entire summer since the break up and you were clearly handling it well.

rafe on the other hand, was in pieces.

unbeknownst to you, he had been diverting all of his frustrations into getting clean.

he moved towards the spiral stairs to get to the upper level without catching your gaze. he knew your fun would end if you caught sight of him.

rafe's stomach bunched in knots as his hand gripped the railing. he was stumbling, failing at pushing down the onslaught of thoughts threatening to consume him.

"don't you think you've had enough, babe?" you nudged rafe's shoulder, unable to disguise your concern. he hated when you looked at him like you were almost afraid of what would happen next.

you were at a pool party and rafe's inebriated state was resulting in hushed whispers throughout the crowd.

"i know when to stop, y/n. don'tcha worry, let's just have sum good ol' fun." he slurred back. then, before he could take another sip of his beer, rafe was tripping over his own two feet into the pool, bringing you down with him.

rafe felt hot wet tears line his lids as he recalled that night. the night that broke all of your resolve. the next morning, you were packed up and out of his life. he couldn't blame you, he knew he was a disgrace.

it hadn't been the first time his drunken state had caused a problem in your relationship. but to you, it would be the last.

the already raw revelation stung all over again as rafe looked on over the dance floor from the upper balcony of the bar. you looked amazing, absolutely perfect and - were now being chatted up by some glorified finance bro.

rafe could tell the guy was asking you to dance, by the sheer shit-eating grin on his face as he placed an outstretched hand in your direction. when he saw you hesitate, his heart lurched, begging you to decline.

the moment dredged up another memory - this time, one he couldn't dare to misremember.

"come on, baby," you grin, tugging gently on rafe's ring clad hand. "i really want to dance, everyone is already on the floor!"

rafe beamed up at you, your infectious smile giving him the necessary energy to get up from his seat.

he would rather soon drop dead than attempt to dance, but the look on your face was immeasurable and he would never give up the opportunity to feel your touch.

that was just a month into your relationship, but rafe knew. he knew he was wrapped around your finger as he ambled across the dance floor at your cousin's wedding with the dexterity and grace of a newborn fawn, your laughter filling his ears.

rafe all but threw the glass down on a nearby table, whiskey sloshing from the rim. he jammed his palms into his eyes, willing himself to use the breathing exercise you taught him for when his anxiety rose to a dangerous level.

when he removed his hands from his face, rafe wished to be anywhere else. the deepest depths of hell would be more appealing.

on the floor below, you were in the middle of that mellifluous laugh as your new dance partner was spinning you in circles.

rafe scaled the stairs to the back entrance, battling the pure anguish in his chest.

he couldn't breathe.

swinging the door open, rafe stepped into the humid night.

. . .

i’m wrapped around your finger and i can't stop

you know i got a soft spot for you... ♫

part two

[leighsartworks216]

I Want You

Sylus x gn!Reader

For all my folks who have been told they're not good enough to be wanted by anyone

Warnings: insecurity, kissing, alcohol, swearing, crying, embarrassment, not proofread

Word Count: 1,349

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

It’s a simple question, perhaps born from your uncertainty, here and now. Standing on a moonlit balcony, dressed nicely, dinner on a candlelit table behind you, already savored. It was all Sylus’s planning, of course. When he needed to go to another country, he’d invited you to join him, as a little vacation from your own work to help him with his. When he then invited you to dinner, well, you didn’t think it would be quite this… romantic.

You both stand side by side at the balcony railing, you with half a flute of champagne and him with his own glass of wine. With your elbows on the rail, the flute hangs loosely over the freefall to the ground below. Beyond that, an entire city stretches out into the dim horizon.

You laugh humorlessly. “No. Who would want me?”

“I want you,” Sylus answers quickly.

You don’t look away from the view. Instead, you swirl the champagne around the sides of your glass. The sardonic, deprecating smile slips slowly from your face. You don’t believe him.

He sets his glass on the railing and turns fully toward you. With gentle fingers, he holds your chin and guides you to look up at him. His eyes are sharp. “I want you,” he repeats, firmer this time. His hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “What will it take for you to believe me?”

You divert your gaze again as you try to pull his hand from your face. “Look, you don’t have to pity me, Sy. I know I’m not desirable-”

“Not desirable?” He scoffs. “Now who ever told you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just everyone, my entire life? I know nobody wants me, you don’t have to bullshit me on this.”

“When have you ever known me to bullshit something?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t let you pull his hand away. Instead, he cradles your face in both hands, chasing your gaze. “I want you. I want… your laugh when you hear me singing, and your eyes when you’re trying to get a plushie from the claw machine.”

“This isn’t funny anymore.” You set your glass down to hold both of his wrists, trying to pull your burning face from his hold so you can leave.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking, sweetheart,” he scolds lightly. “I want your smile when we go for joyrides, and your frown when the Twins are playing tricks on you.”

He leans in, tightening the space trapped between you. The night air is pushed out. It’s just him and you, and your shared breaths. He looks so intense, but not in a frightening way.

Your whole body is hot and uneasy. This still feels like an elaborate joke meant to insult you and make your faux-vacation a personal hell for you to relive every 3am for the rest of your life.

“I want your courage,” he whispers, deep voice slightly raspy at this volume. “I want your stubbornness.”

Your eyes are burning. You’re so embarrassed - you wish you could just hide under the table cloth until the end of the universe.

“I want to watch that triumphant little dance you do when you beat me in Kitty Cards. I want to hear your voice when you first wake up.”

A tear slips free. His face is blurred by the breaking dam. He brushes away each tear with his thumbs.

“I want… every little thing about you.”

You sniffle. You hold tighter to his wrists, torn between continuing to push him away and pulling him closer. He doesn’t shake you off, either way. “What about all the things you don’t want?” you ask, voice trembling and weak and utterly pathetic.

He brushes his nose against yours. Your breath stutters. “Like what?”

“My temper and my recklessness and how- how naive I can be sometimes…” You close your eyes. You can imagine any expression you want on him like this, and right now, you can just picture so perfectly the realization that would come across his face when he realizes you’re right. When he finally remembers just how insufferable and annoying you are. More tears fall as you squeeze them shut tighter. “My fat and my pickiness and-”

“All of it,” he cuts you off. “Anything you can possibly think of. Everything. I want it all.”

His tone leaves no room for argument…

But you’ve never listened to that anyway.

“Why? Why do you want… all of this? You- You can have so much more than me. So much more. Why do you want to settle for me?”

He scoffs. “I’m not settling for anything. You should know by now, kitten, I don’t go for anything less than the best.”

You sniffle again. You can’t imagine what you look like, all gross from crying. One hand finally releases your face, slipping out of your grasp. You hold onto the railing tightly in its place. Something soft and cool brushes away the tears. It’s silk; it feels just like the expensive bed sheets he has on every bed in his base.

“Will you open your eyes?” He cups your face again, the silk pressed in between his palm and your cheek. He brushes his nose more insistently against yours. “Please?”

Water sticks to your eyelashes as you force them open. Under your eyes feels raw and heavy, but your tears have dissipated enough that his face isn’t blurry. He smiles softly.

“There you are,” he whispers, fondly stroking your cheek again. “I want you. Nothing you think will ever change that. Nothing anybody else thinks will change it, either.”

“Really?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly higher, becoming a smirk. “Do I need to prove it to you?”

Your face burns with more than just embarrassment now. You nod ever so slightly. This close, you can see the way his eyes darken as they glance down at your mouth. You can feel his pulse under your hand where you hold his wrist, picking up speed. You just barely hear the slight hitch in his breath as his lips brush over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and he fully slots your lips together.

He kisses you slow and deep, holding your face firmly to keep you there, to keep you from drawing away from him. It’s insistent. He pulls away for a breath and dives back in. Each kiss is more determined and desperate than the last, until he’s breathing heavily against your mouth, tongue begging for entrance. Until your lips are swollen as you let him in. Until he finally, finally draws away, and watches with hooded eyes as the string of saliva connecting your mouths snaps.

You’re just as dazed as he is. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet, dumbly seeking out his lips again for one more kiss until your mind catches up with the quiet chuckle that fans across your face. Your chest rises and falls with passion, your cheeks are burning with desire, and you look up at him like he’s just pulled the moon down from the sky and handed it to you. He can’t resist nipping gently at your bruised lower lip. He’s glad he didn’t, when you let out a choked whine, begging for more.

“Do you believe me now, my beloved?” he rasps. The name sends shivers down your spine.

You release his wrist and reach up to hold his face. He’s all sharp cheekbones and broad shoulders, but when your fingers brush his hair, it’s impossibly soft. He’s impossibly soft right now, leaning into your touch and sighing as your fingers scrape along the fine hairs at the base of his skull. Gathering all of the courage that he admires so much, you whisper, “I think I need a bit more convincing.”

He laughs, already kissing you when he says, “It would be my pleasure.”

And, despite all the things you’ve been told all your life, you think you’re really starting to believe him.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[hyukalyptus]

prove it. — yeonjun x fem!reader

cw. yeonjun is implied to be an idol but it's not super relevant to the story, reader is jealous of another woman, established relationship, chubby!reader implied, friends to lovers implied, kissing, cunnilingus, nipple play, fingering, use of a butt plug, penetration (protection not mentioned), eating ass (f. receiving), a bit of exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, hickeys, marking, edging, masturbation, joi, "fat" as a positive descriptor, "I love you," pet names (baby, babe, love, my love), swearing, lube, mostly porn w little plot tbh, aftercare. notes. hello! i haven't posted in forever and i feel like i haven't written smut in a while so i may be a little rusty, lol. wc. 6.3K

Looking down at the city through the glass railing that lines the rooftop, you draw your knees to your chest. No matter how hard you try, staring at the city isn’t enough of a distraction to divert your mind from the images of them. But your jealousy is unwarranted; you know that. You weren’t even dating him at that time, but he knew how you felt and he felt the same way about you, but the timing simply wasn’t right. You were about to leave for three months and that’s no way to start a new relationship. He did anything and everything to try and get you off his mind—drinking, partying, sleeping with strangers, dyeing his hair, and…dating her.

Thinking about you sitting in endless hotel rooms, longing for him while he was kissing, hugging, fucking another woman is too overwhelming. That’s why you’re here. You’d wanted to surprise him after a long work day, but instead of finding your Yeonjun taking a coffee break alone in a dance studio while he scrolled Instagram, you found her all over him. 

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter if he was calling after you. You just ran and found yourself on the roof. But he knew where to find you. He explained he was trying to put a stop to it, but it still hurt. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking who she was even if you tried. But he always told you about his relationships and dates. He was your best friend; you told each other everything. But he kept her a secret from you.

“We never overlapped, did we?”

“Of course not. You know I wouldn’t do that.” Reaching for your hand, he brushes his thumb across your knuckles and asks, “You okay?” You nod, but he knows you too well. “Stop lying.” 

“I dunno…” you shrug. “I can’t sit here and say I didn’t hook up with anyone while I was gone, but I never dated anyone. Just kinda stings.”

“I’m sorry,” he says seriously. “Listen,” he sighs. “I know it’s weird I dated her then, but I love you more than anything. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.” And you want to believe him, really you do. Especially while you look into his eyes only a few inches away from yours while on the rooftop of his agency, stories above anyone else, alone as the breeze chills your nose and he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Prove it,” you say softly. He hums. “Prove it. Prove you love me more than anything.” 

Seconds pass before he pulls you by your ankles, wrapping your legs around his waist and his lips fall into yours, kissing you so amazingly. His kisses still make you dizzy. Then he guides your body to lay on the ground, trailing his lips down your neck and chest, pulling down the hem of your shirt to access your skin, all while working at the button of your jeans. 

“What if someone sees us?” You ask, breath heavy. There’s a low chance of that happening, but you can’t help but think about it. 

“Let them.” Fully pulling your jeans off your legs, goosebumps prick your skin as it makes contact with the cold air. Stuffing his nose into your pussy over your panties, he inhales while his hands wrap around your thighs. Shaking his head to dive deeper, his nose teases your clit. 

“Yeonjun…” you groan, letting your head fall back while his hair slips between your fingers. He’s not wasting a single second. Desperately moving your panties to the side, he spreads your pussy lips, dragging his tongue up your pussy so deliberately you may faint. The tip of his tongue teases your clit forever, never quite touching it.

When he finally flicks his tongue over your clit, you gasp and your back arches off the roof while your hip rolls accompany his movements. God, he’s so fucking good at eating you out. Sometimes you can’t believe it. It’s genuinely the best oral you’ve ever had. Slow at first, getting you all worked up and wet, then he dives right in, making your head reel. 

Then he slides two fingers inside you, curling them up, perfectly hitting the exact right spot. He is absolutely gonna be the death of you. You moan, blissfully watching as a plane goes by thousands of feet above you. Can they see you? You’re not quite sure. Either way, it’s thrilling to think about. A couple hundred people watching as the sexiest guy in the world makes you feel like the sexiest woman in the world. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you say, your chest heaving. He comes up for air, but doesn’t take his fingers out of you. As he makes his way back up to your face, he kisses you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, and finishing it off with a lick across your bottom lip. 

“Let me take you inside,” he suggests. “I wanna worship your body for hours,” he whispers against your lips, nudging your nose with his own. “Wanna show you how much I love you. How much I crave you. How much I need you,” he says, punctuating each power word—love, crave, need—with a stroke against your g-spot. “Wanna make you feel things you’ve never felt before. Wanna make you forget every word you know except my name,” he keeps adding on to this incredible list, leaving wet kisses all over you. “Wanna make you so wet you drip all over my bed. Wanna make you cry from how good I’m making you feel. Wanna make you cum so many times you’re begging me to stop,” he says. “And then I’d make you cum again. Wanna taste every inch of you.” Finally taking his finger out of you, he sucks and licks every last bit of you up. “Wanna leave marks on you that stay for days so you never forget how much I love you.” 

Which is more delicious? Him whisking you off to his bedroom to fuck you raw or him fingering you on the roof? The way your heart races at every glance of each glowing window across the street is almost too good to give up but the thought of him filling you to the brim with his cock is too tempting. And when he pulls his face away just enough to look down at you with those gorgeous-as-fuck eyes and his black hair barely hanging in front of his face and asks—

“Is that okay?”

Your body crumbles to dust. That contrast of whispering the dirtiest shit you’ve ever heard along with the sweetest form of gaining consent—literally asking—is overwhelming. Part of you scoffs at how something so bare minimum, something so basic decency as consent, turns you on so much. 

But fuck you need him more than ever. 

“Fuck yes,” you say confidently. 

He barely gives you enough time to slip your jeans back on before lifting you to your feet to lead you to the roof access door, down the elevator, into his bedroom, and onto his bed. 

While you wait on his bed for whatever’s about to happen, you watch as he takes his time unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. What shall he do with you? So many parts of him want to rip your clothes off and ravage you with fast, hard, and dirty sex; cover you in spit and sweat and cum until you’re trembling and begging for rest. But another part of him wants to do exactly what he said: worship your body for hours. Slowly, carefully, intentionally, tenderly. 

Ditching his t-shirt, he smiles at you—not in an I’m gonna fuck you so hard way, but in a You’re perfection kinda way. Letting him take your clothes off so carefully like he’s unwrapping a vintage book waiting to be adored is one of the best parts of it all. Showered in love and kisses and attraction and compliments for who knows how long. 

“I love your body so fucking much,” he says as his lips brush your collarbone, but his hands are everywhere else—your tits, tummy, hips, ass, thighs. Taking a beat to look into your eyes, he says, “I meant it.” You nod. “I’m gonna worship your body for hours.” 

“I don’t know if I can wait that long to come, babe…” you trail off. 

“Hm…” you can feel his smile against the sensitive skin under your breast. “Who said you have to wait? You can come as many times as you want.” 

Relief floods every part of your body. You could already tell you weren’t gonna last long but he absolutely loves making you wait. Edging you until you’re begging him to let you—wait. His words from earlier, Wanna make you cum so many times you’re begging me to stop—echoes in the back of your mind. A couple orgasms is exactly what you need right now. 

“Lay on your tummy, love,” he says gently. Face down, you hear him rummage through his bedside table drawer. The smell of eucalyptus lavender massage oil fills the air before his strong hands work through your tense shoulders, back, and ass. Perhaps you dozed off because the next thing you know, he’s turning you over to lay on your back. Then his fingers work through your arms, kneading your tits so good your breath hitches in your throat, then up and down your waist. 

As you start to drift off again, his hand carefully slides up your thigh to gently cup your pussy—nothing vulgar or pushy, just resting his hand there while his other hand brushes all over your skin. You succumb to him, letting your hips roll as gentle as his touches. Then your body slowly welcomes his middle finger inside, no deeper than his first knuckle. 

Are you floating? Flying? Spinning? You can’t tell—just that it’s warm and dizzying and that you can’t get enough of it. Then his fingers spread your pussy lips with slow precision and your breath catches. Your eyes burst open, but he shushes you, brushing his thumb across your brow, coaxing your head back onto the pillow. Your lashes flutter closed, the weight of everything melting under his hands. You ache at the loss of his finger from inside you, only for him to circle your pleading clit with a maddening patience. The touch is slick and deliberate, then his other hand finds your breast, palm gliding over your nipple in slow, teasing spirals. Every nerve is tuned to him as everything shrinks and dissipates like he has all the time in the world.

No more than three lazy circles later, he stops teasing your clit. One thumb stays on your nipple, warm and firm, while he leans down to flick his tongue over the other. Oh. He knows how much you crave this—how nipple play drives you crazy—and this time, he’s drawing it out. Every touch, every word, every slow stroke leading up to now has left you raw in the best way, so keyed up you don’t know whether to squirm away or pull him closer.

It doesn’t take long until you’re gasping, rolling your body involuntarily, and feeling so on edge you’re about to fall off something. And all he’s doing is playing with your nipples—rubbing then circling, biting then licking, teasing then soothing. Spit covers your nipple before he backs off, blowing cold air to perk it up. Gentle bites flicker your body like sparks, subtly like fireflies. Internally begging for something—his cock, his tongue, his fingers, anything to be inside you—but you don’t say a word because this alone feels too good to stop. 

Then it sneaks up on you, a shiver that starts somewhere deep and unnamed. You’re holding it, but only for a second. Then you let it overcome your entire being. It crashes over you, an orgasm so strong it’s hard to believe it came from nipple play alone shocks you until you’re seeing stars. But it’s no longer those gentle fireflies. It’s lightning—bright, electric, and unstoppable. 

While you catch your breath, he waits patiently and silently, not daring to ruin this moment. Giving you space to relax for a moment while he hums against your collarbone, skating his lips across your skin while he leaves tiny kisses that make your ears burn. 

And fuck. It finally sinks in. You came. Just from him playing with your nipples. He’s never gonna let you live this down after tonight. And you know he’s gonna beg you to try it on him. 

Right now, though, he doesn’t care about himself. You’re the only thing on his mind. And he’s ready to get back to it. 

“That’s my girl…” he murmurs, smug and low. “You’re so fucking sexy like this. I want to memorize every way your body falls apart for me.” And fall apart you do. Your legs are still trembling from the last orgasm, but he’s already bringing you back up for another. “I just want you to feel good for me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s all I care about.” His middle finger finds your clit again, slow and careful, drawing soft circles that make you melt all over again. “You feel that?” he asks. 

But there’s no way you can form a sentence, but he doesn’t really need an answer—he can feel it in the way your body responds. You simply nod with a blissed out, closed-mouth smile across your lips and he chuckles, basking in how right he is—he makes you feel so fucking good. 

It’s almost embarrassing how much you crave this: slow, gentle, sweet, simply caring for you in the best way possible. Is it selfish that you want this to last all night long? Are you not allowed to be selfish once in a while? And it’s not like he’s not enjoying this—you can tell he loves this from how hard he is alone. But his subtle hip thrusts make that even clearer. 

