#it is repeatedly getting up through the night to check the locks and windows

[delyldia]

Sometimes the reality of childhood CPTSD hits you like a truck. You've shoved that core truth down for so long, not even able to consciously consider anymore that what happened in your life actually happened. It's so fucking scary how you can go through things not really there and only when you're lucky/unlucky enough to have revelations about it, are you able to even consider getting help. No one can convince you that you actually need help when that reality is so deeply buried in your mind in a really weird convoluted way. You just say "I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine" all through life, for years (or most of your life) while your health deteriorates. And it's all because you never learned to trust yourself to feel correctly. It's something that's SO common sense, like "uh, yeah" to the people around you, but you don't feel it in a viscerally, coherently internal way that often. And when you do, it's so unpleasant. Idk. CPTSD is something that I think is so hard to directly talk about and it's much easier to just. Point to things that are related and speak the truth of it by association. Guess that's why storytelling hits so hard and why I've always wanted to be able to express myself in that way, at least. I think storytelling of that sort is entirely self serving, but it's side effect of making others feel less alone is a fortunate and worthwhile consequence.

[liillyliilly]

sing for me, please?

sugawara koushi x reader

words; 1215

content; sugawara has a small clever surprise- it's just fluff and kicks and giggles

“Did I really need to get here so early?” You slid into the seat next to Sugawara in the auditorium. The lights still hadn’t turned on, so it was mostly dark except for the glow of Sugawara’s flashlight.

“Yes. Absolutely yes you needed to be here early.” Sugawara was reclining low into the chair, practically sunk into the chair. He rapidly pats your knee for a moment before shushing you, despite you not even saying anything. His uniform is slightly crinkled.

The sun hadn’t even come up yet, so the windows showed only black night sky outside. School didn’t start for another hour or so, and yet Sugawara had requested you to come early. Of course you had asked what the reasoning was for his ask, but he didn’t give a response and just repeatedly asked you to come.

You roll your eyes, pulling out your book from your backpack. Sugawara rolls his eyes at your action, using his pointer finger to tilt your book away from your face.

“Just wait. Have patience, geez. I thought people who read a lot were supposed to be down for the long game.” Sugawara brings his face to your ear, trying to keep the volume of his voice down for whatever reason.

Through clenched teeth you clarified, “I do have patience,” You pull your book to your chest.

Sugawara mimics your words, faking a much higher pitch than your actual voice was at. You shoved him in the shoulder, then settled for just keeping your arm behind his seat. His silver shaded hair tickled your forearm, so you adjusted your arm positioning. You ran your fingers through the medium length hair at his neck, letting the soft locks twist around your fingers.

Sugawara ducked his head down even further so you wouldn’t be able to see the pink of his cheeks and nose.

The lights of the auditorium flickered on, and Sugawara sank even lower into his chair, using his hand to tug you down as well. Your heads wouldn’t have been visible from the back, hiding behind the red velvet seats. Sugawara hit his flashlight against his palm, turning the light off.

“What’s going on Koushi?”

“Mic check for the assembly later today.” He giggles.

The assembly for the third years, you recalled. It was going to essentially be a one hour long speech by the principal, then some other teachers would talk (you were excited for what Sensei Takeda had planned, since he spoiled the surprise that he’d be talking today). But all in all, the assembly was to congratulate the third year students for working hard on their exam season.

Once the praise for exams was over, they would award students with plaques for high scorers and for various other things. Best athletes, best overall academics, best writing, Principal’s choice award, and so on.

You didn't feel as exceptional as others, but you were secretly holding an anticipation that you’d win an award from the Literature Department as their standout student. You’d worked hard for the scholarship you won to the Prefectural University of Miyagi- your specialization and degree in Japanese Literature and Library Studies.

Sugawara knew that you’d been hoping for an award, so he did the reasonable thing, and snuck into the boxes behind the stage and checked that you won an award. He just hadn’t told you that you’d won two awards just yet, waiting until the official ceremony to cheer loudly with Daichi and Asahi and Kiyoko. (He knew that he’d cheer the loudest though.)

You shove your book back into your backpack. Sugawara pulls you up, hands over the back of the chair in front of him, so he can peek over the cusp of the seat. You copy his motions.

There was the principal, and in the back of the auditorium, a few of the students on stage crew started to fiddle with the lights and mics. Then once the principal was satisfied with his mic check, he threw his thumb up and the students went away through the exit.

You turned to Sugawara, unamused. “That was what we were waiting for?”

“No, no, shush!” He presses a finger to your lips, then smirks and holds his entire hand over your mouth instead of just his one finger.

Muffled, you say, “You better have washed your hands today.”

He nods, but turns attention back to the front stage. You do the same, only to see that the vice principal was lurking around the curtain. Sugawara takes his hand off your mouth, and under the guise of muffling his own laughs- he presses his hand to his own mouth. He figures it's the closest thing to a kiss from you that’d he’ll get for now.

The vice principal holds the mic in his hand, doing a twice around checking the entire auditorium with hawk-like eyes. Then, the unexplainable, the hilarious, the strangest thing possible occurs: he starts to sing.

“Is that…” You start, jaw practically unlatched at how you gape.

“Yes. It is in fact an Ariana Grande song.” Sugawara nuzzles his face into your shoulder to mostly silence his laughs. (He would deny any accusation that he was using it as a ruse to hold onto you. He’d absolutely deny that he loved putting his face close to your neck to smell that addicting lychee, rose, vanilla, and lily combination that he had grown to only associate with you.)

“Waking up early was definitely worth it for this Koushi.” You take your turn hiding chuckles by putting your face into Sugawara’s neck, and he takes the opportunity to place a light hand to your side.

Once the vice principal seemed satisfied with his operatic rendition of Ariana Grande’s “Problem” featuring Iggy Azalea, he vacated the auditorium. Sugawara and you just burst into loud cackles, holding onto your stomachs and letting your faces crack with smiles.

“Won’t you sing for me, please?” He teasingly grabs onto both of your hands and brings them to his chest, your hands flat against his pectorals.

“Dearest, won’t you sing for me instead? You know I’m fond of your lullaby. I just yearn every night for your falsetto interpretation of Greedy by my queen Ariana.” You press harder into his chest, trying to taunt and pester him just as much as he did to you.

Sugawara swallows thickly, but sticks his chin out a little, “We can always do a duet, love."

You giggle, pushing him away and standing up. Your watch tells you it’s around ten minutes before class is supposed to start, so people would be filtering into their classes by now.

“The duet will have to wait, let’s get to class Koushi.”

As you walk out of the auditorium, Sugawara watches you exit, letting his eyes wander to how your school skirt swishes around your legs. He holds his hand over his heart, just feeling the rapid beating under his skin.

He couldn’t wait to see the excitement on your face when you won the Literature Department award, and the Principal’s Choice Award. He always thought you looked prettiest when you had those bright eyes, that earth-shattering smile, and the sweetest tone of voice when you would inevitably turn to him and double check that it was in fact you who won.

[monotonesmile]

[Love, Death, and…Zombies?]

Chapter Two: Nightshade

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[Damian Wayne X GN!Reader]

[Word Count: 3.1k]

[Warnings: Swearing, Gore, Description of body horror]

[Prev Chapter -> Next Chapter!]

[Notes: I finally got this done! I hope you enjoy the second chapter!]

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The sun rising over the horizon casts a soft warm glow through the windows of the rundown, abandoned house they took shelter in the night prior, and unfortunately for Damian, he gets a rude awakening as the sunlight hits him right in the face, forcing him to wake up to the reality around him. Damian groans as he sits up, hearing the birds chirping outside, singing their morning song that signals their safety for the time being.

“Mm…” Damian groans in annoyance, his voice groggy and rough as he rubs his eyes before running a hand through his hair, trying his best to tame his raven locks before he glanced over and spotted his begrudging companion. “Right…them.” He mutters, recalling the events of yesterday before reaching over and tapping their shoulder to try and wake them up.

Even as he taps their shoulder repeatedly, they only respond by grumbling and stubbornly keeping their eyes shut, clearly not wanting to wake up and start the day. Damian can’t help but question in his mind how they managed to survive this long if they’re this stubborn to just wake up. He rolls his eyes, continuing his pestering by nudging their shoulder, which is still only met by sleepy grumbles, eventually, Damian gets tired of their stubbornness and decides to fully shake them, forcing them to jolt upright and awake, which results in him being shot a sleepy glare.

Damian scowls in return, both maintaining a glaring stare before he finally speaks. “Are you still feeling ill? Or has it gotten better?” He knows it’s just a cold, but even he can’t help but worry, especially in the environment they have to survive in.

“Yeah, I’m feeling better.” They nod, yawning quietly as they cover their mouth. They're obviously still a bit sick, given their exhausted demeanor, which he supposed is the explanation for the reluctance to get up, but even he can see that their face is clearing up from their illness.

“Good.” Damian grunts, nodding to himself as he looks them over, subconsciously checking to see if they were lying. “Here, better eat before we go.” He offered them some food, even if it was only dried meat, but that was because it was far easier to carry and it will last longer than anything fresh.

“Thank you…” They accept it with a tired mumble and small smile, taking the dried meat from his outstretched hand, beginning to eat what they could.

Damian watches as they eat from out of the corner of his eye, making sure that they’re actually eating, he knows that being sick sometimes can destroy a person's appetite, and while he’d never say it out loud, especially to them, he does want them to survive and live, it may be the instincts from his days as Robin, it could be the League of Assassins training he endured, but either way, he makes sure they at least eat.

Seeing that they’re eating, he starts to eat his share of the food, checking the small pouch he carries the meat in and grimacing as he can tell that there’s certainly not enough for two people. “We need to try and find some more food, I don’t have nearly enough for both of us.”

They blink slowly at him, his words processing slowly in their mind before they nod in agreement. “I can hunt an animal if we come across a deer or something, might be a bit…difficult cause I don’t have my spear,” They shrug, finishing their portion of food before looking over at him and continuing. “All I really have is a hunting knife, and that’s mainly for skinning an animal.”

“It won’t be difficult for me to find some sharp metal and make a spear, there’s a plethora of scrap metal littering Gotham, wood isn’t hard to find either.” Damian shrugs, finishing his own food as he starts to gather the sleeping roll he had slept on. “I would offer my sword, but I don’t fully trust you…and it’s my weapon.” He glanced at them with narrowed eyes, as if expecting them to betray him at some point.

“It’s fine, I don’t really use swords…I prefer being able to throw my weapon.” They shrug, turning to him, though it’s obvious that they prefer long distance combat rather than his rather close combat. “But I’d be thankful if you could help me get the supplies for a new spear!” They smile at him, still as enthusiastic as ever, albeit, they’re still slightly groggy.

“Alright, let’s get our stuff picked up and get going.” Damian sighs, picking himself up and off the ground so he can clear the empty fire pit he made last night, as they get up from the blanket he let them borrow.

“Oh, this is yours.” They hand him the extra blanket, which he blinks at, he honestly wasn’t expecting them to return it, but he grabs it back after a prolonged pause, placing it back in his backpack. Maybe that’s why they gave it back, they don’t have a bag to carry it in.

It took them a few minutes to gather their things and clear out the evidence of them residing in the abandoned house, but once their finished, Damian signals them to follow as he approached the front door, checking their surroundings for a moment before exiting the home when he determines it to be safe, the birds still singing as they start to head down the street through the suburban neighborhood.

As they walk down the street, Damian was searching for any scrap metal that looks durable enough to last for a while as a spear head, while they were grabbing some long branches and wood, hopping over some overgrown vines, humming a random tune he doesn’t know. It would be enough reason for him to assume that they’re gathering either firewood or the handle of their missing spear, seeing that they likely have experience with making spears from the material around them.

Damian picks up some stray metal shards as they walk closer to the looming buildings of what was once the city of Gotham, taking one of the longer sticks from them to start makeshifting a spear for them, he knew it was rather dangerous to get this close to the city, but with all the plant life that had grown in from the outskirts and overtaken the city, animals had become far more common in the center of the city nowadays.

“Hmph…Ivy sure would be happy with this sight if she’s still alive…” Damian mutters under his breath as he stares up at the vines and moss that crawl over the concrete, breaking through it as Mother Nature proves its strength and willpower now that there aren't as many humans here anymore.

“Wha- Hey! Goddammit…” Damian groans as he notices that they had wandered off while gathering sticks, groaning as he walks over to them, grabbing them by the back of their jacket and lightly, yet sternly, pulling them back towards him and the original path. “Don’t wander off, I am still baffled that you managed to survive this long considering your…inability…with staying on path.” He huffs as he drags them back to where they were originally walking.

“Rude much?” They huff at him with a grumpy frown, following him begrudgingly as he was literally dragging them back. “Uh…Damian?” They mutter, pausing as they look around, confused by something.

“What?” Damian sighs, rubbing his temples, the longer he deals with this, the worse of a headache he’s going to get.

“Isn’t it…rather quiet?” They look back at Damian, as the sudden realization hits him, it’s quiet.

“…shit.” They had barely even reached the outskirts of the city, and the birds had silenced their songs, sensing the danger he nearly missed if it wasn’t for their reminder, he had been so distracted by their wandering that he hadn’t noticed. “Stop moving.” Damian gestures for them to stop, holding his hand in front of them as they froze.

There was no sound of birds or animals, the breeze had seemingly vanished, leaving a haunting chill in the air that sent shivers down his spine as the sound of something he never wanted to encounter approached, groans of agony and thudding footsteps was all he could hear for a moment. The sickening sounds of bones snapping under the weight of something that could no longer hold its own weight and yet persisted in movement, the agonizing sound that would follow as it slowly approaches their location.

Infected.

“Move.” Damian hissed in a whisper, grabbing their arm to yank them down and behind an overturned car that laid on its side, slapping his hand over their mouth to silence them, knowing they’d try to say something, receiving a disgruntled huff against his palm. “Be silent.”

He watches through a car mirror that laid on the ground nearby, likely broken off when the car was turned onto its side, but every single time he sees one of those things, he wants to gag, the smell in of itself was horrid, but having to watch a twisted and distorted version of a human trudge down the street and past the car they hid behind was sickening.

The creature was groaning in against as it’s twisted limbs thud against the street, the bones cracking under its weight, its legs extended past any human normalcy and capabilities, bent in such a way that it was shocking it could even walk, arms were growing from its back, breaking through the skin as they were mangled and ripped apart from vultures and carrion eating birds, he could almost see the maggots and insects that festered in the open wounds on its body.

At this point, Damian couldn’t even tell what this person was, or who they used to be, there was barely a fragment of a human being left in it, the stench of rotting flesh was making his eyes water, making him have to hold back a gag. He stayed silent even despite the smell, trying to still his heart as it hammers inside his chest, his breathing was near silent but shaky, and he could feel their breathing against his hand, shaky as well, maybe even more than his, but neither of them made any movement, staying as still as they can to avoid making any sound.

“shit, shit, shit…” Damian’s mind was racing as the creature slowly passed by the overturned car, he could only hope it couldn’t hear his heart or their breathing, watching as it stumbled behind a building as it turned the corner, disappearing from his line of sight.

He keeps them hidden for a few minutes longer, time crawling slowly by, stretching on to feel like hours before the birds start to hesitantly sing until they begin to fully chirp once they know the coast is clear and are no longer in danger. They both can breathe a sigh of relief as Damian pulls his hand away from their mouth, sitting there for a moment to let his heart calm down.

“Well fuck…that was horrifying.” They mutter, pressing a hand to their chest, feeling how hard their heart is beating, they didn’t expect to come across an infected, Damian definitely didn't either.

“Agreed,” Damian mutters, leaning his head back against the car behind them, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, knowing that they need to move before that thing comes back. “We need to get moving, preferably before that creature returns.” He sighs, pushing himself off of the ground and offering them his hand subconsciously.

“Thanks…” They take his hand, accepting his help in getting up as they get to their feet, dusting themself off as they look around their surroundings. “Take the lead.” They gesture for him to lead the way, following closely behind him when he turns down a different way to avoid the direction the infected had walked in.

They had to find a different way to try and find better supplies now, they weren’t going to risk running into anymore infected and getting hit by one. They swiftly make their way further into the city, staying close to the shadows and sticking to the alleyways, but they could tell after the encounter Damian was far more on edge now, alert to everything in their surroundings, more than they were. While their carefree attitude mildly annoys him, he doesn’t tell them that, it’s a rare thing to come by in this hellscape.

“You’re weird…” Damian grumbles as he checks behind a corner before moving further into the city.

“Aren’t we all?” They chuckle as they follow him, even though they act carefree and seemingly don’t care to watch their surroundings, they were the first to have noticed the infected that had approached them earlier.

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They had managed to make it into the city without any other altercations or incidents with infected, now having finally gathered some rather decent supplies in an abandoned store, not many people venture into the inner city due to the high amount of infected in the area and risk of infection because of it, so there was plenty of good supplies in the buildings for them to take, luckily, they managed to find medical supplies and some food preserves that should last them a while, and Damian had found them a backpack to carry their stuff in.

They hadn’t found any animals though, as they were likely scared off by the infected wandering around, but the food preserves and canned goods were more than sufficient for Damian and them, at least they would still have food.

Damian was still searching around the abandoned store for more supplies, stepping over discarded wood and broken shelves before he heard an odd sound from somewhere in the store, and given the birds were still heard from outside, it definitely wasn't one of the infected, and he didn’t know where they were in the store. So, he makes his way over to see what the cause was, only to find them sitting on the floor, sharpening a stick with their knife while other sticks laid around them, some with metal shards attached to them, wrapped with rope to make them a spearhead.

“What…are you doing?” Damian tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he watches them sharpen the stick, wood shavings littering the ground around them, the only thing going through his mind was utter confusion.

“Makin’ a spear.” They shrug, whittling away at the stick with their hunting knife, checking the sharpness every so often by stabbing a piece of cardboard that was lying nearby them.

“I got you a spear…” Damian questions, referring to a spear he had made while they were walking to the city, which he spots resting against the wall behind them, in perfect condition, like they didn’t want to damage something he gave them.

“Yeah…and I need more than one?” They glanced up at him from their spot on the floor with a raised eyebrow, looking at him like he’s an absolute fool.

“Why?” Damain chose to ignore the look they’re giving him, even if he scowls at them for it, but questions why they could possibly need so many spears or weapons in general, he only carries his sword and the Escrima sticks his older brother had.

“One spear isn’t enough, it’s gonna break eventually.” The way they spoke was such a matter of fact tone that made Damian question himself for a moment, because they aren’t wrong, before another thought crossed his mind.

“How hard are you throwing them to need multiple spears?” Damian stared at them as he questioned himself mentally, because why wouldn’t they need multiple spears, they would need an amazing aim to only require one.

Their only response was a shrug as they returned their focus to sharpening the stick in their hand, placing it with the others once they were finished sharpening and then picking up another stick to continue.

“That’s more horrifying than any other answer you could’ve given me.” Damian mutters at the nonverbal response he was just given, now questioning how strong the person in front of them actually is if they’re breaking the spears by solely throwing them.

“I…” Damian shakes his head with a sigh escaping him. “Get your things, we’re leaving the city, it’s far too dangerous here with the infected around, and I’m not going to risk our lives any further.” He helped them start to gather up their spears as they shrugged and went along with him, there were only a few long spears with metal spearheads attached, most of them were shorter, like stakes, and could easily be carried in their bag.

They put the longer spears in a sheath on their back, under their new bag where they’ve placed everything else. “Alright, I’m good.” They get up from the floor, adjusting the weight of the bag on their back, grabbing the spear Damian made for them from the wall they placed it against.

They exit the abandoned store, heading down the empty streets as they go to leave the dangerous area, the birds chirping filling the warm air as they dodge any vines littering the ground. Damian glances up, squinting his eyes as he checks the sun’s position to know the time of day, finding it to be nearly right above them, signaling it to be midday, they’ve only been here for a few hours, and most of that time was just walking.

Damian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, muttering to himself. “You’re so weird about spears…” He wasn’t hiding what he was saying even if he was muttering under his breath as they had noticed and only chuckled in response.

“Yeah, well, you’re weird about your sword too.” They chuckle as they nudge him with their shoulder, grinning at him as he frowns at them in return, but it doesn’t dull their mood or smile. He rolls his eyes before they settle into a comfortable silence as they walk down the street, the song of the birds around them fills their ears in a soothing sound.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing by towering buildings that were crumbling, moss crawling up the walls of concrete before their voice broke through the silence. “I like ya! Even if you’re a bit odd.” They grinned at him, hopping over a crack in the asphalt beneath their feet.

“Yeah,” Damian huffs as they reach the edge of the city limits, looking back at them as they enter the outskirts, where they headed towards safer grounds. “Sure you do…” He mutters as they fall back into silence, now listening to the birds sing as the sky is clear, the sun shining above them.

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[ivystoryweaver]

3 Times Jake Lockley Tried Threatened to Kill You and 1 Time How He Saved Your Life

Part 5/5: Finale

previous || Miniseries Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: Jake makes you a life-changing offer, but can you trust him? Can you really trust anybody?

Word Count: 7.3k

Content: nsfw, mdni, language (more than usual), nipple play, oral - m. and f. rec, p in v, unprotected sex, knife play, knife threats, mild injury, blood, wounds, violence, rough sex, creampie, tiny bit of anal teasing, mentions of food, suicide, trafficking and abuse, mental health discussions, not beta'd

gif does not indicate reader's race

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You checked the lock behind Jake. And again. Three times. Then you checked and re-checked all the windows and curtains, even though Jake had secured the house as soon as you arrived. You peered in every closet and under both beds, in the bathroom, everywhere that someone might think to hide.

And you did all this while carrying your weapon. In fact, you inspected the house so thoroughly and repeatedly that you were searching a closet when Jake returned. Your blood went ice cold in your veins at the sound of footsteps. But you drew a deep breath and gripped your weapon, ready to defend yourself if needed.

He called your name and you almost collapsed in relief, making sure the safety was on before setting the gun on the night table. 

“There you are, you okay?” He hurriedly questioned, rushing to check you over.

Nodding quickly, you threw your arms around his neck and held onto him as if he’d just returned from war. 

“I got you, it’s okay,” he murmured against your ear, wrapping his arms around the curve of your back and pressing your body against his securely. “I’m sorry I left. You’ve been through hell today.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, your eyes drifting closed as he folded you closer still, deciding to see how he would respond if you remained calm instead of showing him the absolute panic consuming you.

“No. It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have left you.” Pressing a kiss to your temple, he eased back and took your face in his hands. “It won’t happen again. I’m not gonna control you like everyone else. I should have given you the choice."

You blinked at him so sweetly, stunned by his confession - wishing so badly to believe him, but still so uncertain...

Better to play nice for now.

“Keep talking,” you smiled warmly at him. “You’re more than a pretty face.”

He kissed your lips, chuckling lightly, relieved that you seemed in good spirits.

Jake showed you the supplies, allowed you to change into clothes closer to your size, and the two of you made some food since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

As the evening wore on, he finally seemed to relax a bit, removing his jacket, although his gloves and hat stayed on. And before you had to wonder anymore, or for very long about his intentions, he motioned around him at the supplies he'd gathered, letting you know he had a ton of work to do to get the two of you out of there safely tomorrow - and suggested you go to bed...leaving you completely bewildered.

"I'll fix up the bed - you can sleep in there. I'll take the couch."

Now you were more confused than ever.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake checked with you half a dozen times, it seemed, making sure you felt okay to go to bed.

"You can sleep in here, you know...if you want. Plenty of room," you offered, fidgeting nervously with your hands, which was quite unlike you.

Jake stopped, glancing up from tucking a blanket neatly under the edge of the mattress. "Thanks. Maybe I will. I just don't want to keep you up."

"Okay," you softly agreed, and Jake wondered if the chaos of the day had taken the fight right out of you. "Hey, come here," he said softly, reaching for the swell of your hips to pull you close. "It's been a shit day. I'll come in later."

You nodded, sadness lingering in your eyes and Jake realized he'd never seen you so soft and vulnerable.

"You're safe here," he repeated. "I promise you."

Forcing a smile, you went along with his idea, needing time to think.

Although you'd put up a fight with Jake, at least verbally, several times before, this was different. You were alone, totally isolated and no one knew where you were. You could die here. Or he could be leading you to your death.

So for once, quietly accepting your fate sounded like the way to go. You kissed Jake goodnight and locked yourself inside the bedroom, hoping he wouldn't grow suspicious or worse, angry.

You stared at the pitch black ceiling above your bed, unable to believe this is how your first night with Jake Lockley was going.

This man who haunted your fantasies, who plunged a knife into your abdomen, whose very voice made you wet...was surprisingly the softest man you'd ever met. At least you truly hoped so.

These thoughts turned over and over in your head, making you toss and turn for what felt like hours, wondering if Jake would come to you. After getting up to use the bathroom, you decided it best to unlock the door.

After a while longer, your impatience won out and you remembered all the times in your own bed, in the comfort of your penthouse, when you'd relieved your stress physically - each time fantasizing about Jake - at least for the last few weeks.

Bored, frustrated and wired, your fingers wandered under the cotton t-shirt Jake had given you to sleep in, toying with the scar he'd left with his knife. The knife you came on. The scar he'd caressed while fingering you with his gloves on - something right out of your wildest dreams.

He must think you were so unhinged. Which...was probably true. Even now, toying with your scar, you felt yourself getting wet. Maybe you could just...no. Not with Jake in the next room. He would definitely hear you getting yourself off since you weren't exactly one for quiet orgasms.

The truth was, you simply weren't used to being on your own, quiet, with no phone, no one to call, no one to serve you. Nothing.

"Fuck," you hissed, annoyed with yourself for getting worked up over a stab wound.

"That a request?" Jake's voice sounded from the bedroom doorway.

"Shit! Jake - you scared me." Scooting up in bed, you reached for the bedside lamp.

He stood, shirtless, arms folded over his chest, his curls wild and untamed from running his fingers through them relentlessly...and his hands, finally, bare.

"What, you don't wear gloves to bed?" You teased, drawing your legs up to your chest in a somewhat defensive pose.

"I can if you want, cariño," he smirked, pushing off the doorway to stalk toward the bed.

"I thought you were busy," you huffed, keeping your distance, if only to pretend you were punishing him in some way.

"I was, but...I missed you."

"Sure you did," you fired back, rolling your eyes.

"There it is," he darkly chuckled, easing closer to you. "So sweet before, but I knew it wouldn't last."

"Fuck you," you spat, reaching out to swat at his arm, but he trapped your wrist in his strong grip, condescendingly tutting a few times.

"Mmm, you said that," he nodded, pushing your hand over your head while climbing on top of you, his gorgeous body flexing as he eased you underneath him. Taking hold of your free hand, he pushed it up to join the other, locking your wrists in an iron grip. "Why do you think I came in here?"

Without giving you time to answer, he covered your mouth with his own, strong hips pinning you to the mattress to restrict your movement. Licking open the seam of your lips, he thrusted against you hungrily, growling as your hips shifted to meet his rocking motion.

Keeping a hold on your wrists with one hand, he dragged his free hand down to push up your t-shirt, quickly and easily finding his scar - his mark on you. The one he saw you fondling as he quietly watched you from the doorway a few minutes ago.

He should have let you continue, waited patiently while you slid your fingers into you slick cunt, panting his name.

But he just couldn't help himself, even now, as those same fingers wandered down underneath the hem of your panties. You moaned deeply into his mouth as he rubbed his knuckles between your wet folds.

Tearing his mouth from yours, he kissed a trail down your throat, yanking up your t-shirt to expose your breasts to his waiting mouth, smiling against your skin as he sucked your hardened nipple. Next he trailed his tongue down to your scar, breathing hotly over the sore skin before laving his tongue over the ruined flesh, the steady drag of his knuckles through your folds making you mewl and liquify under his touch.

He continued downward, laying soft kisses along your stomach, down to your panties, before pulling them off your legs.

"Relax, baby," he gruffed out, kissing a trail up the softness of your inner thigh before his lips finally met your dripping core.

"Jake...please..." You gasped, threading your fingers through his thick curls as he softly and temptingly kissed your cunt.

"Think about this every night, mi amor. Wanna hear you when you come on my tongue."

"Fuck, Jake," you moaned as he dragged his tongue through your folds. Your body trembled in pleasure at the way he started eating you - the squelching sounds filthy and turning you on beyond belief.

He nibbled at your throbbing clit before laving with his tongue, over and over and it felt so fucking good you thought you might cry. Then he plunged his tongue into your hole, fucking into you, swirling and licking as his thumb found your clit - circling it with hard, pressing pulses while working his mouth all over you pussy.

You tugged his hair so hard, pushing his face against your cunt, rocking your hips, fucking his face and he seemed happy to let you handle him like a toy, soaking his mouth with your juices.

A pleasure like you'd never known began to build in the center of you and you rushed headlong into it, thrilled that he wasn't trying to control you - seeming pleased with the way you bucked wildly against him.

His tongue felt hot and wild and wet inside you, obscene wet slurps filling the bedroom - only slightly obscured by your shrieks of ecstasy.

Whatever in the world you were mad at him for, he was forgiven because you'd never had a lover or a toy or anything in the world take you to heaven like this.

Just then, his stiff cock brushed against your leg and the thought of how hard he felt and how good he was about to fuck you sent you into oblivion. Your back arched violently off the bed as your whole body shook with orgasm, like a delicious lightning zinging through your entire body, all the way down to your toes.

Jake kissed gently back up your body, knuckles gently stroking your arm, fingers tangling with yours as you rode out your high.

"That's my girl," he murmured against your neck. "Came for me so good. Taste fucking perfect."

"Jake..." You panted, squeezing your joined hands and wondering when the room might stop spinning.

"I got you, baby. I got you."

Your blissed out brain vaguely drifted back to this morning when he said the same thing to you, while trying to get you to safety. It was a hell of a day.

You rolled to your side and curled up against his chest, loving how his arms automatically wrapped around you and pressed your body against the heat of his bare chest. The straining, hard length of him dug into your thigh as his mouth sought yours out once more, this time hungrier, more demanding.

He lifted your t-shirt over your head as you frantically pushed at the hem of his boxers, lips fused every second possible as you freed yourself of your remaining clothes.

He rolled your body back underneath his, kissing you hungrily before pushing your arms back over your head, hissing as his gunshot wound smarted. With fingers tangled, hands linked, he worked his hips in between your legs which fell open eagerly.

Sliding his tip through your drenched folds, he groaned out a few curses in Spanish before pushing into your hole, pausing for just a moment - just to get a reaction out of you.

Predictably, you slung your leg around his ass and urged him into you deeper, hissing as his cock stretched you open.

"Fuck me," you demanded, even as he bottomed out and held himself still, if only to hear you say it again.

Writhing underneath him, the stretched position of your arms put your breasts on a gorgeous display for him. "Fuck me, Jake," you whined, your back arching deliciously as you squeezed your joined hands.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he roughly speared back into you, twisting his body into yours, his mouth falling open in a gasp as your hips rocked to meet his.

He went slowly, but it was deep and a little rough and wild and so Jake.

"I think of you every night - wishing you were inside me," you panted, body rolling beautifully underneath him.

"I'm here now, baby," he groaned, driving his cock into you possessively. "I'll give you anything you want."

"I want you here," you panted, both legs wrapped snugly around him now, fingers gripping his own, spread open beneath him, taking his cock so good. "I want you inside me. Come inside me. Stay with me."

Your words ignited a molten lust like he'd never felt with anyone else. You were such a beautiful paradox - or maybe it was his heart that thrummed with conflict, but only for you. He wanted you wild, cursing him, fighting him, making him burn for you, but he simultaneously needed to tame you, take your body underneath his, just like this - make you soft and desperate for him.

But earlier, you were too quiet and he worried that maybe your spirit was breaking. He couldn't live with that. You were sweet and vicious and filthy and beautiful. He wanted to shove his gun in your pussy or bend you over the hood of his car and make you cry, but he also wanted to pamper you and get down his knees to give you anything your heart desired. He wanted to pull you apart with his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his cock. To pleasure you for hours on end, tender and deep and slow, in a soft bed.

He wanted all of you. And as you murmured against his mouth that you were glad he was here with you, he thought it might feel something like love.

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You fell asleep tangled up in Jake, honestly pleased to simply have his undivided attention. Despite everything, you still felt safe with him, but doubts lingered.

Your sleepy mind dragged you under and into a terrible dream - vague, but with images of your awful bodyguard who attacked you at the forefront. Then Jake appeared, and simply...watched. You cried out for him, but he didn't seem to care.

You woke up suddenly, disoriented and afraid, only to find Jake sound asleep beside you. Burning questions plagued your mind, so you silently slipped out of bed, quickly racing to the living room to locate some kind of weapon. You needed to solve this right fucking now.

Creeping back into the bedroom, you gripped a knife in your trembling hand, drawing a deep breath before laying it against the corded thickness of Jake's throat. Of course, as soon as he woke up, he would overpower you and probably be pissed, so you decided to climb on top of him, straddling his body to more easily pin him down.

Before you even called his name or shook him awake, his dark eyes popped open, feeling your naked body draped over his. But his brief delight quickly evaporated when he felt a sharp knife edge pressing into his skin.

"Shit," he hissed, struggling at first, but faltering when you dug the knife in to the point of pain.

"Be still," you ordered. "I have some goddamn questions."

"All right, okay," he agreed, holding his hands up as if surrendering.

"Put your hands underneath your body," you ordered. "Lie on top of them. Do it now."

You thought you saw a smirk and it enraged you, which caused your wrist to slip and barely nick his throat.

"Fucking hell, be careful with that," he gasped, complying with your demand - wincing at the way his current arm position pulled at his gunshot wound.

"Answer my questions or I will cut your fucking throat," you snarled, using all your weight to pin him down and hoping like hell you sounded believable, if not intimidating.

"Okay, just...go easy."

"You said twenty minutes," you accused, "You said you would be back from your supply run in twenty minutes, but you weren't."

"Corazón. Please - "

"You said twenty," you fussed, trembling with rage. "It was thirty-five minutes - "

"I'm sorry - "

"I thought you left me here, Jake," you insisted, gesturing animatedly with your free hand. "O-or something happened to you."

Wetting his lips, he attempted to explain. "I went to two different stores, but I got most of what we need. So we'll be ready. It won’t happen again. We'll use burner phones next time."

"Who will be ready?"

"You and me, to leave here tomorrow," he reminded you. "I told you." He groaned as your bare cunt shifted against his lower abdomen. Fucking hell, you were crazy but damn if it didn't make him want you so much.

Scared of asking your next question, you pressed on, desperate to know. "Are you going to kill me? O-or hurt me? Are you still out for revenge against my father?”

“What? No,” Jake passionately replied, hoping to convince you with his body held captive. “You were in the car when we were shot at this afternoon. I’m trying to save your life.”

"How do I know?" You clapped back, pounding your fist on his chest. "How do I know you didn't kidnap me?"

"Jesus," he huffed, rolling his eyes, but he seemed oddly relieved. "That's what has you all worked up. You think I fucking kidnapped you?"

"Maybe you did," you snapped. "Maybe you're trying to trick me - to get me to trust you."

"I told you you have every reason not to trust me, after what I did to you," he insisted. "Believe me, I was surprised you even agreed to come here with me. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

“But why?” You blinked down at him. “Why did you change your mind?”

His gaze met yours confidently. “You were in that bathroom with me today. In the club, when you kissed me. Why do you think?”

“For a good fuck?” You smarted. “Mission accomplished. Now what?”

He took the compliment. “Thanks,” he smirked. “I thought so.” Wetting his lips, he added, “I know I won’t forget the way you looked in that mirror for a long time.”

Fuck. The mere thought of it made you wet. Even his voice could rile you up.

"What if you're full of shit?" You seethed, trailing off as you felt his very prominent erection against your ass.

"What the hell...this is turning you on? Are you seriously fucking hard with a knife to your throat, talking about kidnapping me? You sick fuck!"

Jake's head dropped back to his pillow then and he let out a dark chuckle at your apparent obliviousness to the obvious reason he hadn't overpowered you yet. "That surprises you? You're the one who fucks yourself with my weapons, sweetheart."

"Yeah? Maybe I should shove this knife right up your ass!"

"For god's sake..." He groaned. "You're a spoiled fucking brat, you know that?"

"Fuck you, Jake," you growled, shifting your hips down. Using your free hand, you gripped his cock, pushing your thumb over the tip before guiding his length into your pussy.

With the knife pressed firmly to his throat, you sank all the way down, hissing at how he stretched you so good before starting to rock your hips.

"fuck..." Jake moaned, turned on beyond belief at how you were at least pretending to threaten his life while clenching him so tightly.

"Now answer me," you panted, trying hard to concentrate while riding such a good cock. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment - an opportunity Jake should have taken, but willfully chose not to. In this case, getting his dick wet was far more appealing than scaring you further.

"Are you going to hurt me?" You half moaned, dragging your hips back and forth demandingly. "Or let anyone else hurt me?"

Jake wet his lips at the sight of your bouncing tits. "No. Never."

"But why?" You gasped, grateful instead of angry when he freed his hands, running them up your thighs. Gripping your hips, he moved you back and forth, helping you ride his dick harder and faster, even as the knife pulled roughly at the flesh of his throat.

"Because...you're mine," he panted, feeling the thrill of victory as the weapon dropped from your hand. "You're fucking mine. Say it."

Bracing your palms on his chest, you bounced faster and faster on his cock - your gorgeous tits mesmerizing him as your body flexed and fucked and you started to moan his name.

After a vigorous round of you riding him hard, he sat up with you, wrapping you in his strong arms, his mouth crashing into yours as your bodies twisted, rolling together like a thunderstorm.

Pulling you harder down onto him by your shoulders, Jake buried his face in your neck, remembering back to the club when all he wanted was to suck a mark on your skin and come against you. But now, you were here with him, alone, naked and he was so deep inside you. You wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice pleading instead of demanding, hands caressing down the curve of your back as he murmured against your throat. "Say you're mine. Because I'm yours. Only yours."

"Jake," you whimpered, your body surrendering to a euphoric wave of passion, arching against him as you came undone. He groaned into your skin, feeling your walls clenching around him, coaxing him toward his own release. Surging heat filled you inside and you held Jake's head against your shoulder tenderly as he he came back to himself.

Easing back, he gasped for air, gazing into your eyes before kissing your parted lips. Touching his forehead to yours, he cupped your cheek with his hand.

"I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever." Reaching for the knife, he felt you flinch, hurriedly whispering his name. He pressed the handle into your hand, kissing your mouth again. "Take it. Do anything you want. I'll never hurt you."

You repeated his name, realizing it was becoming something of a touchstone. Wrapping your arms around his neck with the knife in your hand, you kissed him deeply.

Maybe he really did just want to fuck you, but whatever he was doing was working. You were finally beginning to truly believe him.

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After holding one another in the dark, bodies wet and soft but still joined, the two of you panted, soft kisses and caresses soothing and calming you.

You climbed out of bed to clean up a little, check Jake's gunshot wound, and get a drink. Jake pulled your t-shirt back over your head and found his boxers. Pulling you against his chest, he ran his hands up and down the curve of your back, smiling to himself as you draped your bare thigh across his abdomen.

"I'm sorry I cut your neck," you whispered, running your fingertip over his chin before tracing the shape of his lips.

"No, I don't think you are," he softly chuckled, fingertips brushing the smooth curve of your ass underneath the hem of your t-shirt. "But thanks for saying so."

But you were serious. "I didn't want to hurt you, I just..." You trailed off, your voice faltering.

"You were scared," he supplied. "I don't blame you." Pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he added, "Gotta teach you how to handle a knife though. Just in case."

"Oh don't worry," you laughed, "I'm not planning to climb naked on top of anyone else and threaten them."

Jake hummed against your skin, squeezing your ass. "No, your naked body was pretty effective actually."

You shared a giggle, feeling the tiniest bit carefree, like lovers, instead of the messed up star-crossed whatever-this-was.

After a moment, Jake pulled the covers over your bodies. "Try to get some sleep. We have to leave in a few hours...unless you have more questions."

You did. You asked him again why you had to leave this house so soon. "It’s off the grid - even the electricity and water bills can’t be traced to me, but…it is better to leave soon."

“Okay,” you nodded, “and go where?”

Wrapping you a little tighter, he decided it was now or never. “I’m going to New York. From there, I can’t tell you yet. Not unless…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “You have to decide what you want to do. I can get you back to your father, if that’s what you want."

Chewing on your lip, you squeezed his hand, grateful for his touch. “What if I don’t want? What choices do I have?”

He chanced a look down at you and found you staring at him intently, as if he really could solve your problems. Hell, he was the cause of at least half your current issues. 

“Uhm…” he cleared his throat, dark eyes flickering away and then back to yours. “I’m leaving. I don’t know why you would want to, but…you could come with me.”

Your sharp intake of breath surprised him. “Really?” You whispered, your voice laced with sincerity and not a trace of guile or sarcasm. “Y-you would take me with you? Away from my father, from all of this?”

He eased back, lying beside you, so he could see your face better. “I would. I will - if you want.”

“But what about my father?” You pressed. “What about your revenge?”

The familiar ache inside him ignited as Jake remembered his brother. He shook his head, trying to figure out how to explain… With a sigh he finally peered deeply into your eyes. “I want you more than I want revenge.”

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Fingers tangled with Jake’s, your head rested against his arm as the two of you raced toward New York in yet another different vehicle.

“It really doesn’t bother you to leave stuff behind?” You curiously inquired, nuzzling into the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“I don’t have much to leave behind,” he vaguely responded. “Why? You missing your penthouse about now?”

Turning your gaze up to his face, you noticed his mouth curled teasingly.

“I’ll miss the breakfasts,” you answered honestly. “Omelettes made to order, mimosas, tea… Find me some decent eggs and a waffle and I’ll be happy.”

“That I can do,” he nodded, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I know a few places in the city - greasy spoons, but the best breakfast food you’ll ever eat.”

You hummed out an affirmative, snuggling back into your comfortable spot against his arm. After a few quiet moments, which you realized Jake seemed to cherish, you bravely voiced the most important question.

“So…I’m here. We’re going to New York,” you stated the obvious. “Are you going to tell me what happens next?”

“I will,” he assured you, smoothing his thumb over yours, "when we get there. It's...complicated. But I promise I'll tell you everything."

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NEW YORK

“I think I like your safe house better,” you joked, glancing around at the not-so-nice motel room, noting the presence of one bed and a small sofa.

"It's no penthouse, but it's safe," Jake shrugged, setting down two bags - now your only possessions in the world. "We'll be out of here tomorrow night anyway."

His gaze landed on you, carefully observing, just waiting for you to run out the door and call your father. Why would you want this? Not enough money - danger, leaving your whole life behind?

And why was he taking such a risk, having you here? Rich, well-known and beautiful, you were a beacon, drawing unwanted attention.

Noticing you shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, he crossed the room, relaxing as you smiled at him, accepting his embrace.

"Let's get you some waffles," he murmured against your ear, holding you securely. "Then we need a few more supplies. I promise I'll answer any questions you have."

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"I have...a disorder," Jake finally admitted, his voice blending in with the old diner's dull roar.

Fresh pancakes sizzled on the griddle - the aroma of this morning's coffee filling the air with a slightly burned tinge.

Expecting to him to tell you the plan - to reveal the city of your final destination, you asked him, "What kind of disorder?"

And that's how you learned about his alters - Steven and Marc. He talked for a long while, briefly mentioning his abusive mother, his dead father, and the kidnapping and murder of his younger brother Randall.

Steven had been with him a long time, since they were children, but Marc came later, after college. Marc rarely came around, kept quiet and generally seemed to protect them.

"Steven's not like me," Jake simply explained, while you finished eating. "He's good. He's always been good." Then he went on to admit he planned to let Steven live in London and take a back seat in their mind.