“Baby…” you whine pathetically. 

“What is it, love?” He asks sweetly. “I’ll do anything you want, just tell me what it is.” 

“Your mouth,” you murmur. 

“Of course,” he hums, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, then your arm, and makes his way down toward your pussy where your clit is begging for his tongue all on its own. It doesn’t take long before you’re edging on euphoria again. You’re chanting his name, which then makes you chuckle as his Wanna make you forget every word you know except my name, plays in the back of your mind again. And you suppose he noticed too because you feel the smile tugging at his lips against your core.  

How was he able to get you here again so quickly? Your body craves his touch and it surrenders to him every time. The heat builds low and fast, curling and billowing in your stomach like a firework ready to fire. There’s no point in holding back. Not only has he proved how much he loves you, he’s proven he can pull another orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. 

But that doesn’t make this one any less intense. It’s sharp and deep and crashes through you in an insistence that leaves your fingers clawing at the sheets and your breath caught in your chest. The fireworks fill your body like a night sky—sudden, bright, and everywhere at once. 

“How many orgasms are you planning on giving me tonight?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Hm…at least five,” he says. Can you even handle five of his orgasms in one night? You’re not even halfway through and you’re exhausted. But who are you to say no? “I’m just trying to figure out what to do with you next.” 

Still breathless, you mumble, “My plug—” trying to support yourself on your elbows, but he slyly encourages you to lay back down; he’s not letting you lift a finger tonight. 

“Oh…” he says cheekily. “Oh, fuck,” he chuckles. You hum in question. “Just thinking about it in your little asshole. Made my cock twitch,” he says matter-of-factly as he starts looking through his bedside table drawer. It doesn’t take him much time to find it but first, “Get on your knees, my love.”

You do as you’re told, shaking your hips to put on a bit of a show. Well, as good of a show as you can give when your legs feel like jelly. Then his big hands grab your hip fat. To simply feel and squeeze. You can’t hear, “I love your body so fucking much…” enough. Your heart flutters every single time as if it's the first time you heard it. And, “I love you so fucking much, baby…” 

And he’s continuing to prove it, you’ll give him that. Then he spreads your cheeks, shoving his face right between them while his tongue circles your hole, earning an insatiable moan as you resist the urge to double over in pleasure. How do you always forget how good it feels when he eats your ass? 

It’s simply so vulgar—going from him worshipping your body in such a loving way to absolutely devouring your asshole with his strong hands on your hips, squeezing so harsh you’re certain he’ll leave marks and groaning as if you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. 

He’s always had a thing for your taste, even outside of the bedroom. Can’t help it; you’re too yummy…he’d whisper after licking your neck once the elevator door closed you off the world. Or leaving the tiniest kitten lick on the back of your hand before a kiss. Just a little secret between the two of you. But when you’re in bed, his fascination is on full display. So many parts of you glisten with his spit—tits, thighs, collarbone, lips, clit. One harsh spank to your asscheek wakes you up again, fueling the need for more. 

“Baby, please…I feel so empty.” 

He chuckles—low and amused—and you hear the soft click of the lube bottle opening. A beat later, the coolness hits you as he rubs the gel around your hole with his thumb. It jolts you, making everything feel hotter in comparison—your skin, your breath, his body behind you. But he’s not rushing. He never does. You picture his face: focused, patient, and just a little smug.

Then you feel him shift, and you know he’s slicking up the plug, almost certainly more than necessary. You relax as best you can, bracing for what’s about to happen. It always takes a bit of time. There’s the stretch, the sting, that moment where your body wants to resist—but he knows how to help you through it. And fuck, it’s always worth it in the end. The way it makes you feel full, needy, desperate—like he’s taking care of you in the filthiest way possible. 

“Tell me when it hurts, love.”

“I know,” you say with a smile, voice soft but sure. He always checks, always looks out for your comfort. He presses in slowly, carefully, the plug stretching you open millimeter by millimeter. At first, it’s fine—just pressure—but then the burn edges in and your breath catches. “Okay…hurts a little,” you murmur, not quite wincing but close. 

Immediately, he pauses and pulls back just a bit. “Take a few deep breaths for me,” he says, his voice low, grounding. One hand stays on your hip, steadying you, the other rubbing soothing little circles along your lower back while you focus on your breath. 

It becomes a rhythm. A slow, patient dance of pushing in, holding still, easing out, and beginning again. Each time he sinks in a little deeper, your body adjusts a little more, until the edge dulls and gives way to something warmer, thicker, heavier. Then it’s finally fully seated inside. You let out a sigh of relief, giving yourself time to adjust to the feeling of it with more breathing and relaxing. He’s perfectly content watching the shimmer of that cute pink heart gem poking out of you.

Then he rubs soothing strokes down your hips and asks, “What now, hm?” 

“I told you I feel so empty,” you whine. 

“I’m not fucking you yet.” A strangled noise escapes your throat, unintelligible yet unmistakably disappointed. “You’re getting at least one more orgasm before I’m inside you.” Rummaging through his side drawer again, you know he’s going for a dildo but—

“I don’t want anything else inside me before you,” you say. “I want the first thing I feel with the plug in to be you—just you, nothing else.” Moving awkwardly behind you, he’s unsure of himself for the first time tonight. “Guess you’ll have to figure out another way to make me cum…” you sing. 

“Get on your back,” he says, voice smooth but firm. His hands trace the curve of your hips, obviously killing time while he brainstorms. “Hmm…” His eyes search everywhere, and you can’t help but giggle. You’ve got him stumped. But then that smirk appears, slow and wicked. “Touch yourself.”

“What?” Your voice is higher than you’d like, breath catching in your throat.

“You heard me.” He tilts his head, eyes darkening. “Touch yourself.” Heat blooms across your skin, embarrassment and arousal twining together. You haven’t felt this flustered since the very first time he undressed you—that same nervousness, that same raw vulnerability. “Don’t be shy.”

You bite down on your lip, dragging your hand lower, fingers trembling. You’re caught in that delicious limbo, equal parts exposed and excited, your face hot as you fight the urge to hide under the covers.

“It’s okay, baby,” he coaxes, voice low, a little rough. “Why are you nervous?”

A shaky breath escapes and you look away. “I dunno…I liked you being in charge,” you say, the words slipping out in a rush. 

“What if I told you how to touch yourself? Would that be better?” Reaching for your dominant hand, he kisses your palm, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of your skin against his lips before turning your hand over to kiss the back of it. Once he flips it back over and his lips meet the pulsepoint of your wrist, your spine tingles. Then he sucks on your thumb before letting spit pool in his mouth to douse your first two fingers, making them slippery and wet. “As if you need any help getting wet.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask with a laugh. 

“Touch your nipples for me,” he whispers, dodging your question while you do as you’re told. With the fire your body’s been feeling all evening along with the shyness you feel, they’ve become soft and tired. But, under your touch, they spark back to life, pebbling once again. “That’s it, baby.” It’s silly how much of an affect those three words have on you. “Look at you…” he groans, tilting his head to look at your pussy. “Check.” 

“Huh?”

“I made you so wet you’re dripping all over my bed,” he says, casual as anything. “Just checking that off my list from earlier.”

You roll your eyes, a smug smile playing on your lips. “Pretty sure I did this to myself.”

“The first two orgasms didn’t contribute?”

You shrug, playing coy. “Nah. You just warmed me up.”

He snorts, brows lifting. “Oh, is that right?” He moves like he’s about to stand, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Well, if you’re so good at it, I guess you don’t need my help.”

“Wait, come back,” you say, the words slipping out before you can catch them. He turns around immediately, grin wide and shameless. “You’re still missing something off your list.”

“What’s that?”

“You haven’t left any marks. I might forget how much you love me.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he says, drawing it out, his eyes bright with that mischievous gleam. “You want me to leave some marks while you touch yourself?” You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly. His grin widens as he leans in, his lips a whisper away from your neck. “You’re not touching yourself yet, are you?” he asks, voice all slow and syrupy. You hum, shaking your head. “Good,” he says, sinking his teeth into the soft curve of your shoulder. 

He takes his time, leaving one dark mark, then another, each hickey followed by a slow, soothing lick. “Start moving your hand down to your pussy,” he says. “But don’t touch yourself yet.” He nips at your ear, hot breath making you shiver.”Just drag your fingertips across your skin.” Your stomach jerks at the tickle and it makes your breath hitch. “Now the insides of your thighs.” Your hand inches closer to your center, your breath coming out in shallow, shaky puffs. 

“Tell me you love me,” you gasp. 

As his expression softens, his thumb traces slow circles over your hip. “I- love- you-” he says, each low and velvety smooth word punctuated by a kiss. He closes the gap between his lips and your neck again before whispering against your skin, “And I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget it.” He sucks gently, then harder, a deep, deliberate mark blooming just above your collarbone. His tongue soothes over it, slow and lingering. “Want everyone to look at you and know how good I make you feel,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

“Can I touch myself yet?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whimper.

He pulls back just enough to catch your eyes, his gaze heavy and intense. “No. Not yet.” He pauses, his thumb stroking over that fresh mark. You nod in defeat. “Remember earlier when I pressed my palm over your pussy, baby?” You nod again. “Do that again.” You follow his instructions, your palm pressing down, letting relaxation spread through your body as you sink deeper into the mattress. His lips are a paintbrush, each hickey blossoming like a petal against your skin. Some marks are soft, faint as the blush of a rosebud. Others are darker, deeper, rich as crushed violets, spreading slowly beneath his mouth like flowers unfurling in the dark. “Feel how wet you are.” 

“I’m so fucking wet for you,” you say, a whimper escaping you. 

“I know you are,” he says. “Cup your pussy again,” he whispers. “Grind your hips against your palm,” he says, telling your body exactly how to move. “But that’s still not what you want, is it?” You shake your head. “I know,” he soothes. “I’ll get to your clit in a bit.” 

Clenching your jaw, it takes everything in you not to touch exactly where you need most. He chuckles evilly. “Please…” 

“Not yet, babe,” he chuckles. “Touch just around your clit, not right on it. I love hearing you whine and beg for me.” He takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

“Baby, please let me touch my clit. Please…” 

“Go ahead. Touch your clit.” You finally indulge in yourself, letting your moans and body rolls roam freely. “That’s it.”

“God, you feel so good,” you say, throwing your head back.

“That’s all you,” he coaxes.

“I love it when you talk to me like this.” The knot in your stomach tightens—his voice along with your fingers are delicious. “I’m so close,” you say, close to being out of breath.

“Don’t stop,” he insists. You don’t change anything—you don’t need to. You know your clit better than anyone and the way he’s playing with your body and leaving marks adds that much more pleasure. 

“Cum so good for me,” he says and you push yourself over the edge for the third time that night, moaning loudly through gritted teeth, letting the sparks fly, lighting your whole body ablaze once more. “Just like that,” he praises, along with all kinds of sweet things. 

“I could do this to you forever…”

“Look how well you listen…”

“You’re such a good girl for me…”

When you finally open your eyes, your vision is hazy, your body weightless above the sheets. His gaze is waiting for you, dark and warm. He’s leaning over you, hair tousled, chest heaving like he’s just as wrecked as you are.

“That was fun,” you say, a breathless laugh spilling out, caught between a moan and a sigh.

He smirks, his thumb tracing one of the love bites on your chest. “Yeah?” he asks, voice dipping low. “Liked being good for me, huh?” You nod, a shiver running down your spine when his thumb presses a little harder, enough to remind you how each mark got there.

Two more left. 

And thank fuck because he’s  finally on top of you, stroking your pussy lips with his hard cock. If you thought he’d finally jump straight into it, you’d be wrong. He teases you with his words and hands, brushing your most sensitive spots and whispering dirty shit to you. 

“Can’t wait to feel you squeeze around me like you don’t want to let go…”

“I’m so lucky I’m the only one that gets to make you feel like this…”

“You belong to me and me alone…”

But he’s still just teasing. “How long do you think I should make you wait again?” He hums, watching you writhe. “How long should I keep my cock from you?” You whine while he circles your clit with the tip of his cock. “Right there?” You shake your head. “No? You were begging me to let you touch your clit ten minutes ago and now you don’t want me to?” He tsks. 

“Please,” you practically shout. “I can’t take it anymore…”

“Yes you can, baby,” he smirks. But he places his cock right at your entrance and his own confidence falters, groaning at the slightest touch of your pussy. “Shit,” he chuckles. His hips inch forward so slowly, letting his head inside, his mouth falling open. Already full from just his head and your plug, you feel everything just that much more. Then he pulls back out. You groan again, throwing your head back in a fit. 

“Fuck you,” you laugh, resting your forearm over your eyes. He snickers but doesn’t know if he’ll last much longer than this himself. But you’ve still got two left. Either he needs to get you to cum as fast as possible—which might be difficult after three orgasms already—or he needs to pace himself significantly. Teasing you again, he lets his head prod your pussy, but then he finally pushes in as slow as he can physically force himself. It’s exhilarating and sensual and romantic and dirty. 

The way the plug makes you feel along with him inside you is incredible, perhaps a bit too much but in the best way possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full and so his. Your eyes go wide at the sudden intensity, your body caught off guard by how overwhelming it is. But then you exhale slowly and surrender to it and let yourself bask in the feeling, relaxing all your muscles to feel everything—the shape of him inside you, the way his cock presses onto your plug, his hands on your hips. 

The muscles in your body melt like glass in a fire, slowly and gently as you relax into the sensation of the thick weight of him inside you. The plug is tight inside, pressing just right while his cock shifts and nudges against it with every slow thrust, sending sparks through your spine. His hands are firm on your hips, grounding you, guiding you, worshipping you. 

Speechless. That’s the only way you know how to describe this. You let him fuck you slowly and deliberately, succombing to the feeling of him and nothing else. Your body is slack as you let your throat react by itself, not holding any sounds back—you can’t even hear yourself over the immense amount of pleasure he’s giving you. 

There’s this intense sense of trust and security in it, in letting him overcome your body; you know you can let your guard down with him. He’d never do anything you wouldn’t want. Everything is sparks and glitter and sugar. You can’t even hear him, if he’s even talking at all.

Then he rubs your clit with his thumb and you wake back up. “Fuck—” you gasp. It must’ve been a bit more sudden than you realized, because it made him pause, but it wasn’t long before he started back up with a smile. When he adds his other thumb to your nipple, that’s it. An echo of an orgasm is in the distance, like he’s calling you from across a valley, urging you to jump, telling you you’ll fly. 

And you believe him. You answer him, doing what he’s asking by jumping off your cliff, but you don’t fall. You fly just like he said you would. Your orgasm is swift like a tornado and carries you through it, gusts of pleasure and want and need swirl around you as you let yourself trust him in the rawest way possible. 

The tornado settles into a gentle breeze, bringing you back down as he holds you there, letting you feel everything gently, knowing exactly when to stop pushing your buttons so you don’t get overstimulated and it becomes impossible to make you cum again. 

“How was that?” You can only muster up a lazy nod. “Can you give me one more, baby?” He asks, rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs. Blissed out, you nod happily. “Of course you can.” 

He might start out slow, but once you’ve adjusted again to the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, along with the plug stretching you comfortably, he picks up speed, finding the speed that both of you like. The way his demeanor shifts once he’s taking what he needs takes your breath away. His eyes darken, his brows furrow, and his jaw is clenched tight with desperation. 

It’s fast and rough and downright nasty the way he fucks you. He’s got your legs spread wide open while he holds them in his arms, thrusting into you fast and hard, skin slapping on skin making it sound that much more desperate, and he’s breathing so fast you know he’s not holding himself back any more. 

And this new dirty way of fucking you makes your pussy and ass feel so full and sensitive and overstimulated after the four orgasms tonight. Your nipples are tired and spent, clit’s worn out and puffy, lips swollen and red from kissing, hips and neck and chest covered in hickeys and love bites, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want more, more, more. 

It should be impossible to come again after all that’s happened tonight, no? How the fuck does he do it? How does he still make your pussy clench around his cock after hours that should’ve left you immobile? You can’t help but give credit to the amount of care he’s taken with you. Not just tonight, but every single time you’re together. The way he looks at you—it’s the same whether you’re across the room or spread open right underneath him: an aching adoration that you feel in your core. Like literally nothing could ever tear you two apart. 

But it overcomes you once again. Bursts of pleasure whip around your body as he fucks you right through your fifth orgasm that night. Five. What the fuck? Sometimes you don’t even cum five times a week, let alone five times a night. And to make it even more delicious, he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t stop thrusting into you until his hips stutter while he spills inside you, filling you with cum while his mouth drops open, groaning like it’s the best he’s ever felt. 

And it very well could’ve been. Fuck, edging himself for hours to lead up to one of the best orgasms he’s ever had. It was all so worth it, worshipping your body for hours, showing you just how much he loves you and can’t imagine being with anyone else but you. 

You’re still coming down from your high when he pulls out, the sudden emptiness makes you miss him already. His hands are firm on your hips, but these are gentler squeezes this time. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the silence heavy before he presses his forehead to yours, still slightly out of breath. He says confidently, “I love you so much, baby.” You may be the giddiest you’ve been all night—doesn’t matter how many times he’s said it tonight.

It doesn’t need to be said how exhausted you are. You whimper as he eases the plug out of you, and his hand immediately returns to your thigh, steadying, soothing. “I know,” he murmurs, voice thick with something more than lust. “You did so well.” It’s worship in its quietest form—soft touches and whispered reminders that you’re his favorite person in the whole world. He moves slowly, gently. Not just because you’re weak and spent, but because you’ve given him everything, and he knows it.

The towel is warm and damp when he presses it between your legs, and you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes you. “Up,” he says gently, patting your leg, and you groan in protest. “I’ll carry you if I have to, but you’re going to the bathroom.” You try to glare at him, but your body is too soft, too pliant, too thoroughly taken apart. Still, you shuffle up onto wobbly legs, bumbling to the en-suite. 

By the time you’re back in bed, he’s already waiting, holding out a glass of ice water and you can’t help but think that maybe this is what true love really looks like—your body aching, your heart steady, your mind blissfully blank—because he knows how to care for you even when the sex is over. Especially then.

You curl onto your side, and he’s there immediately, pulling you back to his chest, tucking you into the warmth of his body. You belong here. His fingertips trace lazy paths along your arm, slow and soothing, like sand slipping through fingers—gentle, rhythmic, grounding.

Up and down. Over and over.

The world fades. Your muscles unwind. And with his breath against your neck and that soft, steady touch guiding you, you sink into sleep—safe, satisfied, and loved all the way through.

[cameronluvr]

MY GIRL — dark!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: rafe tracks your location and follows you to the beach, watching you and your friends from a fair distance. he butts in once he sees you and jj flirting, resulting in arguments and rafe forcing you home to fuck you.

warnings: 18+ MDNI ➾ consumption of alcohol, underage drinking, stalking, arguing, cussing, toxic + abusive relationship, manipulation, smut, noncon, SA, forced sex, p in v, toxic!rafe, dark!rafe, crying, rafe ignoring safe word, cheating accusations, death threats, (safe word is “red”)

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃.

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ᥫ᭡

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 🍓

like sarah and kiara, you were born a kook who chose to be a pogue, and a lot of people despised you for it, especially your boyfriend rafe. the two of you had spent the past hour arguing over you wanting to go hang out with the pogues, but he hated them and wanted you to hate them too.

the argument resulted in doors slamming and you storming off. you left rafe’s house and headed straight to the beach where you were planning on meeting your friends, regardless of rafe’s opinion. you walked all the way there and headed onto the sand, spotting them in the distance.

“hey guys,” you raise your voice as you approach them, making them all turn their heads to face you. each of them greeted you with smiles on their faces, and sarah with a hug. you sat down next to her and joined the circle they’d made around the campfire. with evening approaching, the sunset was glowing a radiant pink and golden color, which was perfect for the endless amount of selfies with sarah and kiara.

“so, ya finally made it” jj said as you were making yourself comfortable on the ground. “yep. who do you think tried to stop me?” you ask with a tint of sarcasm in your voice, knowing they all already know the obvious answer. “hm. did he give you the kooks versus pogues talk again?” john b asks, seeing you snicker and nod in response. “when doesn’t he? you guys are just a pile of dirty island trash, okay?” you joke, reciting your boyfriends words. “if that’s what we are, then that’s what you are, too” john b jokes back, raising his beer bottle before having a swig.

“that’s what i tried telling him” you laugh, motioning for him to toss you a bottle, too, since everyone else had one. he grabs one from the crate and tosses it over, making you catch it and crack it open to take a sip. “yea’, well, fuck him, he’s an asshole” kiara shrugs, with each of them simultaneously agreeing with her.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

“girls, you wanna go for a swim?” kie asks after you all drank, talked and laughed together for a while. “hell yeah” sarah says, standing up and pulling you up with her. you all begin stripping your clothes off to reveal your bikinis underneath. “what about us?” pope asks. “girls only, sorry” kie says, blowing a kiss to him before the three of you start running down to the ocean. “bitches” jj jokes, making pope and john b laugh. the three of them stayed sitting around the fire drinking and listening to music whilst keeping a brief eye on you girls.

as you and the girls made it to the water, you all dive in and splash around, laughing and having fun with each other, all while being completely unbeknownst to the other pair of eyes watching you, eyes that weren’t from a pogue… rafe had tracked your location on your phone and followed you to the beach, where you didn’t tell him you were going. he stayed a far distance back to make sure nobody could see him, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the railing in front of him, standing in front of his parked car with his gaze completely fixated on you.

he watched your every movement, taking in every little detail he could see before his attention quickly diverts to the three pogue boys making their way down to the water, too. seeing them made his fist ball up with rage, but he kept his cool for now.

the boys ran and dived into the water, purposely splashing you girls. “hey!” kiara yells over the sounds of their loud laughter, “you weren’t invited” sarah adds, causing john b to rush over to her and wrap his arms around her, scooping her up bridal style before throwing her down into the water, completely submerged.

you all laugh as she gets back up and gasps, grabbing her boyfriend in a headlock before jumping on him. the pair start to play fight, which made kiara giggle as she had an idea. she splashed the water and aimed it in pope’s direction, which made him start a water fight with her, splashing each other back and forth. you and jj laugh as you move away from the scene together, swimming further out into the ocean.

rafe watched every second. seeing you both swim away together made him furious, but he still waited. “jj, help” you laugh as he turns around in the water to grab your hand, pulling you out of the splashing waves. “thanks” you giggle, not letting go of his hand. you stayed holding it under the water as he pulled you along, the two of you swimming around them to make it back to the shore.

as you two walk out of the water and onto the sand, your hands were still grasping each others, but neither of you thought anything of it, it was platonic. he was helping you. but rafe saw and thought differently… that’s when he decided he had enough and tossed his cigarette aside, storming down the steps to the beach to approach you.

you and jj made it back to the campfire where you were just about to pick up your clothes from the ground, but a rough grip on your wrist stops you. it was getting dark now, so neither you or jj even saw rafe approaching. “what’re you doing?” rafe firmly asks, making you gasp. “i— what are you doing here?” you raise your eyebrows, your voice striking with fear.

“no, what are you doing here?” rafe asks in a demanding tone, his grip on your wrist getting tighter as you try to yank yourself out of it. “rafe, man—” jj tries to get involved, but rafe cuts him off. “nah, man, ‘the fuck you gettin’ so close to my girl for, huh?” rafe harshly drops your arm to take a step closer to jj. by this point, the rest of the pogues in the water had noticed what was happening, and quickly got out to head over.

“rafe—” you say,

“shut the fuck up, you slut” rafe snaps, making you flinch before he grabs jj’s collar to pull him closer. “hey, hey!” john b is quick to interrupt as he runs over to stand in between rafe and jj, making rafe drop his collar and shove john b back. “rafe what the actual fuck are y—” sarah shouts, “shut the hell up, sar. y/n, come on, get your fuckin’ things and lets go” rafe demands, turning to face you as you don’t hesitate to pick up your clothes and quickly shove them back on out of fear of what he’d do if you didn’t.

“she ain’t going anywhere” jj steps forward, receiving glances from sarah and kiara who are telling him to shut up with only their eyes, not wanting them to break out in a fight. “yeah? says who, big guy?” rafe laughs to mock him, but is cut off by jj shoving him back by his chest. john b and pope quickly grab jj and rafe to separate them, not allowing them to fight for your sake.

“keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself, maybank, and not on my fuckin’ girlfriend” rafe threatens, trying to pull out of john b’s grip but it only makes him hold him tighter. “she’d probably prefer my hands on her anyway” jj laughs, seeing rafe break out of john b’s grip and launch over to jj, actually hitting him this time. the other two boys separate them once again, this time with the help of sarah and kiara.

“stop it, rafe, just come on” you say to him, pointing in the other direction. you didn’t want to go with him, but you know this is the only way he’ll stop tormenting your friends. he shoves pope away from him and grabs your arm, roughly pulling you away from them all. “ow” you say, but he grips you harder, not caring for the pain he’s causing you.

“do we do something?” kie asks, worried about you. “i don’t know—” john b sighs. “just— let them argue it out. there’s no point in stopping him” sarah sighs, knowing how abusive and psychotic her brother can be when he’s angry. the pogues watch as you get dragged away by your boyfriend, bickering back and forth with your voices quietening the further you walk away.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

rafe opens the passenger door for you, shoving you in and slamming it shut. “…thank you?” you sarcastically mumble under your breath as he walks around to the other side of the car, getting in the drivers seat. “what the fuck were you thinkin’? holding his hand, laughing and giggling with him, are you fuckin’ serious?” rafe turns to look at you while raising his voice.

“i’m sorry, rafe, i didn’t mean anything by it he’s just my friend—”

“he’s just your friend. right, sure, nothin’ to worry about then” he shakes his head, pulling a sarcastic face. “oh my god” you sigh. “runnin’ around in your bikini with him, too? when i fuckin’ told you enough times to stay the fuck away from those asshole pogues” he yells, making you flinch. “maybe you’re the asshole.” you look out the window to avoid making eye contact knowing he wouldn’t find your comment amusing. and he didn’t. his hand quickly grabs your jaw, forcing you to face him.

“what did you just fucking say to me?” his eyes turn dark as he forces you to stare into them, his fingertips digging into your cheeks as his grip on your jaw is immense. “nothing, i’m sorry…” you apologize even though you don’t mean it. he is an asshole, you meant every bad word you’d ever said and thought about him. “you’re sorry?” he laughs which humiliated you a bit. “you weren’t sorry until i caught you. i told you not to go out with them, and what did you do? huh?” he asks, yelling the last word and squeezing your face harder to force an answer out of you, “what did you do?”

“i— i went out with them…” you answer fearfully. you were fierce and always argued back to him, but he terrified you when he got aggressive. “exactly. and you know how i feel about you wearing that slutty shit around guys, especially your fuckin’ swimsuit.” he reminds you of the things he’s told you before, before harshly shoving your face away to let go of you, making your head hit the window briefly. “ow” you whine, holding your hand on your head as rafe put the car into drive.

“quit bitchin’. you wanna act like a fuckin’ whore? that’s fine. i’ll treat you like one.” he says, grinning as he glances at the look on your face, there was nothing he loved more than seeing how afraid of him you were.

he drove back to his house, with you silently crying in the passenger seat for the whole ride, and him telling you to ‘shut up’ and the classic ‘i’ll give you something to cry about’. upon arriving at tannyhill, rafe parks the car and gets out, watching as you stayed seated, not wanting to get out. he sighs loudly and rolls his eyes before walking around to your side, swinging the door open and dragging you out.

“get off of me” you shove him back, but he grabs your throat right there in the driveway. “if you give me any more lip i swear to fuckin’ god…” he warns you, not gripping hard enough to choke you but enough to hurt you. “i said sorry, okay? what do you want from me?” you manage to rip his hand away from your throat, shoving him back to defend yourself, but he doesn’t like when you do that, he prefers when you’re helpless and afraid…

“sorry ain’t gonna cut it. you know how much i hate those fuckin scum—”

“stop calling them scum! stop belittling them just because they’re pogues. who the fuck cares?” you argue, not aware of any consequences at the time.

“oh, so now you’re defending them? you’re a pogue now, are you?” he laughs to mock your choice of friends, he always did humiliate them and put them down for his own liking. “yeah, maybe i am. and i’d rather be with them than you” you yell, turning around to storm off again but he grabs your arm and yanks you back.

“get off!” you try to fight him but he’s fed up of you, needing to teach you a lesson. “shut the fuck up” he says, dragging you into the house and upstairs. the two of you fight and argue all the way to his bedroom, which is completely normal for anyone in his house to hear.

“stop it—”

“you fuckin’ stop it”

both of you bicker before rafe pushes you into his bedroom before entering and slamming the door shut behind him. “now what, huh?” you yell at him. “don’t act so cocky now, you wanna act like a whore? dress like one? cmon, take your clothes off, i’ll treat you like the real fuckin’ whore you are” he says with a smirk, watching you laugh in response.

“no” you shake your head, your grin slowly fading when you see the dead serious look on his face. “rafe, no.” you frown, attempting to walk past him to get out of his room but he stopped you and pushed you back, reaching his hand over to lock the door.

“i’m bein’ serious, take your clothes off” he says, still smirking. “no, get away from me” you say, shaking your head and slowly walking backwards as he takes multiple steps forward. “what’s the matter? you were fine acting like a slut for jj, what’s wrong with me?” he asks, his tone dark and scary, his voice oddly calm but terrifying.

“rafe, i’m sorry, okay? i said sorry—”

“shh” he cuts you off, standing right in front of you as the only thing between you is him and his bed, he places his finger on your lip to shush you. “i don’t care. take them off” he says, looking back and forth into each of your eyes with a dark smile.

“i… i don’t want to…” you hesitate to say, innocently and vulnerably as your voice turns weak, he is actually starting to scare you now. “you don’t want to? aww. that’s too bad, i guess i’ll just do it myself” he pretends to sympathize before laughing and quickly reaching down to pull your skirt down, but you try to stop him.

“don’t make it hard, this is your fault” he says, roughly pushing you down onto the bed where he restrains you, forcing your skirt down and off your legs, throwing it on the floor. “rafe, stop” you try to plead with him but he ignores you, immediately reaching down to pull your top and damp bikini off too before gripping your waist and forcefully flipping you over onto your stomach. “i’m being serious, rafe, actually stop…” you try to show him how serious you are, but he doesn’t care.

“huh. i bet if jj asked you to take your clothes off, you’d listen to him, wouldn’t you?” he asks, pulling you up on all yours and gripping both sides of your bikini bottoms, roughly pulling them down and off your feet. “no, i wouldn’t…” you begin to cry, wishing your boyfriend wasn’t so insecure of who you were friends with. “i don’t like him like that rafe i promi—”

“i am your boyfriend” he reaches over to grab your jaw from behind, pulling your head up to listen closely. “no one else, me, so you should be a good girlfriend and do as i fuckin’ say. i told you so many times that i don’t like them pogues, and i don’t want you hangin’ around them. i especially told you to stay the fuck away from jj, cause i don’t like the way that motha’fucker looks at you, and holds your fuckin’ hand” he explains, harshly gripping your throat to choke you, hearing your breathing struggle.

“so if you’re gonna disobey me like that, well, that’s your problem.” he tells you, snickering from behind you as he lets go of your throat to take his own clothes off, you were left in doggy, silently sobbing to yourself.

he springs his already hard dick out of his boxers as he pulls them off, having been so turned on by your fear of him. when he got completely naked, he grabbed your waist and flipped you back over onto your back, where he forced himself on top of you and immediately slammed his cock into you without any warning. it hurt and caught you off guard, making you let out a loud yelp but he is fast to cover your mouth and grip it tightly.

“shush. don’t cry, it’ll make me harder” he pouts, yet again pretending to sympathize with you. tears are flowing down your face now, and he wasn’t lying, you can actually feel his cock getting harder as it hurt more and more each time he entered you. “ow, rafe… please stop…�� you whine under his hand, shutting your eyes tightly. “no, no, look at me” he demands, removing his hand from your mouth to tap your face a couple times, making you open your eyes and look into his.

“okay, you proved your point… just stop” you try to fight him from underneath his body, but he uses it to restrain you, and both of his hands to grip your wrists, pinning you down fully. “what point? there’s no point. i just wanna fuck you like the little slut you are… maybe i should just take a video and send it to jj” he teases, making you shake your head quickly, begging him not to.

“why not? don’t you want him to know you’re my girl? and that nobody fuckin’ touches my girl?” he asks, frowning his eyebrows at you as he thrusts into you roughly, forcing moans and gasps out of your mouth. “he… he already knows..” you let out in between heavy breaths, “oh, he does? then why the fuck is he touching you, hm?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks into your tear-filled eyes.

“rafe, ow… red…” you cry out the safe word, unable to take it anymore. his thrusts are full of hate, his hands are too aggressive, his cock is too much… “rafe?” you ask in a pant, seeing as he doesn’t stop. “shh…” he stops you from talking, ignoring your plea to stop and roughly placing his hand over your mouth again, this time tighter.

“no—” you mumble underneath him.

“shut up and take it” he harshly says, looking into your eyes as he forces his cock in and out of you. he watches you cry and squirm under him, but he simply does not care… he enjoys it actually. he loves seeing you struggle to his power, succumb to his dominance.

after laying there for a minute, moaning and whining, he finally removes his hand from your mouth to hear your gasp for air. “you want me to stop?” he asks, pouting at you. “y—yes… please” you beg between pauses, watching as his pout turns into a teasing smile, “well i’m not. not until you promise me you’ll never hang out with those pricks again” he says, looking into your eyes, practically forcing your answer out of you.

“okay… okay, i promise… i swear—”

“you swear?”

“i swear on my life…”

“there’s a good girl. that’s what i wanna hear. you better not be lying because i will do ten times worse, you hear me?” he slyly threatens, making your head nod quickly in response. at this point you were willing to do anything to get him to stop.

“good, princess… if i see you talking to him again i’ll fuckin’ kill him.” he says, finally pulling out of you once he finished what he had to say, leaving you crying and whimpering. “shut up, c’mon, here” rafe says, shoving your body aside as he climbs off the bed and reaches down to grab your clothes, throwing them right at you.

“don’t be so dramatic it didn’t hurt that bad” he chuckles, laughing at your tears. “it did hurt that bad… i asked you to stop…” you sniffle, wiping your eyes as you grab your clothes he tossed over. “and i asked you to stop sneaking around with them behind my back, didn’t i?” he asks, raising his eyebrows with a smart look on his face.

“yeah but—”

“then it looks like we both don’t get our own way, huh?” he laughs at you, giving you a horrible cocky grin before walking over to the door and walking out, shutting it behind you to leave you there alone.

you stayed on his bed for a few more minutes, lying on your side and crying to yourself before deciding to put your clothes back on. after you were dressed, you looked at yourself in the mirror and saw your stained makeup and rosy red cheeks and eyes, your hair was a mess, you were a mess… you had no idea where rafe even went, but you didn’t want to find out, so you gather your things and bolt for the bedroom door, rushing downstairs and leaving tannyhill in a rush.

you had no idea where to go next, but you know for sure the pogues weren’t on the list. you already disobeyed rafe and suffered the consequences, you don’t want to make the same mistake knowing the threat murder is on the cards…

I HATE THIS. IM SO SORRY IF YOU DO TOO. i haven’t posted in a while bc of school stuff so i hope u guys forgive me with another dark, juicy rafe fic. 💋🎀 let me know what you think in the comments! — THIS ISNT PROOFREAD. english isn’t my first language so if you spot any mistakes please feel free to point them out. LOVE U ALLLLLL

ANY HATE COMMENTS WILL BE DELETED BECAUSE THIS FIC IS NOT FOR YOU 🫶🏻

@cameronluvr

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 47. no one but us

(wc: 2.589)

"you could've just knocked." you closed the door behind you, turning around to face donghyuck who was stood a few steps away, hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket. "or you could've just come out without questioning me." he rebutted, pursing his lips before scoffing out a laugh. the two of you made your way towards the lift, pressing the button to call it back up. "we're taking my car, by the way." donghyuck mentioned casually, entering the lift upon its arrival.

"i was gonna take public transport, but this is more convenient." you chuckled, leaning against the railing attached to the wall behind you. donghyuck was stood across you, both his hands holding onto the railing behind him. "i haven't taken public transport in ages, i'll pass on that." donghyuck grimaced and this time you scoffed out a laugh. "you're too grown to be picky about what transport you wanna take." you shook your head in disbelief, stepping out the lift and exiting the apartment complex, though your steps faltered some time later, letting donghyuck guide you to his car instead.

before you could reach the passenger seat, donghyuck reached ahead, opening the door for you in a swift motion. you looked up at him, taken aback by the kind gesture but sent him a grateful smile nonetheless. "thank you" you muttered, entering the passenger seat before donghyuck closed it behind you. after a few seconds, the driver's side opened and donghyuck slid in, starting up his car.

the first thing that caught your attention was the pleasant scent within the car. it felt fresh, yet warm at the same time. a strong hint of sweetness that had you wondering whether he had recently sprayed the inside or if his aroma was that strong. it reminded you of donghyuck, and you couldn't help but want to savour the smell for the time being.

you tried to ignore the way he placed his arm behind your headrest while reversing his car, his body slightly leaning into yours for a moment. you wanted to turn your head so badly, but a part of you was still too scared to be so bold with him. after all, you couldn't even admit to him that this was supposed to be a date, you just hoped he took his own suggestion serious the way you did.

the drive was comfortably silent, aside from the soft music donghyuck let you choose as background noise to entertain yourself with while his attention remained on the navigations to the restaurant. you arrived quickly, and the both of you stepped out the car, stepping towards the entrance of the restaurant instead.

donghyuck once again opened the door for you, letting you walk in before him and following this gesture up by pulling your chair out for you too. you couldn't contain the shy smile on your face at his continuous acts of kindness. he settled opposite you, taking off his jacket to reveal a plain black button up. it was nothing out of the ordinary, yet you couldn't help but think he put some effort into his appearance today. he seemed way more attractive than he usually did right now, or maybe you were just biased because of the occasion.

donghyuck thought the same thing, taking small glances at you, glances that you had yet to notice. you looked outstandingly beautiful tonight, and the thought of it being solely for a night with him made a wave of pride wash over him. "this food better be good." he joked, trying to divert his thoughts to something else.

you lightly rolled your eyes, already knowing what you wanted to get. "it will be. quit complaining." you assured him, waiting for him to finish choosing his order before calling the waiter over. "and if it's not, i want a refund. seriously."

"in your dreams." you replied back, and the both of you laughed. you knew the waiting time wasn't gonna be the quickest, yet it felt like time was nonexistent as you and donghyuck immersed in a conversation, one that you wish never ended. one that carried on as your food had arrived, not leaving any chance for an awkward silence to overtake the moment.