Panic began to grip you from the inside out. Was Jake planning to disappear and leave you with this Steven? Or Marc? Had you met either of them?

And was London really your final destination?

"If you come with me, I'm not going to leave you," Jake explained, "but you'll meet them at some point."

Reaching across the table, you squeezed his hand. "Thank you...for telling me. I understand, in a way."

Noticing his confusion, you went on to explain that you were familiar with disorders and mental health issues because your mom was bipolar.

"She was on and off meds my whole life. My dad didn't really believe it was a thing - always treating her like an embarrassment or a burden," you brokenly explained. "She got so low that...she finally killed herself."

"My god...I'm sorry," Jake soothed, squeezing your fingers gently.

"I think...maybe when she realized what my dad was actually doing - how awful he really is - she just couldn't take it anymore," you went on. "That's why I was so afraid of you."

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he reminded you, rubbing circles over your knuckles with his thumb.

Realizing Jake didn't fully understand, you explained to him that when your mom found out your dad was trafficking humans, she took her life.

"I've been trying to get out ever since. But I couldn't find a way, so I played nice. I didn't know what else to do." You shook your head. "Maybe we should find a way to...I don't know - overthrow him. He's truly evil."

Realizing the horrors you'd lived and how they were as bad as his own, if not worse, Jake's heart burned and he'd never wanted so badly to protect you.

"Let's try to get out first. I'll teach you how to fight, and when to avoid a fight," he suggested. "I don't want to think about something like that until I get you safe."

"You know...at first I thought you might secretly work for my dad, or a worse rival - that you took me...to sell me."

"Jesus," Jake whistled in disbelief, making sure to keep his voice quiet. "Are you serious? That must be terrifying."

Linking his fingers with yours, he peered into your eyes. "I was hired to kill you, by a rival of your father's, yes, but it had nothing to do with trafficking. I may have killed some people but I don't know anything about that world. You have to believe me."

Swallowing hard, you nodded once. "It's hard, but...I'm starting to? If that makes sense?"

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jake retrieved the keys, sliding them across the table to you. "You have your weapon." He nodded downward. "Those are to the car and the motel. You can hold onto them. You can leave anytime you want."

"Jake - "

"Listen it's not just whether or not you feel safe with me," he tried to explain. "I'm not going to make you believe I'm the only path to safety. You're smart and strong. I don't want you to, but...if you need to go, you go."

Gathering the keys from the table top, you managed a smile, stashing them in your jacket pocket. "Thank you."

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“I hope you’re not trying to seduce me, Mr. Lockley,” you joked later that evening as you watched him peel a white t-shirt over his head. “Because three times between yesterday and last night has me a little sore.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up almost triumphantly. “You out of practice?" He stalked toward you slowly, unfastening his jeans. "Or maybe none of your toys fill you up the way I do?"

"Holy shit," you half gasped/half giggled as he pulled you close by your hips.

"Take a shower with me," he breathed against your lips, fingers inching underneath your shirt. "Promise I'll be nice."

As if you needed convincing.

Underneath the warm spray, Jake pushed you up against the tiled wall and kissed you hard and deep. Your fingers tangled in his locks as your slick, naked body arched into his.

"Can't believe you came with me," he murmured on your ear, running his hands all over your wet body. "Can't believe you're here."

If you weren't already tender from your activities last night, you would have to stop yourself from begging him to push your legs apart, bend his knees and fuck up into you with slow, powerful thrusts. Just the thought of it had you liquifying in his arms and moaning into his mouth.

It was you who blindly reached for his throbbing length, twisting your grip around this thickness before teasing his tip with pressure from your thumb.

Pulling away from the kiss, you locked eyes with him and dropped to your knees, empowered by the lust you saw simmering there.

He grunted out a curse as you went to work, licking and sucking his balls into your eager mouth, fingers naughtily slipping between his legs to momentarily tease his puckered hole. The list of things you wanted to do to this man would probably make even him blush, but you returned to your task, licking a long stripe up his veiny, hard length - tongue swirling over his tip.

His back hit the tiled wall as if he needed it for support, lips parted and panting.

Fingertips continuing to tease his ass, you sucked his hard shaft into your wet cavern, taking him to the back of your throat and swallowing his tip. He felt you gag for a second - the thought of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock making him groan in satisfaction.

After your little preview of how good you could make this for him, you got to work, teasing his balls, stroking insistently, alternating between brushing with your fingertips and cupping him in your palm. Your mouth slid up and down his length, humming out tempting moans to vibrate his shaft, sucking greedily on his tip - up and down, over and over, taking him so far down your throat that you gagged with each pass.

"...f-fuck baby, just like that," he praised, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you in place in the perfect spot.

You smiled in satisfaction, working him a little faster, your cunt dripping for him as he grabbed your other cheek and really started fucking your face.

You didn't mind that he took control - you wanted him to take what he liked, needing him to lose himself in pleasure - and his rough handling of you only made you want him more.

"Good girl," he groaned, hips pushing him down your throat faster now, using you the way he pleased. "You're my good fucking girl, on your knees for me, so pretty..."

The ache in your core was pulsing need now - god, if only you weren't so sore you would beg him to pound you up against the wall. Reaching between your legs, you slid your fingers over your clit, rubbing furiously as your hips rocked in time with his face fucking.

You wanted to focus on him but you need some relief so badly. Jake hissed out several curses as his hips stuttered - his cock erupting, warm spend burning down your throat. You greedily swallowed, loving the sounds he made as he finished.

He hauled you to your feet, kissing you hard before offering to wash your body. "Let's get out of here and I'll take care of you."

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Jake wasn't kidding. He washed you, dried you carefully and pulled a clean t-shirt over your head. Then he laid you down on the bed and kissed you for a brief eternity before crawling down your body.

Lying side by side with his head opposite yours, he, drew your luscious thigh over his shoulder and spent the next hour with is face in your bare wet cunt.

If you died tomorrow, this alone would be worth living for. After wringing a couple orgasms out of you, he started up again, pausing for a moment when you half-heartedly called his name as if you might ask him to stop.

When you didn't, he kept going, ignoring the return of his own erection. Since he was so conveniently placed, you took him back down your throat, your bodies thrusting, fucking in and out of one another's mouths, feeling a mutual bond and wild pleasure beyond anything a lover had ever given you before.

You went on like this another hour - orgasm after orgasm - wild and unrestrained, but he never did anything to make you more sore. It was all languid, syrupy pleasure, molten lust and simmering desire.

He cleaned you up later and you fell asleep on his chest in minutes.

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THE PLANE

"Maybe this is better than revenge," you whispered to Jake, hands joined, seatbelt fastened and ready for an overnight flight overseas. "I mean...I finally got away, and I'm going to be happy."

The thought that Jake could be the one to make you happy, to give you peace and safety was indescribable - stronger and more powerful than anything revenge could have offered him. So he tried to tell you...

"That...means a lot to me."

Chewing on your lip, you smiled at him sheepishly. "Thanks for calming me down before the security check. I got so worried they were going to keep me from leaving with you."

Jake rested his head against yours, sighing gently. Worried was quite an understatement. You completely freaked out and started to draw a bit of unwanted attention, terrified that the two of you would be separated, and that you would be left behind, or that your fake ID would land you in some sort of interrogation.

Jake talked you through every step and now you were on your way to London. Eventually. You were flying through a couple of other cities first, just to make your trail a little less obvious. One thing that enabled you to feel safer was that Jake had been planning this escape of his for years, and had some money saved. The only variable was adding you to the mix.

"I understand. It's okay," he softly replied.

"I'm like her, you know... My mom. Maybe." Your gaze dropped to your lap. "I think I might be." Turning your gaze over to him, you smiled sympathetically. "That's why I get it, in a way - having a disorder or...feeling different. I get it."

Feeling a little choked with emotion, Jake cleared his throat. "Maybe uhm...maybe we're perfect for each other."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

LONDON

The blunt tip of a knife grazed your throat, paralyzing you. Your body was pinned to the ground - you were trapped.

"What now, muñeca?" Jake hotly breathed against your ear, shifting his hips against yours tauntingly.

"We fuck...obviously," you deadpanned, meeting his thrust with one of your own. "But I have to be able to defend myself from someone who actually wants to hurt me."

Jake winked. "Show me what you got, baby."

Hooking your arm around the outside of his, you jerked your knees up and rolled abruptly to the side, twisting his arm behind him. Applying pressure to his lower arm, you kept digging and writhing until he started to lose his grip on the knife.

You knew he was stronger than you, but Jake was trying to teach you how to rein in your (typically wild) temper and stay in control, mentally. Not only that, but he showed you how to use your body's momentum to your advantage.

Of course, this was Jake, so once you managed to get the knife out of his hand, he pushed you back down to the floor, face down, and yanked your leggings over the swell of your hips.

Pinning your arms over your head, he sucked the spot on your neck that made you weak. "Be still, muñequita. I'm not finished with you."

"Get the fuck off me," you squirmed, moaning as Jake smacked your now bare ass.

"Fight all you want," he taunted, pushing your legs apart so he could shove his thick cock into your slick core.

You gasped at the intrusion, moaning as he rammed into you in slow demanding thrusts, the position tighter than usual because of the leggings restraining your knees.

"Knew you would be soaked," he groaned out, turned on beyond belief at how hard you were fighting to escape his hold on you.

Fucking while training had become a regular occurrence for the two of you, but since you didn't safeword, Jake drove his hips into you faster, using his free hand to wrap around your throat from behind.

"Want me to stop, Princesa?" He taunted, growling as you threw your head back, headbutting him before he could squeeze your throat.

Using his slight disorientation to your advantage, you scrambled away from him, chuckling condescendingly as you roughly pulled off his dick.

But before he could react, you pushed him down and climbed on top of him, sinking down on his cock and pressing the knife to his throat.

"I told you to throw that across the room from your attacker," he scolded between harsh pants.

"Not if I want to fuck him," you smarted, riding him hard and fast before smiling devilishly down at him. Tossing the knife across the room, you leaned over and kissed him wildly, humming in satisfaction as he squeezed your ass.

"Good fucking girl," he praised, groaning as you worked your beautiful body over his cock, tits bouncing, lips parted, panting and kiss swollen.

"I fucking love you, Jake," you panted, linking your fingers with his, slowing your body into a languid roll of your hips, staring deeply into his eyes. "I love you."

Leaning up, Jake wrapped you in his arms and rolled you underneath him. "I know."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake read off the name of your new ID - same first name but a brand new last name you picked out for yourself.

"How does it feel?"

"Feels perfect, Mr. Grant," you teased him, nodding down to his ID, which was in Steven's name.

He nudged your shoulder. "So...are you ready?"

"To get your ass kicked? Or to fuck me again?"

So much training, so little time. You were getting stronger. And you were closer than ever to being able to eliminate your father.

But you would keep that to yourself...for now.

END

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

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[milkymora]

Can you do of (MCL) Amber x Reader having a snuzles moment on School until Nathaniel found They?

sure thing anon 💌 i didn’t really know if you wanted headcanons or a oneshot, so i went with a short oneshot. hope you’ll enjoyy, i love amber

wc: 1k ✧⠀ genre: fluff (sfw) ✧

you woke up with a start, limbs numb and a certain headache pounding your temples painfully. with a groan, you curse under your breath.

you fell asleep while studying. again.

throwing a glance at the window within the library you were in, you notice the sun has already disappeared outside. worried, you hurry toward your phone, double tapping its surface in order to turn it on and check what time it was.

it doesn’t. you click and tap repeatedly, but the battery is clearly dead and you forgot your charger home. fantastic.

a sigh. massaging your temple, you get up from your seat. the pc was already turned off, so you only had to put the books and notes back into your bag and make your leave.

hopefully it wasn’t too late. maybe nath, or someone else, was still around... and specially, maybe the school gates weren’t closed yet.

as you go to open the door, fearing for a moment it might be locked, a sigh of relief escapes your lips in verifying it wasn’t.

you step into the hall, feeling the temperature drops, causing a shiver to run through you, completely shaking the leftover sleep off of you.

hell, it was so dark too. it was almost scary.

although it wasn’t your first time, unfortunately, falling asleep at school and finding yourself wandering around it during night time, it never made you feel at ease being there.

“what are you still doing here?” a familiar voice speaks at the end of the corridor. you whip your head in its direction, finding out a familiar blondie gazing you up and down.

before you can say anything, she scoffs. “what’s with your hair? my god, were you sleeping in there?”

you bite the inside of your cheek, fatiguing not to roll your eyes at her. well, turns out someone was still around... ugh. maybe being alone would’ve been better than her.

“actually, yes.” you respond. “i was studying. you should try it, it might do you some good.” now it’s your turn to grin, and hers to roll eyes. “what about you? why are you still here?” returning serious, you question, weirdly curious.

“hah,” she opens her locker. “for your information, i was studying. actually, studying. not sleeping.” pulling out of it a strangely familiar sweater. seeing it, you squint your eyes, discarding her previous statements.

was that...?

“you should see your face right now!” laughing, she closes the locker, beginning to close distance from you. you stay put, watching her reach out her arm with the piece of clothing in her hand for you to grab. “you forgot this in class.”

with wide eyes, you take the object from her. “why did you keep it there?” is all you can think of, as her hands go on her hips, her usual arrogant smirk vanishing to make a face.

“as much as i think it’s horrible,” she eyes the sweater with disgust, “i would rather keep it myself that let peggy steal it.” she admits.

“what? was peggy about to steal it?”

“absurd, right? who’d want to have that thing in their closet?” she chuckles.

you know it’s supposed to be one of her usual insults, another way to pick on you like she’s always done. still, you can’t help your cheeks from turning red.

“you kept in your locker, though.” your gaze falls to your feet, sheepishly murmuring, “thanks.”

a brief silence falls between you two.

although being a small gesture, you couldn’t let it go. it certainly wasn’t the type of things she got you used to.

“you know,” you start, going back to look at her. “i’m sorry for the gym thing.” confessing, you hold the sweater close to your chest.

the familiar smell of her perfume comes from it, and you’re terribly ashamed to admit how much you actually like it. did she spray it on it, or is it simply because it’s been in her locker all day?

she keeps quiet, seemingly thinking about the moment.

it happened two days ago, during physical education. you guys were playing dodgeball, when you received a ball right on your face. of course, your first, and only, hypothesis on who could’ve been was her. it only made sense.

also because nobody said a thing at first.

without even assuring you were right, you went straight to amber... and poured a whole water bottle on her, all while calling her names.

it happened so quickly that you didn’t even realize iris, the one who involuntarily hit you, trying to apologize behind your shoulders.

... a very low moment for you.

“it’s fine.” she blurts. “no, really, i mean it–” you hurriendly add, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done it.”

her expression changes subtlety. it softens, the darkness of the hall makes it hard to see. but you’re sure you’ve seen her face redden.

“oka—” as she starts her sentence, a door a couple feet away from you swings open.

both of you snap your heads, letting out a frightened cry.

nath comes out of it with a handful of papersheets under his arm, “amber.” he calls out his sister’s name, stopping on the spot when he sees you. “y/n? what are you doing here?”

you tighten the grip on your sweater. “hey nath. nothing, i was just about to go.” flashing him a smile, you turn your gaze back to the girl in front of you.

suddenly, an idea crosses your mind.

“keep this.” you whisper so that only her could hear, tossing the object back to her. amber grabs it, lifting an eyebrow at you.

“it’s cold outside. and i wouldn’t want such horrible thing in my closet anyway.” mirroring her brash smirk and previous joke, you turn your back.

“good night guys.”

so, you head back home, replaying over and over again what just happened between you and your “sworn enemy”.

mcl navigation ✧⠀ masterlist ✧⠀ amber’s hdcs ✧⠀ rules reqs! ✧

[rottenstrawberrymilk]

8. 10:01

HATCHET

8/16

2.6k words

not healthy not condoned

The sleeping pill bottle was open. Abandoned.

        You'd considered taking one. 

        But you couldn't risk leaving yourself vulnerable. Not when Toby was coming for you.         

        Most of the night you spent pacing your room, anxiously. Repeatedly, obsessively you glanced down at your phone, turning it on and off to check the time. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes like hours. Eventually, you couldn't stand the squeezing feeling on your heart any longer, an smacked your phone down onto the nightstand at your bedside, running a stressed, shaking hand through your hair. You put your palms to your face for a few, long moments, standing motionless, listening to the sound of your own quick breathing.

        Out of habit, you picked up your phone again to check the time.

        10:01

        A soft grunt sounded from across the room. You looked up, your breath hitching in your throat, your eyes trained on the window. It was opening. Slowly. Your heart practically stopped upon catching sight of gloved hands. You knew who they belonged to. Who else could it have been, after all? 

        When he finally crept through the window and his boots just barely touched the floor of your bedroom, you broke out of your frozen state. He didn't even have time to look up before you turned to the nightstand, grabbed the first thing you saw (a tissue box) and hurled it at him as hard as you could. Quickly, his arm shot up and you flinched, stepping back, as he caught the box with ease. 

        "Wait, wait, wait," he tried, holding up his other hand to show he was unarmed. You didn't care. You still remembered the feelings of his fingers digging into your skin while he stood over you and threatened to kill you. You didn't even give him the chance to try to explain himself once again. What more was for him to explain? 

        He was a murderer. He was nothing but bad news and you didn't want anywhere near him ever again. 

        "What the fuck do you want?" you snapped, accusingly, as hostile as you could muster. "Why the fuck did you break the lock off my window? You finally gonna kill me like you fucking promised?" He seemed to almost wince meekly at the severity and venom in your words. 

        He shook his head, with a bit of difficulty, as it seemed like his tics were getting bad again. "N-no. I-I'm not gon-gonna kill you. I-I-I don't even ha-have my hatchets with me. I-I can show you. You'll see." 

        It seemed to be his strange way of asking permission to come closer, even though there was nothing stopping him from doing what he wanted anyways. Even if he wasn't lying about his axes, he still had about a foot of height on you and was terrifyingly strong. Once again, you remembered the way he'd thrown you around like a rag doll in the woods only a few days ago. Awkwardly, he rubbed at his arm, his actions faltering with every small twitch he was attempting to control. His face seemed to contort with concentration behind his mask and lenses (which were cracked). 

        You wondered if he was trying to trick you into letting your guard down so he could kill you.

        Only one way to find out.         

        Your mind went to the blade you knew you had stashed still in the drawer nearby. You let yourself lean onto it for comfort, figuring if things went south you could still have somewhat of a fighting chance. Slowly, your fingers arched against the wood of the nightstand, betraying your wariness. 

        Toby seemed to take your silence as a yes as he slowly stepped closer, his empty hand still facing you and the tissue box still in his other hand. As he drew closer and into better lighting, you found that he seemed to be telling the truth. His hatchets were no where to be seen on his body. Not on his back, and the holsters at his hips were empty. You couldn't think of any where else he might be hiding them. Your gaze left his body and returned to his face. 

        Gently, when he was only a few inches away from you, he reached across and put the tissue box back on the nightstand. You flinched when his arm came too close to you and he briefly looked away, a wave of guilt coming over him so intensely you could second hand experience it. The fan whirring above stirred his thick curls ever so slightly as he took some big steps back away from you. He stood before you, looking even more awkward and embarrassed. It made him a lot less intimidating, but you knew he was still dangerous.

        Quietly, you spoke. "If you're not going to kill me tonight then..." your head tilted slightly as his dark eyes met yours again. "Then why are you here?" It took everything you had to keep your voice from shaking. 

        He continued to simply stand before you, awkwardly. He'd began to fidget and pick at his fingers. He was lucky the gloves were there to protect his skin from any damage. You bit the inside of your cheek, practically holding your breath. Eventually, a heavy sigh left him and he put a hand to the back of his head, scratching at his scalp. He still wouldn't look at you.

        "Look can we just...can we-we just talk?" he worked up the courage to say. 

        "T...Talk?" was all you could say in response, not sure whether you were more outraged or uncomfortable. 

        He gave a brisk nod. "Ju-just talk. Please?" In another rather bold, probably unwise choice, he took a seat on your bed. Softly, he patted the spot next to him. Another hot flash of anger crossed you. 

        You scoffed, crossing your arms and turning your head away. "I don't want to talk to you," you spat stubbornly. "I want you to fucking leave." 

        "(Y/N)." 

        The sudden steadiness in his voice made you finally look back over to him. Your arms were still tight at your chest as he held your gaze. He reached up to grab your elbow, giving you a bit of a pull. For the sake of not pissing him off, you let him, and sank down into the mattress at his side. Once again, a long silence descended upon the two of you. 

        "Do you re-really think my glasses are stupid?" Toby asked, turning his head to look at you, his scarred brows furrowed.

        You sighed and couldn't help but roll your eyes, but felt rather relieved when the tension left the room. Your finger and thumb found the bridge of your nose and pinched slightly as you sharply inhaled, feeling a little bit steadier. It was oddly familiar and nice to hear him joking like he used to do. But it could still be trap. 

        "No," you answered. "I actually think they're...kinda cool."

        Toby chuckled softly. Gently, more so than usual, he took your hand in his, pressing it between his palms. Once again, a mixed feeling of discomfort and...relief (?) fell over you. Was he giving you mixed signals on purpose? Were you reading too much into whatever the fuck was going on? 

        "You're kinda cu-cute when you're mad, y'know..." Toby told you, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Stronger than you lo-look too." 

        Once again, you had no idea how to respond. You wouldn't look at him, even though you knew he was staring at you. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your skin. This wasn't going how you wanted it to go. But then again, you weren't even sure how something like this was supposed to go. You guessed you expected him to...maybe apologize and leave? Forever? But now feeling his hands gentle on you again had you fuzzy and confused and lost all over again.

        How fucking hard is it to make up my mind? Why does he make it so hard? you thought, your brows furrowing as you glared down into your lap, trying to stop the tears from gathering in your eyes.

        Once again you had to remind yourself that Toby was a murderer. That he killed someone. That he'd threatened to do the same to you. It hurt to have to think about that all over again--to have to live that over once again. It hurt to suddenly realize once again that a cold-blooded killer was holding your hand, not some sweet boy in the woods. But it seemed so easy to mix the two up and the lines only got more and more blurred the longer he held you there. It made you feel like you were being ripped in two. It hurt. It hurt real badly. 