"why did mark bail on you anyways?" donghyuck asked, pausing his bite mid air. you stilled for a moment, not expecting him to even bring mark up in the first place, let alone wanting a reason behind mark's absence. "well.. he had family business to take care of." you quickly fabricated, stuffing your mouth with food to avoid having to elaborate any further.

luckily for you, donghyuck didn't question it much further, though the soft scoff leaving his nostrils didn't go unheard. "this meal is amazing." you changed topics, letting out a hum of satisfaction to emphasise your point. without any words, donghyuck slid his spoon onto your board, scooping out food from your plate before bringing it up to his mouth. "hello?" you asked, both bewildered and amused by his casual action.

donghyuck shrugged. "you said it was amazing, i wanted to taste it myself." he explained, returning to his own plate shortly after. it took you a moment to come up with a response, but you quickly decided to dig your own spoon into his plate too, reciprocating the action by taking some of his.

conversations continued between you two, even when both your plates were already finished. you just didn't want to put an end to the moment. donghyuck seemed into the conversation just as much as you were, and when you looked up for a split second to see him staring at you with a slight smile on his face, his full attention on nothing but you, you swore you felt your knees weaken.

your words came to a stop, and donghyuck hummed in confusion. "hm? why did you stop?" he asked, as if he wasn't aware of what he was doing. he most likely wasn't, but still. "stop staring." you mumbled out. donghyuck, seeing you try your hardest to avoid eye contact, chuckled in return. "what, can't handle it?"

"i can't, actually." you admitted, rolling your head. he laughed in response, and if you had access to donghyuck's inner thoughts, you'd be able to fully grasp how cute he found you at that moment.

"i will pay." donghyuck firmly stated. "well i don't want you to." you stated back, swiping your card over the machine held by the employee, finalising the payment transaction. after a short back and forth between the two of you with donghyuck insisting on paying for the both of you, you left the restaurant paying for your own meal like you intended. donghyuck however seemed very against your decision, it was evident from the way he held you back from entering into the passenger seat, the both of you standing beside the door instead.

"next time, i'm paying." donghyuck waited for an affirmation from you, one he wasn't going to get, unfortunately. "why would i when i can pay for myself?" you reasoned, deliberately ignoring the mention of a next time, though the thought of future plans fid stir a reaction from within you. "it's a gentleman thing to do, you know, paying for the ladies." donghyuck finally stepped aside, letting you enter the car.

you laughed, already settled into your seat as you watched donghyuck enter his seat. "do you pay for every girl you go out to eat with?" you humoured once he started the car. the same process of him placing his hand behind your headrest to reverse proceeded, except this time he halted for a moment, craning his head to look at you instead. "i haven't taken a girl out in years, actually. you're the first a while."

there was something about the casualty at which donghyuck delivered his words that made a cheesy grin form on your face that you hid by looking the other way, feeling overjoyed. a feeling that wouldn’t subdue for the rest of the ride.

it was 9pm when you and donghyuck found yourself at an ice scream shop, eyeing the multiple flavours on display for you to choose from.

"you like chocolate?" he asked, already having his order ready. you shook your head, still gazing down at the options. "no." you verbalised as donghyuck repeated his question, not having caught onto the small action. "i can't believe you do." you added on, deciding to go for a sweet mix of watermelon and strawberry flavours.

"don't hate until you tried it." he defended himself, placing his order and stepping aside to let you place yours. your order went through and the two workers started on each of the orders you placed. you thought of sitting down, but decided against it as you're sure it wouldn't take longer than a minute.

"there is a photo booth there." donghyuck pointed towards the corner of the shop, your head following the direction in which he gestured. "we should take pictures." he proposed, leaving your side for a moment to pick his order up. yours followed shortly after, and you paid for it before returning to your previous spot in the middle of the shop, contemplating his suggestion.

"you don't have to, but it would be fun." he convinced you, picking up on your silent hesitance. "no one but us will see this anyways." donghyuck added on, and it was the last push you needed to nod in agreement, following donghyuck towards the booth. no one but us, were you crazy, or was it strangely intimate?

it was cramped, your body practically on top of donghyuck's and you could feel your heart start to beat at an abnormal pace when your arm was basically squashed into his side. this was definitely growing intimate, and donghyuck subtly shuffled aside, attempting to create more space to calm both your nerves down. "lets do fun poses." he placed his ice cream away and leaned forward, fixing the mess his hair had become from the ongoing wind outside.

you decided to take your jacket off, something donghyuck copied upon seeing. fixing the lines in your clothes, you were ready, taking a quick bite from your ice cream before placing the cup away. "ready?" donghyuck asked, glancing at you to wait for your confirmation. you nodded, and donghyuck pressed the button, starting the shots.

the fun poses donghyuck had prepared were indeed fun, and you couldn't hold back your giggles upon seeing his weird antics. "pose!" he urged you with a nudge, and you complied, you complied with each shot taken, a blissful smile present on your face from the pure joy you felt.

there was something about being confined in a photo booth with donghyuck that caused a surge of emotions to burst within you. you felt happy. watching donghyuck scold you for not posing made you feel warm. observing the wide smile on his own face with each click the machine took made you awe. you were overwhelmed with a sudden affection for him at that moment, your body slowly heating up and feeling weak, because just being next to him made you feel the happiest you've been in a while.

you didn't even realise that you had been staring at him as the last shot got taken, not until donghyuck snapped you out of it. "you barely did any poses." he whined, handing you two copies of the polaroid pictures that were taken. he was right, aside from the smile on your face in each of them, you barely contributed to the fun poses.

"you didn't even look at the camera in the last one." he scolded you further, and he was right once again. your attention had solely been on donghyuck who wore a smug look in the shot, your own expression being one of delight.

matter of fact, your expression hadn't changed for the rest of the time you spent in the shop, finishing the ice cream each of you bought. you were so overcome with affection, show in the pictures each of you owned now, that you just couldn't help but be happy at this instance.

you liked donghyuck, a lot, you couldn't get over how much you had started to like him. you couldn't get over the fact that you were allowed to like him, openly at that. you're sure anyone passing by could point out the love you held for him.

"why are you staring like that... do you want my ice cream?" everyone, but donghyuck.

"its already eleven." you noted, having finally reached your apartment floor after your night out. donghyuck followed closely behind you, nodding his head in agreement. "it wasn't meant to take this long." donghyuck apologised and you two arrived at your front doors.

"for the record, the food was decent, so i won't ask for a refund this time." once again, the mention of another time didn't go unnoticed to you. and this time, you openly smiled at him. "you weren't getting it anyways." you scoffed in response.

"whatever. you should go inside, it's getting cold." his hands left the pockets of his jackets, pushing you by your shoulders to your front door. "and next time, don't ask mark to go because clearly-"

you've never wanted someone the way you wanted donghyuck. you couldn't imagine wanting someone the way you wanted donghyuck. you already realised this, yet every word and sign of care he displayed confirmed the realisation even more, and it was starting to hurt. you truly don't think you could've held this love you had for donghyuck in any longer, not when he was currently scolding your friend for ditching you.

"i like you." the words left your mouth before you could rethink your decision. donghyuck's rant stopped, leaving him paused mid sentence. "i really like you donghyuck, like, a lot. and i think today made me sure about it, and i just couldn't hold it in any longer because it's been bothering me for the longest now.” you rambled out without a breath.

your adrenaline was at an all time high, being able to feel your pulse in your throat and the realisation of your words dawned on you. you swore you could hear your heartbeat at that instance.

donghyuck, to your horror, remained frozen, his eyes widened in shock and you couldn’t tell if it was a look of horror or surprise. so you panicked. “sorry, i don’t know why i said this right now. just- goodnight.” you hastily muttered out, opening the door to your apartment before closing it just as quick. you didn’t even let him speak, too scared of what his response might have been.

there was no way he didn’t reciprocate the same feelings, right? or had you perhaps been overanalysing every action and words he has told you up until this point? you don’t think donghyuck didn’t like you, so why were you so scared?

“she likes me.” donghyuck repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. he was still stood in the halls of the apartment, his back leaning against the wall. despite saying it repeatedly, the words just didn’t seem to register within his mind. up until now, the thought of you liking him back was a mere hunch, something he didn’t want to dwell too much on, too scared of how it would potentially mess with his own feelings.

“she likes me..” donghyuck repeated one last time before entering his place, the words leaving an uneasy sinking feeling within his guts.

previous — master list — next

notes : bet you didn’t expect this… or maybe you did but trust the process guys mama lqfiles got this ❤️ also i only proofread this once sozzz if there are grammer errors

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[reading-writing-revolution]

A report on a recent meeting between Trump and NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, by a WHITE HOUSE REPORTER, someone who was present in the room:

via KAREN Caron

From a WH Reporter:

“ I’ve covered a lot of Donald Trump's press conferences over the years. I’ve seen him lie, deflect, and embarrass himself in countless ways. But what I just witnessed in the Oval Office may have been the most off-the-rails, unhinged display yet.

Trump sat down with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte — a serious figure there to talk about security and alliance unity — but Trump wasn’t interested in that. No, Trump used the opportunity to fantasize about annexing Canada. He actually said, “Canada only works as a state,” and gushed about how the U.S. would look on a map if we just erased the border and took Canada as our own. This wasn’t satire. This wasn’t a joke. This was the president rambling about absorbing another sovereign nation — while the NATO secretary general sat there watching this clown show unfold.

And it didn’t stop there. Trump started pushing the idea of conquering Greenland too, saying NATO might need to get involved in helping the U.S. take it over — as if it’s a game of Risk. He literally said we "need it for international security" and tried to rope NATO into his imperial fever dream. The look on Rutte’s face said it all.

Then, Trump pivoted to his usual bigotry. Instead of talking about defense cooperation or global security, Trump bragged about how he uses transgender people as political pawns to rile up his base before elections — saying Republicans should “bring it up a week before the election” to win votes. In other words, he openly admitted he sees cruelty and manufactured culture war nonsense as a campaign strategy. Despicable.

When asked about American small businesses hurting from tariffs, Trump did what he always does: lie and bluster. “You’re going to be so much richer,” he said. Meanwhile, Medicaid is being gutted, Social Security is under threat, and Trump’s billionaire cronies are cheering as the safety net burns.

Oh, and then Trump suggested we start sending drug dealers to the Netherlands — yes, you read that right — in a bizarre attempt at humor that landed more like a diplomatic insult, especially considering the NATO secretary general used to be the prime minister of the Netherlands.

He kept rambling about how the U.S. doesn’t need anything from Canada, said the European Union is “very nasty,” claimed we can’t sell cars in Europe (not true), and then told an utterly deranged story about how he “invaded Los Angeles” to turn on the water — another lie pulled from his fantasyland. What actually happened was that he diverted water from Northern California, destroying farmland and hurting his own voters in the process.

To top it off, he said our allies shouldn’t worry about Putin, brushing off any concerns about Russian aggression with a shrug.

Let me be blunt: This is not normal. This is not politics-as-usual. This is a dangerous, unstable person with authoritarian fantasies, spewing nonsense in front of our closest allies while the world watches.”

Keep speaking up. Don’t accept any of this as normal.

Ben Meiselas

[missriddle03]

Title: You cry, I cry

parings: fem!reader x mattheo riddle

Small synopsis: Mattheo can't deal with his father and his anxiety is getting the better of him but his girlfriend is there to help him

Time to read: 10mins (average)

Word count: just under 2k

Warnings: Angst, written panic attack, two swear words

Song recommended: cry by cigarettes after sex

It was a typical school day in the world of hogwarts. The Slytherins were due to share a class with the Gryfindors, whilst the Hufflepuffs were with the Ravenclaws. It wasn’t time for class so Mattheo and his friends were in the astronomy tower.

“You know, it’s actually quite a nice view up here” Theo had said as he was taking a drag from his cigarette. The sky was a pale blue but the clouds were coming in and some little hues of grey became more and more noticeable as the day went on. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore were the only ones there as Draco and Blaise were helping Professor Snape with a potion for class. “Have you brought y/n up here?” Lorenzo asked Mattheo.

No answer.

“Mattheo?” he repeated.

No answer.

Theodore clicked his fingers in front of his face and soon enough his gaze diverted to him. “What?” Mattheo answered. Theo let out a little chuckle not sure whether to be worried or brush it off. “You zoned out, Enzo asked if you brought y/n here before or not” His italian accent was becoming prominent on certain words but his friends understood him and that was all he cared about. “Oh..i-uh-yeah I have. I brought her here at night and she really liked seeing the stars. She loves astronomy so I had to bring her here” a slight smile formed on his face remembering the night that he brought her there. Mattheo and y/n had been friends since the day they both arrived, she didn’t care about who he was or even who he was related to and then one day he asked her to be his girlfriend..of course she said yes. “You are not your parents, don’t compare yourself to them. You can choose who you want to be and sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to in order to find out who we are and that’s okay. I’ll be with you the whole time”

Theodore didn’t want to admit to himself that his friend might need help, he noticed Mattheo zoning out more often than normal and he hardly spoke unless y/n was around but it wasn’t the case of missing the girl who took his heart it was the case that he put up a smile for her not wanting her to judge him for not being able to cope. Mattheo didn’t want y/n involved with the dark parts of his mind or the dark part of him that involves his family. “Y/n’s a lucky girl” Enzo stated, looking out past the railing. Suddenly a Gryffindor came onto the astronomy tower, it was a girl who looked similar to y/n but; of course it wasn’t. “You know..Dumbledore should really watch who he invites in this school. He shouldn’t let descendants of a murderer into here. You three are exactly like your parents” the girl said.

Mattheo’s heart was pounding out of his chest but only registered those last seven words. “Leave before I make you wish you hadn’t spoken to us, Stronza” (bitch) his knuckles turned white as he tightened them getting ready to punch the girl. Neither of the boys had a good relationship with their parents, Theo’s mother died when he was young and it pained him to see people with their mothers but his father was his worst enemy. From a young age he had been taught all the unforgivable curses and as soon as he turned 16 he was forced to become a death eater and he knew his life wouldn’t get better. Lorenzo had a complicated relationship with Bellatrix; his mother was also the mother of Mattheo. His father wasn’t in the picture and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. The girl left the astronomy tower feeling frightened by the threat that had left Theo’s mouth. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he instructed Mattheo but it already had gotten to his head. “I’m gonna go I’ll see you guys later” was his final words before getting up from the chair and heading to his dorm and took a cigarette and took a long inhale before falling onto his bed, burying his head into his pillows.

Theodore took a deep breath and sat down. “I’m worried about him, Enzo” he muttered, more to himself than to Enzo’s ears. “I know..I am too”

“The best part was the love confession, this book has my heart” y/n said to her friend Pansy. Y/n was a big bookworm and Pansy loved hearing about her recent endeavours in reading, “I just don’t see it! If it’s a love triangle you want the girl to end up with the bad boy and not the soft guy because she will just walk all over him and the good boy will keep her trapped. You should know all about bad boys” Pansy joked as she let out a giggle. “Shut up” Y/n laughed. “I’m not joking I-”

“Y/n!” someone called out interrupting Pansy. Theodore came running into the library standing next to the girls. “What? Is Mattheo okay?” Immediately getting out of her seat as worry took a hold of her. He shook his head before continuing, “I don’t know, I don’t think he’s doing well mentally” She lightly ran her hand through her head, Mattheo’s mental health wasn’t something that was new to her he had panic attacks that paralysed him until he calmed down and his head was all over the place and only himself could bring him out of it. “Where is he?” she asked Theo. “I’m not sure but I think he’ll be in class” Y/n let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding before Theo placed his hands around her and warmed her into a hug. “He’ll be okay, he will be”

“I’m just worried..I don’t want anything to happen to him”

“I know”

Pansy closed the book they were reading and placed it back on the shelf before taking y/n’s hand. “Come on, let’s go to class then” Theo sent her a smile before the three of them left the library and went to potions. It was exam day and it stressed everyone out, they all took their seats but one seat was empty.

Mattheo’s. Y/n's head was running a mile about where he was, if he was okay and why he wasn’t there but luckily her mind was put at ease a few moments later. “Mr Riddle, please take your seat” Professor Snape said. He walked in and sat down next to y/n, “Hey Love, you okay?” he whispered. “Yes I am, but are you okay?”

Mattheo took out his pen and wrote his name on his test and nodded his head. “You don’t need to lie to me” He turned his head around and pointed his finger up at her “Stop asking if I’m okay because I am so just leave it at that”

Looking down, y/n wrote a note to Theodore and placed it on the floor kicking it to him (he was in front of them)

He isn’t telling me anything

Y/n maybe ask about it again

No, I can’t I don’t want to make him more upset than he already is

Don’t you want to know what’s going on? Cara

Yes

Si so do I, listen Mattheo hasn’t cared about someone as much as he cares about you.He just doesn’t want to show that he has a problem. He sees that as a weakness.

I care about him more than he knows and he knows that no matter what he says I am not the type of person to use it against him. He needs to tell me himself

If he tells you please tell me, he’s my best friend and I hate seeing him like that

Of course I’ll tell you Theo. You’re his best friend too

A smile was brought to Theo’s face but Y/n’s attention was shortly shifted once she saw Mattheo with his chair back a little. His leg was bouncing up and down as his chest was moving at a rapid rate.

Blurriness took over him as he stood up,looked around the classroom, and bolted. Leaving y/n as she took a look at Theo. She put her hand up and asked to be excused to the bathroom and Snape granted her permission.

My heart was racing as I began my search for Mattheo. I knew it wasn’t going to get better but I atleast thought that he was going to tell me..maybe Theo was right I should have asked him more about it. “Mattheo!” I called out but he didn’t respond. I ran through the hallway but I didn’t see him. I decided to go to his dorm thinking that maybe he would be in there. His door was left ajar and a figure was now noticeable. He was sitting in front of his bed with his head in between his legs. I was frightened for him, I walked over to sit down next to him but he didn’t register that it was me. “Matt, please look at me” sobs escaped his lips. “No, go away” his breathing was still all over the place. I took his hand and his tear stained cheeks finally looked at me. “I-I can’t br-reathe”

“Copy my breathing okay..breathe in..”

“Breathe out..Breathe in..Breathe out”

Eventually his breathing had settled but his hands were still shaking. “I’m sorry..I’m really sorry” he cried. I couldn’t bear seeing him like this, “It’s not your fault, don’t feel like you have to hide this side of you” Mattheo wiped his tears. I hadn’t seen this side of him and quite frankly I don’t want to..it hurts too much. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked him. His eyes moved away from me but my hand never left his.

“It’s becoming too real, my father wants me to be a ruler like him and I can’t. I can’t lose you either, I’m only going to make you cry, I'm only going to hurt you. All day everyday all I see is him no matter what I’m doing I know I’m gonna be just like him. Everyone else sees it, I mean this Gryffindor came up to me and my friends and said exactly what everyone else says. I can’t live in fear of not knowing what’s going to happen. I’m only going to make everyone turn against you”

Tears began to fill up my eyes, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, and who cares what they say. They don’t know what you are really like..all they see is that one side. The side that they get told but they don’t realise how different you are. How sweet you are, how thoughtful you are. I mean maybe you punched a kid but guess what? So have I. If loving you makes me a villain I don’t fucking care. You mean so much to me that all my friends can leave me and hate me but it will be worth it for you”

“I love you,” he choked out. His brown curly hair stuck to his forehead, he placed his head in the crook of my neck and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I love you too, if you feel another anxiety attack..come to me”

He nodded his head and fell asleep.

If you liked this please give a like/follow/reblog much appreciated and if you want tags here is my masterlist to check out :)

Thank you for reading <3

[faemytho]

Show's Over (AO3)

Fandom: Cookie Run

Relationship: Black Sapphire/Silverbell

Sent by Shadow Milk to plant a lie, Black Sapphire sneaks into the Faerie Kingdom, disguised as one of their own. He meets a certain silver knight, and in a moment of emotional weakness, diverts from the carefully constructed script he'd spent a considerable amount of time crafting for his lord to be allowed to go on this mission. Silverbell was not on the script. And Black Sapphire is tired of lying to him. (At the same time, he doesn't want to let him go.)

WC: 2,742 | M/M | Identity Reveal, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Mid-Canon, Not a Bad Ending, Pre-Canon

"Tell me it isn't true."

Silver moonlight beamed in scattered rays through the trees above. It fell over the two winged figures, both of them standing on a mossy silver bridge that overlooked a giant, silver tree. One was turned away from the other, posed by the edge with one hand on the railing. It was the perfect spotlight to deliver a well crafted speech, to perform, to entertain. The stage was set, the lighting perfect, the actors in place, the tension built, the drama just waiting, begging, to unfold.

He tightened his grip on the silver rail.

For once, Black Sapphire didn't feel like performing.

He turned his head away from the view of the Silver Tree. Silverbell stepped closer, silver lilyvine wings fluttering against his back, gentle chiming bells ringing softly through the air. Tremulous words fell from trembling lips.

"Please tell me it's not true," the faerie pleaded again. "Grapevine Faerie, please."

"And just what is it you're asking about?" Black Sapphire asked, flat and bored. It was a far cry from his usual showmanship. It made Silverbell balk, hesitate, something fragile in his eyes slowly unraveling.

"I heard," Silverbell started, "that you…"

The faerie trailed off, choked up, unable to get the words out.

Black Sapphire sighed. Maybe it was too cruel to make the other say it. He knew very well what Silverbell was talking about.

He'd spread the rumor himself.

"That I am a spy?" Black Sapphire said, the ugly truth hovering in the air between them. Silverbell flinched, and then, with the most imperceptible of movements, gave a tiny nod.

Black Sapphire turned away again, facing the Silver Tree that had once held his master captive. This was why he hated the truth. There was no meaningful flair, no dazzling pizzazz, no way to dress it up and make it sound sweet.

So he didn't.

"It's true," he stated. "I was sent here on behalf of my lord, Shadow Milk Cookie."

"But-" Silverbell made a low noise, pained and dismayed. "But you can't be- What about-? Why?"

The faerie took a step back, stricken with panic. Black Sapphire couldn't bring himself to look. The other had always looked close to tears, but he'd never actually seen the faerie cry, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to.

"For my lord," he muttered, the words bittersweet on his tongue.

Again, the truth stained the air, stinking and foul. It was true. He'd only come to the faerie kingdom on orders to do so by Shadow Milk himself.

Falling in love with Silverbell had not been on the script.

"How could you-?" Silverbell stifled a sob, choked and strained. The faerie sniffled, and there was a soft rustle of fabric, before the other spoke again, his low, trembling, angry tone sending a chill through the night. "Was any of it real? Did I mean anything to you?"

Black Sapphire's faerie disguise melted away, slow and deliberate. This wasn't on the script either, an uncomfortable twitch rolling through his now exposed leather wings of black and purple. Soft nature, leaves and fruit were replaced by glittering gemstones and sleek black fabric. He turned his true face towards the other.

"You did," he said, the truth, once again, leaving his mouth. "You do. It was real."

Silverbell stared at him, the pale, silvery blue of his eyes darting across his form. Anger tightened the faerie's glare, bold and harsh, but it was fragile, shimmering in his eyes like thin glass.

"How do I know you're not lying about this too?" Silverbell accused, those delicate silver lilyvine wings twitching upward with the soft shimmer of bells. "Just to hurt me more?"

Black Sapphire stayed silent, still for a beat far too much longer than he meant to be.

If he told Silverbell the truth, it would only complicate things, as the truth was wont to do. It was better to lie, to insist that this love had only ever been a trick. The truth would hurt Silverbell more in the long run, knowing it had been real and that Black Sapphire had decided to betray him anyways. If the faerie believed he'd been played for a fool, perhaps he would fare better after Black Sapphire was gone from this place.

So, Black Sapphire lied.

"Congratulations!" he announced, pulling on his show host persona as quickly as he could. His voice, devastatingly, cracked. He cleared his throat, twirling his microphone staff and speaking into it. "You're right! It was a trick, all of it. We have a winner, folks!"

Silverbell flinched back, and the dam broke.

"Please, hold your applause now," he continued, trying to sweep himself away into the familiarity of showmanship, if only to avoid the consequences. "The show's not over yet-"

The tip of a silver arrow was shoved in his face, and he fell abruptly silent. Silverbell's face was streaked with glimmering tears, startlingly beautiful in the light of the moon.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you in," the faerie snapped, the string of his bow drawn back and held by his cheek. Black Sapphire had forgotten, for a moment, that the other was a knight. "One good reason why I shouldn't… why I shouldn't…"

"You wouldn't want to ruin my big moment, would you?" Black Sapphire whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would crack open his chest and spill his heart out into some bloody mess on the mossy silver bridge. Carefully, he pushed the arrow away from his face, stepping aside. Silverbell let him go.

"That's not good enough," the faerie muttered, but let the arrow disappear in a soft chime of magic, the bowstring gently lowered to rest. "Grapevine Faerie… should I even call you that anymore? I feel like such a fool."

Silverbell's wings lowered in defeat. Black Sapphire leaned back against the silver rail of the bridge, watching emotions flit across the other's face.

"Why did you come here?" the silver knight asked, his delicate voice now demanding, but still soft with resignation.

Black Sapphire hesitated. "To cause chaos and sow confusion in the name of my master, of course," he finally settled on, sharp teeth bared in a grin.

"But why me?" Silverbell pressed, the distress in his pale moonlit eyes growing brighter by the second. "If- if that was really your goal this whole time, then why would you-… with me…?"

Black Sapphire stayed silent. Unbidden came memories of the knight's presence by his side, of a warm hand in his, of gentle chiming bells and the shyly stolen touch of soft lips lingering against his. He wanted to linger. He wanted so badly.

"For the drama, of course!" he all but purred instead. He pulled his sharp smile tight, bowing with a grand flourish. "The audience loves some good drama. Who doesn't? Ah, what a show!"

"But- but-" Silverbell stammered. Black Sapphire shook his head, tsking to himself and sighing.

"Show's over, Silverbell," he said, softer and fainter than he meant to say it, turning away from the faerie. "Go home."

He stepped away, bowing his head as he began to walk across the bridge. What a fool he'd been, what a joke. And now, he'd have to return to the spire a failure. If he'd just stuck to the script-

"No," Silverbell burst out. "No, this can't be right- I don't believe you!"

Hands landed on his shoulders. He stiffened up, yelping in an undignified manner when he was spun around and wrapped up close in the embrace of the faerie. Silverbell hugged him, close and firm, his delicate silver lilyvine wings fluttering up the way Black Sapphire knew they did when he was particularly determined about something.

"I don't believe you," Silverbell whispered, almost desperately. "You weren't faking it. You couldn't have been."

"Get off me," Black Sapphire almost growled, pushing half heartedly at Silverbell's chest. "Didn't you hear me? I said, show's over!"

"And I think you're not as good an actor as you think you are," Silverbell argued back. The words were like hot iron through the chest, but despite the hurt they caused, he knew their intentions weren't malicious. "You're lying to me, right now, which means-"

Black Sapphire's face twisted up. "I serve the master of deceit!" he cried, interrupting the faerie before the truth could be spoken. "You're a fool! Why would anything I do ever-?"

His throat closed up, suddenly tight with emotion. Silverbell said nothing, waiting quietly as he choked over intentions that had always been easy to get out.

"Why would anything I do ever be real?" Black Sapphire whispered, still tense and pushing weakly at the faerie. But Silverbell had him in his hold, and he finally slumped in the faerie's embrace, raising his arms to hug the other in return.

Silverbell pulled him closer, gentle and undemanding. The night breeze overhead disturbed the silver-bathed leaves above, the soft whirl and rustle the only sounds in this part of the Faerie Kingdom.

Black Sapphire pushed himself away, and Silverbell let him go. He straightened up, brushing out the wrinkles of his suit coat and adjusting the gem that pinned his cravat in place, all to give himself something to do while the possibilities of things he could say whirled through his mind.

He wiped discreetly at his eyes, sighing, composing himself.

"I suggest forgetting I ever existed," he muttered, unable to look at the face of the faerie. "It will be easier for us both."

"It… It may be easier," Silverbell agreed, before shaking his head. "But I… I don't think I can forget you."

"Silverbell-" Black Sapphire started to say, only to be cut off.

"I can't forget, but I can act like this never happened. I won't turn you in. I-I won't tell anybody you were here."

He looked up. Silverbell's soft face, carved out by moonlight and framed with gentle pale white hair, was hard with determination.

"And why wouldn't you do that?" Black Sapphire asked, baffled. "I- I handed you the perfect opportunity to-"

"Because I love you," Silverbell said, his cheeks darkening under the moonlight from the declaration. He twisted his hands together, averting his gaze. "And… I want to believe that you love me, too."

"I think your naivety is showing," Black Sapphire muttered, but didn't refute it. He wiped at his face again, hoping he at least didn't look like the mess he sounded like. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd turn me in. But hey! I'm not here to tell you what to do!"

"You wouldn't…" Silverbell hesitated. "If you didn't really love me, you wouldn't have told me who you really are. You wouldn't have tried to push me away like that. But you… did. And… maybe some of what was between us wasn't all real, but most of it was. I still… see you."

Black Sapphire's expression twisted up, his wings tense, fingers curling tightly around the staff of his microphone, recoiling from that surprisingly piercing gaze.

"I'll let you go, and I won't tell a soul," Silverbell offered, "if you promise to come back on your own terms someday."

Black Sapphire's wings fell slack with shock.

"That's it?" he asked, incredulous. The faerie nodded.

"That's it." Silverbell stayed standing there, eyes glimmering with hope. Another night breeze passed by, ruffling his pale hair and white knight clothes. The gentle chiming of soft silver bells rang through the air. "Because I want you to choose this time."

"That is a terrible idea," Black Sapphire protested, feeling almost lightheaded. "This is a terrible idea! You would really, truly, throw away the security of the kingdom you serve just to see me again? I am your enemy! I hate this place! I was sent here to tear it down!"

But Silverbell only shook his head.

"Do it or don't," the faerie said, turning away. The lilyvine silver wings on his back fluttered, flicking, nervous but set. "But you wouldn't be trying so hard to push me away for no reason. So… Goodbye, Grapevine Faerie. I… hope we get to see each other again."

"Black Sapphire."

His own name was hissed, spat between gritted teeth. Fury and grief welled up in him, contradicting each other and tearing him apart.

Silverbell glanced over his shoulder, before nodded in acknowledgement.

"Black Sapphire," Silverbell murmured, turning and beginning to walk away. "It suits you."

--

"Oooh, Black Sapphiiiire~!"

Hands landed on his shoulders, and the click of his heels on white, pale blue tile ceased.

"Greetings, my lord," the cookie said, careful to keep his voice steady and even. Shadow Milk peered over his shoulder with mismatched eyes and a sharp grin on his face.

"Did you do it?" the Beast almost purred. Were Black Sapphire not so focused on keeping himself so composed, he might have noticed or even become unnerved by his master's overly gleeful behavior. He'd never known the Beast to be the giddy type.

Black Sapphire shook his head. "There was… an unexpected complication in my mission," he reported, forcing himself not to tense when the Beast's claws dug into his shoulders. "But worry not my lord. Candy Apple is doing now what I was unable to. We should see results in a day or two."

"Ugh, finally!" Shadow Milk groaned, removing his hands from Black Sapphire's shoulders. The cookie had to force himself not to wilt in relief, the Beast successfully pacified for now. "I was wondering what was taking you so long! You were in the faerie kingdom for forever!"

"As I mentioned, my lord, it was an unexpected complication," Black Sapphire assured the Beast. "It won't happen again."

Shadow Milk hovered around to face him, a contemplative look on his face. He almost looked as though he wanted to crack something open, some kind of primal hunger in his eyes that always settled a deep pit of fear in Black Sapphire's chest whenever he saw it.

"You're omitting a crucial detail or two, Black Sapphire Cookie," Shadow Milk said bluntly, amusement flickering across his face. "Deceiving deceit?"

Cold dread pooled in Black Sapphire's stomach. "My lord," he tried, only barely managing to keep his voice composed before the Beast laughed in genuine glee. It made Black Sapphire stop, staring.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around!" Shadow Milk giggled to himself, before reaching out and patting Black Sapphire's head like one would pet a dog. "Good boy!"

"Thank- thank you, my lord…?" Baffled by the praise, but not one to turn away from it, Black Sapphire enjoyed the touch, brief as it was.

The Beast's expression sharpened.

"You'd better hope Candy Apple's results are pleasing to me," Shadow Milk stated, all of the glee gone from his face.

Recognizing the threat for what it was, Black Sapphire bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."

"Because if they aren't, it won't be her fault. It'll be yours."

"Yes, my lord." Tentatively, he took a risk, opening his mouth to speak more, his faith in the Beast unwavering. "I have full faith in Candy Apple to plant the misinformation we need straight into that cookie's hands. It will be done."

Shadow Milk gave him a long look, one that narrowed into slits, sharp pupils raking over him and prying every last secret from the stitches of his dough. Then, the Beast smiled.

"Good!" he nearly sang, twirling around in midair with a whirl of flowing fabric. "Wouldn't want me to make a personal visit to the faerie kingdom to go see just what prevented you from doing what I asked you to, now would we?"

The dread rose, but Black Sapphire ignored it, bowing his head so that perhaps the Beast wouldn't see the incriminating expression on his face. "Whatever my lord desires."

"Ha!" Shadow Milk laughed, pretending to wipe a tear from his cyan eye. "Ahaha! You're funny. Let's hope it goes your way, mhm? I'm curious to see how exactly this'll play out."

Without giving Black Sapphire a chance to respond, the Beast melted into shadow, zipping away down the hall. Black Sapphire sighed, raising a hand to clutch at his heart.

Shadow Milk knew. Of course he knew. His master knew all, twisting everything into lies and deceit. He had been expecting to receive some kind of punishment upon his return to the spire, but this?

This was as good a blessing as any.

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- lost signal.

summary: welt finds himself unable to contact you after your departure for amphoreus. (gn!reader x welt yang; astral express found family)

tags: 1.2k words, established relationship, fake texts, astral express family, fluff and longing, spoilers for 3.0's main quest!

“You’re worried.”

Even Himeko’s voice does little to turn his head from the window, watching as the Parlor Car trails off and away through the stars towards Amphoreus. Out of sight, out of Welt’s reach – he was never good at stepping back and letting things be. He has to keep himself from pressing his hand to the glass, from tracing his finger along each and every fleck of light you pass, as if you could somehow feel him there with you.

“Am I that obvious?” Welt asks, adjusting his glasses. He feels Himeko’s dress brush over his shoes, and still he cannot bring himself to tear his gaze away for even a second; even as the car disappears from view as it enters into Amphoreus’s orbit.

“I’m sure everything will go smoothly. You know how capable they all are.” Himeko reassures. 

Welt lets out a weary sigh. Of course knows that. You, Stelle, and Dan Heng made a formidable team. Still, the worry persists, gnawing like moths at an old dressing gown. 

“You are correct.” Welt starts, sighing again as his eyes flick to her momentarily, before looking back out the window. The stillness in the Express is disquieting; it seemed less of a home without all the noise. “But still, I worry anyways.”

Himeko gives him a knowing smile. “I’m sure you’ll hear from them soon.” She says, turning to walk back towards the door. “In the meantime, would you help me make dinner for March? She still isn’t feeling well.”

Welt softens at that, finally forcing himself to look away. He assures himself that you all would be okay, and hopes that is enough. “Of course.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Welt has done the math over and over again. He knows this planet is uncharted, but they knew the distance to the landing site, knew how strong the planet’s gravitational pull was... If things went perfectly, you all should have docked three hours ago. 

You had promised that you’d text him once you successfully made it planet-side. He rests on one of the couches in the main car, one hand resting on his cane, the other holding his phone. 

Perhaps he’s acting like a besotted old man… and a hovering parent to Stelle and Dan Heng. But still, he finds his hands itching to type out a message to check in. And so, he does:

He tries to rationalize the response (or, lack thereof) before the tide of worry can wash over him once again. It wouldn’t be surprising if it were just Stelle’s phone that had no connection – but you and Dan Heng? Neither of you would let that happen, especially at the beginning of an Expedition.

Perhaps signal didn’t reach Amphoreus. It would be the most logical answer – it was out of sight to all but the Memokeepers. Besides that, he can't help but think it's possible that you all could’ve crash landed...

Welt stands, and goes to wake Sunday.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You lean out the balcony of the private baths, your hand stretching upwards to the sky, phone in hand, as if you could reach up far enough to hand the messages to Welt. 

“That’s not how it works.” Dan Heng says, one hand behind his head as he relaxes in one of the lounge chairs. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, a quarter of his attention diverted from his book to make sure you don’t lose your balance and fall.

You hate that he’s right. This is all an exercise in futility, but still, it doesn't hurt to try. You hop up on the railing, carefully sitting yourself on the ledge of the balcony, stretching just a few more inches forward. Dan Heng pays a bit more attention to you.

“Dan Heng’s right.” Stelle interjects, her long silvery hair gliding on the surface of the water in the bath, sprawled out as if she had not a care in the world. “You need much longer arms.”

You huff, looking at the ‘No Signal’ message that hasn’t budged from the top of your phone’s screen since you crash landed in Amphoreus. You wish there was something you could do to reassure Welt that you would all be okay.

You imagine he’ll have a few more grey hairs when you see him next.

“You should get down from there.” Comes Dan Heng’s voice, closing the book he was skimming through. “I would prefer not to have to tell Mr. Yang that you fell to your death.”

You hear Stelle snicker, and it’s then you hop down off the railing, realizing you are supposed to be the mature one here. You turn your phone off, then go to sit on one of the empty lounge chairs, listening to the water flow as it pours into the bath. 

Welt would like it here, you think. After everything he’s done for you, for you all, he deserves a nice, warm bath. Perhaps once you've restored contact with the Express, you could convince him to relax, if for a little while.

You let that thought carry you into a fitful sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In your absence, Welt spends the days with Sunday, exhausting their combined contacts to try and regain communication with you all. Each day seems to drag on, and yet he never finds enough hours to do all that he needs to do to ensure your safety. 

He should’ve just joined the Expedition… Welt hated, more than anything, not knowing; questions with too many variables to act on all at once. Especially when it involved those he cared about. 

Some of your things had been left in his room; he doesn’t have the heart to move them. A half-empty cup of tea that had long gone cold, the shape of your lips outlined in chapstick around the rim. The hotel key from your room in Penacony, sandwiched between one of his books you were borrowing; a makeshift bookmark that would no doubt end up damaging the binding. A picture of you, him, and Himeko taken in the jazz bar at the Reverie. Your hand is slung around their shoulders, and you’re winking at the camera, only slightly tipsy. The memory makes him warm with longing.

He sends another few texts your way, knowing they will not reach you. Still, it is nice to think of what he might say to you if he could.

At night, he sits in March’s room, watching to make sure her condition doesn’t worsen. The cold of the six-phased ice bites even through his overcoat.

Welt folds his hands in his lap, closing his eyes for a momentary rest. Come tomorrow they would go to the Space Station to search for answers; but for now, he would be present for March. It was all he could do.

[delicioushottubpeanut]

kinktober; dry humping

oneshot

> monkey d. luffy x fem!reader

fandom: one piece (live action)

warnings: nsfw 18+, drunk luffy, alcohol, reader and luffy are inexperienced, dry humping, kissing, smut, public sex, minors dni..

You sighed, watching your captain drink with his crew-mates as you all came back from a long day.

Chuckling at his drunken words, you leaned on the railing of the ship .You turn around and see your captain smirking with his face flushed from alcohol. “I told you to stay with me..” Luffy whined, completely ignoring the rest of the crew.