        And that's when you realized. When you really, honestly realized. 

        "You're no good for me." 

        It was terrible to say. But it felt like a weight had lifted off your chest now that you had finally said it. He'd never been good for you. Not even when you didn't realize what he really did with those hatchets of his. Between the stealing and your rationalization of your ever dwindling hours of sleep--he'd brought nothing but...bad into your life. You sucked in another harsh breath, trying even harder to hold back your tears. Did that mean all your time with him had just been...a waste? Where had all those weeks gone? 

        You looked up at him again. "You're no-" you began to repeat yourself.

        His hand suddenly grabbed at your chin. His hand left yours and reached to his mask to pull it down around his neck. His scarred, torn lips pressed against yours as he wrapped an arm around you tightly, passionately. His body weight fell upon you as you fell back onto the bed. For the briefest, most sinful of moments, you leaned into his kiss. Was it awful you took pleasure in it? Were you going to hell for kissing the same man responsible for the loss of who knows how many lives? Should it have been bad that the way he kissed you still sent shivers down your spine? 

        God yes. 

        What the fuck was wrong with you? 

        "Mfff--no! NO!" you suddenly cried out, breaking from his rough lips. You shoved him off you--away from you as hard as you could, feeling beyond disgusted with yourself and increasingly angry with him. 

        Startled, he quickly scrambled to his feet, losing his balance due to your shove and knocking into the nightstand. The bulk of his jacket knocked over your open sleeping pill bottle, spilling it into the crack between the bed and the furniture. He seemed genuinely and completely confused, a bit flustered as well judging by the obvious heat in his face and the flush in his scarred cheeks. 

        "Sorry, sorry, I-I've got it, I-I've g-got it." He continued to apologize profusely even as he knelt down, shoulders pushing the nightstand away from the bedside as he wedged himself into the gap in a frazzled attempt to collect the pills that he'd knocked onto the floor. 

        You still sat on the bed, chest heaving quickly as you watched him through scared, conflicted eyes. After a few moments of fumbling and underhanded curses under his trembling breath, he straightened up. He turned to face you, giving the now secured orange bottle a bit of a shake to prove to you that all the pills he'd spilled were now safely contained. Still watching for your reaction, he slowly put it back on your nightstand, pushing it further back to avoid any possibility of knocking it over again. 

        He cleared his throat. "I'm-" he began, but once again, you didn't give him the chance.

        Murderers didn't deserve chances. Toby didn't deserve the chance. 

        "You need to go," you said to him, once again fighting back tears.

         Your fingers curled tightly into the sheets as you bit your bottom lip. You were no good at hiding what you were truly feeling. You were no good at pretending you could be heartless and just turn him away after all you'd put into him--after everything he'd put into you. He'd been your friend. Maybe something a little more than that if you wanted to be honest with yourself. You were ashamed now to realize how often he'd dominated your thoughts all those weeks ago. How all your days revolved around when you'd see him next. 

        It was over. It was all over. 

        You couldn't continue.

        It would kill you if Toby didn't first. 

        Unfortunately, that seemed to be the one thing Toby didn't pick up on--the one thing he genuinely didn't understand, maybe couldn't understand, no matter how hard you tried. You could see that in the way he looked at you, so desperate with those dark, soft brown eyes of his. So wanting of you. So needing. 

        "Will you s-see me again?" he asked, confirming your suspicions. 

        Unable to bring yourself to directly reject him, you buried your face in your hands. You bit back a sob before looking back up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body began to shake. He was blurry now in your vision.

        "I. I don't know. I don't want to. I'm not going to," you eventually choked out. 

        It broke your heart to see his expression changed. He looked sad. Like the saddest you had ever seen another living soul. It was tragic the way he still partway regarded you, with just as much passion and desire as before. Like he didn't understand. He couldn't understand, you reminded yourself. There was something wrong with Toby. Deeply wrong. And it wasn't his Tourette's or his kleptomania or his strange behavior. That had nothing to do with anything at all. Those didn't make him wrong. None of that could have made him 'bad'. 

         It was just.

        Him.

        Toby was wrong.

        There was this...this darkness in him, you now realized. This great potential for evil, for genuine, real, uncontrollable and unpredictable evil. Something that no human should have been capable of. No human you wanted to be around anyways. Something had happened to him a long, long time ago. Something you'd never find out and something you never wanted to find out anyways. 

        You couldn't be there for him. You couldn't help him. He couldn't be better, even if he wanted to, and that was maybe the worst part of all. 

        Too far gone. 

        The worst wave of guilt you'd ever felt in your life swallowed you whole, like a tidal wave. You had to look away. You couldn't stare into those sad brown eyes anymore. Your turned your head entirely, shutting your eyes tightly as you clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle another cry of anguish. Your hands dropped back down as you wrapped your arms around yourself, hunching over, gritting your teeth as soft sobs shook you. 

        When you opened your eyes again and straightened up he was gone.

        The window was still open.

[juiceortizprospect34]

#Ghosts We Carry: Chapter 9

Juice's mind raced as Clay outlined the lockdown protocols. Armed guards at all entrances. Regular patrols around the perimeter. No one in or out without explicit permission.

"Prospect!" Clay barked. "Get Chucky making calls. I want every charter aware that Zobelle's back in play."

But Juice barely heard him. His eyes kept drifting to his phone. Elena's message burned in his mind, a separate crisis unfolding beyond these walls.

"Hey," Chibs nudged him. "You still with us, brother?"

"Yeah," Juice managed, pocketing his phone. "Just thinking about security measures."

Clay continued, his voice granite-hard. "Tig, you and Happy inventory the arsenal. I want everyone carrying. Bobby, coordinate with Unser—see what he knows about any new players in town."

When Clay finally dismissed them, Juice approached Jax in the hallway. "I need to step out for an hour."

Jax's eyebrows shot up. "Lockdown means lockdown, Juice."

"It's Elena," he said quietly. "Someone tried to break into her place this morning. Could be connected."

Jax studied him for a long moment. "Clay finds out you left, there'll be hell to pay."

"I know. But if this is Zobelle targeting people connected to the club, she's not safe."

After a tense silence, Jax nodded. "One hour. Bring her back here if you need to." As Juice turned to leave, Jax caught his arm. "And Juice? Be smart. This could be another trap."

Twenty minutes later, Juice pulled up to Elena's apartment complex, hyperaware of his surroundings. No suspicious vehicles, no one watching from windows. But the prickling sensation between his shoulder blades wouldn't subside.

Elena opened her door immediately. Her usual composure was shaken, eyes darting past him to check the hallway.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping inside and locking the door behind him.

"Physically, yes." She led him to her living room where the window by the fire escape was now boarded up with plywood. "They tried to come in through there around seven this morning. When I screamed, they ran."

"Did you see who it was?"

"Two men. Both wearing dark clothes, baseball caps. One had a tattoo on his neck—some kind of bird, I think." She hugged herself. "The police said it was probably just a random burglary attempt."

But Juice knew better. The timing was too perfect.

"Pack a bag," he told her. "You can't stay here."

"I have patients this afternoon—"

"Cancel them." His tone left no room for argument. "This wasn't random, Elena. The club's dealing with someone dangerous, someone who knows how to hurt us."

Understanding dawned on her face. "The same people who stole the money?"

"Yeah. And they're not stopping there." He moved to help her pack, glancing repeatedly toward the windows. "I can take you somewhere safe."

"The clubhouse?" she asked, her tone making clear how she felt about that option.

"It's the safest place right now. Everyone's on high alert."

Elena disappeared into her bedroom, emerging minutes later with a small overnight bag. "Two nights, max. Then we reassess."

As they headed for the door, Juice's burner phone rang—an unknown number. He hesitated, then answered.

"Juan Carlos Ortiz?" A voice he didn't recognize. Cultured. Calm.

Juice froze. "Who's asking?"

"Let's just say I'm impressed with your skills. Not many could penetrate our systems as effectively as you did." The voice carried a hint of amusement. "A shame about the trap, but one must take precautions."

"What do you want?" Juice moved away from Elena, lowering his voice.

"To offer you a choice, Mr. Ortiz. A better option than dying alongside your motorcycle club when this escalates—which it will."

"You threatening me?"

"On the contrary. I'm recruiting you. HaviCorp could use someone with your talents. Better salary than SAMCRO offers. Better future prospects, too."

Juice felt sick. "You've got the wrong guy."

"Do I? A talented hacker with a sealed juvenile record, two outstanding warrants in New York, and questionable citizenship status? A man caught between worlds, never fully belonging to either?" The voice paused. "We've done our homework on you, Mr. Ortiz. More thoroughly than your club ever did."

Juice's heart hammered against his ribs. The things only Chibs knew—this stranger was laying them bare.

"Think about it," the voice continued. "But don't take too long. When Mr. Zobelle finishes with SAMCRO, there will be nothing left to salvage."

The line went dead.

Elena was watching him, concern etched across her face. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

In a way, he had. The ghosts of his past, the secrets he'd buried, now exhumed and examined by enemies who seemed to know exactly how to leverage them.

"We need to go," he said, ushering her out the door. "Now."

During the drive back to Teller-Morrow, Juice's mind churned with impossible choices. The caller was right about one thing—he had always existed between worlds. The club. His heritage. His past. His future. Never fully anchored to any single identity.

Now Zobelle was offering a third option—a way out. Betrayal packaged as salvation.

As they pulled into the lot, Juice spotted Clay watching from the clubhouse steps, arms crossed, face thunderous. Jax stood beside him, offering an apologetic shrug.

"Stay in the truck for a minute," Juice told Elena. "This might get ugly."

Stepping out to face Clay's wrath, Juice made his decision. Zobelle might know his secrets, but he didn't know the most important thing about Juan Carlos Ortiz.

The club wasn't just his past or his present.

It was his choice. Every day.

And today, he was choosing loyalty—even if it killed him.

[elvhenmage]

fucking hell, the night i’ve had with bg3. i got into act two and shit just kept fucking happening 😭

two feet off the elevator basically and i meet elminster, who eats my cheese and drinks my wine and then tells gale mystra wants him to kill himself

try to tell gale we could find another way to deal with the absolute’s heart; falls on mostly deaf ears

the entire party basically said fuck mystra, we love gale

^ all except halsin, who had no opinion but did come onto me for the second time since we met

fought some shadows with the harpers, had gale come onto me via talking about smutty literature. immediately put on edge at having to reject him soon

get to the last light inn, meet jaheira and the tiefling kids again. meet his majesty!!! see raphael sitting against a window. find rolan drinking about his potentially dead siblings. immediately leave in search of dammon instead

find dammon. updates karlach’s quest (she is NOT looking good). go back to camp to get karlach; long rest

long rest brings mizora. UGH. she wants us to save some devil from moonrise towers. tell her she has to release wyll from his pact if we do. she repeatedly calls him a dog before disappearing

check in on everyone again. wyll thanks me for sticking his neck out for him (💖). karlach says wyll’s happiness is her happiness (🥺). astarion wants to find raphael to talk about his scar (😥).

go to sleep. surprise dream visitor visit in the most revealing outfit i could’ve possibly imagined. completely caught off guard the entire scene bc i thought he also was going to try to make a move on me

still no gale confession scene. still a black cloud above me

go back to last light. talk to dammon, get karlach on the road to recovery (still have to find infernal iron). talk to the strange ox again - it shows me mountains of dead bodies. makaria relates to the ox as she’s dealing with the dark urge. decide to leave the ox alone (for now)

go talk to raphael and mol. help mol win the game. both gale and astarion are now inspired :) but raphael says he’ll find us later to talk more about astarion’s request :(

go back to camp. have a few chats - astarion says he “respects my killing instinct” and that i should consider taking control of the power the tadpoles have instead of getting rid of it

tell him NO THANK YOU. please do not say that to me. he scoffs me off but otherwise doesn’t actually disapprove of my answer, so hopefully uh… i haven’t locked anything in wrt That yet

long rest again. still expecting to get gale’s confession, but — THE BUTLER? cue me pounding my fist on the table

he goes through his schtick. wants me to kill the last light cleric bc i “haven’t been disinherited yet” and i have to “feed the Urge” or else who knows who i may kill next?? rudely brings up alfira. fucks off into the night

realize it’s like 11:30pm and i should go to bed. STILL never got gale’s confession, if i’m going to get it at all, which i hope i don’t but i’m sure i will

this has been, by far, my most eventful session to date. holy hell

[pagangamingdad]

Chapter 3: The First Bite

The night air in Ironswell was different now. Ethan could feel it.

A weight pressed down on the town as the last slivers of daylight disappeared beyond the horizon. The streets were quiet—too quiet. As if the entire town was holding its breath.

Ethan and Sarah had decided to stay together tonight. If something was happening, neither of them wanted to face it alone.

Sarah locked the café’s front door as Ethan double-checked the windows. They had agreed to stay inside after dark, at least until they had a better understanding of what was going on.

But then—

A scream.

It was sharp, raw, and filled with pure terror.

Ethan and Sarah froze.

The scream came from just outside, somewhere down the street.

Then came the sound of something else.

A wet, tearing noise. A deep, guttural growl that wasn’t human.

Ethan’s stomach turned to ice.

Sarah met his gaze, fear flashing in her wide eyes. “We should stay inside,” she whispered.

Ethan wanted to agree. Every instinct screamed at him to stay put. But something else clawed at the back of his mind—curiosity, dread, a sick need to see.

He moved toward the window, just enough to peek outside.

At first, he saw nothing. The streetlights flickered dimly, casting long shadows over the pavement.

Then—

A figure stumbled into view.

It was a woman. Her clothes were torn, soaked in something dark. She staggered forward, her body jerking unnaturally.

And then, behind her—

It stepped into the light.

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat.

The thing that followed the woman wasn’t human anymore.

Its skin was grayish, cracked, like dried clay peeling away from something rotten underneath. Its mouth was stretched too wide, jaw unhinged, a dark ooze dripping from between jagged teeth. Its eyes—if they could even be called that—were sunken pits of blackness.

The woman tried to run, but her body was failing. A deep wound gaped at her shoulder, where a chunk of flesh had been torn away. Blood oozed from the ragged tear.

She turned, pleading toward the empty street.

“No,” she gasped. “Please. Someone—”

The thing lunged.

Its claws sank into her back, dragging her down.

She screamed again—only for a moment.

Then the thing ripped her throat out.

A sickening crunch filled the air.

Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a horrified gasp.

Ethan grabbed her wrist. “We need to go. Now.”

---

The Hunt Begins

They bolted toward the back door of the café.

Ethan’s mind raced. What the hell had he just seen? Was that what the people of Ironswell were becoming?

“We need to get to my apartment,” Ethan panted. “We can barricade ourselves in.”

Sarah nodded, still pale. But before they could move—

A noise.

Not a scream this time. Something worse.

A low, wet chattering sound.

Ethan turned.

Something was crawling toward them from the alley.

It moved wrong—its limbs bending the wrong way, its fingers twitching like a spider’s legs. Its mouth opened and closed repeatedly, producing that grotesque chattering noise.

And then—it charged.

Sarah screamed as the thing lunged at them.

Ethan shoved her out of the way, barely dodging as clawed fingers raked through the air where he had just been standing.

The thing slammed into the ground, but it didn’t stop. It twisted unnaturally, snapping its joints as it scuttled toward Sarah on all fours.

Ethan grabbed a metal chair from the café’s patio and swung.

The impact sent the thing sprawling, its head cracking against the pavement.

For a second, everything was still.

Then—

It twitched.

Sarah yanked Ethan’s arm. “We need to go!”

They ran.

But the thing got up too fast.

A sickening crack echoed as it reset its broken limbs.

Then it lunged again—

Sarah wasn’t fast enough.

Its teeth sank into her arm.

She screamed.

Ethan ripped the thing away, slamming it back into the ground. Again. Again.

It stopped moving.

But it was too late.

Sarah collapsed against the alley wall, clutching her arm.

Ethan’s heart hammered as he saw the bite.

Deep.

Jagged.

Already darkening around the edges.

Sarah’s breath was ragged. Her hands shook as she stared at the wound. “Ethan,” she whispered. “What’s happening to me?”

Ethan had no answer.

But he knew one thing.

If she was changing—if this was what the town had become—

Then time was running out.

For both of them.

[4dtk]

hi!!! are you taking smut requests? ignore this if you dont but if you are, can i request morning sex with mark?

nectar (mark)

warnings/tags: irl porn at the end for visualisation, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, unprotected sex, pwp, brief face-sitting

word count: 1.9k

a/n: sure anon <3, this is for fem!reader btw. link at the end contains irl porn pleaaase don't click unless you're comfortable!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“oh man… he’s knocked out cold,” you mumble, squinting at the bright light seeping in through the windows. it baths the room in warmth perfectly, providing that gentle caress of apollo in the messy room that you could half call your home at this point. like the complicated wires of his recording software bundled up at the corner, you were entangled tightly with mark’s complicated life as an idol, having had met the man at a concert where the group’s lightstick hit you in the face, hard.

it had become a running joke ever since you’ve been coming over to the dorms more and more, even getting you a celebratory cake that said please don’t injure her again when mark had finally confessed after months of pestering from the members. johnny had whispered to you that maybe you could finally get your revenge by slamming mark’s face into the cake.

giggling quietly at the memory from two years ago, you’re finally met with mark’s peaceful face, deep in slumber. the sun hardly touches him, blocked by your body as you propped your upper body up with an elbow. he looks so beautiful, so so divine that you can’t help but trail a hand over his covered body, blanket up to his neck since he gets cold easily.

“mmhm…” he mumbles, albeit still unconscious with the slightest knit of his eyebrows. you’re on high alert with that expression, observing him for a few seconds more if he really did happen to have a bad dream. his breaths seem to be laboured, irregular and needy that you catch on without fail. while you readjust yourself under the covers, your knee brushes against his centre to test the waters while your eyes drink in the furrowing of his eyebrows and shaky breathless whimpers he lets out.

“oh. so it’s that kind of dream,” a smirk is plastered on your face, frequenting the contact of your knee against his crotch as you rub him through the fabric. mark thrashes in the sheets below you, obvious that your movements are only fuelling the nasty, dirty fantasy he’s having in his sleep. with a hand, it slips inside his shorts to squeeze the bulge, adding and removing pressure that mark straight up ruts into your hand.

“a..ahn… (y/n)…” he mumbles out, digging his face deeper into the pillow with a tense to his muscles, on edge like intense dance practices and when mark’s just striving to make you cum behind closed doors. right now, you smile to yourself with the tables turned, speeding up your hand. the covers are thrown off of you and you take the chance to see how much he’s making a mess through the underwear, hips shimmying out of the loose sweatpants to chase the tempting touch of your skin on his dick.

you’re so zoned in on the sight that you don’t realise mark’s already awoken, the scrunch on his face displaying the mix of immense pleasure and the annoying headache he’s feeling due to a hangover. like a vice, your hand tightens around his hardening cock that it draws a long moan out of him and you have to bite your lip from concealing your own. the other fists the bedsheets, finger tapping against the cotton; a habit you noticed he does when he's close.

"ack!" you exclaim when mark takes over, meeting his familiar dick as he fishes it out of his underwear, now fully rock hard with beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. the idol wastes no time in forcing your mouth on him, smiling when it's thrusted so deep that it touches the back of your throat; you gag uncomfortably but recover rather quickly, humming around his length. the warmness of your mouth mimics your pussy so good, and mark can't help but continue the bucking of his hips.

it reminds mark of the countless many sessions he's had with you, hot and heavy in the recording studio as you fucked ruthlessly in the soundproof toilet. shivering and toe-curling on the vibrating washing machine, stimulating your clit while mark hit it from the back. maybe mark's checking off all the boxes, because the way your eyes look up at him at half-mast, desire swirling in your eyes, sinks him into a trance. the gentle whisper of sun rays paint your body like a renaissance painting, splayed over his legs and the remainder of the duvet covers. maybe this is the check box that marks the time where he lazily fucks into you as you struggle to hold in your moans, voice raspy from the morning.

likewise, the thought of mark's cock in you makes you shift uncomfortably, the wet patch on your underwear undeniably growing by the minute with your core pulsating and throbbing. his hands hold your head in place, fingers carding through your locks laced with possibly last night's drunken sweat. they pull back your hair, creating a small ponytail while you tease the tip with your tongue and lick a stripe up his shaft. the sounds you make with your mouth could rival the ones you're making with your fingers on your core, moaning the slurping up his pre-cum that has his length twitching.

"y-yes... oh fuuuck, (y/n)..." his head is thrown back as your bob your head, trailing your hands over his torso where you can feel the contraction and expansion of his ribs. it doesn't take long for mark to cum, hips halting its movements for a second to pump your mouth full of his seed. a smile breaks through when you cringe at the taste, but he's sure you don't mind it since you've done it many times before. "c'mere, angel."

the name makes you grin, getting off the comfort of his thighs to let him taste himself, indulging in a short kiss before mark takes the chance to tug at your shorts. he thumbs it down without effort, coming right off your bottom half as you manoeuvre from knee to knee to let the man take it off.

mark whistles lowly at how soaked you are, a lazy, boyish grin taking over his features as his fingers slip between your folds. they shamelessly leak more juices when mark's digits make contact with your clit, already clenching over cock that you haven't even received. slowly, they trickle down the expanse of his hand and your thighs, a lone string of arousal connecting from your cunt to the tip of his finger.

"so wet, so early in the morning," mark giggles, mirroring your earlier action as he prods at your mouth with those fingers. you taste yourself on him, suckling and licking around them like you just did to his length. "i'll fit right in, won't i?"

you make a noise of approval before grabbing his dick, inching it into you gently and gradually. mark bottoms out and you mewl, shivering at how deep he's in you without any effort before grinding down on him. the little tufts of hair on his skin brush against your sensitive spots near your folds that make the pleasure all the better, and you have to brace yourself with both hands on his chest.