"I can't always be with you Luffy.." You sigh, chuckling at his cute behaviour. He frowned, looking at you in his drunken state, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“But.. But.. But I want you to be!" Leaning up against you, trying to get you closer to him. “Stay with me, pretty please?!” He whines into your neck, sniffing the skin.

"Luffy, are you drunk?" You whisper in his ear, a little surprised. He normally is very affectionate but not this clingy.

He nods his head slowly in your arms, snickering. “I just had a few drinks, so what?” His body bumps into you as he gets closer to your face “You can’t leave the captain behind..” He whispers.

"I think you should go to bed now.." Blushing at his drunken state, looking at the other crew members half asleep, sluring their words. Hearing your words, he pouts, leaning up against you. Trying to move your body more onto him.

“No.. You’re staying with me!” Hearing the others, his eyes scan over to them and back to you as he suddenly grips your thighs and places you on his lap. Feeling your body on his lap, he felt himself becoming flustered Blushing with his face all red, he looked up at you with stars in his eyes.

His lips parted as he went to speak. “I- Uhm…" His eyes went up and down your body, slowly moving from your legs to your face.

"You okay?.." You whisper as you stare into his eyes, then suddenly become still, feeling something hard against your ass, feeling his arousal.

He stared up at you with puppy dog eyes, his eyebrows raising as you stared into his eyes. The only thing on his mind was you, as he smiled at you. “I’m doing fine, but uh… why are you blushing?” He said, diverting the conversation away as he moved his hand onto your chin. Stroking it up and down, not knowing what he was doing himself.

"H-huh? Oh, nothing.." You stutter, trying to get off his lap accidentally grinding against his bulge. Feeling your body rub against him, he becomes flustered. A hand slowly wrapped around your waist as he began to slowly grind back against you.

“Is it really nothing, or are you keeping something from your captain?” He said teasingly, as his eyes stared up at you with interest.

"Luffy.. we should stop here.." You glance at the others sleeping, trying not to moan as he grinds his body against yours.

Luffy hummed, feeling your soft body against him. Looking at you with a drunken smile on his face as he chuckled slightly. “Well why should we do that? It’s not like we’re going too far..” He said, his hands beginning to rub up and down your thighs.

"S-shit.." You moan as you feel him grind harder against your clit, trying to focus on keeping the noise down.

His eyes widened slightly, hearing you moan. Seeing how red you turned, his other hand moved to cup your chin. Looking up at you with an innocent look. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling warm?” He said it like he was oblivious, as his body rubbed slightly harder against yours. Slowly moving his body more into yours.

"You're such a tease.." You gasp, hearing him moan loudly in your ear. He chuckled a bit, his hand moving to grab your hips. His eyes went down to your neck as his mouth parted slightly. He started to kiss slowly up your neck, to your ear. “I just want a little fun..” His voice got lower, his hand cupping your chin as he leaned in slowly. "God's.." His hips stuttered against your core as he moaned, wanting more.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 26

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mainly just pregnancy stuff

A/N: I hope I pulled this off while keeping our archer in character. Be gentle.

You knew it was bothering him, it was evident in the way he moved. The jerking slices of the knife as he made bolts while he sat cross legged on the old railing across from you. You were perched on the porch swing—he had all but jumped up and down on it to make sure it would hold you safely—just watching him, guilt flaring to singe the inside of your chest. He wanted to go on the run, get the things that you and the baby needed, but you were scared. Hershel had said the baby could come any day. It was at your insistence that Daryl wasn’t going. You didn’t have to try hard, mind you. He was worried about leaving you as well.

Still, it wasn’t sitting right with him for the others to be risking their necks for his baby.

“Maybe you should go.” You finally said, picking at your thumbnail. You saw his movements come to an abrupt halt before continuing.

“Nah. Ya need me here.” He sniffed, starting up on another piece of wood. He had legitimate bolts with his crossbow, so you could only assume he was just trying to keep his hands busy. He was so undeniably torn and it was showing.

“I think you should. You know what I need. You’ve read the books. Maggie will be there to help with the medical side of things, the list Hershel made.” You sat up straighter, attempting to massage the little foot away from your ribs. Of course, Daryl noticed.

“S’wrong?” He was climbing off the rail and made it over to you in one long stride, giving you a once over before he sat down. He didn’t ask before taking over for you, lightly rubbing over the little form of toes with the smallest, gentlest of smiles. You’d almost consent to constant discomfort if it meant you’d see more of that expression.

“Thumper has a personal vendetta against my ribcage.” Your head found your partner’s shoulder, watching that same laser focus that had moments ago been on the wood he was carving now honed in on you. For a moment, you were just a couple expecting a baby. For a moment, the world hadn’t ended. For a moment, you had managed to find perfect. “I love you.”

Daryl’s hand froze but for a mere heartbeat before his fingertips continued chasing little toes as if he were playing a game with the baby, when in reality he was simply trying to divert the tiny digits away from your ribs. “So ya keep sayin’.”

“So you keep saying. Is that all you’re ever gonna say?” You weren’t angry, not even frustrated. There was merely a soft curiosity that sat in the back of your mind; along with the little voice that assured you Daryl was yours and you were his, even if he could never say the words.

“Dunno.” It always unsettled you when he spoke so quietly, small and fragile as if he feared his words would end in some sort of pain. God, you wanted to bury his father in a gopher hole, maybe even his mother and brother. It was normal for a person to be unsure of feelings, to question and explore before accepting what they were, good or bad. Daryl didn’t have that capability. He questioned. He explored. And then he feared, good or bad. He didn’t think he deserved good and he was so attuned with bad that it’s what came naturally in his own reactions. Perhaps he thought you were trying to fix him, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t see anything broken. You saw someone who had never been shown what love was supposed to feel like. He wasn’t broken, he just needed to learn, and Daryl was good at learning. 

Still you persevered, your fingers finding their way into his hair, delicately tracing the scar from Andrea’s bullet. “Do you love me, Daryl?” Maybe narrowing it down to a simple yes or no would make it easier for him. Maybe you were pushing him. You would need time if the answer was no but you would be okay. He cared enough to be with you, to raise Thumper as a family. In the end, that was all you needed.

But then his hand stilled on the center of your swollen belly and he lifted his head to seek out your gaze. Even with all the emotion stirring in those stormy pools of blue, you could easily see the fear, but there was something else. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, the color darkening somewhat as it grew. Even with that comforting gesture, you held his gaze, heard his breath stutter, watched his lips move so, so nimbly without a sound. His free hand came up to brush back your own hair, tenderly tucking it behind your ear. As he leaned toward you, the corners of your mouth lifted into a welcoming smile.

“Y/N, I—”

“We’re heading out!” Glenn called from the doorway before stepping onto the porch. Daryl pulled away fast, his hands on his knees, eyes downcast. 

You were going to absolutely torture Glenn before you murdered him.

“You sure you don’t wanna go, Daryl?” Rick had joined Glenn and was checking his weapons before he finally looked up.

Daryl, though, only had eyes for you; his bowed head angled to see you, questioning. 

You sighed with a smile, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “Go. Try to find those bra pad things. Cloths suck and they hurt my nipples.” There was no deeper shade of red that could color his skin. You laughed, loud and true. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Licking his lips nervously, Daryl nodded and left the swing.

T-Dog held out the archer’s bag and crossbow. “Thought you might change your mind. Went ahead and grabbed these.” He only received a nod. 

The group began to descend the steps, but Daryl paused at the end, looking back to you. He closed the distance in seconds, a finger hooking under your chin to lift your face higher, even though you were already looking at him. “Be back ‘fore dark. Promise.”

That earned him one of your sweetest smiles. “We’ll be waiting.” You patted your belly. The rough hand at your chin, moved to your jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. “I love you, Daryl. Be safe.” He hesitated, long enough for something to stir in your chest. Hope? Excitement? Then he merely nodded and was gone.

You and Lori were given the least strenuous tasks. She was not far behind you. A few weeks, her belly almost as prominent as your own. Luckily, you found it helped for folding clothing before stuffing them in the correct bag. Your bare feet were propped up in a chair across from you, your ankles swollen, squeezed by the socks that you had to wear to keep them warm. Your body just ached all over. Thumper Dixon was playing field hockey with your internal organs and the nausea you had definitely not missed was threatening to make a comeback. You just felt awful.

“The last month is the worst.” Lori commented while packing away some of Carl’s clothing. “And it’ll take a while after the baby comes to feel human again.”

“Growing a human fucking sucks.” You groused, one of Daryl’s few shirts lying spread over your torso. “And goddamnit, I have to pee. I always have to pee.”

“Means you’re hydrated at least. Silver linings.” Lori tittered. If anyone had been watching the two of you battling to your feet, it would have been worthy of more than a few chuckles.

“Thanks for going with me. Daryl would have a kitten if I went alone.” When you straightened, there was an immediate feeling of change in your body that had you looking to Lori, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I can breathe but I feel like I’m gonna piss my pants and my hips hurt.”

She smiled and placed her hands over her own round bump. “The baby dropped. You're carrying differently now. I wish we had a mirror.” 

“Carrying differently? What do you—oh.” You immediately noticed when you began to massage the taut skin that the swell sat lower. You suddenly couldn’t remember a word the old man had said. Were you about to go into labor? How would Daryl know? You couldn’t do it without him.

“Easy, Y/N.” At some point, the other woman had crossed the small space and put her hands on your shoulders, your stomachs brushing against one another. “It just means the baby’s getting ready. Though, I think after this run, Daryl should probably consider staying behind on any others.” You nodded, trying to get your breathing under control. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Let’s go take care of business and then let Hershel do his daily thing, okay?”

You nodded again, a jerky motion while you trembled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You followed behind her, trying to keep your mind on the fact that if you didn’t empty your bladder within the next couple of minutes, you would still be incredibly anxious but you would be so with wet pants. “Maybe the little gremlin can’t reach my ribs now.”

You felt like crap. All day, you felt heavy and sluggish, swollen and nauseous. By late afternoon, you just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Carol.” You spoke her name quietly, leaning onto the dusty countertop to pillow your head on your folded arms. You saw the concern on her face when she turned from canned foods with which she was planning small meals. You couldn’t even wave away her worry. “Do you need my help right now? I think I’d really like to lie down.” 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” She came to place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. It only succeeded in making your yearn for Daryl to be there, easing your fears in his own Daryl way. He would probably already have an aneurysm when someone told him that you’d done work, light as it was. And then you needed to tell him that the baby had indeed dropped. God, even if you didn’t tell him, he’d notice with that keen eye of his. Your stomach had shifted, still round but lower. There was so much pressure on your pelvis that you thought the bones might separate at any moment. Lori had promised that what you were feeling was normal, that it was simply new and you would take a day or two to adjust unless the baby decided to make its debut before you could.

“I just don’t feel well.” You stood straighter, nodding that she could remove her hand and you were fine. “I’d rather have Daryl come back to me feeling like shit and resting than to me feeling like shit and trying to help get things done.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She laughed. 

Carol was about the only other person in the group that Daryl dropped any of his walls around. With Rick, it was all business. There was respect there, but not yet friendship. You could see it though, the subtle changes in your hunter. He was getting comfortable around these people. It was a snail’s pace but if they were anything like you hoped they were, he would be granted their patience. God knew, he had earned it. 

“Come on.” Carol urged. “Let’s get you settled.” 

With each step, you whined, feeling less and less like the woman you had been only months before, like she had been left behind somewhere, starved or trampled by a herd. “I hate this. Is it wrong to hate this?” You grimaced at Carol who only chuckled breathily, her hand resting on your cheek.

“It’s not wrong. This is a lot. Our bodies do a lot.” A couple of soft pats and then she bent down to straighten the bedroll and arrange the blankets. 

You were watching, actually finding yourself excited to be off your feet and deciding that a nap wouldn’t be so horrible when there was a strange feeling low in your belly. It started as a gradual tightening but soon turned into an unyielding cramp, your stomach hard beneath your hands as you grabbed for your sweater. You gasped Carol’s name, could hear her clearly calling for Hershel but you couldn’t seem to respond, swallowed up by every fear that had been looming like a dark shadow for the past few weeks. The pain wasn’t even horrible, not like you had imagined at all. But it was terrifying. The only thing you could think of to do was hold the area that housed your little Thumper and whimper out Daryl’s name.

A bed had been cleared, dusted, and made for you in the downstairs room. As you laid there, resting, and stared at the half empty cup of water on the bedside table, you overheard Beth and Carl animatedly re-telling how two walkers had shuffled by the driveway gate. The children had hid and remained quiet, reporting that no others were seen once those two had moved on. You weren’t naive enough to hope that it didn’t mean more were coming. The group would need to pack up and head out likely within the next day or so. 

“Braxton Hicks.” Hershel had stated matter-of-factly. He had expressed that he was actually surprised you hadn’t experienced them before then, added that maybe you had but they were so mild that you just didn’t notice. You had two more instances over the course of three hours but nothing since then, though your body seemed to be in a constant state of dread, waiting for another to happen; for it to be more than what Hershel had said. You were waiting for something to be wrong.

Beyond the dusty, tattered green curtains, you could see the light fading. Daryl would be back soon. Would he blame you for bringing this on by doing a little work? Would he be angry? He’d be beside himself with worry, that much was a given. Hershel had said you could do small chores, that it was good for you to be moving, but what if Daryl didn’t see it that way? The morning had started so perfectly. The conversation had been left unfinished but it didn’t seem to have been heading anywhere bleak. 

“Ugh.” You didn’t know what was more exhausting, your body or your brain. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind ran rampant with each and every wildly negative scenario it could possibly conjure. You groaned and rolled to your other side despite the effort and apprehensiveness of even moving. Letting your eyes close yet again, you fought against the intrusive thoughts, forcing images of what Thumper might look like instead. A little girl with Daryl’s eyes and your smile. A little boy with unruly light hair like Daryl’s had been, a constant scowl. You laughed softly, wetly, shedding a few tears around your smile. No matter the sex of the baby, you hoped for Daryl’s eyes. They were the one thing to always gave him away, no matter what expression he wore. With a baby that couldn’t communicate needs and wants, you would at least have that in your corner.

At some point, you must have dozed off, opening your eyes to the sound of the old truck Daryl was driving. Looking to the window, you could see the faint light of dusk giving way to the moon. He’d kept his promise, albeit barely. You didn’t care as long as he was back. Shifting and struggling, you finally made it upright just as you heard Glenn’s all too cheerful voice, though you couldn’t make out the words. Rick’s few words trailed right after. Then there was Daryl. He spoke but then there was nothing more than hushed tones. Hershel offering the day's events, most likely. A thud was followed by echoing stomps of boots pounding against the hardwood floors.

“Where is she?” Daryl roared, closer to the door.

“She’s fine, son. She’s resting. This is normal. It just caused a bit of a fright. She just—”

“Where. Is. She?!”

The old man must have nodded or pointed because the next thing you knew, the door was swinging open with Daryl’s silhouette backdropped by the soft candlelight in the other room. His shoulders were heaving in what sounded so close to sobs that you squinted your eyes for a chance to catch his expression before he moved, startling you with how quickly he had one knee on the bed and was leaning in to check you over himself. He was filthy, mostly dirt and grime, but spots of walker blood and a cut across his cheek that was no longer bleeding. 

“What happened?” You asked, reaching for his face but letting your hand hover in fear of hurting him.

“Don’t matter. Ya alright? Baby okay?” He was breathless, either from his haste to get to you or maybe just with worry. He was touching you without hesitance, his hands in a mad rush to feel your face, neck, your belly. You watched his eyes go wide and knew exactly what it meant. “Why’s it look diff’rent?” 

“Thumper dropped.” His eyes were dancing back and forth as he flipped through his mental catalog of reading material and Hershel’s words. Relief was evident in his posture when he recalled what he had been searching for, but he was still tense.

“Hershel said ya was crampin’. The fake shit. Does it hurt now?” You shook your head and watched him finally sink onto his hip beside you, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Shouldn’a gone. Ya didn’t need to be alone through that.” 

“Hey.” You leaned as far as you could, to guide his hand away with one hand while the other used his chin to turn his face toward you. “I wasn’t alone and we’re okay. It’s just my body getting ready.” Daryl’s head tilted, his expression displaying his gratitude for your attempts at consolation but also heavy laden with guilt for leaving you there. “Daryl, you had to go.”

“Didn’t hafta do nothin’. Could’a stayed right here where ya need me to be.” 

He hadn’t asked what you had been doing. Maybe it wasn’t that important to him after all. He seemed to be more concerned with what happened and how you currently felt than anything. You truly needed to start trusting him as you wanted so badly for him to trust you. Your palm left his face and wrapped around the back of his neck, not needing much pressure to pull him to you for your lips to press against his. It was gentle and chaste, his hand leaving your belly to cup your jaw.

“We’re okay and you’re here now.�� You soothed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just—no more runs until Thumper’s here, okay?”

“No more runs.” He agreed, his eyes closed, forehead against yours. “Ain’t leavin’ ya again.” His hand lowered back to your belly, rubbing back and forth. It was always the most tender thing you’d ever seen from him. You didn’t think him the type but he actually seemed to be calmed by the action. “D’ya need anythin’?”

“Just you.” You let him help you lie back, but he didn’t follow. 

“Need to clean up. I’ll be quick.” He made to stand up but you grabbed his forearm and pulled yourself up again, not stopping once you got there. He gave in to your incessant tugging and wrapped his arms around you. “You’re gonna need to change too now.” You sniffled, trying hard not to cry, but you were just so overwhelmed with relief that he was back in one piece, that nothing bad had truly happened, that he was going to stay. “Don’t cry, woman. M’here.”

“I know. I’m just—I’m happy. I have you and Thumper. And—I don’t deserve you, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl scoffed, rubbing his cheek against the crown of your head. “Ya deserve way better than me, Sunshine.” He took a deep breath that actually shifted you against his chest and then he was tightening his embrace. “But I love ya. An’ m’here unless ya tell me to get lost.” He pulled away before you could say anything, heading quickly for the door with one last look before he walked out. You were stunned frozen, silent. 

He said it.

He said it and you could feel that he meant it. His actions had always conveyed it, but hearing it from his mouth was everything. 

Thumper rolled and kicked before going still, reacting to all the emotions you were feeding to them through your bond. When you laid down again, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep. No wicked images formed behind your eyes. Just those words replaying in your head, a baby’s tiny hand gripping a large finger. A child’s giggle. And then his voice again.

Your eyes didn’t want to obey when you bid them to open, the mattress dipping beside you, the sheets moving. A warm arm pulled you against an even warmer body, enveloping you in a veil of safety.

Everything would be okay.

Because you loved Daryl.

And Daryl loved you.

[nexreturnsfromthedead]

Something Stupid

Summary: when Sevika finds herself unable to sleep, she can count on you to ease her mind; What starts off as a relaxing massage for an exhausted woman turns into something gentle and loving, forcing her to acknowledge the growing feelings she's desperately been trying to avoid.

Warnings: oral (Sevika receiving), strap-on (reader wearing), attachment issues (the porn part is short, I'm sorry :') ), generally really soft

Notes: this is the first fic I have ever finished and actually published, lol. I fear it's too repetitive at some points and kind of rushed..? Pls pls pls, tell me what you think (as long as you're being kind). If there are any more warnings I should be aware of (probably not), feel free to tell me :) I hate writing dialogs. The painting on the right was done by Tony Belobrajdic :]

Word Count: 6.9k

@venomvalley specifically posted this for you, any criticism is appreciated :D (I lowkey stole your way of... presenting (?) the story, with the colors, pictures and dividers and such, I thought it was really pretty <:3)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy :D

It was well into the night, maybe shortly past midnight, when she made her way onto the small balcony of her rundown apartment, eyes tired and heavy, yet not willing to stay closed. Immediately, she was met by the cold air, a stinging slap to her face. It nips at her skin, looking to break through and seep into her muscles, veins and lastly, her very bones. She didn't mind the harshness prickling against her nerves. She needed the distraction tonight.