"feel good, honey?" mark's found clarity in his voice now, voice dripping exactly like the pet name while you continued to get used to the seemingly growing erection in you. with eyes closed from both the pleasure and the increasing brightness of a new day, your hips move on their own accord, moving up and down his dick at a slow pace.

"'s good, mark," you babble, instantly speeding up your ministrations. his cock splits you open so good even if you aren't going at your usual pace, choking out mixes of moans and whimpers along with the sounds of your ass descending on his dick.

"you're so d-deep, mark! ooh, hhnn..." your arms are ready to give out, opting instead to lay on his chest with a small pound me leaving your lips. your arms go around him to clutch at the headboard, the sudden snap of mark's hips elicits a dramatic gasp from you. he's filling you up to the brim, and the groan in your ear shows the similar feeling that mark's experiencing.

mark takes your order to heart, the force of his hips continuing their assault on your poor, poor pussy so early in the morning. "babe, you're so- fucking- t-tight, holy shit!" a breathless laugh, a hand to your ass, butterfly kisses along your collarbone, everything else is forgotten except for those few things that dance around in your mind.

"faster, deeper, please...!"

his chuckle is interrupted by a groan, "i'm at my fastest, baby. i did go all out for our last concert yesterday."

the squelching sounds coming from between your legs make you cry out, drool dripping down the sides at your mouth as mark takes up more of your mind. mark, mark, mark falls from your lips repeatedly as he rocks in and out,

"you-" a soft, delirious giggle escapes you at mark's reference to the concert yesterday.

"no words, huh? maybe i should fuck you till you're babbling nonsense," the lack of response makes mark smile against your skin, mouth latching onto your neck.

with the little tap of his finger against your ass and the falter of his thrusts, you know he's close to reaching his peak. his sloppy movements still bring out the worst in you, either way, moans increasing tenfold as his cock continues to impale you. you hold onto his bicep for life, body rocking deliciously against his.

you're so warm, both inside and out, forehead already producing beads of sweat as your hot cavern clenches around his shaft repeatedly. mark pounds into your pussy relentlessly, brushing up against that spot that makes your body convulse before you're gushing and cumming around him, juices leaking non-stop onto the sheets while the knot continues to be undone.

"ahnn- mark! maaark..." the drawl of his name makes the other's eyes roll back in pleasure, not giving you the chance to recover as he pulls his cock out of you. there's an endless trail of profanities leaving his mouth while he pumps out the last bit of restraint out of him, finally letting go on his stomach when he looks at your spasming body, pussy dripping with both your juices.

his cock spurts out hot, white cum, staining his stomach before he lets out a satisfying whine and other breathless words that you can't catch on to. you swipe up his seed with your finger, dipping it into your mouth like dessert that you hum around it.

"i guess i won't need breakfast for a while," you joke, clenching your thighs together to prevent the further dirtying of your sheets. you did change it a week ago...

"ah. no no, don't close 'em," mark beckons you closer with his finger, "i won't need breakfast, either."

you know what's in store for you when the other licks his lips, a sick grin appearing on his face. and when you finally take your rightful place on his face, you find that you'll never get tired of mark's tongue laid flat against your soaking cunt, lapping all that you can offer that mark describes tastes like honey, like nectar. you tell him he's lying, but who are you to judge the words of someone who eats you out so good?

one day, you'll be convinced, but for now, you're fine with accepting the embarrassing compliments from mark, since he's the only one that makes your pussy flutter like a little slut.

(it's irl porn, please please don't click unless you're comfortable) how i imagine mark would fuck you <3

[zealouscanonindeer]

8. Nocturnal visit

Series Masterlist

Emily Cartwright:

His hands were shaking, just a bit. I could hardly avoid noticing, after all, but I decided not to remark on the fact, for his sake. Overall, his manner was very businesslike as he unlaced me, working as quickly as he could, I expect, to avoid prolonging the moment. Of course there was nothing I could say or do to make him feel any more comfortable about it, let alone informing him that he would most likely have to cinch me back into the infernal device in the morning! Instead, I attempted a bit of small talk.

"That had to be the worst cup of coffee I've had in a long time," I observed, and he paused briefly in his task.

"Even so," he replied, continuing with the laces, "I wish you had managed to drink more of it. We both need to remain alert tonight, in case our nocturnal visitor comes."

"It tasted like mothballs," I countered, taking the first remotely deep breaths I'd been able to since that morning. "I know all about suffering hardships for the sake of polite society, but there is only so much I will endure."

"Such as a corset, I suppose." There was, I noted, more than a hint of irony in his voice. At least he was starting to see the humour in the situation.

"You know," I replied, half-turning to glance wryly over my shoulder, "If I weren't so fond of you, a remark like that would have earned you an elbow to the head."

He glanced up, his mouth twisting (through whether it was twisting up or down wasn't readily apparent) and his voice as neutral as only he could manage. "I'm honoured to have earned milady's approval." He returned his attention to the eyelets. "I'm nearly done… There."

Now freed of that modern curse of ladyhood, I took a few moments to work the kinks out of my complaining spine, and then pulled my robe on to spare him any further discomfort.

"Now, tonight," he continued, "before you turn in, make certain that the door and window are securely locked. I suggest you try to stay awake if you are able, and listen for any intruders. I shall be right next door in the study, keeping vigil, so if anything happens, just shout and I shall come immediately." He paused, and then looked me in the eye. "Do you have any questions before we take our respective posts?"

I didn't, so he returned to the study. I set to work kindling a fire in the hearth, both to warm the room and to test Horatio's story about the hearth's temperament. Once the fire was kindled and crackling comfortingly in the hearth, I checked that the door was locked and the window latched and shuttered. Finally I climbed into bed with my physics book to read myself into sleepiness. I was not, however, planning on getting much sleep tonight.

Sherlock Holmes:

After I concluded with that disagreeable task, I left her to finish her nocturnal ministrations and I mine. As I pulled on my dressing-gown over my night-dress (so that if anything happened to attract the attention of our hosts, we could at least put forth the illusion that we'd both been sound asleep in the same bed before they arrived), I noticed from the corner of my eye a book on one of the shelves that hadn't been quite pushed in flush with its neighbours. I pulled it off the shelf and glanced at the cover: _Herbs and Herbalism_ was the title. I lit the hooded lantern I had packed, setting it on the floor by my feet, and sat down in the wing-backed chair, stretching my slippered feet out towards the fire, to examine the book further. I noticed almost immediately that a localised section of the binding was weakened, as though the owner of the book had read a specific chapter repeatedly. I set the book, spine down, in my lap and let it fall open where it would, which turned out to be at the opening of a section entitled "Valerian", and started reading.

I do not remember exactly when I drifted off to sleep, the book still open in my lap.

Emily Cartwright:

When next I awoke, the room was deathly cold and pitch black; the fire had obviously gone out, but I had other concerns at the moment for what woke me up was a small shuffling sound, like someone trying to make no noise at all. I remained where I was, feigning sleep and hoping that I was just hearing things or, if not, that it was just Holmes checking on me. No – I couldn't delude myself on that, for the stealthy sound had come from too near the bed.

An icy hand brushed my left breast through the material of my nightgown. I drew breath to scream but my attacker's other hand clamped quickly over my mouth while the first hand grabbed my breast more forcefully. I grabbed at the arms holding me down, trying to push them away, but leverage was not in my favour and the Ghost, whoever he was, bore down more forcefully. In the process, the hand that muffled my screams shifted slightly so that the heel of it was now pressed up under my nose.

I couldn't breathe.

The bastard was trying to suffocate me!

Anger and desperation lent me new inspiration, and I started grasping about beside me, trying to find my physics book, which I remembered I had set on the bed beside me before extinguishing the lamp. My fingertips found it at last and I clawed it towards me until I had a secure grip on it.

Force times velocity… the phrase surfaced in my terrified brain as I swung the book as hard as I possibly could at the spot where I judged the Ghost's head to be. As the book connected, a terrific shock jolted up my arm, and I heard a stifled grunt. I swung again, and those terrible hands were off me. I kept swinging blindly until my numb fingers lost their grip, and I felt the book tumble into the corner.

Not knowing if the Ghost was still there, not knowing if he was hurt, or angry, or stunned, I filled my lungs and screamed with every ounce of strength I could summon.

Sherlock Holmes:

The sound of screaming from the bedroom tore through my slumber like a sharp knife through paper. Fear, dread, dismay – all these threatened to immobilise me, but I pushed them aside, snatched up the lantern (which, thank God, was still burning) and launched myself from the chair, causing the book I'd been reading to topple gracelessly to the floor.

I was through the connecting door like a shot, un-hooding the lantern so that I could see any intruders. To my frustration, I saw none – but I did see Emily, looking very fragile in her nightgown and still screaming with such terror that I knew that I'd been only moments too slow, and I saw her beloved physics book lying near the wall under the window (which, incidentally, was still closed and shuttered). I set the lantern on the bedside table and took her by the shoulders in an attempt to jar her from her hysteria – only to have her lash out blindly, clawing at my face. I seized her wrists, but she continued to struggle.

"Emily – Emily!" I said sharply, trying to bring her out of her shock. "Look at me!"

Her eyes seemed to focus then, and she stopped fighting me. Seeing that I was no longer in immediate danger of being blinded, I released her wrists. Almost immediately, she flung her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly with the grim desperation of a drowning woman.

I felt absolutely wretched. It was largely my doing that had landed her in the situation, and then I'd further betrayed her by falling asleep – falling asleep! – when she'd trusted me so implicitly to keep watch on the bedroom where she'd been sleeping – where she'd been attacked.

The only thing I could do now to salvage the shambles I'd made of the investigation was to find out what she remembered of her attack. However, I needed her relatively calm in order to question her, and pushing her away while she was in this state would have been heartless and thus quite out of the question. Instead I held her close – feeling the violent trembling in her limbs, her heart hammering frantically in her breast, and her breath, warm but shallow, against the side of my throat – and did my level best to help her re-gather her scattered wits.

[fictionalboyfriends]

His Kutte - Chibs X OC (NSFW)

Chibs hangs back at Leah's bar after an 'interrogation' to make sure her booze isn't stolen. What she doesn't know is he has much more in store for her than he lets on.

Rating: M for mature / NSFW / smut

Words: 5,390

Pairing: Chibs X BarOwner!OC

The sound of banging on her back door woke her up.

She jumped at the sound and cursed under her breath when she realized she’d fallen asleep on the counter… again.

She sat up and spun around, hoping there was no fallen alcohol left over from last night’s customers. She rubbed at her face, wiping the sleep from her eyes and stretching, trying her best to wake up and figure out what time it was.

The banging sounded again.

“Keep your fuckin’ pants on!” She yelled back, hopping off the bar and striding to the back, mumbling something about the time of day.

Unlocking the four different chains and bolts, she whipped the door open to three members of the Sons. The member in front smiled, holding a toothpick between his teeth as she stretched her back, looking at her over his sunglasses.

“Another one…?” She questioned groggily, noticing the man between Happy and Bobby.

“Afraid so… Did you sleep here again?” Chibs asked, a smirk playing with his lips.

She rolled her eyes and ignored the gagged and bound man as he struggled against the two members.

“Get you asses in her before someone walks by.” She snapped, stepping to the side and letting them in.

“What’ll you need?” She asked, closing and locking the door as Hap socked their captive in the face for letting out a muffled scream. He took his face in his hand roughly, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Quiet.” He growled, throwing his face as Bobby held him still.

“Just the usual, Leah.” Bobby grunted as the guy jerked from Happy’s force. She strode to the front window, drawing the blinds and double checking the locks on the front door.

“Right, haven’t touched the room since last time, so everything should be in it's place.” She replied, turning back to them and picking up stray bottles she’d missed the night before.

“You’re a goddess.” Chibs praised, winking to her before they threw the guy down the stairs, watching him tumble down them before they followed after him.

The Sons would use the basement of her bar as an interrogation room to avoid both public suspicion and using their own facilities. They offered her protection in exchange for the occasional party and use of the ‘private room’ when people got mouthy.

To her understanding, this was the fourth one in the past two weeks. There was no way they were letting this one get off easily…

Why dealers never comprehended what “Sons turf” meant, she would never understand. Her best guess was that their boss didn’t like losing…

The room was sound proof so she was never worried about her neighbors hearing anything. However, when the Sons did come to unwind, there were times when she would have to repeatedly tell them to keep it down so that she wouldn’t have to deal with a noise complaint. That was the last thing she needed to deal with, what with living just above the bar on nights she gave herself off…

The sharp sound of a muffled scream sounded as Leah quickly realized the door wasn’t shut. She threw the bottles into the bin and pushed the door closed, leaning on it for a moment.

It isn’t any of my business...It wasn’t like she was a member’s old lady… and even then, it wouldn’t be any of my business. She thought, forcing the train of thought out of her head.

She looked at the windows, trying to see if there was anyone coming to question the sound. She watched the shadows of the trees on the blinds, quickly asking herself if the sound had really been all that loud or if it was just because she was tired. Hoping for the latter, she walked behind the bar and peeked through the blinds to check the building next to her.

No one was there.

Of course no one’s there, they don’t open for another three hours you paranoid idiot…

The bar was sandwiched between a small diner and a tattoo parlor of which she believed Happy spent some of his spare time at. The owners of both establishments knew her and didn’t mind the frequent visits of the Sons, as they also were protected by them. They knew the black van that would pull up behind the buildings and would look the other way as they waited for her to let them in.

Even though she knew this, she was still deathly afraid of someone hearing what was happening below her establishment…

She grabbed a clean rag from under the counter and wet it in the sink before wiping down the sticky wood, picking up the small bowls of peanuts as she went. The radio hummed softly in the background, calming her nerves as she busied herself with petty work.

A few moments later, Chibs and Bobby emerged from the stairs, muttering to each other. They looked tired and giddy at the same time, the latter most likely due to the lack of sleep. It’d took them the whole damned night to find the fucker after all.

“Need a drink boys?” Leah asked, pulling up two glasses and reaching for a bottle of whiskey.

“You always know what to say to make us feel good.” Chibs smiled as Bobby sat down heavily on a stool in front of her. She smirked with him as Bobby rested his elbows on the counter and shot her a smile, leaning against the edge of the bar.

“She poured the amber liquid and slid the glasses to the guys, capping the bottle and setting it back on the shelf.

“You think it’s safe to leave him with Hap?” She asked, turning around. They grew silent, looking to each other before all three burst out laughing.

“If we were concerned about keeping him safe, we wouldn’t even be here, sweetheart.” Bobby chuckled into his glass as Chibs grinned. Another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs as Hap came out of the doorway.

“Whiskey?” She asked, holding a glass in question. He shook his head, massaging his knuckles as he walked up to the counter. Leah walked out from the bar and started flipping the rest of the chairs on top of the tables as the guys talked business and tried her best to stay out of it.

After a few minutes of conversing, Bobby and Chibs gulped down the rest of their drinks and followed Happy down the staits, shutting the door and leaving her with the sounds of the radio.

She sang along softly and wiped the tables, swaying in time with the music. She looked around the bar, wondering if it had always had this many tables.

There’s no way I’ll be able to have everything ready by tonight… good thing I’m closed today…

She glanced at the basement’s door, wondering if the Sons would stop by for a surprise party again… She groaned at the thought, and wiped the tables at a quicker pace. She hadn’t even restocked the counter yet, let alone done the rest of the dishes. She cursed herself for letting the bus boy leave early last night… She was too good to her employees sometimes…

This was the reason her mother nagged her so much and told her to hire more people. She didn’t like seeing her work so much, saying it left her with no social life. It wasn’t the first night she’d accidentally fallen asleep on the bar while closing up. She’d told her repeatedly that a girl her age should be thinking about the future, to which Leah would protest, saying she works day and night to keep her bar in tip top shape. But of course her mother would respond with requests of grandchildren, or, at the very least, just one story that involved a guy she was interested in.

Her mother knew of the Sons and was getting so desperate and baby crazy, that during one particular phone call, she’d actually suggested going after one of them. Leah was reminded of the horrid conversation every time they walked through her doors as her thoughts unwillingly turned to analyzing which would be better in bed.

Of course after she realized they were hopeless delusions, she would quickly remind herself that they either A: had old ladies of their own, or B: were only looking for a fuck.

In all honesty, she wasn’t bothered by the latter… It’d been awhile since she’d gotten laid. But she also wasn’t fond of the idea of fucking a watchdog and getting into gang related trouble.

It’s been so long though… A horny voice in the back of her thoughts pleaded.

She thanked the scraping of a stool for interrupting that particular train of thought as she looked up to see what had caused it.

The flick of a lighter echoed as Chibs lit a cigarette, cocking his brows as a greeting when he noticed Leah looked in his direction. She looked around the room.

Nearly all the tables were wiped down and had their chairs flipped. She stood at the last one and realized the floor was swept and the windows looked cleaner than usual. Had that much time really gone by?

“Happy and Bobby leave you?” She asked, shaking her head to rid the thoughts that were surfacing, and going back to wiping the table.

“Nah, I volunteered… There’s talk about a raid that might happen tonight. Nothing too bad, just some shit-head teenagers lookin’ for some booze.” He smiled, holding his cigarette between his teeth before taking a drag.

Fuck…

She tried to avoid looking at him as she flipped one of the chairs, glancing at the clock. Her stomach growled.

“Did you eat today?” He asked, getting up from the stool and meeting her halfway to the bar.

“Slipped my mind.” She gave a short chuckle, gripping her stomach as a pain shot through it. The pain almost knocked her off her feet, making her knees wobble and pushing her forward. Chibs caught her and helped her to a stool, worry running through him.

“I’m gonna go get something from Saul and Gina next door, alright? You gonna be okay?” He held her shoulders and squatted in front of her, looking into her eyes. She nodded.

“Thanks.” She replied with a weak smile. He smiled back.

“Alright, stay here.”

She bit her tongue to keep herself from whimpering as his hands left her. The door closed behind him and his shadow followed him against the blinds as Leah internally scolded herself.

Stop it! Get a hold of yourself!

It was a bad idea to skip dinner last night… She gripped her stomach again as another growl threatened to rip her open. She looked behind the counter, noticing she’d restocked almost all of it.

Shit, I still have to finish the dishes… She realized, looking at the notepad on the counter, the names of the bottles that were still needed scribbled in a neat list.

She really needed to stop losing herself in her work… She rested her head on the counter, needed sleep quickly catching up to her as she used her arm as a pillow.

She woke up on the counter for the second time that day. Only this time, there was no searing sunlight assaulting her eyes, nor was there obnoxious knocking. No, this time the sound of soft snoring woke her. She rubbed her eyes and carefully rolled onto her back on the counter, stretching and realizing something was draped over her.

She picked up the leather and examined it the best she could in the dim lighting of the neon signs on the wall.

It was a kutte…

She sat up and looked on the counter to find a black sweatshirt folded up into a makeshift pillow; a takeout bag a foot or so away from it.

Soft snores sounded again, causing Leah to look to her right. Chibs sat on the edge of a chair facing her. The chair was turned backward, his hands on the top, the side of his head resting on his knuckles as he slept, hunched over.

She smiled at the sight, trying her best not to giggle too loudly as he snored again. She was quickly reminded of the pain in her stomach and decided that she’d waited long enough to eat. She slipped her arms into the kutte and hopped as quietly as she could manage, off the bar, then grabbed the takeout walking to the back kitchen.

She grabbed a plate from a shelf and dropped the spaghetti on it before popping it in the microwave, hoping it's noise wouldn’t wake him.

She looked down at the leather around her as the hum of the microwave filled the room. Why she put it on, she wasn’t entirely sure…

Truth be told, whilst she thought about which Son would be best in bed, she couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to be an old lady to one of them. She’d always come back to Chibs as being the best possible option and even day dreamed about waking up before him and greeting him in nothing but his kutte… but that was only a dream… she knew there was no way anything like that would happen.

A girl could dream though dammit…

She gripped the edges of the kutte now, hugging it close to her and surprising herself with how warm it was. She nuzzled the edges with her cheeks, stopping abruptly when she caught it's scent.

Whiskey, cigarettes, and gasoline… All encased in a leather overtone. She wondered if that’s what he smelled like…

The beeping of the microwave broke her thoughts and forced her to think about her stomach instead. Snatching a fork from the clean pile of dishes, she popped the door open and began shoveling food into her mouth.

She turned to the sink full of dishes once she’d cleared her plate and walked towards him, turning on the hot water and pumping it full of soap. There wasn’t too much left…

She picked up a clean rag and went to work, humming lightly as she did so.

He woke up to the clinking of dishes; jumping awake to the sound, he stretched his back out. He really needed to stop sleeping on chairs like that… He cursed under his breath as he heard his back crack, then looked to the counter. She wasn’t there…

Concern spreading through him quicker than reason, he jumped to his feet and looked under his sweatshirt. She’s short, but she’s not that short ya dumb ass…

His gaze moved to the back, where the kitchen was, and started walking over slowly. How the hell did they get in? Why didn’t I wake up when they did? Where the hell is Leah?

Shut the fuck up! He yelled at his thoughts, his hand hovering over his gun as he approached the doorway and peered inside. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She was washing the dishes… the fucking dishes… Damned workaholic… He smiled then, noticing his kutte on her. She looked tiny in it, the shoulders drooping and the hem covering her ass. Pity… He thought with a grin, toying with the idea of what she’d look like in nothing but his kutte.

“Don’t you ever give yourself a break?” She jumped at his voice, dropping a plate back into the water and soaking her front.

“Fuck, Chibs!” She cursed under her breath, turning to him and ringing out her shirt. He smirked as she muttered something about it not being a good idea to scare her, but he barely heard it as he noticed her shirt had gone slightly transparent now that it was wet. Water dropped on the floor as she wrung it out, revealing the edges of a tattoo following her hips and the bottom of her stomach, just above the waist of her jeans.

“I’m gonna need that back some time tomorrow morning.” He grinned, casually leaning against the doorway. Her face went red as she realized he was referring to his kutte.

“Shit… sorry, I-i don’t really know why-” She started, beginning to shrug it off.

“Keep it on… it looks good on you.” He cut her off. She froze, trying not to look at him. What was happening?

He walked towards her slowly now, looking her up and down, taking in her appearance.

“You eat?” He asked softly, looking into her eyes, stopping a foot or so in front of her. She nodded.

“Yeah… you want a drink?” She suggested a little hurriedly, walking around him out of the kitchen and behind the bar, trying to clear her head. She put her hands on the counter, taking in a breath and closing her eyes for a moment before grabbing a shot glass.

Turning to the shelves behind her, she took down a bottle of vodka and poured a healthy shot before throwing it into her mouth. Gulping it down with a grimace and squeezing her eyes shut at the burning of her throat. Her heart nearly stopped when she heard footsteps come behind the bar with her. She opened her eyes, only allowing herself to look in front of her.

“It’s not a good idea to drink on the only meal you just ate, lass.” A husky voice advised behind her as a hand rested on her hip, and another took the vodka from her, sliding it down the counter.

He moved her hair from her shoulder and placed his other hand on her other hip, pulling her ass against his crotch as he grazed his lips against her neck. He did everything he could to keep himself from bending her over the counter right then and there.

“Was there really talk of a raid happening tonight…?” She asked, her voice shaking slightly as he swayed them to the music of the radio. One of her hands went to the back of his head, lightly gripping his hair, the other resting on his hand at her hip. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere; threatening to rip her chest open, making her hands shake, her legs weak… He smirked into her neck, his goatee tickling her as her grip on his hair tightened.

“Ya caught me.” He whispered, the thumb of his left hand playing with the hem of her shirt as the other’s fingers slipped under her jeans. Her breathing grew heavy as he pushed her ass up against his crotch again, kissing her neck as he whispered in Gaelic to her, his hand trailing up her shirt to cup her breast.

For once in her life, she thanked her mother for teaching her the language when she was a child. Her mother had grown up speaking it and thought it was important for Leah to learn. It wasn’t very important to her until now…

She withered at his touch and groaned at his words.

“Tell me… what do you think about when you watch me in the bar?” He licked her neck as he squeezed her breast, shoving her bra to the side and making her moan.

“I wonder what your cock is like…”

There was a small hesitation as he realized she not only understood him, but she also replied in the same language. Her moan distracted him from his thoughts and he quickly remembered the growing throb in his jeans.

He spun her around and pushed her against the edge of the bar, his hands planting them on her hips to steady her. He brought his lips to hers and stopped millimeters before they touched, snaking his hands behind her.

“You’ll find out sooner than you think, love.” He whispered huskily, his accent thicker than usual, before his lips covered hers. Her hands knotted in his hair as he squeezed her ass and picked her up. Her legs wrapped around him as his tongue forced its way into her mouth. He sat her on the counter, one of his hands moving to the knife at his side. Withdrawing his tongue from her, he bit her lip, raking his teeth across it as he gripped the edge of her shirt.

“Hope you don’t care about this…” He growled, bringing the knife to the hem of her shirt. She furrowed her brow, wondering what he meant. He cut and ripped the fabric off of her, derailing her train of thought and sheathing the blade as he moved her to the edge of the counter, throwing the shreds of cloth behind him.

“There are easier ways to do that, you know.” She chuckled, bringing his face closer to her with a delicate hand, cupping the side of his cheek.

“Aye, but this way, you don’t have to take off my kutte.” He chuckled, kissing her deeply and pushing her down onto the bar. He kissed down her jaw, to her neck, then licked his way to her breasts, his hands moving up her thighs and over her stomach to unhook her bra. To his delight, it hooked in the front.

He slid her towards him, making her hips meet his. She ground them against him happily, moaning as she felt him growl against her breasts, giving them a quick nip. One of her hands moved the hair out of his face and held it back as he took her into his mouth. He brought his free hand to her other breast as she moaned his name, her neck arching as her hips moved against him again and his teeth pulled her.

“Shit, Chibs… please, just fuck me already…” He smirked against her as she moaned and ground her hips against him again. He chuckled, nipping her flesh before he responded.

“Impatient little slut, aren’t you?” He bit her again, thrusting his hips into her and making her moan even louder.

“You want me to fuck you on this filthy bar, like the filthy slut you are?” He slipped a hand between her thighs and rubbed her through her jeans. She moved against his fingers, panting and begging.

“Please!” She whined, pulling him close to her and forcing her tongue into his mouth. His fingers worked the button and zipper of her jeans as her legs pulled him closer to her.

Her hands hooked under his shirt and pulled it off of him, quickly reconnecting their mouths after she threw the garment to the ground. She lifted her ass off the counter so he could pull her jeans off of her, her shoes slipping off with them as she yanked her arms out of her bra.

He pushed on the small of her back, biting her lip and moving his mouth to her neck as her hands slithered down his chest and to his belt. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, her hand diving into them and grasping his dick. He groaned against her, biting her neck and leaning into her. He pressed a thumb against her panties, rubbing her slit as she moved his briefs to stroke him.

“You’re soaked, love.” He whispered huskily, capturing her lips with his. “And you’re hard.” She chuckled, jerking up on him and causing him to groan. He took her hand then, hard, and pulled it out from his trousers.

She cocked a brow at him as he smirked, sliding his belt off and tying her hands behind her back with it. She moved against him with a smile, his hands trailing over her breasts and down her stomach. He pulled her panties off her, squatting slightly as he took them off and spread her legs apart. She placed her hands on the bar behind her, resting her weight on them as she waited patiently for him to touch her.

He gripped her thighs, pulling them lightly to bring her closer to him as he trailed his tongue along her inner thigh, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder. She threw her head back as his tongue traced a line up her slit, groaning as he tasted her. Her breasts heaved as her breathing quickened, his tongue delving deeper into her folds this time when he swiped it up her again, looking for her sweet spot.

“Shit!” She nearly screamed as he hit it, she took a deep breath, panting as he cocked a brow up at her.

“Here, lass…?” He asked cockily, circling the tip of his tongue around her clit. Her thighs jumped as she swore under her breath, nodding stupidly. “Right there, Filip… fuck…” She murmured as he sucked on her, the tips of his free hand inching across her inner thigh as his other pulled her greedily towards him, his thumb rubbing her thigh lightly.

She bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering as his lips left her, but a moan ripped through her when he entered a digit; curling it up and replacing his tongue with his thumb as he slid his free arm out from under her leg. He pumped his finger a few times as he rose from his knees, his thumb working her clit as his lips moved up her stomach and to her breasts, his tongue trailing along her skin lightly.

“Such a dirty little slut… I bet I can make you come with just one hand…” He whispered to her, a devilish smirk on his lips as his free hand moved his kutte to the side to fully expose her breasts, his lips tracing her throat. He added another finger, making her moan even louder, her hips moving to the rhythm of his hand.

“Then make me, baby…” She moaned breathily as his fingers quickened their pace, his thumb rubbing tight circles into her clit.

Fuck, she was so sexy…

“Mouthy little bitch…” He growled into her mouth before shoving his tongue inside, his free arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him. She moaned into him, rolling her body against his as she tightened around his fingers, the muscles in her thighs twitching.

Her head fell back as her eyes squeezed shut, cursing under her breath as her hips bucked into his hand. She moaned his name, her hand gripping the edge of the bar till her knuckles turned white.

“That’s it… come for me, love… nice and loud now, so the neighbors hear…” He whispered in her ear, making her whimper and nearly fall back on the counter. She screamed his name, her hips shaking uncontrollably as her back weakened, arching into him as he held her up so she wouldn’t hit her head on the bar.

A groan caught in the back of his throat at the sight of her, his dick sore at how hard he was. He needed to be inside that wet pussy of hers…

He slid his fingers out of her, pulling her towards him as she panted under him, a small smirk on her lips as his free hand worked the belt off her wrists. She chuckled breathlessly as her arms looped around his neck, his lips smashing against hers as he took one of her wrists.

“I need ya, lass…” He whispered, his accent so thick now, she barely understood him as he guided her hand to his crotch and groaned as her fingers curled around him. He kissed her hungrily, gripping a fistful of her hair as she carefully slipped off the bar, moving them so he leaned against it now.

Neither of them remembered how exactly they had gotten upstairs into Leah’s apartment… it was all a blur of sloppy making out and spontaneous sex. That morning, she had greeted him in nothing but his kutte, waking him up by helping him with his morning ‘visitor’, and making him breakfast before he left to go back to the clubhouse. He was reluctant when doing so… especially when getting his kutte back… he may have gotten back a little late…

But now he was back at the bar, celebrating the arrival of his visiting brothers as the croweaters helped Leah’s normal crew with the mass amount of customers. Leah didn’t mind, they worked for tips and blowjobs, so she didn’t have to worry about paying them. Hell, She didn’t even mind the casual flirting from the visiting members… what she did mind, were the attempts the guys would make to have sex right in the middle of the bar.

More than once, she had to scold a member and tell them to at least move it into the back alley or the bathroom, saying she wanted to try and keep her tables sanitary. The bar was already a lost cause…

She did her best to distance herself from Chibs all night, afraid of giving the impression that she caught feelings after last night… and this morning… The last thing she wanted to do was seem clingy, especially around the croweaters. She had been successful most of the night… that is until Tig was requesting her specifically.

“Leah!” Tig yelled over the roar of voices in the bar, waving his arms frantically as though he were directing a plane. “Bring your sweet ass over here!” He yelled again, his brothers chuckling around him as she turned towards their table.

“What is it Tiggy?” Leah sniggered, her hand on her hip as she rested a hand on the sticky wood. Chibs smiled up at her, sitting to her right as his hand went to her waist to rub it lightly. She did her best to ignore it as Tig leaned on the table heavily, slurring his words as he flirted with her, asking her sweetly for a round of whiskey with a side of sugar. Sugar being “Your pretty little face, doll!”.

She chuckled in response, rolling her eyes and turning towards the bar, calling a quick “Got it!” over her shoulder as Chibs’ hand slid down her side and over her ass before she walked away.

She gave their order to Jessie, her usual bartender; a short, small girl that cursed like a sailor and gave back as much shit as she was given. She was Leah’s favorite, and could mix one hell of a Daiquiri.

“He’s already sauced, isn’t he?” She asked, shaking her head and placing the glasses on the tray as she grabbed a bottle of whiskey, chuckling to herself as Leah nodded to her. “Of course he is, why do you think he keeps leaning on the table?” She chuckled back, freezing as she felt a hand grip her hip. The stench of vodka filled her nostrils as a hot breath blew onto her shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ve seen ya around before… I would have remembered that ass.” They laughed a bit too hard, swaying into her as she tried her hardest not to punch him right then and there.

“You must be new too, I would have remembered that pathetic excuse of a pickup line.” She replied, turning with a smirk as she picked up the tray.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart, I’m only messin’ with ya.” He smiled sloppily, leaning against the counter and nearly sliding off. She nodded her head to the simply dressed croweater behind him.

“Why don’t you try it on her, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it more than me.” She suggested with a wink, chuckling as he turned to look at the girl behind him, and throwing Leah a quick thumbs up in approval.

Tig cried with satisfaction as she set the glasses down, listening as Juice started telling them about the car he had to work on earlier in the day. Leah felt a hand on her hip again, this time it pulled her as she looked for it's owner.

Chibs pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder before he whispered to her. “Sit with me for a while, lass… Yeh’ve been workin’ too hard.” He kissed her neck, one of his hands resting on her thigh as it's thumb rubbed it slowly.

“Do I smell jealousy?” She teased, resting a hand on his as she smirked in his direction and leaned back into him, relaxing slightly. He chuckled darkly in her ear, reaching for his glass and taking a sip.

“Don’t get cheeky now, love…”

[hyogonokitsune]

blush -- suna rintarou x reader

here’s some soft suna smut, go fetch!

edit: here’s pt 2 and pt 3

virginity loss, slight praise kink, oral (f receiving), whoops! rintarou has feelings

4700 words

--

You were not quite sure how you all ended up on this topic, but it didn’t surprise you one bit that Atsumu was the one to bring it up.

“So how old were ya when ya lost it?” he asked with a grin on his face.

Suna glanced up at the sky as he thought about his answer. “Fourteen, I guess.”  

“Ugh, man! You beat me!” Atsumu groaned in annoyance. “I was fifteen.” It was slight, but you caught Suna giving him a self-satisfied smirk. Atsumu turned to his brother next. “What about you, ‘Samu? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Pfft, like hell I’d ever tell you,” was the only response he gave.

The four of you were walking through Inarizaki’s dark campus together after the team’s evening practice. It was early autumn, and although the days were still warm, the temperature at night was beginning to dip lower and lower. You shivered as a crisp breeze blew past, digging your hands further into your jacket pockets.

“What about you, y/n?” Atsumu asked, peering down at you. “How old were ya?”

You had hoped he’d forgotten about you, but now that he had directly asked you could feel your cheeks reddening slightly. “I, uh, I haven’t done it yet,” you answered sheepishly.

“What, seriously?! You’re a virgin?” Atsumu’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly squinched shut when Osamu smacked him on the back of the head.

“Yell it a bit louder, why don’t ya? I don’t think everyone on campus heard you, dumbass.”

“Ouch, sorry,” Atsumu muttered in apology, but your blush had already deepened. “I’m just a little shocked to learn that our precious manager is a virgin.”

“It’s not really that big of a deal, honestly,” Suna said, his voice low. It was a little unusual to hear him defend anyone, but you were grateful for it all the same.

“Ya know, y/n, if ya ever wanna lose your virginity, I’d be happy to help out,” Atsumu said, giving you a salacious smirk. You rolled your eyes at his offer, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you flicked him on the side of his head.

The path split then, and Suna turned left to continue on by himself to the campus dorms. He waved goodnight to the three of you, and you noticed that his eyes lingered on you for half a second too long before he turned away.

 --

 Click, click, click

Your thumb pressed repeatedly on the end of your pen as you stared hard at the words in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off.” You looked up at the sound of Suna’s voice, his irritation plain on his face. “It’s annoying.”

The two of you were sitting on the floor of his room, Suna propped up against his bed and you leaning against the opposite wall. Loose sheets of paper and an open textbook were on the floor between you as you both studied for an exam the next day.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you muttered, turning your attention back to Suna’s notebook on your lap. You were reading through it, checking that there wasn’t anything he had written down that you had missed in class. In truth, you were finding it hard to concentrate on the notes, as something else was nagging at your thoughts. You hadn’t been able to shake the conversation you’d had the other night, and despite Atsumu’s suggestion, he wasn’t the one you had been thinking about since then.

You had heard rumors around campus, and stories from some of the girls in your classes. At first it had made you a little uncomfortable to know such personal details about someone you had to see every day, especially since he wasn’t aware that you knew, but over time you gradually got used to it, and you were beginning to wonder about what it might be like to experience that firsthand. You were sure that it wouldn’t get out. After all, those rumors that you had heard had come from the girls themselves, never him; if you didn’t tell anyone, no one would ever have to know about it. Besides, after two and a half years spent on the same team, you two had grown rather close. There were few people that you could trust more than him, and, in your opinion at least, that was the most important factor influencing your decision.

You just had to think of a way to tell him.

Suna’s low voice cut through the silence in the room. “Maaan, I’m beat. What time is it?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

You glanced at your watch, sighing a bit when you saw how late it was. “Half past ten.”

“Fuck.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I think we’ve crammed as much as we possibly can for tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you replied as you stood up. The two of you started tidying up his room, and you gathered your books and pens into your bag.

“You want me to walk you to the bus stop?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“’Kay.”

You had your hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, but you found yourself unable to turn it.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, and when he turned to look at you, you felt an unexpected surge of confidence well up inside. If you didn’t tell him now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to.

Dropping your hand from the doorknob, you angled your shoulders to face him head on, willing yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you to take my virginity.”

There was a slight widening of his eyes, almost imperceptible, but you caught it before his face fell back into its usual indifferent mask. There was a moment or two of silence, and you tried to keep yourself from panicking; maybe he was just trying to gauge how serious you were.

Eventually he spoke, the corner of his lip quirking up into a cheeky grin. “You sure you don’t want Atsumu to be the one?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling. “I think I’d rather die, if I’m being honest.”

Suna laughed then, short but genuine, and you felt the tension ease from your shoulders. “I’ll do it, if that’s really what you want.”

You gave him a quick nod, hand reaching towards the door again.

“Come back here tomorrow.”

 --

 You knocked twice on Suna’s door and it opened almost immediately. He must have just recently gotten out of the shower because his hair was still damp, a droplet of water clinging to a lock of hair next to his cheek as he stared down at you.

“I was half-expecting you not to show up,” he said, a slight smile on his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked as you squeezed past him to step into the room; he offered no response.

You dropped your bag and blazer onto his desk chair, and when you turned around Suna had moved into the center of the room, within arm’s reach.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” There was an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice that made your heart melt.

You gave a slight nod, a small smile on your face. “I’m sure.”

Those two words were all he needed.

Suna closed the gap between you in one step. His left hand came to rest on your waist, his right moving up to cup your cheek as he leaned down to place his lips on yours. His kiss was unexpectedly soft, and you couldn’t stop a tiny gasp from escaping you in surprise. This wasn’t a Suna that you were familiar with; this was a Suna that was unbelievably tender with his touch, but you could feel a more passionate side simmering just beneath the surface by the way that his fingers ever so slowly applied pressure to your waist.

Unconsciously, your hands moved first to his shoulders, then to the back of his head, where your fingers buried themselves in his damp hair. Your touch encouraged him to draw you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist to press you against his body. His kisses were becoming firmer now, deeper, more urgent, his tongue slipping past your lips to brush against yours.

A feeling of warmth was in your chest now, spreading down throughout your body, and with it came a sudden feeling of uncertainty. Suna broke away from you and stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed, and the sight of him there suddenly stole away all the confidence you had felt earlier.

“Come here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The sound of it made your legs feel weak, but you forced yourself to step towards him. His hands moved to your hips, intending to pull you closer, but you put your palms on his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Wait a minute,” you said, a little breathless.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed hard. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You were embarrassed to admit it, but to your surprise Suna smiled, and the gentleness on his face was reassuring. “Yeah, I think it’s normal to be a little nervous.” One of his hands left your hip to move to your elbow. His fingers dragged lightly down your forearm and wrapped around your wrist, so that he could lift your hand and press it against his chest. “I’m a little nervous, too.” You could feel his heart against your palm, beating a little faster and harder than normal. The proof of his own anxiety made all of your apprehensions disappear, and you leaned down to kiss him. Before he could deepen it, you broke away again.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?”

“Could we turn the light off?”

“Of course,” he grinned, leaning over to switch off the lamp on his bedside table.

The room became dark, but the sun had only recently dipped below the horizon and your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold blue light coming in through the window. Suna’s body was outlined against the bed, his features hazy in the dim lighting, but his eyes were clear as he gazed up at you, imploring you to come closer.

He guided you down onto his lap, one of his hands on each of your thighs to place them at his sides. His kisses were needier now, almost hungry in the way that his mouth moved against yours. His hands slid up to rest on your hips once more, and when he slowly tugged them closer, dragging you over his hardening cock, you couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up from your chest. You could feel him grinning against your lips, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when the feeling of his body under your hands was causing that heat to grow in your core.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Suna asked, his voice breathy and low. A blush crept up your face at his words, the tone of them so much more intimate than anything you’d heard before. You grinded against him again, causing him to moan lightly into your mouth.

Your hands slid down to press against his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He paused kissing you just long enough to take his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before grabbing your waist and drawing you in even closer. Tentatively, you brought your hands back to his chest. The heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, his heavy breaths emboldened you, prompting you to explore more of his body. Your fingers traveled lightly over his chest, across his collarbones, onto his shoulders, across the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades; every place you touched gave way to growing desire.

Suna’s hands wandered up your stomach and over your breasts to undo the buttons of your blouse, but he couldn’t undo them fast enough for you; you suddenly couldn’t stand another moment with the fabric between you, you needed to feel your skin pressed up against his now. Your fingers moved to the bottom of your blouse and quickly worked their way upwards, meeting his in the middle before tearing the shirt from your body.

His eyes roamed over you and he whispered something that you couldn’t quite hear. Before you could say anything, his head moved to your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin, down the column of your throat and over your collarbones. The top of his head tickled under your chin, making you giggle; his lips left your shoulder with a wet sound as he turned his face up to look at you, but you dug your nails into his arms and whimpered at the loss of his touch.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.

Suna gripped you tightly around your waist to lift you off of him and shift you so you were lying down on the bed, his body leaning over you. Pulling one of your legs up so that he could position himself between them, he resumed kissing your neck, his warm breath tickling your ear. His hands worked their way down your sides, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake, to come to rest at the waistband of your skirt. He lifted his head to kiss you on the lips briefly before carefully tugging your skirt down over your hips and off your legs. His eyes lingered on your purple lace panties, moved up to your matching bra, and finally to meet your own gaze.

“These are cute,” he said with a smirk, one finger lifting up the band of your panties and letting it snap against your skin.

“Shut up,” you groaned, covering your blushing face with your arm.

“Did you match these just for me?” he teased.

“I said shut up, Rintarou!”

You heard a sharp intake of breath, and lowered your arm to see that the look on his face had shifted into completely unconstrained desire. He kissed you then, tongue forcing its way into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he pressed his cock in-between your legs; the sensation was becoming almost too much to bear.

Suna pulled away suddenly, and a thin strand of saliva briefly connected your mouths, glinting in the low light. “Hey, do you want me to wear a condom?” he asked, rubbing his thumb slowly over your bottom lip.

“Oh!” You were lying in his bed half naked, and his tongue had just been in your mouth, but for some reason that question made you feel shy all of a sudden. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I’m, uh… I’m on the pill,” you told him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. He only nodded once before leaning in to kiss you again.