A heavy sigh rips from the depths of her lungs, fingers reaching out to fumble for a cigarillo lying on the small, creaking metal table shoved against the railing. It was only there for that exact purpose: holding the packages of her cigars and cigarettes, an ashtray, and perhaps even a drink or two if she's feeling fancy. There was no reason for her to be on the balcony other than to have a calming smoke; no beautiful view waiting for her, no fresh air to catch either, not in the deepness of Zaun.

Flipping open the tin box, metal clattering against the table's surface, her fingers scoop in to lift one of her stress relievers out of its containment. Bringing it up to her lips, her hand reaches for a lighter, needing several tries to ignite a spark and correspondingly, her thin cigar. That simple action carries her mind back to you. You, who usually stumbled over their own feet to light it for her. 'Pretty women don't light their own cigarettes', you always said when she raised a questioning brow, that stupid, stupid grin adorning your lips whenever you did. You, who is currently warming her bed while she's out here, forcing stinging puffs of burning tobacco inside her lungs, only to gently blow them out with long exhales.

The smoke wafts past her lips, its tendrils twirling and swirling high into the sky, wanting to never be seen again as it becomes one with the fissures' polluted air. She felt the nightly tranquility weigh heavy on her shoulders, running thoughts nagging in the back of her mind. She should appreciate the quiet calm instead of bothering herself with these infuriating thoughts, yet her mind grants her no peace. The grip of her prosthetic grows tighter against the railing as she huffs, her lip scrunching up in frustration, quickly taking another drag of her cigar.

She stalls, holding the smoke deeply in her chest when she feels warm arms wrap around her waist, a face nestling between the hard planes of her shoulder blades.

Ba-dump.

Once she gets over the initial shock of your unexpected touch, she blows the smoke out slowly, watching as its wifts get carried through the winds.

"You should be in bed", she hums, feeling the nicotine take its course through her system. Her response was only to mask her own feelings, hoping to distract you from your initial mission. Always trying to divert the focus from herself.

"So should you...", you retort, your voice carrying the groggy roughness of leftover sleep, ".. You okay..?"

She huffs, puffing on her cigar.

"Never better", she mumbles sarcastically. It had always been easy for you to peek through her defenses, finding the smallest of cracks and managing to scratch them open with the very tips of your fingers; even if they did bleed in the end. Yet, every time you were close to reaching treasure, she seals the crumbling gaps with thicker concrete. She didn't understand why you kept on trying, kept on bothering to put up with her.

"A penny for your thoughts?", you murmur, nuzzling your nose against the crevice of her spine; a silent reassurance, urging her to open up.

"I'm fine", she sighs, flicking off the built up ashes. Her eyes trail down their path, seeing them disappear against the dirty cobblestone beneath her feet, beneath the balcony; they weren't worth a second glance. Couldn't even tell they had been there in the first place.

"You sure? Taking a lonely smoke in the middle of night doesn't exactly scream 'fine', you know..?", there's an empathetic smile on your face, trying to lighten the mood. She can hear it in the way you talk.

"Too much on your mind?"

"You could say that", she trails off thoughtfully, "It's not worth your time, no need to worry about it", there's a tiredness in her voice, a hint of self deprecation one could only catch if they really listened. Which you always did. Unfortunately for her.

"I worry about you"

Ba-dump

Protest laces your tone as you speak, ".. And if something's bothering you, then it must be important... Atleast to some degree.."

"It's not. Trust me, doll. I can handle a few stupid thoughts", you hear the way her voice changes subtly, forcing herself to sound less vulnerable, trying to once again build the wall higher around her heart; a prison for the lonely.

"But I do.. Because you're important to me.. And I care..", you reassure, trailing off. The unspoken; words she feared ever coming from your lips were left unsaid, but she knew they were there. Sitting on the tip of your tongue, itching to slip past the seal and bury deep inside her heart like barbed wire.

Your sigh is warm against her back when you realize she won't budge; she can feel it through the fabric of her shirt. She desperately fights off the crawling shiver threatening to run down her spine.

"You don't have to tell me.. But please just.. Remember that I'm here for you.. And whenever you need me, I'll happily lend an ear", your arms tighten around her waist, pulling her closer in comfort; wether it was for her's or your own, she's not quite sure. Regardless, she melts into your embrace, her muscles relaxing the tiniest bit. She's silent, no doubt contemplating your words. Cigarillo back at her lips, she closes her eyes, a heavy, smoky breath escaping her nostrils.

"I'm just.. Worrying over nothing, is all. Nothing severe", she murmurs, her metallic hand clanking against the railing when she let's go, instead bringing it to hold the cigar. The other one, her own, moves to rest over yours. She always prefered feeling you, your soft skin beneath hers. When in reality, she shouldn't. Shouldn't let you hold her so tenderly. Shouldn't reciprocate. It'll only be harder in the end. Companionship and romance aren't things that lasted in the dark pit that is the Underground. They wither, get stomped out and burned until the only thing that's left is the dismembered corpse of what could have been. That's how life was in this hell she called her home. She accepted it. Had to learn how to from an early age. Yet despite that, she couldn't help but hold her hand into the flame.

".. How about a massage?", she barely catches the sound of your voice, yet it still cuts through her racing mind.

"What?", she turns her head, looking down at you over her shoulder. You can't help but admire her from this angle, the faint, neon lights from the distance reflecting across her profile, her blue scars glowing. Greens, reds and purples catch against her skin, colors that all looked magnificient, in perfect contrast with the essence of her very being.

"I can massage you... Help you relax.. Get your mind off of things", you repeat, your hands travelling towards her hips, gently squeezing.

A small snort echoes through the night.

"Oh yeah? Pampering me now, are you?", she hums, taking one last drag of her cigar before stumping it out in the ashtray. She made it a habit ever since she noticed you picking up her thrown butts scattered across the floor one too many times. The same way she made it a habit of smoking on the balcony once she realized you couldn't breathe properly when she did it inside.

".. But I won't say no to that if you're offering".

She watches as that small smile forms on your face, standing on your toes to press a soft kiss against her cheek. You didn't have to, but knew it boosted her ego just a bit.

Ba-dump.

"Go make yourself comfortable in bed, I'll start heating up the oil", you pat her shoulders before the both of you part ways, her going back to bed while you grab the massaging oil from the bathroom. Filling a pot with water, you bring it to a soft boil before putting the container in to warm up.

Once you re-enter the bedroom, you find Sevika comfortably lying on her back, boxers the only thing adorning her scarred skin. Her right arm is tucked underneath her head, her prosthetic lying on the bedside table for easy access should she need it. Due to her lying position, her thighs appear even bigger than usual, excess flesh squished to the sides. They're spread the tiniest bit, enough to make your mind spiral as it immediately conjures the lewdest images of your head between them, squished to death as you lap at her cunt.

If you could paint realistically, you would capture the beauty of this moment in it's entirety; the way she lies before you making for the perfect muse. The way the low light of the bedside lamp casts breathtaking shadows across her muscles, contouring her in the best of ways. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling.

"Are you done oggling me?", there it is, that shit eating smirk you've grown to love so much, no matter how infuriating it can be at times. Your eyes roll on instinct, a grin of your own forming on your face.

"Oh hush. I can't be blamed when you're looking like that", a smile graces your lips, one entirely too intimate for her but her heart skips a beat anyways. You crawl onto the bed, one finger wedging between her thigh and the leg of her boxers. Pulling softly, you let the fabric snap back against her skin. Her eyebrow raises in response, challenging you to go further, watching as you position yourself over her.

She can see the mirth twinkling in your irises, no doubt conjuring plans on how to make her suffer.

Ba-dump

It only makes her heart beat quicker, rapidly hammering against the cage of her chest, wanting to be set free like a bird gazing at the ever growing horizon. She doesn't stop you when your head dips down to plant your first kiss against her collarbone. Breathing grows harder when your lips trail gently up her neck. She could feel their softness, the carefulness in your touch as if she was something fragile, something made to be broken. She wasn't. She was anything but that. Yet she enjoys it when your lips stream higher and higher, following along the reddened rivulet hidden underneath her skin until you reach the shell of her ear, lips threatening to fall off the cliff that is her jaw and she hopes you'll cling onto it.

She holds her breath when your lips wander along, tiptoeing against the line, never once losing your balance. But she fears. Fears you'll fall. Fears you'll drag her with you into the deep end, with no point of return. Once your lips finally meet hers, she realizes it is already far too late. She's drowning, air ripped from her lungs as her very being succumbes to your deadly touch; drowning in a sea that is entirely made of you. Your touch. Your smell. Your voice. Your taste. It's all you. And she fears it. Fears getting close to you. Fears that this will change. Fears this won't last.

She's afraid.

And she doesn't know how to swim back up to the surface as you drag her deeper and deeper into the dark abyss. But she's not complaining, quite the contrary. She's feeding into it, letting her body grow heavy as she let's you pull her under. She reaches out for you, pulling you closer as she craves more, addicted to the feeling of utter breathlessness and freedom, despite knowing she'll lock herself away the moment the touch of your lips passes. So she clings on, forcing you against her as your lips join and overlap like clashing waves.

She chases you once you pull away, like you're her only source of oxygen but when she grasps your lips are gone, she breathes in deeply. Eyes fluttering open, she finds your own already staring back at her, that stupid, stupid smile back on your face, taunting her with feelings she'd rather keep buried underneath harsh words and a tough exterior.

Ba-dump

She knew that there was something lingering between you two for quite some time now, something she didn't want to acknowledge, too afraid to do so. After all, she did invite you over to her apartment for the better quarter of a year now, to the point that you've basically movied in with her; your clothes strewn across chairs and the run down sofa she's been wanting to replace for a while now; replacing half of her wardrobe's contents with you; a second toothbrush occupying the small little cup on her bathroom's sink; her fridge filled with various kinds of fresh vegetables, fruits and self-made jams -the same way her stomach is filled to the brim with home cooked meals rather than random take-out.

She snaps out of her thoughts when your fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, gently, warmly and she curses herself for leaning into the touch.

One last, chaste kiss against her lips and you pull away. She almost panics, but your hand gently pushes over her heart, keeping her still. If it weren't for your reassuring smile and devoted eyes staring down at her, she'd feel embarrassed with how rapidly her heart drums against your palm, wanting to nestle into the warmth of your skin.

"How about you turn around, hm? So I can start the massage", she blinks once, twice before your words finally register in her muddled brain and with a single nod of her head, she flips herself onto her stomach, needing a few tries until her chest lies comfortably against the mattress. Her eyes stare blankly onto the prosthetic to her left, lying abandoned on the bedside table as her cheek rests on her arm, impatiently waiting to finally feel your hands upon her skin.

Instead, she senses the way your eyes burn into it, mapping out each and every crevice of her body. She doesn't know wether to feel shy, small, cocky or ashamed. Maybe an unhealthy mix of all four.

"Thought you were gonna massage me, not drool all over", her voice is quiet, barely audible as she murmurs her words in a flimsy attempt of keeping her pride, dignity and a semblance of her usual bravado. Though it's only a mask; she feels anything but. Your giggle makes her want to bury her face in the pillow and pull you in for another kiss, simply to drown out the addictive sound.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you're absolutely stunning"

Ba-dump

She scoffs, frowning into space with.. Is that a pout?

It deepens when you seemingly laugh at her misery, but before she can react, you hook a leg over her hips to straddle her, your buttocks against hers. An involuntary sigh flows out of her nostrils. Having you close was always so calming, but so, so nerve-wracking all at once.

You open the container for the oil, the glass warm against your palms like a hot cup of coffee. Inside Sevika's head, the sound of the lid opening echoes as anticipation builds higher and higher. Dipping the tips of your fingers inside, you spread the slickness in the palms of your hands.

"Ready?", an affirmative hum is your only cue before you place your hands down on her.

As soon as they make contact with her back, her whole body melts into the mattress, her eyelids fluttering shut as she let's her trepidations and stress wash away. They glide firmly over her muscles, rubbing the oil deeply into her skin. You watch as her shoulders rise with every even breath, falling in slow exhales, and you can't help but note how etheral she looks like this. So at peace, in absolute bliss. It was a rare sight and you understood why, her life was in no way an easy one, but you wished you'd be able to see it more often. You promise yourself you'll make it better.

With wandering hands and eyes, you heed the details of her body before you, carving each and every one into the mental statue molded inside the depths of your mind. From the occasional moles scattered across her olive skin, up to her blueish-purple scars that reach all the way from her shoulder to her cheek. They glisten under the warm, dull light of the bedside lamp, twinkling like a night sky full of stars; an entire galaxy mapped out on her body.

Taking the opportunity, your eyes trace over her features: her beautiful grey eyes that always tell you exactly what she's thinking, giving you a window to look through her soul no matter how many curtains she uses to hide. They're closed, but the way her eyelashes are curled against her cheeks is equally breathtaking. Her dark lips, so perfectly kissable, adorned with those tiny splits of healed cuts from prior fights. Those lovely lips that hide the most adorable smile you've ever seen, with the cutest tooth gap enhancing her charm. Without realizing, your hands slow their movements before coming to a full stop against her shoulder blades.

Pure and utter adoration lies down to rest on your face, softening your features as you lean forward, pressing a tender peck against the apple of her cheek.

Ba-dump

Heat rises, travelling from her face down her neck. Her eyes peek open, flicking over her shoulder to look at you and she hates the sight before her.

Hates the way you gaze down at her in the most tender way she's ever experienced. Hates the way your smile makes her heart race to the point she's overwhelmed by breathless dizziness. Hates the way your hands feel against her skin, forcing these gooey, weak emotions inside her to rouse from their century long slumber. Hates the way she craves more despite knowing better.

Of course she's aware that your hands are slowing, coming to a stop as you're stuck in mesmerization; how could she not when their movement felt so heavenly against her sore spots and deep knots? Though she's unsure wether she should vocalise her discontent; after all, you have done so much for her already and in no way does she want to come across as ungrateful. But you did promise her a soothing massage. And this was in no way enough.

So without uttering any comands, she simply pushes her muscles back against your hands, urging you to keep going. With snorted laughter and a teasing quip her way, your hands continue their trip to bringing her pleasure.

"Anything for my sweet woman~", your voice sings, your words deepening that soft redness on her cheeks.

Ba-dump

She wasn't necessarily the possessive type, but sentences like these had a way of playing her heart strings like they hadn't been in years. She hated it. She absolutely despised it. It made her weak. It made you a liability. Yet she couldn't help but crave more, her greed knowing no bounds even in this.

Only that she couldn't win this fight; the fight she put up against her own heart whenever it starts skipping two beats around you. The fight she puts up whenever she catches her own breath hitching at the sight of you cooking behind her stove, waiting for her to come home as you cook a filling meal for her after a grueling day of work. The fight she puts up whenever she realizes she was growing softer, more vulnerable around you. She knew that. Knew she couldn't win. So for now, she figures indulging in it was for the best. Only that her heart is pounding so horribly against her ribcage, it was hard to ignore. So was the low burn starting to ignite in her abdomen when she let her thoughts drift. It was only a matter of time until they did, with how well you tend to her every need, every single time, every hour of the day, no matter how often she pushes you away.

The longer your fingers glide across her skin, the more loose her lips become; small sighs and hums and things that sound suspiciously like whimpers vibrating through her throat. Of course, you notice. Just as you notice the way her body grows restless beneath you; back arching against your touch, ass, with you on top, lifting up and back down with each movement of her thighs, no doubt rubbing them together, arm tensing against her pillow and pulling it closer to her flushed face.

The control you have over her, despite her refusal to admit to anything of the matter, leaves you grinning giddily, light-hearted perversion running through every vein of your body at the knowledge of having her fully wrapped around your pinky finger, desperate for the simplest of touches. She'd do anything for you without so much of a blink, just like you would do anything for her. You'd burn the whole world down if she asked you to.

Though these touches might not be as innocent as they had started off anymore.

So without much of a thought, you slip off your position on top of her, moving between her thighs, sitting on your haunches.

You focus on her lower back, thumbs pressing into those two, cute little dimples of venus. Fitting name, she looked like a sculpted god.

Occasionally, those exact thumbs catch underneath the waistband of her underwear, on accident, of course, and you revel in the way her breath stops momentarily before picking back up slightly more labored each time.

"stop teasing", her voice would sound warning if it weren't for the shudder accompanied by it, or the hoarse rasp coating each word.

"whatever do you mean?"

Despite your words, you never really seem to be able to tease her for long, caving at each little command like you were born to follow obediently. Maybe it was the constant stress you've been put under about being 'the perfect little kid' that had molded you into exactly that; someone with the constant need for instructions, searching for the simplest forms of validation. But you don't mind; you have long accepted the fact that you wanted to be obedient, just for her.

The tips of your fingers dip below her waistband, agonizingly slow when tugging the offending fabric down, down and down until they're thrown off to the side; out of sight, out of mind.

You bite your lip at the sight before you, fingers splaying out across the fat of her ass, squeezing and prodding and digging and squeezing until her shoulders were tense, thighs squeezed tightly and her face hidden in the pillow.

She was cute like this, all flustered. It was a sight you've got to see more and more often these past few weeks the longer you stayed close by her side. And you loved it, loved whenever she averted her gaze or burrowed her face in your neck in a futile attempt of hiding her bashfulness.

"stop", she scoffs, loving hating the way butterflies swirled in her stomach like she's some teenage girl. But you knew she didn't mean it; she was pressing her flesh against your hands. She was pressing her hips higher in hopes you'll catch the hint, burying your face where she needs it the most.

You did, of course, catch the hint, but played dumb for just a little while longer.

"what do you need, honey? I'm not a mind reader, you know...", she can hear the condescending lilt in your voice, feel the barely perceptible brush of your thumb over her humiliatingly wet folds and she almost gives herself whiplash with how quickly her head twists over her shoulder to shoot you a glare.

Her mouth opens to curse you out, tell you to 'fucking touch her' before she takes matters into her own hands, but her words quickly die on her tongue, replaced by the loudest moan she's ever let slip as your tongue dives forward, running from her thrumming clit up to her leaking hole.

Her face burns, quickly pushed back against her pillow, entirely too embarrassed at the almost pornographic noise escaping her lips.

Really, it wasn't that loud. It was moderate, but usually, she was more on the quieter side, the most she'd let slip were groans and grunts, maybe the occasional, quiet whimper. So a full blown moan was something new, something that exposed her in ways she didn't want to be.

So she hid her face against the sheets, each kiss and lick and suck of your lips across her cunt luring more noises to slip past her own, only partially muted by her self-made gag. Surely, you'd love to hear them to their full extent, but you also knew she needed this, needed something to ground herself with, to keep herself from getting too overwhelmed, so you accepted it.

Your movements were languid, tongue dragging and basking in the salty taste of her arousal, nose pressed against her until every other sense was drowned out. You could stay like this, between her thighs, all day, all night, 24/7; feeling her gush on your tongue, arousal dripping as it flowed freely from her hole. The exact place you're shoving your tongue into, wanting to taste more, and she whimpers at your desperation.

Her voice is a tad bit higher than usual, raspy with need as the noises stream past her lips like a river across its bank.

Wet muscle slithering back up through her folds, her hips move on their own accord, jumping when your lips wrapped around that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves, sucking harshly and shaking your head from side to side.