One of his hands slowly slid up your side to your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple through the fabric of your bra. When he broke the kiss to move his lips to your neck, you leaned forward slightly to unhook your bra, tossing it on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Suna sucked in a breath at the sight of you, gazing at you almost reverently before placing his lips back on your throat, letting his hand blindly fondle your breast. Moving slowly, he made his way down your throat and over your collarbones, planting sloppy kisses every few inches, until his tongue was swirling small circles around your nipple, feeling it grow harder at his touch. At the same time, his other hand was pressing into your hip, fingers digging insistently into the soft flesh. That hand now started moving down over the outside of your thigh, pausing almost at the knee before running back up along the inside.

You gasped when he touched your clothed pussy for the first time, his fingers brushing against your clit through the fabric. You would have felt embarrassed at the wetness you felt seeping through your panties, but the feeling of having him touch you in so many places was too good for you to care. He was rubbing circles around your clit, causing a knot to form deep in your stomach. You reached with both hands into his hair, gripping the back of his head tightly as a pitiful whimper escaped you.

“Oh, Rintarou…”

“What is it, baby?” He leaned forward to plant a kiss on your cheek, his hand still working slowly between your legs. “What do you need?”

Another pitiful sound left your mouth and your nails dug into his shoulders. He sat up straight, his free hand coming to rest on your leg as his other continued to draw soft moans out of you.

A new feeling had settled in your chest, a need that you had never experienced before. It wasn’t enough to have him simply touch you; you needed to feel him inside of you.

“Rin, please,” you practically begged him, reaching towards the waistband of his sweatpants.

He gently pushed your hands away, a low chuckle rising in his throat. “You’re not ready yet, baby,” he told you in a soft voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Groaning, you fell back into the pillow, your breath coming out harder as he started kissing the inside of your thigh, slowly, painfully slowly, moving closer to where the heat was pooling between your legs. Both of his hands now hooked under your thighs to rest on top of your hip bones, pinning you in place. He kept his eyes on your face as his tongue ran almost lazily over your panties.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He was still licking you agonizingly slowly, relishing the way you squirmed around him. “Do you want me to taste you, baby?”

“Mm hmm,” you answered, a little too quickly in your eagerness to have him touch more of you. He moved one of his hands to hook a finger under your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

His mouth was on your bare clit now, and the sensation was overwhelming. It was different from all the times you had pleasured yourself; this was warm and wet and achingly soft, and it was causing the coil in your stomach to rapidly tighten. He hummed lightly, the vibrations running over your clit and causing you to practically scream. When he lifted his face away from you, you nearly cried. He slid your panties down your legs and tossed them on the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

Suna leaned back down, tongue running up and down your folds, swirling around your clit, kissing all over your pussy. Every single contact made your back arch, made your hands grip the sheets a little more tightly. He traced a finger along the edge of your pussy, gathering up the wetness before slowly pressing it into you. You clenched around him as his finger curled up to press into the soft spot within you, the spot that made your breath catch in your throat. You opened your eyes to look down at him; his mouth and finger were still at work on your pussy, but his gaze was trained on your face, sage-colored eyes glinting in the dark.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm falling over you in waves of intense pleasure. Your toes curled, legs tensed up around his head, hands reached down to wind into his soft hair.

“Rin-Rintarou!”

Suna kept his face pressed into your pussy, sucking gently on your clit as you came around his finger. The overstimulation was becoming too much, and your breath was coming out in labored sobs.

“Rin, p-please, stop!”

Immediately, he pulled away, crawling over your body to kiss you hard on the mouth. “I like the way you taste, cutie,” he sighed into your ear, nuzzling at your neck. “And I love the way you moan for me.”

You were panting, still coming down from your high. Suna’s hand came up to caress your face, thumb rubbing gently over your cheekbones. He waited for your breathing to even out before sitting up to remove his pants. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his cock looked; you had no reference point, but you were pretty sure he was above average.

He lazily stroked his cock with one hand as he shifted your legs with the other, positioning himself close to your entrance. He dragged the head over your pussy, coating it with the wetness there.

Suna was looking straight at you again. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Yes,” you told him. He leaned down to plant one more kiss on your lips, before slowly pressing his cock into you.

All the time he spent pleasuring you already ensured that you were relaxed enough to take him, but even so, he went slow. He sank in a few inches before pausing, allowing you to adjust to his size as he peppered your face with kisses, before giving you some more. It took a full minute before he completely joined his hips to yours, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, his voice impossibly soft.

“Yeah.” You gave him a small smile, hands running up the backs of his arms to rest on his shoulder blades. It felt so incredibly good to finally have him inside you, to fill you up completely. There had been a slight pressure when he first entered you, but that was subsiding now, and you could fully enjoy the way his cock stretched you out.

Suna pulled his hips away from you, his cock dragging slowly along your sensitive walls. The loss of him drew a soft whimper out of you, turning into a moan when he pushed back in. His pace was unhurried at first, but with each breathy sigh you made he increased his speed, pulling out a little further each time.

“Rin, oh, oh…”

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, lips capturing yours in a wet kiss. “You feel so good, baby.”

He bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your spine arch, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly to let him know that you wanted more.

“Rin, I-I… oh god-”

He straightened back up so he could look into your face, his thumb and forefinger continuing to play with your nipple. “Does that feel good?” he asked in a low voice. You nodded, eyes squeezed tight against the pleasure, and another soft whimper left your throat. “You’re taking my cock so well, baby,” he murmured; you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten at his praise. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, please, please…”

He quickened his pace even more, hips snapping into yours hard enough now to apply deliciously pleasant friction to your clit. You couldn’t have stopped the sounds leaving your mouth even if you wanted to; every thrust of his cock made you come undone a little more. The pleasure radiated throughout your entire body, making you feel slightly lightheaded.

Suna placed both hands on the backs of your knees and lifted them, pressing your legs towards your chest. The new angle of your hips allowed his cock to press into that spot inside you that made your breath burn in your lungs. The feeling was unbelievable; you had never felt pleasure like this before.

Your eyes snapped open. Suna was staring down, watching his cock sink repeatedly into your dripping wet pussy. When your hand gave his shoulder a small squeeze he looked up, eyes locking with yours. His face was etched with determination, all of his efforts going towards making you feel good. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes contained something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was husky, gaze burning with desire.

“Yes, Rin, please don’t stop,” you breathed out between gasps.

He kept his pace consistent, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again. Your nails were digging into his back, leaving tiny crescent-shaped indentations in his skin. The knot in your stomach was tightening, tightening, tightening—

“Rintarou!” you cried out as the second orgasm overtook you, breath catching in your chest. Your legs trembled under Suna’s hands as he kept fucking you through it, groaning as your pussy clenched around him.

He could feel himself getting closer. He slowed his pace, leaning over to press hard kisses into your neck as you came down from your high. When your breathing started to even out, his lips moved up over your jaw and to your mouth. You kissed him greedily, hands moving to entwine themselves in his hair.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse. He was still moving against you, cock pumping slowly in and out of your pussy.

“Ah… oh,” was all you could manage to squeak out.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled his nose against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin. “Where, baby?”

“Inside… I want you to cum inside me,” you whispered.

With a groan, Suna started thrusting into you harder again. The wetness between your legs was audible with each stroke of his cock, and the sound of it only made him come closer to the edge. The sensation against your clit was pushing you into overstimulation, tears springing up in the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You reached down with one hand to grasp at his thigh, nails digging into the muscles working to join him to you, desperately trying to pull him closer, closer.

“God, I’m so close…” he murmured, face held so near to yours that your noses bumped each time he pounded into you.

“Oh, you feel so good,” you moaned.

“Can you say my name, baby?” His voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Rin,” you sighed, and his hips snapped into you almost urgently. “Please cum, Rin, I want you to cum for me…”

He buried his face in your neck, groaning deeply as he came. “Fuck.” You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, hot cum spurting deep into your pussy.

He was still for a moment, breathing hard against your skin, before slowly pulling out and rolling over to lie beside you. You felt some of his cum drip out of you, blushing at the sensation. The two of you were silent for a while, your panting breaths the only sounds in the room.

“How was that?” Suna asked eventually, turning onto his side to face you. You suddenly found yourself unable to look at him, pressing your face instead into the crook of his neck and humming contentedly. He chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” he asked, an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice.

“Not at all,” you told him. “I liked it.”

You fell silent again. With your body pressed up against his, you could feel the beat of his heart, slowly steadying from its rapid pace. His skin was so warm, and you didn’t even mind the slight sheen of sweat covering both your bodies. You took a breath, inhaling his scent; you couldn’t describe what he smelled like, you just knew that he smelled good.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you must have been lying there for at least a quarter hour. You lifted your head to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed. Did he fall asleep?

“Rin?” you asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” His response was a low rumble in his chest; you could feel the vibrations against your palm. His eyes were still closed.

“Why were you nervous before?” You wriggled in his arms a bit, trying to get a better view of his face. “I mean, it wasn’t your first time.”

He opened his eyes, only to glance at you briefly before turning his head to look up at the ceiling. “It was my first time with you,” he mumbled, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

With your hand still on his chest you could feel when his heart started beating faster. Peering at his face in the dark, you could have sworn you saw Suna Rintarou blush.

--

➣ masterlist

[matwith1t]

A/N: ‘Tis the season for playoff beards so ‘tis the season for playoff beard fics. Thank you, thank you for the words of encouragement!! They mean the wooorld to me 🌍🌎🌏 !! Wherever you call home, I hope you’re having a great day/night!

Request: Could you maybe write a blurb about the reader being excited for the playoffs beard?

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: Allusion to smut  // WC: 2.1K // Fluff

You got the notification just as you finished paying off your tab at the bar. It had come after the blaring siren noise signaling the end of the game, after congratulatory hugs from your friends, and after the players raised their sticks up in appreciation for the fans in attendance.

With a win over the Rangers, The New York Islanders officially clinched the last playoff spot in the Eastern Division.

You had been a fan of hockey long before you somehow ended up with a professional hockey player for a boyfriend. The feeling of your favorite team extending their playing into the postseason always caused excitement. But there was a different sort of pride you felt coursing through your veins as the camera panned to show an exceptionally smiley Mat.

“You know what this means,” one of your friends leaned down to whisper in your ear, a smirk on their face and a devious gleam in their eye, “Playoff beards.”

You sat frozen in your seat as the world continued to move around you. A vertigo sensation caused you to feel dizzy as the words grew with meaning. Again, you had been a fan of hockey before you somehow ended up with a professional hockey player as a boyfriend. You had seen playoff beards before.

But you hadn’t seen a playoff beard on your boyfriend.

Knowing that their words caused you to silently spiral alone in your head, they patted your shoulder as a way of saying good luck.

When the waiter came back with your card, you slipped it back into your wallet, and bid your friends goodbye as you had to pick Mat up from the arena. They all waved goodbye with wicked smirks on their faces.

On your drive to the arena, you blasted music in hopes it would drown out the thoughts in your mind. You wanted a clear head when you talked to Mat about the game tonight, he would no doubt be excited about clinching a playoff spot, and you wanted to concentrate on driving safely. Once you made it to the arena, you parked where you always waited until Mat came out from the players exit.

Sitting alone in your car, with your knee bouncing, you turned the music up louder.

You needed to calm down, it was only the beginning of May and the playoffs wouldn’t start until a few weeks. It was too early to feel this excited about playoff beards. But when Mat texted you saying he would be a little late to your car because everyone was celebrating in the locker room… You succumbed to your desires and pulled out your phone.

New York Islanders playoffs 2020 was what you typed into the Google search bar. And when all you saw were team pictures, you narrowed down your search: Mat Barzal playoffs 2020. And low and behold… You were graced with images that your mind could only conjure up in your dreams.

To anyone, the pictures basically looked all the same: Mat in his New York Islanders gear, skating on the ice. His face was mostly hidden by his helmet, but you could still see him. And you could still see his playoff beard.

You inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nostrils as you continued to scroll.

The pictures ranged from clean shaven Mat, him growing out his scruff, and then to a full beard with long hair when the Islanders reached their furthest point in the Stanley Cup playoffs. You saw different versions of Mat, but the pictures on Google were more of an in your face kind of growth of his facial hair rather than a slow progression. While playoff games were played fairly close together, the press pictures weren’t privy to seeing the official start of his facial hair. 

The media wasn’t granted access to see how his facial hair progressed from the moment he went to sleep to when he refused to wake up in the mornings. But you would be able to see that growth. From the light stubble growing into scruff that would eventually grow to cover his jawline––

A knock on your window startled you and you locked your phone when you saw Mat wave at you through the window. With a smile, you unlocked the door and he opened it.

“Do you mind if we drive Beau to his place?” Mat said as he reached over his shoulder for the seat belt to buckle himself in.

You nodded repeatedly, and when Mat didn’t hear a verbal confirmation from you, he lifted his head at you with raised eyebrows. You cleared your throat and blinked a few times, “Yeah––Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Cool,” he smiled as he texted on his phone, presumably to Tito, “He had to go to the bathroom so he shouldn’t be far behind.”

You nodded your head again as you took in the way his clean shaven face lit up by the artificial lighting of his phone. He felt your stare on him and looked up with a tilt of his head.

“Good game,” you congratulated him and his smile widened. Mat dropped his phone to his lap, wanting to take in all of your words, “It was good, You were really good. Everyone played well and not to mention the playoff spot.” You leaned over the center console to press a kiss to Mat’s soft, clean shaven, face, “I’m proud of you.”

Mat playfully shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he played a good game, “Yeah it was exciting.”

You and Mat fell into a silence as he picked back up his phone, nudging Tito along, and you stared at him. More specifically, stared at his bare face. Your mind wandered from innocent thoughts to how facial hair would make him look older than his age, to more impious thoughts of how his beard would feel across your skin.

The back door opening stopped your thinking and caused you to jump as you and Mat turned your heads to see Tito duck into your car.

“Jeez, turn the music down.”

Bashfully, you turned the volume knob down and took your car out of park, “That was a nice goal you had, Tito.”

“Thanks,” you saw him smile brightly from your rearview mirror, “If only we could start growing out our playoff beards now.”

Mat laughed at Tito’s joke, but your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

The two friends continued their banter, while your mind continued to spiral at the thought of Mat and his playoff beard. And after you dropped Tito off at his place, the silence between you and Mat continued as you drove to his apartment. You parked in the spot that you unofficially claimed as yours and walked into his building hand-in-hand.

Once he unlocked the door, and hung up his suit jacket on the coat rack, Mat circled his arms around your waist and pulled you in close for a hug. You hugged him back just as tight, eyes closed with a soft smile toying at your lips. While Mat played aggressively during games, when he got back to his apartment, he liked to wind down.

Mat nuzzled his head further into the crook of your neck and you felt a breath of hot air fan your neck. You felt content standing in the entrance of Mat’s apartment; strong arms around you, as he began to softly press his lips against your neck. His kisses weren’t urgent, they were gentle, and lingering in one spot. His slow pace also clued you into that he didn’t expect his kisses to lead to anything further.

He just wanted to press his lips to your skin to feel you.

“Are you excited for my playoff beard?” Mat mumbled into your neck.

Your whole body froze up.

Mat let out a small chuckle, and with your arms still around him, you slightly leaned back to look at him, “What?”

With one last kiss to your neck, Mat pulled away and looked down at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “After the game, the boys were talking about how their wives and girlfriends get all excited for the beards in the postseason,” his smirked widened as he pinched your waist, “And you were very quiet tonight.”

“That’s not true,” you tried to cover yourself as you felt embarrassment brewing in the pit of your stomach, “I––I said you played a good game.”

“Mhm,” Mat hummed with a proud smile, “But after Beau brought up the beards you were dead quiet.”

And just like how you went quiet in the car at the mention of playoff beards, you went quiet now. Because how were you supposed to verbalize your excitement? You knew you could say anything and it would feed into Mat’s ego…But how were you supposed to tell him how unimaginably excited you were to see his playoff beard while also expressing the tiniest bit of disappointment mourning his clean shaven face?

With his clean shaven face he looked so youthful. You could clearly see his smile lines when he tipped his head back in laughter, feel his soft skin on yours when he brushed his cheek against yours, and it was the version of him you fell in love with. Not to say you still wouldn’t love the version of Mat with a playoff beard.

Because when you really thought of him growing out a beard…All you thought about was how the dark facial hair would enhance the strong dark color of his eyes. How he would look more mature. And how the short hairs scratching against your skin would drive you absolutely insane. You would love that Mat just as much, but you had to keep your thoughts in check.

“I am excited to see you grow out a beard,” you breathed out a laugh and broke eye contact with him after you saw his eyebrows raise with enthusiasm. You played with the fabric of Mat’s dress shirt between your thumb and index finger, “I just can’t think too much about it.”

“Oh?”

He sounded intrigued.

You poked his stomach and rolled your eyes, “I looked at pictures of you from previous seasons and it…” you took a deep breath and looked up into his greedy eyes, wanting to hear all of your thoughts about him, “I had a lot of emotions.”

“Care to share those emotions?” He tried to keep his mischievous tone to a minimum, but with the way his smirk widened and his hands crept under your t-shirt, you knew he was losing a battle with himself.

“They’re private.”

Mat tipped his head back in laughter; eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, crinkled nose, with those smile lines you loved so much. He squeezed your hips once more and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. At his close proximity, you let your eyes close at his close proximity; always captivated with the feeling that encased your body when his lips kissed your body.

Still keeping his face close to yours, he dragged his nose across the side of your face until his smooth cheek rested against yours, he breathed in your ear, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Your chest expanded with the deep breath you inhaled. His face was so clean––so soft––as he brushed his skin against yours. There wasn’t a feeling you loved more than his skin on yours. And thinking about the new feeling of his facial hair on your skin sent your body into overdrive.

Your voice slightly wavered as you continued to rub the material of his shirt between your fingers, “I think we need to set a precedent.”

“Oh?”

He sounded like he knew exactly what you were proposing.

You shrugged your shoulders, shyly looking up at him as his eyes darkened with every second of silence that passed. With Mat’s hands placed directly on your skin, his thumbs slowly started to rub small circles on your waist.

“You know…” your small voice trailed off, “To see if I prefer you clean shaven or with facial hair.”

Mat’s smirk transformed into a full blown smile as he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you right up against his body. You felt his chest expand a few times as he let out a confident chuckle, “Say no more.”

After both of you agreed on the proposal you brought forward, and Mat dragged you into his bedroom, the only word you said was his name as he ducked his head under the sheets and began to kiss down your torso.

[infernal-fire]

TAU (1/2)

Summary: Steve Rogers traps you inside his mansion. Your only means of escape? The naïve A.I., Bucky, that is designed to kill you if you ever step out of line. 

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Steve x reader, A.I!Bucky x reader, Bucky x reader

This is part of a series of works (not interconnected). I highly suggest you read the description of the series master list to better understand the premise of this story. 

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, mention of sedative, technical Lima syndrome, psychological abuse, violence, blood, character deaths, injuries, mention of depression, suicide & poverty

The chair was on the brink of collapsing, yet Martha folded her arms and leaned back into it anyway. You internally grimaced, waiting for her to fall flat on her ass or give you the bad news. It had to be bad news. You had done this enough times to know that she periodically bounced her right leg only when there was bad news. These days, that was often. 

You huffed once, loud enough for her to hear, hoping to hint that you were hanging by the threads of your patience. She took the hint, finally throwing open the drawer in front of you with excessive force. Pens rolled and a notebook slid towards her amid the force. Again, another piece of furniture that was ready to give in. For someone as stingy as her, you aren’t surprised that it hasn’t been replaced - just wondering why she’s treating it like it won’t disintegrate any second now. 

Martha’s plump fingers slapped a couple of bills onto the table, her seedy eyes challenging you to pluck them from under her hand. You wrestled the bills out of from under her palm and diligently counted them, only to shake your head defeatedly. 

“That’s it?” you snarled.

“Steal better shit next time,” she replied, shrugging. 

You slowly sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes and face her.

“I really need the money.” 

When you open your eyes again, it’s because you hear the roll of her weathered chair. Now standing full height, the middle-aged woman shook her head softly, a hint of a smirk playing out on her lips. 

“Like I said; steal better shit.” She turned to leave before facing you again. “You could always come and work with our girls.”

She glanced through the door that was cracked open, eyes resting on the table situated in the corner of the adjacent room. Around it, a group of girls set down cards while pushing poker chips around. 

“Sell my body? I’d rather die,” you scoffed. 

“Suit yourself. Now, get out.”

“Was planning to.” You flipped her the bird, knowing that she was watching you leave.

“Real classy,” she called after you. “You gotta come back here for your next week’s dinner, you whore!”

“That’s all you,” you smiled at her before slamming the door closed on your way out. Oh, the satisfaction of pissing someone off; unparalleled. 

Placing your measly wage into a makeshift purse, you made your way back home. You hugged your frame tightly, keeping your head down and pacing through the dilapidated neighbourhood. 

Once upon a time, when you were new to the shadier areas of town, you affirmed to yourself every day that this situation was temporary. The hope for a better job, better apartment and better tomorrow kept you going for a long time. Deep down though, you knew it wasn’t temporary, and now you were being proven right every day. What was keeping you going these days? Multiple times, you delayed the contemplation of that question, knowing that if you thought about it… well, it’s better to not go there. 

You were careful to double-check the lock on your door and windows when you stepped into the cramped shower. Today, you thanked God for hot water, even though you were sure he didn’t exist. Mind empty like a brand new chalkboard, you shuffled around your one-room housing and put together something edible to appease the churning stomach.

Your ear perked up at what sounded like the creaking of the fourth floorboard from your bed. You locked the door. You were sure of it. 

Still, you peeked over the short dividing wall that hid the view of your bed from the kitchen. Nothing. You shook your head at your paranoia and turned back to get to the less-than-appetizing meal waiting for you. 

Steve jammed the needle into your neck, expecting you to fall back into his arms. Instead, your forehead hits the edge of your counter and you slump onto the floor. Your eyes shutting down and head throbbing, you reach out to feel your attacker and touch Steve with saucy fingers. He groans in annoyance as he picks up your whimpering form. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The nightclubs you frequent were full of snobby, rich kids who didn’t know the value of wealth. You stole to survive. They could survive without their wristwatch for one night. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Music turned the speakers inside out, deafening those closest to it, but the youth are resilient to damage in any form. For you, though, it was too loud; too much. It wasn’t uncommon of you to walk away from the scene with a pounding head. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The inside of your head resembled the thumping of club speakers. Jaw slack and eyes foggy, you tried to rub your temples. But your arms wouldn’t move. 

Sitting up the best you could, you looked down at your hands to see them bound by zip ties, sitting on your lap. It was joke-worthy how your captor thought they could bind you with zip ties, of all things. He would have to do better than this. 

You tugged on the end of the tie using teeth and tightened it some more before huddling your knees up to your chest. Bringing your hands down as hard as you can against your kneecap, you awaited the snapping sound of the zip tie. Nothing came. You look at your hands again, realizing that they were still bound.

“Don’t do that,” a voice piped up from the dark corner of the room. Startled, you look to the source of the voice but no light fell in that direction. For the first time, you took in your surroundings: half of the room was divided by a set of bars. The other side had large machinery with wires running towards the jail section. As you trailed your eyes across the wires, you noticed a closed door. 

At least you knew it was possible to escape now. 

Quickly turning to the place the voice came from, you scooted backwards some more and anticipated the arrival of your captor. 

A woman crawled forward slowly with bounded legs and arms like yours. 

Seeing that it was just another prisoner, you tightened the strap of your zip tie again and tried breaking it one more time. It snapped. Rubbing your wrists where they were bound, you got straight to undoing the bind on your legs. Beside you, the girl moved closer and repeatedly begged you not to free yourself. 

“Shut up, Brit,” you mumbled, referring to her accent.

The bind on your legs gave away and you stood up and stretched. Tentatively stalking around the cell, you noticed the toilet and sink. Why would he have those amenities in here if you were tied up anyway? When you went to touch the bars separating the room, the girl cried out again. 

“Stop! Don’t!” 

You rolled your eyes and touched it anyway. Electricity surged through you and you yelped, pulling back immediately. 

“Could’ve told me it was an electric gate,” you snapped. 

“Don’t try to escape.” 

You looked at her incredulously. “And sit here like ducks, waiting for him to kill us?”

“Someone will find us!” she pleaded. 

“Look at me! Look at you! No one is looking for us. The police won’t blink twice if people like us are gone. And he knows that.” You eyed the door that was inside your cell and looked to the other one outside the bars. 

“Do you want me to remove your binds or not?”

The girl sheepishly looked down before sticking her arms out for you. 

“My name is Peggy,” she offered as she stood up. She held your arm for support when blood rushed to her head. You shot her a withering look in response and she took her hand off. 

“I don’t think we can leave. He can probably hurt us with these implants.” Peggy pulled her hair to one side and showed you the nape of her neck. A glowing red triangle shone from under her skin. 

Your eyes widened, immediately reached for the back of your head. You felt around and touched the area that stung a little when you touched it. You compulsively hissed, realizing that your implant was fresh and the skin around it had not healed yet. 

“Has he done anything to you using the implant?” you held and shook Peggy’s shoulders while you questioned. 

“No, no, but he said it collects brain data and that it was connected to my spinal column, so I shouldn’t try anything.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Once. It’s Steve Rogers, the inventor guy on the cover of all the Forbes magazines.”

“Brain data,” you silently repeated as you look to the other side of the cell again. 

“I have an idea. Rip your clothes like this,” you demonstrated.

Using the rags ripped off from both of your prisoner uniforms, the pair of you created a long rope-like contraption with a loop on the end. You stuck your hand through the gaps in the cell and tried to fling the loop to a nook in the machinery. Failing hurt, your arm accidentally brushing against the metal once or twice before the loop finally caught onto a crevice. 

“That’s the wrong part,” your fellow inmate breathed.

“Yeah, but that’ll work too.” You pulled as hard as you could and a section of the machine broke off, sparks flying from the source. It crackled and caught on fire. 

Peggy was pulling the cell door open, grunting as she tried her best. It gave way and you both looked at each other briefly before dashing out of the room. The jail room went up in flames behind you. Peggy looked over her shoulder, but you yanked her arm, signalling her to keep running. 

You flew up stairs and through doors, finally making your way into a clearing. Peggy rushed to what seemed to be the entrance door and frantically banged on it. 

“HELP!”

“That’s not gonna work!” you rushed to the door and inspected the lock. On the right side, there was a screen that displayed a handprint. 

Do not try to escape. Only Steven can leave the premises. 

“What?” you whispered. The new voice was coming from all around you, seemingly through fixtures in the ceiling and walls, but you couldn’t be sure. The situation was tense and you were scared the whole house was going to burn down.

Before you could catch her, Peggy planted her hand on the screen which scanned and turned red. Suddenly, all the lights emanated red, accompanying a booming alarm that blared through the house. 

In the distance, what you assumed was a statuesque décor piece, came to life. It reminded you of the spiders from the Maze Runner. A motorized killing machine. It stalked towards Peggy and you with pincers appearing from its side. 

Screaming, Peggy ran. So did you, but you weren’t sure if you were screaming. You couldn’t hear through the noise your friend was making on top of the deafening alarm. 

The spider machine stuck out its knife-like hands, trying to stab you. As you ran into another room, you frantically searched for an exit. Right now, your priority was to survive this thing.

You pulled open a cupboard in what appeared to be the study and instructed Peggy to climb in. The monster was coming. There wasn’t much time to hide. 

You shut the closet door and hid behind a lounging chair in the corner. 

The machine came in and scanned the room, looking for your heat signatures. It could see Peggy.

The cupboard door flung open and Peggy shrieked, crawling out of it in attempts to move out of the line of attack. She took 4 steps on her knees and looked straight into your eyes. 

“HELP ME-”

You screamed when she was dragged back towards the machine. You couldn’t save her anymore. You mobilized and ran back to the living room area, not even turning back to address blood that splattered across your back. It wasn’t in your best interest to find out how she was killed. 

“Aries!”

Frozen in fear, you look to your right to see the entrance door open. There stood your captor, staring at the machine that was now hovering over you. 

“Stop,” he muttered and set down his briefcase. 

Aries retracted its pincers, making its way back to the little pedestal it was perched on before. It powered down just as the CEO stepped into the house and glared at you.

For a split second, the doors were open, and you considered tackling past him. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

You collapsed onto the floor where you were already lying down. Getting out was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated. 

Your hands were bound again, but this time, behind you. You were seated on a pedestal like the one Aries was on, except this one had an ugly glass décor piece that extended to the ceiling. You tugged on the bonds, hoping for some leeway, but Rogers had learned his lesson. 

You shook your head side to side, trying to get pieces of hair and blood off your face. Eventually, you had to give up, slumping into the post your arms were tied to. 

“You cost me 7 million dollars worth of tech,” Steve’s voice sounded from another room. 

“If you let me go, I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. They won’t believe me anyway.” 

He appeared in front of you and placed both hands on either side of your thighs. 

“Things will work out for you, if you just… shut up.” 

You exhaled and turned your face to the right, hoping he’d stop invading your personal space. 

“Just… please, untie me.”

He stood back and considered your request before rounding the side of the pedestal and untying you. 

“Bucky?”

Yes, Steve.

“Activate Aries if she moves a single inch from her spot.” He eyed you at the end of his command and sauntered away to god-knows-where. 

You hoped it wouldn’t be pushing your luck to stand up and stretch, so you did. You mentally considered the various stretches you did as a child, during gymnastics. It had been years since you recalled those, so you did them to the best of your ability. It’s funny how life works. One day you were among a row of girls, learning how to do a cartwheel and before you know it, you’re in a psycho’s mansion as a lab experiment. 

About 30 feet away from this pedestal was Aries.  

Cautiously, you took a few steps away from your place. No reaction from Aries. That meant ‘Bucky’ and Aries weren’t the same thing. You could also deduce from Steve’s command, Bucky was capable of conversing.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You took another step anyway, wondering how much you could test the limits of this A.I. 

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position. 

You considered making a run for it but reconsidered. Aries would activate in less than 5 seconds and Steve was still in the house somewhere. You needed to play this better. Besides, you didn’t even have an exit point. 

You went back to your pedestal and sat down, drawing patterns on the ground with your feet. It would help to know the time or date. A part of you wondered if anyone was looking for you, but you yourself had answered that question long ago. No one looks for people like you or me. 

It could’ve been hours or minutes, but finally, Steve called you into a different room. You observed your environment as you stalked towards the kitchen area where the inventor was seated. 

“Sit,” he motioned at the chair that was on the other end of the table. 

As soon as you sat, tiny robots flew to your seat and placed food in front of you. It was some sort of soup with a side of bread, the only utensil he gave you being a spoon. Smart bastard. 

You wanted to hold off on the food; you really did. But you didn’t even get to eat the sandwich that you were putting together before the kidnapping. So you began devouring the meal, ignoring his pointed stare at your lack of table manners. It was only when you were halfway through the meal did you realize that the food may be drugged. Too late now.

“You killed my only other test subject and rendered her data useless.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Steve dropped his steak knife and fork, shooting daggers into your eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. You could tell by the way he talked that he was used to getting what he wanted. He relished in it.

“Every day, for the next two weeks, I’m going to leave for work. And every day, you’re going to complete the puzzles and tasks that Bucky tells you to do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It won’t take me more than 10 minutes to kill you, clean up the mess and dispose of your body.”

“If you could kill me, you probably would’ve. I know you considered it,” you remarked, leaning back into your chair and folding your arms.

“Now, why would I waste a perfectly good test subject?” It was his turn to mimic your body language. 

“If you want me to do what you need me to do, I need three things,” you announced. 

“It’s funny how you think you have any leverage in this situation.”

You kept your face stoic, trying to prove that you were serious about the negotiations. If he didn’t allow you these requests, you would never escape. 

“Okay, go on,” he said, clearly amused. 

“I need clothes. Regular clothes, not prisoner uniforms. I need to shower. And I need proper food, like what you’re eating.”

“That’s quite the list.” he laughed. Abruptly, his features turned serious. “I hope you know that you don’t hold any cards against me right now, and if I allow any of those things, it’s out of the kindness of my heart.”

It was your turn to laugh. “The kindness of your heart,” you wheezed between laughs. “Sure, okay. Yeah.”

He swallowed the last piece of his meal and gestured towards the sofas. 

“Bucky will be guarding you throughout the night. Don’t think of trying anything.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you beamed at his sour expression right before leaving the table.

Masterlist

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

The Best Man

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, a few curse words

Word Count: 2,560

Author’s Note: A fun part about getting older is that all of my friends are married or engaged now, and sometimes weddings bring up some insecurities. A more than a bit of venting going on here. This is my first time writing for the love of my life Marcus Pike and I’m very nervous/excited. 

Summary: When your best friend asks you to be the maid of honor at her wedding, you’re convinced that you’ll never find your own happy ending- until you meet a certain groomsman. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

You weren’t proud of the feelings of dread that washed over you as you sat in the parking lot of the wedding venue. You’d been sitting in your car for just a little longer than socially acceptable, given that the rest of the bridal party had likely already gathered inside. You just needed to make it through the next two days, and then you could go back to your apartment, wrap yourself in a blanket, and wallow in your feelings. 

You thought you’d be better at ignoring the green-eyed monster that was currently threatening to ruin what was supposed to be a happy occasion. 

You’d dutifully sat through dress fittings, gave thoughtful opinions on flower arrangements and centerpieces and invitations, and meticulously planned the bridal shower and bachelorette party. It was your job as the maid of honor to make sure that everything went off without a hitch on your best friend’s special day. 

You were happy for her- so happy for her. You’d never seen her like this, and you knew that she and Greg were going to have the perfect lives together. A fairytale wedding, a beautiful home, a loving family with two-point-five kids and a golden retriever in the backyard. A cliche to be sure, but you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that Melissa had found her perfect match while you were still decidedly and hopelessly single. You buried those feelings down deep, enduring it all with a smile. 

It would happen for you eventually. 

Probably. 

Well, you could hope, right?

When you finally made your way inside, Melissa had already worked herself into a panic. The best man, Marcus, was nowhere to be found.

Mellissa had told you a little about Greg’s best man. You knew that he worked for the FBI, that he and Greg had been in a band together in his younger days, and that he was flying in from Washington D.C. for the wedding. His flight was supposed to arrive an hour ago, and then he would take a cab from the airport to the venue. 

Clearly, that plan had derailed at some point. 

“Greg, we only have the rehearsal space for another twenty minutes-” Melissa reminded him impatiently. 

“He’ll be here, Mel. I swear, the one time he’s late for anything…” Greg sighed, shaking his head. He pulled his phone from his pocket, presumably dialing the best man’s number again before holding the phone to his ear. The silence seemed to drag on forever as Mellissa glared daggers at her husband-to-be. “Damn it, Marcus, turn your phone on...” 

You tried to deescalate the situation, placing a calming hand on Melissa’s shoulder and quietly reminding her to breathe. With patience wearing thin all around, the last thing you needed was for Bridezilla to make an appearance today. 

“Why don’t we just run through the ceremony without him, and he can follow my lead tomorrow. All he really has to do is stand there and hand you the rings, right? Does that sound okay?” You looked back and forth between the couple hopefully, and they nodded in agreement.

“Good. Happy thoughts, you two. It’s going to be the most magical day of your lives, I promise.” 

You’d woken the next morning with a tension headache from hell, and it had stuck with you all morning. As calm as you’d made yourself out to be earlier, the case of the missing groomsman was still bothering you. 

As you and the other bridesmaids got into your places for the ceremony, you ran through your mental checklist. As long as Greg’s friend was standing up there at the altar when those doors opened, you had everything under control. You’d even managed to wrangle the flower girl, Greg’s rambunctious niece, into a somewhat poised state, promising her an extra piece of cake later if she would just keep it together during the ceremony and pictures.

On the other side of the doors, you heard the music start, and one by one, the bridesmaids shuffled through the doors. When it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, smoothing your hair to the best of your ability with your bouquet-free hand and hoped for the best as you walked through the doorway. Three thoughts always stuck in your mind during these kinds of things: 

One, you really, really hoped that you wouldn’t trip on the hem of the dress and bust ass in front of all of these people, effectively ruining the ceremony and humiliating yourself in the process. 

Two, Am I taking too long? I’m taking too long. Oh fuck, all of these people are staring at me wondering why I won’t hurry up, aren’t they? This isn’t my wedding, I should just-

Three, you wonder what it might be like if it was. For a split second, your dress is white, your heart is fluttering, and the man of your dreams is waiting for you at the end of the aisle. 

Your eyes go there without really meaning to. Greg is there, of course, sweating bullets. Idly, you wonder if the photographer can fix that in editing. God, you hope so. Poor Melissa. 

Then your gaze moves slightly to the right, and the fluttering in your chest returns. 

Whatever lingering annoyance you had with the best man and his lack of punctuality was out the window now, his warm brown eyes melting your resolve in an instant. He smiled, showing off the dimples in his cheeks and you felt yourself returning it before your brain had time to interfere. Reaching the altar and planting yourself in your designated space, your nervousness has morphed into something you can’t quite identify, but don’t have much time to linger on. The flower girl is already making her way down the aisle, distributing the petals in the way you hand practiced repeatedly last night, much to your relief, and your heart is still racing long after Melissa walks through the doors. 

Time always passes strangely during these types of things. The ceremony begins after you almost miss your cue to take the bouquet from her, and she shoots you a confused look over when it passes into your hands. As the officiant drones on and on about the bigger meaning of what is taking place here today, you find your arms aching as you try to hold both bouquets still. You wonder if you would be sore later from holding your arms this way for so long, and silently hope that everyone remembers not to lock their knees as you all try to remain frozen in place for the better part of an hour. 

Finally, the officiant arrives at the portion of the ceremony you’d all been waiting for, the vows. The words of love and commitment that made your insides all warm and fuzzy. The best part of any wedding, hands down. A guaranteed tear-jerker, and, more importantly, the signal that all of this would soon be over. 

“I, Greg, take you, Melissa, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part.”

Oh, what you would give to have that... The thought brought a lump to your throat, the tears in your eyes somewhere between happy and sad. Longing. That was the word for it. You forced yourself to look away from the scene, giving yourself a moment of reprieve from your own insecurities. 

You didn’t mean to make eye contact with Marcus at that moment, but you found him looking back at you. The space between his eyebrows creased slightly as he noticed the pain in your eyes. 

Receptions always seemed to drag, especially when you were unlucky enough not to check the plus-one box on the invitation. The bridal party had gathered themselves at one long table for dinner, but the cake had been cut well over an hour ago and all that was left was smalltalk and dancing. Or, in your case, people-watching. 

You sighed, your chin resting on your hand as you watched the couple sway to the music. They looked like they were lost in their own little world, their foreheads touching as they spoke in hushed whispers that no one could hear but them. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone had looked at you like that. Actually, you weren’t sure that anyone had ever looked at you like that. 

“They seem happy, huh?” A voice said from beside you. You hadn’t noticed the chair being pulled out or the tall, tuxedo-clad body dropping into it, but you looked over your shoulder to find Marcus beside you. You hadn’t dared to speak a word after the ceremony or during photos, but you had spent a good portion of the evening mesmerized by the soothing sounds of his voice as he gave the speech for his toast. It was low and raspy and warm, like whiskey and honey, and it gave you goosebumps now that it was finally being directed towards you. 

“I would hope so,” You agreed quietly. “They did just get married two hours ago.” 

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, giving you an inviting, hopeful smile and holding his hand out to you. “No pressure, but I wouldn’t really be fulfilling my best man duties if I didn’t ask the maid of honor to dance.” You nodded gratefully, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up and lead you out towards the dance floor.

“Can I ask you something?” He wondered, his voice quiet at the pair of you swayed to the music. Marcus had, it seemed, become your unofficial dance partner for the evening. He danced like a dork during the fast songs, but the slow songs were where he really shined. 

“Go ahead,” You nodded. 

“Earlier you seemed kind of… down. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Was it that obvious?” You cringed. You hoped that Melissa and Greg hadn’t picked up on your moodiness. 

“I’m pretty good at reading people. Comes with the job, you know? Are you not a big fan of weddings?”

“No, I love weddings,” You shook your head. “Sometimes it just feels like… You know that phrase, ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride’? Well, that’s the unofficial title of my autobiography.” 

A soft snort escaped his nose, and you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. 

“Excuse me, are you laughing at my misfortune?”

He raised his hands in surrender, temporarily pausing your dancing, and you immediately felt the absence of the warmth from your waist and hand. “Not at all. I’m sort of in the same boat, actually.” 

He took your hand once more, raising it above your head and spinning you before the pair of you returned to your swaying.

“The thing is, I’m happy for Melissa, I really am, but she’s never even wanted to get married. Not until she met Greg. But here she is, getting her fairytale wedding, while I couldn’t even find a date for tonight. I’ve always liked the idea of being married. The whole madly in love, growing old together, building a life with someone kind of thing. I know it’s stupid, but I really, really want it, and sometimes it feels like my life is always just going to be… this,” You explained, gesturing arbitrarily small corner of dance floor the two of you had cut out for yourselves. “Standing on the sidelines, watching everyone else find their soulmate and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.” 

“I know the feeling. I once watched Greg give himself a concussion trying to smash a beer can on his head,” Marcus revealed. “Not exactly a catch, but I guess there’s someone out there for everyone.” 

You laughed at that, the tension easing itself out of your shoulders. “A concussion?”

“I drove him to the hospital and everything,” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the sound of your soft giggles. He gave your waist an encouraging squeeze, relieved that the sadness in your eyes had finally disappeared. 

“Alright, so we’ve discussed my deepest, darkest secret. Isn’t it your turn to make an embarrassing confession?” You asked teasingly. You were having more fun than you’d expected to have this evening; Marcus’ presence seemed to eclipse everything around you. 

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “Does it have to be embarrassing?”

“Maybe not embarrassing, but it can’t be boring,” You decided, your curiosity piqued. 

“Okay,” He agreed. “I told Greg that I was working a case and that’s why I had to catch a red-eye this morning instead of getting in last night.” 

“Mmm, I’ve gotta say. That is a bit boring,”

“Yeah? Well, it was a lie.”

“Oh? You’ve caught my interest. And what is your excuse for the stress-induced headache your tardiness caused me this morning?”

“I almost decided not to show up at all,” He admitted. “Made it all the way to the airport before I turned around and went home. Turned off my phone, completely unpacked… My fiancé left me for another man about a year ago, and I guess I still have some wedding-related issues of my own to work through. But Greg is one of my best friends, so… here I am.” 

“Oh, I’m…” You fumbled, not quite prepared for the level of honesty that he’d given you in his answer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know-” 

“No, no,” He shook his head. “It’s okay. I just meant that… I get it. It’s like you said. A life, a home, a family… That’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I thought I did everything right and that clearly wasn’t enough, so I started thinking that maybe there was something wrong with me. But I think the truth is that she just wasn’t the right person.”

“Wow, Marcus… I know there’s an open bar, but I feel like I should buy you a drink after that. That’s horrible…” 

He chuckled, shrugging. “I was pretty relieved when I saw I wasn’t the only one here counting down the hours until I could leave and go home.” 

“So… do you still think the right person is out there, then?” You asked quietly. 

“Oh, definitely,” Marcus said confidently, squeezing the hand that was still clasped in his. His eyes were molten as they looked into yours with an earnestness that set your heart racing.  “Maybe they’re just running a little late.” 

Melissa glanced over her shoulder to look at the maid of honor and best man, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she turned back to her new husband. 

“You don’t have your wallet on you, do you?” She asked, the I-told-you-so obvious in her tone. 

“You don’t win the bet unless he asks her out,” Greg reminded her. 

“Greg, get real. You see the way they’re looking at each other. I want my twenty bucks, babe.” 

Greg glanced over at his friend, instantly recognizing Marcus’ lovestruck expression. He had to hand it to Melissa, she’s one of a hell of a matchmaker. 

“Double or nothing,” He countered. “I’m guessing…. A wedding within the next… Two years?” 

Melissa scoffed. “Bring it on. I’ll rig the bouquet toss and we’ll have that invitation taped to the fridge within the year.”

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