It doesn't take long until she's gasping, hand shooting out behind her to press your face further into her cunt, hips grinding, chasing a high so close she could taste it on her lips. Your neck and cheeks were growing clammy, arousal and spit smeared across your chin and nose. You couldn't move even if you wanted to, and it got you hooked almost immediately.

Your own abdomen throbbed with heat as she just used you, dragging herself against your face until her own desire was sated, thighs riddled with small tremors as her body convulsed, clenching around nothing as her orgasm crashed over her in shocking waves.

You gently lick up the added slick, sucking her clean until you finally depart yourself with a wet 'pop'.

She catches her breath, eyes closed and body relaxed. You tug on her shoulder, forcing her to turn onto her back.

Your kisses are sweet when you pepper them across her face, trying to get her back to earth. When her breathing has somewhat gone back to acceptable standards, you spoke up.

"can I wear the strap tonight?", your voice is gentle, tender, like you're speaking to a wounded animal, knowing she'll need a second before registering your words. But already, she knows she hates your tone of voice. Despises how much her heart desires it.

There's a short pause as she contemplates what to respond. Did she even want to let you take complete control tonight? Give herself to you in such an open, vulnerable way? Let you take the lead as she, what, laid back and did nothing? Janna, yes she did.

A huff.

"Do whatever you want..", a grumble, a begrudging attunement without having to distinctly voice it, without the added exposure of telling you exactly what she wants.

Your hands squeeze firmly just underneath the cheeks of her sculpted bottom, your nose wandering along her jaw.

"You know I won't take that as an answer, honey. You want me to or you don't. Either is fine, but you gotta let me know, otherwise I'm not doin' nothin'!", your grin against her cheek is burning, leaving a trail of reddened marks to travel over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her neck.

"You're insufferable..", she whispers, refusing to meet your gaze like her life depended on it, "... Put it on.."

There's that same mirth flashing through your eyes, teeth flashing mischievously through tautly pulled lips and for a second, she thinks she might regret her decision. That is until you actually fasten the harness around your hips, not without undressing yourself first. Her eyes are laser focused on the way the straps dig into your skin, your flesh bulging over them.

At this moment, she realizes she's never appreciated anything more than you, exactly like this, before. The way you look above her, honey-skinned in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, naked as the day you were born. The way her strap fits so snugly around your hips, the dildo resting neatly over her pubic mound -and she might think you look even better than her wearing it. The way you've been taking care of her all evening; from the dinner you made for her when she got home, to your fingers carding through her hair as you washed it thoroughly, because you knew she was too exhausted to lift her arm, and finally, your ever soft hands against her skin, in more ways than one.

And you'll continue taking care of her going onward from this moment.

All she has to do is sit back.. Let go.. And simply pass the reigns to you.

The day has left her drained already, the leaching work and onslaught of haunting thoughts enough to bring her guard down, enough to lean back and simply bask in the moment.

She'll manage. It should be easy. And if she gets overwhelmed, she can always just roll you over- not that she'll get overwhelmed, that's idiotic, she can handle it. She's Silco's right hand woman, dammit, she handles fights and meetings and bribes and errands with ease, so she can handle a bit of vulnerability, she will.

Her expression portrays her confliction, corner of her lip twitching upward in what seems to be disgust, though her eyes show the insecurity lying beneath.

She snaps out of her mental prison when your voice calls her name, smile compassionate, sweet, lov- don't you dare finish that thought.

"we don't have to. I can just.. Take it off and we'll call it a day", she wants this. She wants this. 'So open your damned mouth and say it-'

"Don't..", her voice is a meek murmur, lips formed in an almost huffy pout. Her expression is one you would expect a dishonored person to wear, someone who's got their whole pride and dignity stripped from them, eyes not hitting their target.

"tell me to continue and I will. Tell me to stop and I won't hesitate. This is all about you, honey. Just look at me and talk, yeah?", she fights against the grip of your hand against her jaw, but decides to give up and look at you none the less.

Why do you have to be so damn convincing?

"Just get on with it, will you? Unless you're getting cold feet?", her tone is mocking, challenging, desperately trying to keep up the confident, unbothered front.

With a roll of your eyes and a knowing grin, you grind -in this very moment your- strap against her folds, coating it's underside in her arousal. Her breath hitches. She's almost embarrassed at how wet she is. She blames it on the lingering of your spit. Yet she can't disguise the stumbling of her breath.

"You like that, huh?"

With no response, you simply thrust your hips once more, tip of the silicone catching against her clit in just the right ways. In response, her eyes flutter shut for just a moment before immediately locking with yours.

She's almost mesmerized by the sight of you, so beautifully woven into her life, and Janna, she shouldn't be so excited to let you fuck her.

But she is, so she watches with bated breath as you spit against your dick, smearing it across with your hand firmly wrapped around, the exact way you've done when she was the one wearing it.

You're infuriatingly careful when ligning yourself up, almost like you're scared of hurting her. How.. Pathetic..

Ba-dump

She watches carefully as your elbows place next to her head, your face breathtakingly close to hers as you push in. Her eyes flutter closed instinctively, head relaxing further into the pillows as she clenches tightly around the intrusion, and you swear you can feel it.

It's all a blur, really. Pleasure so good it has her arching into your touch until her chest is squished against yours. Your hand finds hers, fingers interlacing, squeezing her hand with a kind of possession that makes her heart soar. Her throat is dry, you can hear it in the way she swallows, your nose nudging along her cheek, her scars. Eyes closed, she gives herself fully to you, lips parted with ragged breaths as she meets every one of your thrusts with a grind of her own.

So really, it's no wonder that the words slip past your lips, barely audible if they hadn't been whispered right beside her ear.

Immediately, her body freezes, eyes shooting open as she stares off beside your head. She looks positively terrified, and it tucks at your heartstrings, hips stopping as soon as you feel her stiffening, trying to lock herself back up.

Her head turns to the side, eyes filling with unwanted tears, burning as she stops them from cascading down her cheeks. Your hands reach out for them instead.

"hey, hey... It's okay.. I shouldn't have dropped that on you..", you refuse to say you're sorry. After all, it was true and you didn't want her to think otherwise. You were sorry for dropping the l-bomb so suddenly, so intimately, without any trenches near for her to hide in, to save herself from the inevitable first blow. But you weren't at all sorry for loving her. Why would you be? Ever since she has taken you in, invited you to invade her private life, you have been so much happier than you have ever been before. She could be kind if she wanted to, showing that she cared in the simplest of ways without having to voice it. You couldn't help but dig deeper into that hole you've called affection, infatuation growing the longer you've decided to hold onto her, everything she was willing to give you, you ate it up like someone starved.

She's almost choking on her own tears and the sight breaks your heart.

"breathe, honey... I'm right here... And I'll stay here for as long as you want me to...", your voice carries that same careful and tender tone it always does, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes before they can fall and she doesn't know wether to feel thankful or burst out sobbing, "We can stop, yeah? Wait, I'll.."

Before you can pull out of her, her ankle hooks around your waist, keeping you close.

With a warring mind and heavy heart, she held you there, needed you by her side, to soothe her pain the way you did to her wounds after careless fights. Yet she refused to look at you, still figuring out her own reaction.

Her heart soared at the admission all the while squeezing with an unimaginable pain, knowing all her efforts to prevent this have grown to be futile. But maybe, just maybe if she let you keep going, you'll stay. Like you said you would.. So she indulged in it, maybe one last time, and quietly, she whispers.

"Don't stop"

And you don't, hips slowly starting to move again, more carefully than before, eyes searching her expression for any sign of discomfort, any sign of her changing her mind. But she doesn't, refuses to if this might be her last chance of being intimate with you.

She was afraid. Afraid you wouldn't like what she's hidden beneath despite your reassurances trying to ease her over and over again. It was drilled into her very being ever since she was born. Weakness is a curse, took the people you cared about and sent them off to fight their own war, slaughtered by the cold hands of life. Vulnerability was weakness. Better not show it if you want to live. Best not feel it if you want to survive. Yet with every little bit of vulnerability she showed, you've never strayed; never berated her for feeling, never used it to make her pliable in your hands, never used it as a weapon against herself. You've encouraged it, kissed her messy thoughts better. So why was she still so afraid?

Her confliction was etched onto her face, carved into her complexion like an eternal inscription. So you speak up.

"Want me to tell you just what I love about you?", her breath catches, hitching in her throat at the sound of your panting, your hips picking up their pace, starting to move against hers a bit more desperately.

"I love your pretty nose, your for some reason always perfect-looking hair, your jaw, your tummy, your happy trail, your thighs..", you pause shortly as you notice the precarious expression gracing her features.

".. I love your crystal-grey eyes, because no matter how hard you try to hide behind that tough persona of yours, they always show me just what you're thinking, what you're feeling.. It really is true when people say eyes are the mirror into one's soul.. And yours are the prime example..

I love your full lips; they're so damn kissable.. The way they feel against me, in any way, makes me feel like they were made for that purpose only. No matter if it's my lips, my cheek, my forehead or somewhere else entirely, you make sure that I feel breathless wherever they trail"

Her doubt is settling on her chest, locking it closed and crushing her lungs as it slings its vines around her neck like a noose, tighter and tighter until her breath is cut short. The pressure weighs heavy, repressed tears flooding her eyes with each word muttered, spilling from your lips as a healing balm for her aching heart.

"I love your scars.. Every single one a testimony of the challenges you face everyday; the proof of your ambition, your willpower to fight and keep fighting for Zaun, your people -us. They glimmer like the stars hung above the sky. They're something to be proud of, something that makes you who you are. And I wouldn't have you any other way..

I love your faith in this city. How you give everything you have to do what's right. How you stay rooted to your beliefs.. And won't let anyone put you down. You're fighting for this.. Better and harder than anyone. 

I love how much you care, the way you show you care.. I love how despite everything life throws your way, you always find a way to keep going, you never give up..

I promise, you can be so proud of yourself, Sevika. I am so proud of you. Proud of calling you mine. It's an honor. And I love you"

With shaky breaths and a trembling hand, she grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you down to connect your lips in a soft kiss, filled with aversion and craving, reluctant surrender and reassurance, need and desperation; and for the very first time, she allows herself to admit it's love.

It's love when her legs hook around your waist, pulling you closer, flush against her so she's able to feel every press and rub and thrust to its fullest, indulging in what she's fought against for so long.

It's love when you focus solely on her, wiping the lonesome tears that slip from her eyes, replacing them with the residue of once-saliva-slicked lips.

It's love when you muffle her humiliatingly loud noises with breathtaking pecks, swallowing her sounds and saving them in the depths of your mind.

It's love when your hips speed up per request, when your thumb pushes against her clit because you know she's edging closer and closer.

It's love when she lets herself fall once more, body shuddering as she's blinded by her pleasure, though it might as well be the tears in her eyes.

It's love when you kiss her through it. When you praise her and tell her once more just how much she means to you.

It's love when you clean her up, letting her cuddle close when her mind has finally quieted down enough for her eyes to grow heavy.

And at the very end, she knows it's love when you whisper she'll be your wife one day.

[francixoxoxo]

Ice Cold Lemonade

modern billy x farmers daughter reader

When your dad hires a charming new ranchhand, it’s not your fault he won’t stop looking at his bosses daughter. But it is your fault for looking right back.

part 1 of Ice Cold Lemonade

next

We are so back

Levi jeans. a taupe, sleeveless shirt. cowboy boots tucked under said levi's and scuffed from well-use. a navy hat smushing his hair to his slightly-sweaty forehead, but letting the dark locks at his nape curl.

Not to mention blue eyes that keep on finding their way over to you.

It's been a week since your dad hired him. You hardly even know his name, your dad just calls him Kid. Makes sense, seeing as the rest of the hands are pushing forty. Maybe he's a kid in comparison. But looking at him now, sipping the glass of lemonade you fetched yourself from the kitchen, he was all man.

He looks back up at you from where he's mending the wire fence to the cattle pen. You divert your eyes.

The heat was almost oppressive, you had the perfect excuse to wear the tiniest jean shorts you could find in your drawers and the flowiest white camisole. On the other hand, there wasn't a single excuse to be sitting out on the porch when you could practically get 3rd degree burns by touching the wood railing. Who cares? Wasn't like the Kid was gonna come up and ask you what you were doing, besides watching him bust his ass.

It's hardly your fault the man a good handful of yards away makes hard labor look good. Even from here you can see his large arms, skin tanned from working outside. His hat shades his eyes, but from the quick glimpses you've caught of him from behind your father's back, they're blue like the sky above. His broad shoulders raise and flex as he reaches for a nail to hammer the barbed wire into the fence post.

Maybe it's your fault for paying such close attention, actually.

He hadn't dared approach you. Your father's anger was a force to be reckoned with, he was smart enough to get that. You wish he was just a little bit dumber, little bit ballsier (you could clearly tell he had them, you thought to yourself with a grin, you hadn't spared his belt any glances). Though you'd just drop dead seeing him saunter up to you, all shoulders and chest and--

The lemonade glass meets the wooden side table with a clink, the rocking chair you were seated in is on a pendulum as you stand. You can hear Angharrad clawing at the screen door, she must've been getting antsy. You throw the new ranchhand a long look over your shoulder. Just as you move to step inside, he lifts his face, shaded eyes meeting yours.

You blow the air out your cheeks, looking back at a whining Angharrad. Jesus.

You rifle through the dish at the entrance table for a hair tie, pushing the keys to your father’s pickup and some loose change around the ceramic. Catching your own eye in the mirror, you put your hair into a high ponytail. Having hair on your neck in this head was a death wish, but more than that, you were careful to make sure it looked nice. You’ve never cared much about your appearance on the property before— but you guess that was before there was a new hire to try and impress.

Angharrad pushes her head into the side of your knee, her nails clicking on the hardwood as she pads twixt the screen door, and you. You tighten your ponytail, words coming out in a sigh, “I hear ya, baby, I hear ya,” You shake your head, watching the dog (a Great Pyrenees, a cattle dog bought by your father to work on the farm— though she spent more time on your heels than herding cattle,) bound outside the moment you open the door.

And right to the new ranch hand.

Who is leaning against the railing of the porch from the other side, his face twixt the wood posts, reaching through to scratch twixt Angharrad’s ears.

An easy smile rests on his face, his eyes creasing with it, and though it’s probably directed to your dog, his expression doesn’t falter one bit when he meets your stare.

Holy shit.

First words out his mouth don’t register in your brain. You shake your head a little, lifting your brows, feeling dumber than ever. “What?”

“I said, s’a cute dog.” The new hire chuckles, giving you a toothier smile. God, is he handsome. And his voice— it’s masculine and accented and now you just gotta keep him talking.

A smile parts your lips, too, one that you hope looks more shy than stupid. You settle back into your rocking chair, crossing your legs. “Thanks. She clearly thinks you’re cute too.”

Well, doesn’t that one make you proud. You work another laugh out of the Kid, he shakes his head and adjusts his hat on his dark curls. Now, you can get a serious look at his eyes. And it’s suddenly real difficult to tear yourself away from the brilliant azure of them. “M’ Billy,” he winds a hand around a post of the railing, the muscles of his arm shifting under his sweaty skin. Billy.

You give him your own name in exchange, and his brows lift. He dodges Angharrad’s sniffing snout— she really is head over heels for Billy— to call out, “Pretty name. It fits for a pretty girl, y’know.”

A laugh, clear as a bell, sends your head tipping back a little. You had to give it to him, he was charming as all hell. You peer at him over your glass of lemonade, shaking your head just a bit again. Billy’s eyes dart quickly over you, not long enough to make you uncomfortable, but he isn’t exactly hiding it.

“D’ya know who my dad is?” You grin at the way his lips turn downward in a dramatic, so what? expression. He nods.

“M’boss.” A shit eating grin cracks across his face.

“Your boss.” You agree. You watch him take off his hat, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as he walks to the stairs of the porch. Walking straight to you.

Now your stomach really does get fluttery— here was this handsome, no, gorgeous man, broad and even larger than you expected him to be this close up, looming over you and pointing to the half-full pitcher of cool lemonade.

“I don’t guess a sweet girl like you’d spare a glass of lemonade for a tired, workin’ man?” The grin on Billy’s face was just as clear in his words, the joke eased off his tongue with a natural charm that he clearly had in droves. You nod, that’s all you can get out, standing to your feet.

“I’ll grab you a cup,” you mutter, ducking away from him and hurrying inside, pushed by nerves. Weren’t you barely just gawking at this man from across the property, and here he was, calling you pretty, saying you were sweet?

Well, if you’d looked over your shoulder, you’d see an only slightly confused, and extremely enamored cowboy. When you returned back outside, Billy was sitting in the other chair, on the other side of the coffee table— his hat was in his lap, he was trying to ruffle some life into his hat-hair. Waiting ever so patiently for his boss’s pretty daughter, even reaching to scratch your dog’s ear again.

When you crossed over to him and began pouring him a cup, you could feel his eyes on you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not at all predatory— by the time you met his eyes, handed him the glass, there was a certain twinkle in his eyes. Charming, but not over the top. Not pushy.

Your hand grazed Billy’s for a moment longer than necessary, he drawled a low, “Thanks, miss.” You fell back into your chair, huffing through your nose as you watched him down the lemonade. It really was hot out here, you couldn’t blame him. New Mexican summers were no joke. And he was doing manual labor under the sun on top of it— though you didn’t feel entirely bad, he looked damn good doing it.

“I ain’t my dad, you can call me by name.” You jest, earning you another grin. You watch him rock back and forth on the chair, one leg pushing himself, his fingers fiddling with his belt— you shouldn’t be looking down there!

Billy hums and repeats your name in correction. It seems like he just sat down, but here he is, pushing himself to his feet and standing in front of you. He pushes his hat back on, you get a glimpse of his large arms, his defined biceps— maybe the heat is what’s making you feel dizzy.

“You ain’t got a guy, d’ya?” Straight to the point. Your eyes dart back down— damnit— to see he’s hooked his thumbs over his leather belt. When you meet his stare again, there’s that devilish smile. You shake your head no to his question. “Makes sense. If y’did, I don’t think he’d take kindly t’how y’been starin’ at me.”

The easy way it falls from his lips— you’re practically clutching your pearls. “I have not been—“

“Oh, yes you have, miss,” Billy interjects with a warm, rumbling laugh, his brows lifting in good fun. Clearly he found it funny more than anything. You find yourself a bit distracted by the crease of his eyes when he grins, the sun-kissed pink to his tan cheeks. His broad shoulders, revealed by his sleeveless shirt. Maybe you get a little ballsy, faced with all this in front of you.

“So what if I have?” You retort, the flirting filling you with a strange, overpowering yellow, from head to toe— a kind of excitement that you didn’t feel often, not from any guy. “You work for me, y’know.”

“Thought you said you wasn’t your dad, sugar.”

You stare at eachother a long, long few moments. You’re huffing, beat. He’s shifting his weight, putting forward a boot on the porch, glancing you over again. The gumption on this man was gonna send you up the wall, all-right.

It takes a while for you to find your words, and they come out in an astonished laugh. “Get back to work!” you half-jokingly shoo him off even though you want nothing more than for him to stay, sit back down, keep your jaw dropping, keep your chin tipping back with laughter.

“Cruel, cruel woman,” he mutters without any bite, his eyes falling to Angharrad spread out at your feet. He only smiles at his own joke when you giggle. And Billy turns, shakes his head at you, looks over his shoulder atleast twenty times, waves once and curses himself twice, even though he wants the exact same.

If you’d want him to risk his job to sit and tell you the worst jokes he has, drink up your lemonade, drink up the sight of you— he would. In a heartbeat, honest, he would, even just from that quick interaction. Even if your father came after him with a shotgun and ran him off this ranch, he has half the mind to slither right back in and sit at your steps. It’ll get to that point, all-right.

You’re gonna get this boy into so, so much trouble.